((A.N. Chapter. Probably the most random chapter ever written, but whatever, the chapter makes sense. Kind of... Thanks to reviewers MrS-SiRiUs-BlAcK and corset, who are very supportive of us even though our story is awful. THIS IS A PARODY. Worthless humans . . .))
Chapter 3; Airline Food
Ginny had always been a problematic child.
"Mom!" Percy had called from the kitchen ten years ago. Ginny had been only five, an innocent and angelic child, half of the time. "Ginny tried to kill the cat again!"
Molly entered the drawing room, a spatula clutched in her hand.
"How many times do I have to tell you, honey? Murdering innocent and guileless creatures in the house is just not The Right Thing To Do."
Ginny, with her large brown eyes and red hair in pigtails, tugged the bottom of her cotton jumper and beamed up innocently at her mother.
"But Mommy," Ginny complained helplessly, "She made me do it."
"She?" Molly asked, slightly confused.
"Yes," Ginny said, her eyes going wide in the twilight. "The other one. She is always watching . . . She visits me when no one else is around."
"Stop it, Ginny. I don't expect behavior like this from my own daughter."
"I am your daughter."
Lightning flashed in the background, and scary music emanated from an unknown location. The door slammed shut behind Molly, and Ginny smiled a vague and carefree smile. A trail of blood trickled out of her mouth.
"Ginny, dear . . ." Molly started in an exasperated tone, "you're dripping ketchup out of your mouth again. Here, let me clean you up . . ."
Molly moved toward her daughter, clutching a cotton handkerchief. She extended her arm toward Ginny tentatively. The innocent redhead bared her three-inch long fangs in a heinous snarl and snapped at her mother's hand. In moments she had torn the handkerchief to shreds.
Molly backed out of the room with a deafening scream, horror plastered over her usually amiable features.
The sun burst over the horizon and birds began to chirp cheerily. White, puffy clouds were plastered in place of the thunderclouds, and innocent animals pranced around the house.
Ginny smiled a vague and carefree smile, scooping up the kitten and stroking it with adoration.
"Hello, little kitty," she said innocently. She pulled out a large cherry lollipop and hastened outside to frolic in the fields.
"You pissed me off. You pissed me off. You pissed me off . . . ! You pissed me off!"
It wasn't working. Viktor Krum just couldn't get his speech right.
"I've got it!" he yelled, staring avidly at the poster of Harry Potter. "YOU PISSED ME OFF!"
Yes, yes, I remember the day when it all started... started. We . . . us . . . that is, Harry and I , were playing a Quidditch Game . . . a game of Quidditch. It was a close match, close game, close Championship of the Universe. I was so close to victory, so close to victory was I, that I could taste it in my mouth. Then he, Harry Potter, snatched the Snitch. He snitched the snatch! But that wasn't all, no it wasn't. In the locker room, Potter confronted me about his victory. Said he, "Good game."
"Good game," he said. I know what he meant, he meant what he said . . . he meant I was inferior. Inferior, was I? I was inferior? I am inferior.
"INFERIOR!" Krum roared aloud.
He would get Potter back. Potter . . . he would get. He would prove his mettle. His mettle he would prove.
He would hire an assassin.
He did not have enough money for an assassin.
Money, he had not.
He would become an Assassin.
"Password, deary?"
Draco delivered a solid uppercut directly to the center of the Gryffindor painting. The picture crashed to the floor, and the door to the Common Room flew open.
Hermione caught up with him, and stared in dismay at the shattered painting.
"I could have just given you the password," she stated lightly, gaping in disbelief.
"I don't need your help," Draco intoned dramatically, rushing inside the Common Room. A needle fell out of his pocket.Hermione followed quickly in his wake.
Instantly she realized that there was a problem. Directly in the center of the room was a blatantly obvious circle drawn in chalk. A coiled rope was dangling conspicuously inside the circle. There was a large sign that read STEP HERE, POTTER in capital letters.
Lucius and Wormtail held up paper trees near the circle. As Hermione and Draco walked in, Lucius quickly covered his face with the 'tree' and tried to look discreet.
"I am a tree," he said aloud. "We are inanimate objects. Pay no attention to our dealings."
Harry strode valiantly down the stairs of the Boy's Dormitory, and trumpets blared in the distance, announcing the Hour of Reckoning.
He started to approach the small circle of chalk.
"Judgement Day," Lucius whispered, before resuming his existence as an inanimate object.
Harry stepped closer, closer, and Draco and Hermione only stood with their mouths agape, eyes wide with shock.
A hiss was suddenly audible behind them.
"Potter," came a sadistic voice. There was the sudden pounding of feet, and a red blur rushed forth. What was that on his back? A rocket launcher? He ran at Harry, but before he could get very far, he stepped inside the white circle and was suddenly propelled into the air. Everyone looked up to see Ron Weasely, dangling near the ceiling in a white net.
"Ron!" Harry cried, his voice filled with concern.
"Weasely," hissed Lucius. "You foiled my ingenious plan! I mean . . . I am a tree."
He jumped out of the nearest open window.
Wormtail followed hesitantly.
"Aw, Ron," Harry said, gazing up at the boy struggling in the net. "You didn't have to do that. What would I do without my best buddy and inferior sidekick to keep me out of danger? I love you, man."
Ron clawed at the net and hissed satanically at Harry. He was overcome with anger.
"Well . . ." Harry said amiably, in a nonchalant tone. "I've got to go. Popularity and unrivaled fame have their demands . . . maybe I could catch you later for a game of Quidditch? Goodbye, then, my substandard acquaintance!"
He grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and threw it into the fire.
"But, Harry, I–" Hermione started melodramatically. There were tears in her eyes.
"I don't need you anymore," Harry said contemptuously, sending her a cold and apathetic glance. Then he threw himself into the green flames before he could have another emotional breakdown.
"NO!" Hermione screamed painfully, and threw herself after him in slow motion. The fire had long disappeared by the time she crashed against the back of the fireplace. She sobbed pitifully into the ashes.
Draco, who had been snorting cocaine and muttering about his angst-ridden life for the past twenty minutes, finally looked up.
"Did I miss something?" he intoned sardonically, looking up at the net. "And why is Weasel up on the ceiling?"
Hermione looked up dismally. The net had apparently been incinerated, and was charred black. Ron was nowhere in sight.
He observed Hermione sobbing pathetically and covered in ashes.
He sat down on the armchair in front of her, a bourbon clutched precariously in his hand.
"Here's what I think, Granger . . . you really have to get over this Harry guy. He's probably an alcoholic anyway," Draco intoned, smacking his empty shot glass onto the table.
Hermione stopped crying and looked up in disbelief. He muttered to himself for a couple of seconds before continuing.
"You know, love is like . . . airline food."
"Airline food?" Hermione asked skeptically.
"You've got your vinegar drenched salad that drips onto the main course, which is usually freeze dried lasagna. Then they give you these sour little fruit treats that make your mouth pucker after one bite. And then you've got those . . . muffins . . ."
"Muffins?" Hermione inquired.
"Muffins," Draco repeated disdainfully. He lit up his opium pipe and took a large whiff. "Don't take this the wrong way, but . . ." he closer and cupped his hands around her ear, " . . . I think Harry's a muffin."
"Well . . ." Hermione started reasonably, "he does look a bit like a pastry."
She held up his baby picture, and Draco narrowed his eyes. "Yep . . . I thought so. He has a big enough head."
Hermione sipped some more champagne.
"All in all," Draco continued in a philosophical tone, "airline food is awful and disgusting and gross, but every once in a great while, it's . . . well, repulsive and abhorrent and obscene. And that's why airplane food compares to love."
"I agree," Hermione said firmly, "but that didn't make me feel any better, Malfoy."
He passed out.
((Next chapter . . . Ginny REALLY discovers she has an evil twin sister, Snape counsels Dr. Phil, Lucius and Wormtailcome up with an even stupider plan, and Draco wakes up and realizes he is passionately in love with Hermione.))
