Disclaimer:

If I had the copyright,

I needn't write by candlelight,

Wouldn't live of bread and water,

Could pay allowances for a daughter.

But as I don't have a child,

Bear with me and please be mild,

Don't try to sue me for my money,

'cause I don't think that would be funny.

I never said that I owned Harry,

Nor any other thing or fairy

Mentioned in the Rowling's books,

So please be kind: let me off the hooks.

***

Writing FanFiction

or

How To Face Your Main Characters

***

*peep*

The notebook is on. I open MS Word. There it is: a new blank document.

"Honestly, I can't believe you're going to make him the protagonist of the story," Draco says and shakes his head, while I'm skimming through my notes on the plot-outline.

I haven't even started to type yet, but he can't keep his mouth shut. Annoying little prat. "And don't you dare make me kiss him again! I swear, one more fluffy romance fic with Malfoy as my partner and I quit," Hermione threatens and points her wand at me to show that she really means what she says.

I sigh and begin to write the obligatory disclaimer at the top of the page.

Draco sneers. "My, you really are creative. Maybe it wouldn't sound so dull if you'd use a poem. Something like 'Don't own Harry Potter, the rotter.' or…"

Luckily he can't finish his excursion into poetry, because Ron throws one of the pillows lying on my bed straight at him and hits him square in the face. So much for the fantastic reflexes some seekers posses. I suppress a satisfied smirk, but chuckle a little. Serves him right for criticising me. Well, perhaps I really should think of something to make those nasty little copy-right things more interesting, but not today.

I finish the standard disclaimer and the usual 'Don't own anything, don't sue me, it's all J.K. Rowling's' smiles back at me from the screen.  Okay, now on with the story. I don't have a title yet, perhaps I can think of one later. Slowly and carefully I type the heading: 'Chapter 1', bolt print. Looks good.

"What about the title?" Hermione interrupts my precious train of thought. I was just about to think of the very first sentence and then it's her again. Patiently I sigh and ignore her completely. Now what was I going to write? Hm.

"Don't you think it would be better to save the document before you actually start?" the bossy know-it-all voice cuts in. She probably won't stop getting on my nerves anyway, but it is worth a try. And, after all, she has a point, hasn't she? Obediently I press the save-button. All right.

In the meantime, Draco has recovered from Ron's cushion assault and is standing right behind me, curiously eying the screen. He's making me nervous. He always does that and I can't stand it when someone watches me writing my stories, it gives me goose-bumps.

"Let me wear leather-pants. You know I look gorgeous in them," he suggest eagerly. 

"Hey, I thought this time you'd let me have the part of the hot-looking guy!" Harry's voice fills the room and I don't have to look at the two to know that Draco sends him one of his trade-mark glares.

"Can I have leather-pants, too?" Ron interjects.

I don't even have the very first sentence and they already start arguing with me about the minor details. Breathe. Let's take it slow. First of all, I need the introduction. Something that intrigues the reader's interest and that makes him crave for more. I want my readers to be addicted to every single word I post. One of my professors at university told me that sometimes it takes an author years to think of a good introductory sentence. Nervously I run my fingers through my hair. I'll simply start and re-write it later, if it sucks. I flex my fingers then begin to type and nearly manage to get half-way through the very first paragraph before all hell breaks loose behind me.

"No way! I won't let Malfoy hex me with that curse! I simply refuse, you can't do that," Ron yells and tiny drops of spit hit my precious screen. I wrinkle my nose in disgust, but I don't have time (or the chance) to reply anything. Hermione is already busy pointing out some grave language and grammar errors and laments on my writing style. For heaven's sake, I'll spell check it later. Harry stopped interfering all together, because at the moment he is busy keeping a furious Ron from strangling Draco, who throws his normal range of insults at his two archenemies. 

I can take it no longer and decide that it is now time to intervene.

"Stop it." I say it calmly. No one listens.

Breathe. Don't let them get to you.

"Stop it," I repeat, still calm, but more urgently. Harry struggles and it seems he can't hold Ron back any longer. Where is McGonagall when one needs her? Or Snape?

"Stop it!" This time I shout on the top of my lungs. Within a second there's silence. "I'm the bloody author of this story! You're the characters and you do as you're told! You do as I tell you!"

I'm fuming. Four pairs of eyes look at me with utmost disbelieve and almost instantly I regret my outburst. They glance at each other, Harry mutters something I cannot quite understand, Draco nods and the four of them retreat to my bed. Stubbornly they sit down, arms crossed in front of their chests and a firm expression set on their faces.

"Now let's see if you can make us do anything at all."

Great. I grown inwardly. Why is it always me? And I can't blame somebody else, because it's my own fault. Great.

"Oh, come on. I didn't mean it. Honestly." I try to be persuasive and apologize, "I'm sorry, please." Maybe, if I coax a little more, I can win them over. You see, I'm a writer, but what is a writer without his characters? Not that I would ever admit that to Ron, Harry, Hermione and Draco. Well, might very well be that I won't have a choice but tell them something along those lines or they won't ever work with me again. Great.

They are sitting on my bed, all lined up like little birds in a tree. If the situation wasn't so serious, I could have laughed. Again I beg and plead, I can see that Harry glimpses at me, so there is hope left. Ron's face is flushed, probably he is still sulking because of that hex in the story. Draco and Hermione don't look at me. I sigh heavily. Seems as if I can't avoid the inevitable, at least I had to try.

"Okay. You can help me write the story, if you want to, " I declare defeated.

Draco cocks an eyebrow. Hermione looks at me suspiciously.

"Co-authors?" she asks.

I nod and affirm, "Co-authors, all four of you. Deal?"

"Deal!" Hermione and Draco agree simultaneously.

Harry's cheeks are flushed and Ron has the widest grin on his face I have ever seen. I smile. Even Hermione and Draco's faces light up in anticipation. Perhaps the idea of letting the characters take part in the decision making process wasn't that bad at all. They are so eager to help me, Ron nearly trips over the wire of my notebook.

"Okay, then let's get started." I sit down at my desk and look expectantly at them. Then, within a second, the four teens bombard me with ideas, questions, suggestions and wishes and expected me to write down everything they say the moment the words leave their lips.

"I want to wear leather-pants. No, wait forget about the leather-pants. I want to be captain of the Quidditch team."

"…and then I can see my Mum and Dad and they…"

"…books…"

"…all the girls will love me…"

"…and the Weasley will be a real weasel…"

"…broomstick…"

"Make Snape wear pink dress robes!"

"…library…"

I feel like I'm drowning in the flood of words and sentences. It is too much. I take another deep breath.

"Stop!" I have to yell again. "This doesn't work. One after another, not all of you at the same time, okay? Or else I can't even hear what I'm thinking."

I don't know how we did, but only a few hours later the very first chapter of my, no, our story is finished. It is gorgeous. Yawning I decide to send it to my beta-reader tomorrow. Outside it is already getting dark and my stomach grumbles. When was the last time I had something to eat? I smile a small smile, and then look at my bed. There they are, lying peacefully next to each other, Hermione even curled up on Draco's lap. No wonder they are exhausted. They did a wonderful job, even though I have to admit that I could have done without the constant bickering and fighting while we were discussing the plot. I press the save button one last time. Then close the document and MS Word.

*peep*

I switch off the notebook and dim the lights in my room. I stretch and tired as I am, I snuggle down next to my four little friends. It's cosy and warm in my bed. Tomorrow, we'll tackle the next chapter. Together, the characters and me.