Warnings: A heavy dousing of slash is forecasted for this fic. Please don't run in the rain or jump in the puddles if you don't like to get wet.

A/N: This is actually the first fic I wrote after I delved into the wonderful world that is fan fiction, although I have already posted two other one-shots. I like to write my stuff out long-land (just as JK does—I could have sent her some of my lined paper and notebooks, I have tons!) and the other two were just faster to type. (This is my way of editing.) Any-who, this is supposed to be my attempt at blatant humour so it is filled with ship and slash clichés, as well as innuendos and use of obvious inconsistencies in the magical world. Oh, yeah, it's pretty AU and has lots of OOCness. But it's all in good fun, anyway! Hope you all enjoy and it brings laughter to you!

Oh, yes, reviews would be greatly appreciated! I can take constructive criticism, too, don't be afraid to tell me if something's not working or doesn't make sense. I've had years of creative writing classes, so I can handle a well-made critic. (Note I said Well-Made, not hurtful. No flames.) But a nice comment brightens my dull life also!

Disclaimer: JK rules. I am not worthy. I own nothing but my own strange sense of humour.

ON TO THE STORY…

Ch. 1

In the Beginning…There was a Distraction

T'was an evening during his fifth year at Hogwarts and all was angsty and mopey with Harry Potter. He wandered the corridor as dusk fell over the castle, glad to be away from the busy Gryffindor common room. Actually, he was just glad to be away from Ron and Hermione.

He had told them he had forgiven them, but really he hadn't. Because he really didn't know what irked him more; that no one told him what the heck was going on for months or that Hermione was frolicking around with Ron half the holiday at Grimmauld Place.

So he snuck off soon after dinner to stomp mopishly through the hallways. Angst, angst, angst, mopey, angst, mopey angst. Now he had a stupid marching tune in his head that sounded oddly Imperial. That seemed to happen a lot when he was in a foul mood.

Where could he go where he would not be disturbed and maybe find something to distract him from this angry mood? After aimless wandering, Harry soon found himself in the seventh floor corridor next to a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet. Since it was quiet there, he paced back and forth, thinking about a place to hide out for a while to burn off steam. After his third pass, a door appeared on the opposite wall across from the tapestry. Now that was interesting. Curious, he cautiously opened the door only to find it already occupied to his great disappointment.

"Hello, Potter," a deep voice drawled from a comfy chair by a crackling fire. An overstuffed couch sat opposite the chair, and the room was dimly lit by a few candles and the fire in the hearth.

"Malfoy," Harry replied through gritted teeth, too irked to notice that the blond did not seem surprised that Harry had entered the room. Instead, Malfoy flipped his chin-length hair, (oddly not slicked back), out of his ice-blue eyes and stood up.

Harry tried his best to glare angrily at the Slytherin, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Staring evenly at Harry, Malfoy ran his tongue over his teeth as he decided what to say next. Harry felt a slight burning in his stomach that he attributed to his anger.

"Trying to find a distraction, are we?" Malfoy smirked, his voice low and throaty.

"How did you…Wait," Harry's eyes darted around the room suspiciously. "This is a trap, isn't it?" He strained to look around the room to find Crabbe or Goyle lurking in the shadows.

"A trap? Well, if that's how you would like to think of it," Malfoy tucked a stray blond strand behind his ear and took a step forward. His voice dropped to a low whisper when he added, "But I hope in the end that you would come most willingly."

Harry opened his mouth a few times looking strangely like a fish out of its bowl. He felt something stirring in his lower regions that he could not consciously explain and finally sputtered the only thing that came to his mind.

"Go bugger yourself, Malfoy!" and turned around to storm out of the room.

"Actually, I'd much rather do that to you," Malfoy called after him.

Harry stopped for a moment with his hand on the doorknob. A response began to form in his mind but he quickly shook it away and continued out the door. He had not gotten the door open more than halfway before a hand slammed it shut. Warm breath tickled the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Slowly he turned to find Malfoy's face centimeters away from his own.

"Harry," Malfoy said, huskily, before crushing his lips down upon Harry's.

After a few prods of Malfoy's tongue, Harry finally allowed him entry and began to relax and return the kiss. The blonde's hands began to creep up Harry's shirt, startling Harry back to reality. After a short struggle, he was able to pull his face away, but his body was still pinned to the door by the other boy's.

"Malfoy," Harry gasped, " I thought we were supposed to hate each other?"

"What's a little shagging amongst enemies?" Malfoy whispered as he nuzzled Harry's neck.

"But…" Malfoy wanted nothing to do with the raven-haired boy's rambling and quickly cut him off with another intense snogging session. He started to unbutton Harry's shirt and was halfway down when Harry managed to pull away again.

"Malfoy…"

Sighing heavily and rolling his eyes, the blond asked, "What now?"

"We can't be doing this. It's…It's not right," Harry stammered.

"Why not?" Malfoy pressed a leg between Harry's. "I can tell you are enjoying yourself…" He grabbed the top of Harry's trousers.

"But…Technically we are a children's story…won't the author be upset at her characters acting this way in her book?"

Malfoy chuckled. "Oh, Harry, I knew there was something about you that made me act so Out Of Character." Again he descended his mouth upon Harry, this time attaching it to his neck and then moved to nibble his earlobe. "So angry at times, yet still so innocent." He continued his assault on the dark hair boy's neck and ear. "This isn't the same story, my tasty protagonist. This is fan fiction."

"Fan fiction?" Harry croaked breathlessly, very aware that his entire body felt like it was on fire despite the chills tingling through his veins at each nibble Malfoy gave his neck or earlobe.

"Yes, Harry." Finally the last of the buttons on Harry's shirt were undone and Malfoy's mouth began to move southwards from Harry's neck to his bare, milky chest.

"I…Oh…Well…I'm not…"

Malfoy straightened up and pinched Harry's lips together between his left index finger and thumb. "Shush now, Harry, " he said sternly with a slightly seductive sort of sneer as his deftly unsnapped Harry's trousers with his right index finger and thumb, "and let me give you what you've got coming to you."

DMDMDMDM

In the Gryffindor common room a girl with brown bushy hair and a frustrated wrinkle in her forehead was trying to study but was finding it difficult to concentrate as a lanky red-headed boy paced and ranted in front of her.

"I don't understand it, Hermione! It just started recently. But I don't understand why I feel this way! I mean, before, when I used to get these feelings around you, I would just act like a stupid git and take care of it in the bathroom or something…"

"Ron! That is just…well…kind of gross yet flattering at the same time…" Hermione admitted, her face tinged with a bit of pink.

"But now I have these totally new and different sort of urges—I can't even be in the same room with him anymore…"

"That reminds me, should we be concerned about where he is at this time of night?"

Ron ignored her question and continued on his rant. "There's something about Harry that makes me want to lose all self-control! Every time he opens his mouth to start blithering on about something, I want to command him to shut it and wrap those pouty pink lips around my…"

"RONALD!" Hermione jumped, dropping her charms book on the floor.

"See! This is why I need your help, Hermione! Please can't you find out what's wrong with me?" Ron finally ended his pacing and flopped down in the pouffy chair across from his friend.

Sighing, Hermione reached down in her bag and pulled out a flat, square, silver object with a design of a bitten apple embossed on the top. She pushed a button on the side and seemed to pull it apart in half. A bright light came from the top half and the bottom half was filled with little black buttons with letters and numbers on them.

Ron was torn between flinching back against his chair and leaning forward to get a closer look. He settled on just staring at it with wide eyes and exclaimed,

"What the bloody hell is that?"

Hermione began racing her fingers across the little buttons, her eyes transfixed on the glowing screen. "It's a laptop…computer," she answered.

"A com—what?"

"It's a computer—a Muggle thing that is used for research and writing papers and things. I'm searching the Net to see if I can find out what's happening to you."

"A Muggle electronic thing? But I thought you said you couldn't use these types of things in Hogwarts…" Ron leaned forward to take a closer look, a natural sense of curiosity coming forth from his father's genes.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So now you finally remember something when I tell you? Something then is surely wrong with you then."

"I told you. I felt…different. But how are you getting this comp-thingy to work here?"

"Ron, do you really think someone as intelligent as me who has just about read every book in the library—some more than once—couldn't find a few loopholes?"

Ron thought about this for a moment and then nodded in agreement. He reached out to touch the keyboard only to have Hermione slap his hand away. Leaning back, he glared at her until his mind drifted to naughty daydreams.

"Here! I found it!" Hermione exclaimed, startling Ron out of his reverie. "Hhmmm…This is all very interesting. Looks like you might have a case of the F's."

"What the bloody hell is that?" the redhead exclaimed for the second time.

"I think it stands for Fan Fiction Fun or maybe it's Fan Fiction Fantasy…" Hermione clicked a few more buttons, not tearing her eyes from the screen.

Ron looked at her absolutely horrified. "Fan fiction?" he repeated in a small voice.

"It's when obsessed fans post stories for other fans to read for fun. Here, let me find an example…" There was more clicking.

"But is there a cure?"

"Um…I don't…here's one…Merlin! That's disgusting!"

"What?" Ron leaned forward again to peer at the screen but Hermione quickly clicked to another before he could see anything.

"I…I'll just find another," she said, shaking her head to rid herself of the images the words she read were producing. After a few more searches through some stories that made her eyes widen in terror and a few more she made a mental note to go back to read later, Hermione finally found one more appropriate to Ron's situation.

"Hhhmmm…It looks like you might just have to ride it out to the end," she said, her eyes rapidly scanning down the screen.

"But when will that be?" Ron whined. "I can't keep avoiding him all the time you know…"

"Well, it looks like most of these end when you shag him."

"Hermione!"

"Well, there's another way, too. You have to just tell him how you feel about him." She didn't add that afterwards it usually still ended in shagging. He could just figure that out on his own—and Hermione would be better off not knowing, anyway.

"But…But I can't do that! Harry'll think I'm gay or something!" Ron jumped out of his chair. Hermione gave him an imploring look. "Oh." He calmed a bit. "Well, how do I know this will be a happy ending and not a bad one where Harry hates me or shames me in front of the whole school?"

"You'll just have to take that chance, I guess," Hermione shrugged.

"But…Wait, why don't you find out for me?"

"Me? How is that going to make it better?"

"You can sort of, you know, test the waters for me. See how he would react to finding out his male best mate wants a piece of his arse…"

"Ron!" Hermione chastised, but the redhead just cocked his head. "Okay, okay! But how am I supposed to bring it up without scaring him off?"

"You're smart, you'll figure something out," Ron put his hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks a lot," Hermione mumbled.

"Please, Hermione?" Ron knelt down and clasped his hands together, a pleading look in his bright, blue eyes. "Please help me?"

Hermione threw her head back and let out a noise between a laugh and a sigh. "Fine, I'll figure something out."

Ron gave her a wide smile. "Thank you! Now let me see what's all the fuss about this fan fiction."

"Ah, as I read on, I am thinking maybe it's best for you not see…" Hermione frowned slightly and made to close the computer but Ron stopped her and began reading the words on the screen.

"'Ron turned just as Harry entered the room wearing only a small blue towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Water drops glistened in his raven hair and fell on his tight, smooth chest, running wet lines straight down to his…'" Ron's voice trailed off, but his eyes moved rapidly across the screen as he read on. "OH! Is this where I print?" He pressed the "P" key and the computer began to spit paper out from the side.

"Oh my gosh! How did you know how to do that? And without a printer…" Hermione stared at the pages being printed directly from her laptop.

Ron gathered the papers eagerly. "Don't know. I just wanted some bedtime reading." The last page was just barely in his hand before Ron started off towards the boys' dorm. "G'night, Hermione!"

"But it's only nine o'clock!" Hermione called after him. "And when did you become interested in reading for pleasure?"

"When it actually makes me feel pleasured!" Ron called over his shoulder as he took the stairs two at time. Hermione clucked her tongue, shook her head and then began to back track in her history to read those stories she had passed by that had interested her. Sadly, she wondered why Ron couldn't have been in caught a fan fiction revolving around a different and more canon sort of ship.

More to follow…