Quidditch Conversations
Chapter 2: Taking Them Out and Spring Rolls
AN: Here is the stunning sequel to Fangirls and Hair Products: Hope you enjoy the plotless (but not pointless) conclusion to this segment.
A dashing Gilderoy Lockhart and a fawning Hermione Granger were sitting on either side of Lockhart's desk in his gallery of self portraits…err…office. He leaned forward, brow furrowed with deep concentration that made Hermione shudder with longing. "This is step is very important," he intoned, his melodious voice bringing goosebumps to Hermione's arms.
"Yes?" she asked, in a voice faint with hope and anticipation.
"Yes?" asked all 1,764 portraits from their various frames around the room, all in fawning adoration. Hermione gave the nearest one a sharp look, and turned back to Lockhart.
"What must I do?" she asked, awaiting his response with bated breath.
A wicked gleam took his eye, and his voice dropped down a sexy octave, "Take them out."
Hermione involuntarily had a sharp intake of breath. "Take them out?"
Lockhart rolled his eyes, and snapped, voice back to its slightly irritating timbre, "The Random Fangirls. Take them out." He gestured, not slit throats, or guns to the head, but two people talking. "You know, out."
Hermione, finally understood, and a horrified expression claimed her face, "Forthree weeks?"
"Well if that's how long it takes for my products to be marketed..." Lockhart replied snippily, leaning back in his gilt chair.
"Don't get snippy with me," she responded, secretly glowing...she loved when he got snippy with her..."I might need outside help, how do you feel about a new henchman?" she asked.
Lockhart smiled rather smugly. "What happened to saying henchperson?"
Hermione's face fell slightly, "Well this one's male... so I supposed it really didn't matter. Of course, if you really want to use the neutral term that would be far more equal, as far as genders go—"
"Whatever! I don't have time for your silly Equal Rights musings! I don't care, as long as the Fangirls are out of the way."
Hermione grinned wickedly, "Don't worry, they will be."
A few minutes later, Hermione burst through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. She stopped short, attempting to compose herself and looking around the crowded room. Pushing past a gaggle of first years, she spotted Harry sitting alone by the fire, working on a Potions essay. "Harry!"
He looked up in surprise. "What?"
She took a deep breath, steeling herself, "I'm going to ask you for a huge favor. Please, it's vitally important."
Harry looked bemused. "Hermione, I know you aren't a part of some secret underground organization, so you really don't need to act like a national emergency hinges on me letting you borrow my cloak or whatever."
Hermione sighed impatiently. "Will you do this for me?"
"Do what?"
Hermione, sat down, holding his hands in her own. "Harry, if you have to ask, then it is obvious that you do not trust me completely, and I will need to find another source of aid." She stood, and took a step away, calling back over her shoulder. "Malfoy seemed highly willing to do me a favor last time we had a heart to heart chat over a gently simmering cauldron, his hair, like platinum, hanging softly in front of his eyes…"
Harry shuddered, "Stop! Okay, I'll do your favor. Just don't ever talk about Draco's hair to me again."
Hermione grinned, "But it's so lovely…" At Harry's expression she laughed. "I'm kidding! And thank you. All I need is for you to take these girls out for spring rolls."
Harry looked slightly relieved. "That's no big deal- when?"
"Forthenextthreeweeks."
Harry looked confused. "I'm sorry, what?"
"For the next three weeks."
"You're kidding."
Hermione grimaced, "Actually, no."
Harry, looking like he was about to say no, fiddled with his quill and Hermione jumped in, understanding the necessary lengths that one must go in order to fulfill a person's lifelong dream…even if that dream was just marketing a line of hair care products. "Please? I'll set you up with Cho Chang."
Immediately, Harry jumped up and shook her hand. "Done! Who are they?"
Hermione made that same strange grimace again, "Umm... you'll see..."
A few hours later, Harry and the Random Fangirls (First and Second) were sitting in the corner booth of an Asian cuisine restaurant.
Random Fangirl the First leaned in close to him, attempting to twirl her hair flirtatiously, and ending up with a knot around her finger. As she untangled it, she whispered in what must have seemed like a seductive voice, "Oh Harry, you have the most gorgeous eyes..."
"Yeah... they're so like, green!" Random Fangirl the Second butted in, smiling widely, and nearly blinding Harry with her brilliantly whitened teeth.
Harry raised his hand uncomfortably, to get the waiter's attention. "More spring rolls, please?" His voice was desperate, but the waiter took no pity.
"I'm sorry sir, we have a 253 spring roll limit. You'll have to settle for squid."
Harry looked hopeless, "But I... oh, damn." He sat further back, trying to ignore the girls pressing entirely too close to him on both sides.
Random Fangirl the Second called out cheerfully, "I love squid if Harry loves squid!"
Random Fangirl the First nodded passionately in agreement, and almost toppled into Harry's lap.
Ignoring her, Harry threw his hands in the air, "Hermione!"
A/N: Mmm…lots of randomness. Hopefully enjoyable, if with no literary merit whatsoever. Let me know what you think, and please give suggestions for future conversations.
