Hey meat puppets! This is my first Harry Potter fic, so...go easy, please?
Helpful criticism is welcome. Flames will cook my dinner.
The "Hamburger-a-gogo" phrase is shamelessly stolen from _Knocked Out by my Nunga-Nungas_, a wonderfully fluffy British book. (Do British people really talk like that? It's so cute!) 12 Stones is a real band...check them out if you like Creed, Incubus, and such. I collect funny quotes- but can't remember where any of them come from, so if you recognize anything tell me in a review (hint hint).
Disclaimer: I am not J.K.Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter. The good ideas are hers, the crappy ones- mine.
Chapter 1
"I'm bored," announced Harry Potter, as he hurled an Every Flavor Bean at Ron Weasly, across the table.
"You're ugly," Ron told him lazily.
"You're uglier."
"You're ugliest."
"You're ugliest plus one."
"You're ugliest plus infinity."
"Will you two stop?!" Hermione Granger said, exasperated. "You're both ugly! There! It's settled!"
It was the summer before their last year at Hogwarts, and only two days before the Hogwarts Express would pull out from Platform 9 and 3/4. The initial novelty of summer vacation had started to wear a little thin. Five weeks at the Weaslys' could do that to people.
"But we have nothing to do," whined Ron. "Fred and George are over at the joke shop and Ginny told us if we came near her again, she'd hex our ears off."
"I can't say I blame her," muttered Hermione.
"I feel unloved..." Harry said plaintively.
"Hello, Harry. You *are* unloved. Chuh."
"Oh bugger off, Ron."
"That's it!" Hermione announced. "I'm going to talk to Ginny. You can go fool around with your broomsticks or whatever you guys do."
Just watch them not catch the innuendo, she thought.
Harry brightened. "Yes! Oy, Ron, let's go play Quidditch!"
"*Boys*," Hermione said. It had become her favorite saying of late.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------
When Hermione opened the door to Ginny's room, a blast of sound greeted her. Ginny was draped over a chair, reading Witch Weekly and bobbing her head to the music.
"Ginny!" yelled Hermione. "Turn it down!"
"What?" shouted Ginny back, without looking up, "I can't hear you, I've got really loud music on!"
Hermione stalked over to the stereo and twisted the volume knob.
"Good Lord, I can't believe your parents let you keep it that high."
Ginny smirked. "Sound-proofing charm. Or didn't you notice that you couldn't hear it outside my room?"
"Oh yeah...."
Hermione flopped onto the bed. "What are you listening to anyways? I don't recognize it."
"12 Stones," said Ginny.
"And that would be....?"
"This band from the States. Hamburger-a-gogo-land and all that. Louisiana or some such."
"That's the one with the alligators, right?"
"Yeah. Alligators and Mardi Gras."
"Whatever."
"Well it's your fault, Hermione," Ginny said. "You're the one corrupting me with your Muggle music tastes. Incubus. Default. Linkin Park. I was perfectly happy with my Weird Sisters but nooooo..."
Hermione tossed a pillow in Ginny's general direction. "What is wrong with everybody? Everyone's so argumentative. I can't wait for summer to be over."
"Truer words," Ginny said in a muffled voice. "That was my head, by the way."
"Diagon Alley tomorrow should be fun, though," Hermione said. "I earned a lot of money babysitting while I was at my parents' house. I'll have to exchange it at Gringotts."
"You just want to go back to school because you'll be Head Girl," Ginny said accusingly. "Hermione Granger, always impatient to start bossing people around."
Hermione chose to ignore that. She had been extremely excited when the owl had arrived with the good news. Not, of course, that she wasn't already sure she would get the position.
6 years of working and studying my ass off, she thought. All that's about to pay off. Absolute authority...my own room...I even heard the head students have a private pool. Oh...students..oh wait....
"I just want to know who'll be Head Boy," she said. "I do have to live with him, whoever he is. They could have at least told me in the letter."
"They probably want to keep it a suprise," Ginny told her thoughtfully, "Or! It might be somebody you really hate, so they're going to break it gently. Too bad it wasn't Harry. I was a little suprised about that."
"No, his grades weren't good enough.....Somebody I really hate? Like who? Crabbe? Goyle? The Infamous Draco Malfoy?"
"Ooh yes!" said Ginny, bouncing out of her chair. "He's bloody sexy!"
Hermione was horrified. "Malfoy? Sexy? *Those* are two words I was hoping never to hear together in a sentence without a negative."
"Hope whatever you want," said Ginny dismissively. "You can't deny that the boy is hot, hot, hot! Muscles......those cheekbones....that amazing hair.....mmm, he's full of jaw-dropping gorgousity!"
"That's not a word....Oh, I cannot be hearing this! You sound as if you actually fancy Malfoy!"
Ginny made a noise of protest. "Not so! You of all people know who I fancy!"
"You're right, it's not like I haven't been listening to you prattle on and on about Harry for the whole...entire...looooong summer."
"Really? You think that was bad? What about the time Ron asked you out two years ago?" Ginny pitched her voice an octave higher. "Oh he's so *cute* and it's all so *sweet* and I'm just so **happy**!"
"I plead temporary insanity. Besides, I wasn't *that* bad!"
"You were worse. Whatever happened to that, anyways? Everybody thought you two were going to get married or something."
"He was just so...so..."
"Gay?" provided Ginny.
"I *wasn't* going to say that...He was just so *Ron*. Besides...When he kissed me it was completely icky."
"Icky? There's a word I haven't heard since I was five."
"Only way to describe it."
"Let's get off this subject. My brother...kissing....ugh," Ginny shuddered. "I know! Let's play the word association game!"
"Let's not!"
"Oh..oh please...not like there's anything else to do around here."
Hermione sighed. Ever since Ginny had discovered Muggle psychology she had fixated on the word association game. She claimed it gave her an insight into her "patient's" unconcious.
"Okay fine. But I don't buy into it."
"Yay! Okay...um...School."
"Work."
"Boyfriend."
"Trouble."
"Candy."
"Tomato."
"Tomato?"
"What? I can't help my subconcious!"
"I can't even count your issues....Ron."
"Sweater."
"Harry."
"Green."
"Go figure.." muttered Ginny. "Um..um..oh! Draco Malfoy!"
Hermione was silent.
"Well?" Ginny prompted.
"Do I *have* to say the *firs*t thing that pops into my head?"
"Yep," said Ginny gleefully.
"I am going to kill you so much....sexy."
"I knew it!" crowed Ginny. "I knew you thought he was sexy!"
"Well my *second* thought was 'bastard'."
"It's only the first that counts."
Hermione glared daggers at Ginny. "If anybody- anyone at all- hears that I...that I..."
"That you think Malfoy is sexy?" Ginny interjected brightly.
"...I am going to kill you until..uh, until...until you are dead! Oh, wait...."
"Nice, Hermione, nice. I shudder at the thought."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------
Draco Malfoy stared up at the ceiling of his room from the comfort of his bed.
White. Silver chandelier in the middle. Bloodstain in the upper right corner.
He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.
Two days left till vacation was over, and his summer was not bloody likely to get much better than this. He almost looked forward to the advent of school. In spite of the whole Head Boy deal.
His mother had cried tears of joy when the owl from Dumbledore had arrived. His father had given him another scar just for the occasion. This one ran across his collarbone.
It just figures that I have a father who congratulates me by inflicting bodily pain. He says I should be proud of the scars. "Scars are what makes a man," he says.
Draco shifted on his bed and ran his fingers over the silvery scar lightly.
And you know, I always thought it was the lack of breasts and the possession of...other things that lent masculinity.
But of course he had gone along with what his father said. He hadn't shed a tear when his father took the knife to his skin. Hadn't shuddered at all during the Death Eater meetings he was forced to attend. His father didn't suspect a thing. He couldn't be allowed to suspect a thing.
Draco had no intention of becoming a Death Eater during the ceremony planned that very night.
As long as Draco could remember, he had been raised for that intent. One of his earliest memories was of his father taking him into muggle London and telling him, "All these people, my son, all the thousands of inhabitants of this city...They are all filth. It is the duty of the Malfoy family to keep above this sort of scum."
Then his father had sat him down, bought him a lollipop, and told him precisely what he would do to kill each and every passerby. Lucius Malfoy had quite the sadistic streak.
Draco had accepted this for most of his life. It was how he lived. He knew no other way.
But in fourth year, it all changed.
Before, the whole Death Eater job description was noticeably void of any type of actual responsibility. The job was comprised mainly of sinister looks and leering remarks to Mudbloods and Weasleys. There was no Voldemort. Nobody paid much attention to rumors of his return.
Then, what do you know, Voldemort was back , and all these middle-aged Death Eaters were dragged from their comfortable family dinners and well- paying jobs in the Ministry to witness Harry Potter escape Voldemort's rage yet again.
It was all rather depressing.
It had struck a nerve in Draco, however, when Cedric Diggory was killed. Sure, the whole I-am-evil-fall-down-before-me act was fun to put on, and he enjoyed it when people deferred to him out of fear, but he had never actually thought of killing anyone.
Killing was so messy. Draco much preferred blackmail and/or verbal and mental torture.
He didn't really want anyone dead. Besides, he wasn't a little kid any more and it grated when he was told exactly what he to do and say.
So, even though Draco kept up a front for his father, behind the facade, Death Eater membership was Right Out.
He hadn't actually planned on having to escape from his home to avoid it, though.
Oh, well. Off to Diagon Alley, where he had arranged a meeting with Hogwarts' Headmaster.
I just hope Dumbledore believes me and doesn't throw me out on my oh-so- stylish-and-well-toned rear end.
Draco launched himself off the bed and inspected his reflection in the mirror critically.
Fingers through the hair. No need to brush it. Black pants. Black T- shirt. Cover up that scar until the appropriate dramatic moment.
He saw his lean body tall in unrelieved black. His neck and slimly muscled arms bloomed against the dark clothing. He wasn't quite as pale as he was; his skin was faintly golden and he even (to his horror) had a sprinkling of freckles over his nose.
A platinum strand of hair fell into silvery eyes.
Damn, I look good.
Once again convinced of his stunning good looks, he swung a pack onto his shoulders, grabbed his Firebolt III and sauntered out of his room.
Two explosions, a crash, and several blood-curdling yells later, he was in the sky on his way to meet Dumbledore.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------
The "Hamburger-a-gogo" phrase is shamelessly stolen from _Knocked Out by my Nunga-Nungas_, a wonderfully fluffy British book. (Do British people really talk like that? It's so cute!) 12 Stones is a real band...check them out if you like Creed, Incubus, and such. I collect funny quotes- but can't remember where any of them come from, so if you recognize anything tell me in a review (hint hint).
Disclaimer: I am not J.K.Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter. The good ideas are hers, the crappy ones- mine.
Chapter 1
"I'm bored," announced Harry Potter, as he hurled an Every Flavor Bean at Ron Weasly, across the table.
"You're ugly," Ron told him lazily.
"You're uglier."
"You're ugliest."
"You're ugliest plus one."
"You're ugliest plus infinity."
"Will you two stop?!" Hermione Granger said, exasperated. "You're both ugly! There! It's settled!"
It was the summer before their last year at Hogwarts, and only two days before the Hogwarts Express would pull out from Platform 9 and 3/4. The initial novelty of summer vacation had started to wear a little thin. Five weeks at the Weaslys' could do that to people.
"But we have nothing to do," whined Ron. "Fred and George are over at the joke shop and Ginny told us if we came near her again, she'd hex our ears off."
"I can't say I blame her," muttered Hermione.
"I feel unloved..." Harry said plaintively.
"Hello, Harry. You *are* unloved. Chuh."
"Oh bugger off, Ron."
"That's it!" Hermione announced. "I'm going to talk to Ginny. You can go fool around with your broomsticks or whatever you guys do."
Just watch them not catch the innuendo, she thought.
Harry brightened. "Yes! Oy, Ron, let's go play Quidditch!"
"*Boys*," Hermione said. It had become her favorite saying of late.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------
When Hermione opened the door to Ginny's room, a blast of sound greeted her. Ginny was draped over a chair, reading Witch Weekly and bobbing her head to the music.
"Ginny!" yelled Hermione. "Turn it down!"
"What?" shouted Ginny back, without looking up, "I can't hear you, I've got really loud music on!"
Hermione stalked over to the stereo and twisted the volume knob.
"Good Lord, I can't believe your parents let you keep it that high."
Ginny smirked. "Sound-proofing charm. Or didn't you notice that you couldn't hear it outside my room?"
"Oh yeah...."
Hermione flopped onto the bed. "What are you listening to anyways? I don't recognize it."
"12 Stones," said Ginny.
"And that would be....?"
"This band from the States. Hamburger-a-gogo-land and all that. Louisiana or some such."
"That's the one with the alligators, right?"
"Yeah. Alligators and Mardi Gras."
"Whatever."
"Well it's your fault, Hermione," Ginny said. "You're the one corrupting me with your Muggle music tastes. Incubus. Default. Linkin Park. I was perfectly happy with my Weird Sisters but nooooo..."
Hermione tossed a pillow in Ginny's general direction. "What is wrong with everybody? Everyone's so argumentative. I can't wait for summer to be over."
"Truer words," Ginny said in a muffled voice. "That was my head, by the way."
"Diagon Alley tomorrow should be fun, though," Hermione said. "I earned a lot of money babysitting while I was at my parents' house. I'll have to exchange it at Gringotts."
"You just want to go back to school because you'll be Head Girl," Ginny said accusingly. "Hermione Granger, always impatient to start bossing people around."
Hermione chose to ignore that. She had been extremely excited when the owl had arrived with the good news. Not, of course, that she wasn't already sure she would get the position.
6 years of working and studying my ass off, she thought. All that's about to pay off. Absolute authority...my own room...I even heard the head students have a private pool. Oh...students..oh wait....
"I just want to know who'll be Head Boy," she said. "I do have to live with him, whoever he is. They could have at least told me in the letter."
"They probably want to keep it a suprise," Ginny told her thoughtfully, "Or! It might be somebody you really hate, so they're going to break it gently. Too bad it wasn't Harry. I was a little suprised about that."
"No, his grades weren't good enough.....Somebody I really hate? Like who? Crabbe? Goyle? The Infamous Draco Malfoy?"
"Ooh yes!" said Ginny, bouncing out of her chair. "He's bloody sexy!"
Hermione was horrified. "Malfoy? Sexy? *Those* are two words I was hoping never to hear together in a sentence without a negative."
"Hope whatever you want," said Ginny dismissively. "You can't deny that the boy is hot, hot, hot! Muscles......those cheekbones....that amazing hair.....mmm, he's full of jaw-dropping gorgousity!"
"That's not a word....Oh, I cannot be hearing this! You sound as if you actually fancy Malfoy!"
Ginny made a noise of protest. "Not so! You of all people know who I fancy!"
"You're right, it's not like I haven't been listening to you prattle on and on about Harry for the whole...entire...looooong summer."
"Really? You think that was bad? What about the time Ron asked you out two years ago?" Ginny pitched her voice an octave higher. "Oh he's so *cute* and it's all so *sweet* and I'm just so **happy**!"
"I plead temporary insanity. Besides, I wasn't *that* bad!"
"You were worse. Whatever happened to that, anyways? Everybody thought you two were going to get married or something."
"He was just so...so..."
"Gay?" provided Ginny.
"I *wasn't* going to say that...He was just so *Ron*. Besides...When he kissed me it was completely icky."
"Icky? There's a word I haven't heard since I was five."
"Only way to describe it."
"Let's get off this subject. My brother...kissing....ugh," Ginny shuddered. "I know! Let's play the word association game!"
"Let's not!"
"Oh..oh please...not like there's anything else to do around here."
Hermione sighed. Ever since Ginny had discovered Muggle psychology she had fixated on the word association game. She claimed it gave her an insight into her "patient's" unconcious.
"Okay fine. But I don't buy into it."
"Yay! Okay...um...School."
"Work."
"Boyfriend."
"Trouble."
"Candy."
"Tomato."
"Tomato?"
"What? I can't help my subconcious!"
"I can't even count your issues....Ron."
"Sweater."
"Harry."
"Green."
"Go figure.." muttered Ginny. "Um..um..oh! Draco Malfoy!"
Hermione was silent.
"Well?" Ginny prompted.
"Do I *have* to say the *firs*t thing that pops into my head?"
"Yep," said Ginny gleefully.
"I am going to kill you so much....sexy."
"I knew it!" crowed Ginny. "I knew you thought he was sexy!"
"Well my *second* thought was 'bastard'."
"It's only the first that counts."
Hermione glared daggers at Ginny. "If anybody- anyone at all- hears that I...that I..."
"That you think Malfoy is sexy?" Ginny interjected brightly.
"...I am going to kill you until..uh, until...until you are dead! Oh, wait...."
"Nice, Hermione, nice. I shudder at the thought."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------
Draco Malfoy stared up at the ceiling of his room from the comfort of his bed.
White. Silver chandelier in the middle. Bloodstain in the upper right corner.
He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.
Two days left till vacation was over, and his summer was not bloody likely to get much better than this. He almost looked forward to the advent of school. In spite of the whole Head Boy deal.
His mother had cried tears of joy when the owl from Dumbledore had arrived. His father had given him another scar just for the occasion. This one ran across his collarbone.
It just figures that I have a father who congratulates me by inflicting bodily pain. He says I should be proud of the scars. "Scars are what makes a man," he says.
Draco shifted on his bed and ran his fingers over the silvery scar lightly.
And you know, I always thought it was the lack of breasts and the possession of...other things that lent masculinity.
But of course he had gone along with what his father said. He hadn't shed a tear when his father took the knife to his skin. Hadn't shuddered at all during the Death Eater meetings he was forced to attend. His father didn't suspect a thing. He couldn't be allowed to suspect a thing.
Draco had no intention of becoming a Death Eater during the ceremony planned that very night.
As long as Draco could remember, he had been raised for that intent. One of his earliest memories was of his father taking him into muggle London and telling him, "All these people, my son, all the thousands of inhabitants of this city...They are all filth. It is the duty of the Malfoy family to keep above this sort of scum."
Then his father had sat him down, bought him a lollipop, and told him precisely what he would do to kill each and every passerby. Lucius Malfoy had quite the sadistic streak.
Draco had accepted this for most of his life. It was how he lived. He knew no other way.
But in fourth year, it all changed.
Before, the whole Death Eater job description was noticeably void of any type of actual responsibility. The job was comprised mainly of sinister looks and leering remarks to Mudbloods and Weasleys. There was no Voldemort. Nobody paid much attention to rumors of his return.
Then, what do you know, Voldemort was back , and all these middle-aged Death Eaters were dragged from their comfortable family dinners and well- paying jobs in the Ministry to witness Harry Potter escape Voldemort's rage yet again.
It was all rather depressing.
It had struck a nerve in Draco, however, when Cedric Diggory was killed. Sure, the whole I-am-evil-fall-down-before-me act was fun to put on, and he enjoyed it when people deferred to him out of fear, but he had never actually thought of killing anyone.
Killing was so messy. Draco much preferred blackmail and/or verbal and mental torture.
He didn't really want anyone dead. Besides, he wasn't a little kid any more and it grated when he was told exactly what he to do and say.
So, even though Draco kept up a front for his father, behind the facade, Death Eater membership was Right Out.
He hadn't actually planned on having to escape from his home to avoid it, though.
Oh, well. Off to Diagon Alley, where he had arranged a meeting with Hogwarts' Headmaster.
I just hope Dumbledore believes me and doesn't throw me out on my oh-so- stylish-and-well-toned rear end.
Draco launched himself off the bed and inspected his reflection in the mirror critically.
Fingers through the hair. No need to brush it. Black pants. Black T- shirt. Cover up that scar until the appropriate dramatic moment.
He saw his lean body tall in unrelieved black. His neck and slimly muscled arms bloomed against the dark clothing. He wasn't quite as pale as he was; his skin was faintly golden and he even (to his horror) had a sprinkling of freckles over his nose.
A platinum strand of hair fell into silvery eyes.
Damn, I look good.
Once again convinced of his stunning good looks, he swung a pack onto his shoulders, grabbed his Firebolt III and sauntered out of his room.
Two explosions, a crash, and several blood-curdling yells later, he was in the sky on his way to meet Dumbledore.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------