A/N: Parody, spoof, entertainment in bad taste, whatever you want to call it. We like it. Please, we beseech you, do not take this seriously and we mean no offence to anyone.

DISCLAIMER: We're not Rowling. We just hope she can forgive us.

The Closet

They always met in the dark. These kinds of things could not be seen in the light of day. But they were desperate.

"Stop it!" she whispered fiercely in the dark confines of the broom closet.

"But I must have it!" he replied.

Their arrangement was awkward, but necessary. Since his main outlet had been revolted and fled, he had very few other options. As repugnant as the current situation was to him, it was better than his other choices.

"Please," she begged, her voice breaking. She fought to keep his hands away, but he persisted.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded. "You are usually so compliant."

"This time it's different," she hissed. The sound of tearing fabric rent the air. "Damn you!" she sobbed as she clutched the material together.

"Damn me? Damn you, Hermione!" He released her in disgust. "Why won't you just give it to me?

"I will have you know that this is precious. You always treat it as if it's nothing, but it means a lot to me. I've worked hard for this, and to have you throw it away, sully it, dirty it with your contempt."

"That, my dear, is not contempt."

"Oh, that is gross."

"Just give me the damn skirt!"

"No!"

They fell silent as footsteps clattered outside the door. They both waited with baited breath as whoever it was passed by.

"Look, Granger, we both know what we're here for. Give me the skirt."

"No!"

"Then I won't give you what you want either."

"You wouldn't," she gasped. Through the dark, she could see his teeth glint in a smirk.

They fell silent once more, the tension between them rising, their breath coming heavily now.

Finally, she said, "You've torn it."

"Grunge is back. I've likely done you a favour. Ungrateful wench."

She sighed in frustration. "I won't be a wench unless you help me."

"I won't help you unless you help me."

"Fine, Malfoy," she growled. "Put on the damn skirt."

"That's Malfinia to you," he said primly as he stepped into the coveted pink garment. "We'll start with your hair."

Three hours later, Hermione gazed at herself doubtfully by wandlight. She pursed her unnaturally pink lips. "Do you really think this will make Ron notice me?"

"He fell for that Brown chit, didn't he? Not exactly high class, my dear." Malfoy clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

"So you're saying that Ron likes low-class girls? Following that logic, in order for him to like me, I must look low-class."

"Don't think too hard. You'll get wrinkles." He dabbed a finishing poof of powder on her nose. "You're all set."

"Thanks, Malfo… Malfinia."

"No, thank you. This is a lovely skirt. And look," he giggled, "the lip gloss matches!"

They pressed their ears against the door. No one was coming. Malfoy slowly opened the door and they stepped into the hallway with a clatter of heels. He flipped the long blonde hair of his wig over his shoulder. Hermione gave him an approving look.

They did not have long to look for their quarry. Ron and Harry came around the corner, amiably arguing about Quidditch. They came to a dead stop when they saw Hermione.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, surprised written across his features.

"What have you done," Ron gasped, his mouth agape.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, batting her lashes and bobbing so a little more cleavage showed, just as Malfoy had taught her.

"Your hair… your lips… your eyes… what's that gunk on them?" Harry asked, peering at her, confused.

"I… it… I just…" she sputtered.

"Hi, I'm Ron," Ron said, sticking his hand out to Malfoy.

"Well hello," he replied. "I'm Malfinia."

"What a lovely name," Ron said, his eyes firmly fastened on Malfoy's socks – the ones under his shirt, stuffed in Pansy's bra. And she had thought he was being devilishly romantic, asking to keep it.

Hermione stared. Harry stared. Ron stared at Malfoy.

Hermione sighed. "I want that skirt back when you're done," she said. "C'mon Harry. Let's go study." They trudged off, leaving Ron to ogle his new love.