This is a standard disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I just like to have fun with it.

The prompt for this chapter : "I'd rather kiss a thousand elves than to go to the ball with you, Ronald Weasley!"

Elf kisser

"I'd rather kiss a thousand Elves than to go to the ball with you, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione answered to his rather cavalier way of asking her out.

"Well, then, do it!" Ron retorted, red as a tomato. Being rejected in the middle of the common room wasn't a pleasant experience. Maybe if he hadn't started with "Hey, you have no one!"

"Sure!" A pissed off wildly haired teenager stormed out of Gryffindor tower towards the kitchen. In a rare bout of collective intelligence, all her fellow students followed her to see what would happen.

Fury still shining in her eyes, she tickled the peach and entered the kitchens. The elves all gathered against the furthest wall from her as the students poured in.

"This fine lady said she's rather kiss a thousand elves than to go to the ball with me! Any volunteer?" Ron tried to mock her.

If glares could kill, Ron would be six feet under this instant.

"Will you stop to try to free us if we do it?" One of the little being asked in a squeaky voice. Hermione huffed.

"Yes." She nodded. Not that her methods were working anyway, they were so brained washed that they didn't even want to be freed! The rare ones that had picked up her knitted hat had gone immediately to the headmaster to be bonded again! All refused to be paid when he offered! In her head of house own words, she had to stop to embarrass herself, or else.

"Great!" another elf blurted as his colleagues sighted happily. Then, they organised themselves in a line.

"A thousand, you said? I'll get more!" the last of the line popped out.

Hermione looked baffled. Has she just set herself to kiss a thousand elves? As the first approached her, she briefly closed her eyes. She couldn't back down now. She would show Ron that he couldn't treat her like a pity party!

So, she put her lips on every Hogwarts' elves lips'. They weren't a thousand, so she kissed more elves, brought from all over Great Britain. She lost count after the 576th, but didn't show it. Hopefully, the elves didn't and finally the line ended. The last one seemed very old, with puffs of white hair out of his ears and chess towel.

"Good! Good!" Some elves were bouncing happily.

"I don't want to work tonight." Another elderly elf said in a lull in celebrations. The Gryffindors were cheering her for her exploit. She was smiling but was scolding internally. Because no one had the stupid idea to kiss a thousand elves before didn't mean that it was something to celebrate. But she was in the house of the brave morons. Compared to the houses of the educated morons, the loyal morons and the poncy morons, it wasn't the worst place she could have ended up in.

At the strange declaration, all elves present froze. This subtle hint that something was amiss made some student, not all, to stop their chant "Elf Kisser! Elf Kisser!" and "When there's something Ron, in your neighbourhood, who you gonna call? Elf Kisser!"

"You can say that?" A young elf asked him.

"Yes! And I don't have to twist my ears in shame!" Th elder claimed with a wide smile.

"Me too! I don't like cooking. I don't want to cook anymore!" Another said, with tears in his eyes.

"You freed us, you really freed us!" A little being somewhere on her left shouted. His ears were doing a fairly good impression of a windmill.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Merlin bless you!" She heard all over the place.

"I am free!"

"I don't need a master!"

"Thank you!"

"Merlin bless you"

Now, with the raucous the elves were doing, even the dimmest teenagers understood that something big was happening.

Apparently kissing an elf freed them from their need to be subservient to magical humans. Hermione was known from that day as the Elf Kisser, the saviour of elves. She never refused any elf who asked her to kiss them, and some came from the other end of the world to meet her.

She had a thousand elven body guards to protect her from the death threats of some angry wizards who, not only lost their servants, but had secrets spilled about them because their House elves weren't bound and cowed anymore.

And she never dated Ron Weasley. She married Severus Snape, who she freed when she kissed him for the first time from a curse that made him act to be hated by everyone. He kept being a bastard, mind you, but an amiable one. He cured the Longbottoms just because she asked him to, and invented enchanted dildos that made him very rich. He was known worldwide as the Pleasurer Prince.

Voldemort? Voldemort died of shame when Harry, taking a page out of his best friend book, and at this point believed he had nothing to lose, kissed him in front of all his Death Eater when their wands connected at the cemetery. Or maybe it was because Harry's blood contained basilisk venom and it interfered with the resurrection ritual? Well, he earned the moniker The-Boy-Who-Kissed.

Ron Weasley, while battling criminals in his Aurors years, got a very red scar in the shape of lips on his forehead. He was called Kissface after that. Harry was happy he wasn't the only one with a famous scar on his forehead anymore.

Lavender Brown opened a concept café with affectionate cats and made an ad with people coming in to be hugged by fluffy felines. Her slogan was: Have a break? Have a kisscat.

Draco Malfoy became a great ally of Harry Potter in the Wizengamot, and they managed to make Dementors kiss each other until there was only one left, that they tossed through the Veil.

Sirius Black danced that day, and kissed every person he met for twenty-four hours. His wife Minerva McGonagall wasn't very happy when he came back home with multiple shades of lipstick on his face. He, after that incident, of course, made sure to always carry a lipstick at all time so he could randomly put some on his face. The make-up sex was just that good.

Dumbledore died when he stubbornly hunted Voldemort's inert Horcruxes even after Harry and every Unspeakable assured him that he was dead dead. He found the Gaunt ring, and kissed it. The cursed item took hold and he was found completely mummified five minutes later by a pissed off Minerva that had been alerted by Hogwarts when the control of the ward went to her.

All of that because a fourteen years old red head had been very bad at flirting.

And that concludes the first one-shot! Don't hesitate to review and follow. The next one will be up in a week, and as said in the description, it will be an independant story. It will be called Lord of The House.

If you have an idea that you want me to try my hands on, related to this topic, please share! If I manage to write something decent, I'll publish it.

Have a nice day!