Author notes: This is a sequel/companion story to The Extremely Short, Horribly Abridged, Plotless, Grammatically Incorrect, Love Story: Love Conquers All. It will be longer though. Someone has to mock these bad, bad fanfics running around nowadays.
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Harry Potter sat on his bed and sobbed. Since this is an ANGST story, tears and self loathing are required. Harry was doing his best to fulfill both. "Why, O why doesn't he love me?" He wailed, tears and snot streaming down his face and mixing in an unappealing salty margarita of Unrequited Love.
Ron handed him a handkerchief and helpfully supplied, "Because you have more body fluids coming out of you than a three month old baby."
Harry's cries hit and all-time high and across the Atlantic, Celine Dion felt her career crumble.
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Meanwhile in the Slytherin dungeon...
Draco Malfoy stared hatefully at his father's letter. Who would have thought that pink stationary could contain such evil words?
Dear Draco,
Thank you for the socks. They are simply divine!
Love,
Daddy
"What's so bad about that?" Crabbe asked. Goyle pointed wordlessly at the bottom of the page.
PS: Don't you dare go to the Yull Ball with that Potter boy! (You can either take Pansy or Blasie. Or both. Far be it from me to stifle your sexuality.)
"Oh," said Crabbe. "Oh well. You said you were just using Potter for the incredible unrealistic sex?"
"I was," Draco snarled. "I just don't like being told what to do. And Harry sure did cry when I broke it off this morning at breakfast."
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Meanwhile in Snape's office...
"That's right! I'm the professor now!" Hermione cried as she cracked a whip and tossed back her bushy, bushy hair.
Snape drooled.
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bPLEZ R&R! OMGKTHXBYE!11/b