A/N: I apologize for this fic ahead of time. That, and I don't own these characters. Do you? They need a good home. Oh, what's that? J.K. Rowling already owns them? Oh. Moving on!

Harry sat silently contemplating—wait, I killed Harry off in my last fic. Let me start over.

…Ahem…

Ron sat silently contemplating—Ron, doesn't contemplate. That would hurt his brain. Let me start over.

…Cough…

Hermione sat silently contemplating the implications of the situation. Concordantly, visa vi, indubitably. Blah, blah, blah… lots of big words to make me seem smarter than I really am and to confuse you, the reader.

Anyways, back to the problem of the missing plot. Hermione was still sitting silently, contemplating the implications of the situation. If I were a missing plot, thought Hermione, where would I be? Well, to be honest, I'm a character in the plot, so I really should know where it's gone off to. I mean, without the plot, I'll be stuck here in a constant snog-fest with Ron, making it all seem like a terrible porno or something. And although that sounds wonderful to some of you younger readers… Geez, am I still think-talking? I really can babble sometimes, even in my head… Granted, I am used to make something make sense in the story… So I guess I should be explaining the predicament to the reader… But noooo, here I am, think-babbling. Think-babbling? That sounds rather funny. Sort of like concordingly, or –

It was here that the author cut off Hermione's think-babbling, simply because she couldn't take it anymore. That, and the fact that it's far too early in the morning to think of any other words that sound funny. Moving on!

Hermione left the room she shared with Ginny (here, the author puts in a suggestive wink) to go and find Ron. Because that's who she always went to go find, because in a normal romance fic, that's technically the only the person there. Everyone else seems to have magically vanished. Either that, or every single character from every book of the series is somehow packed into the Burrow, there to either push Hermione and Ron along into their whirlwind romance, or make fun of them. Hopefully, to make fun of them.

After the author realized she was babbling now, and had left Hermione mid-step on the stairs to the kitchen, she allows Hermione to continue. To fall. Down the stairs. Into Ron's arms. Because where else is there to fall, really? Unless you want a fic where Hermione is tragically hurt, and Ron has to pick up the pieces. Ew, nasty mental image. Moving on!

"Oh, Ron!" breathed Hermione, because she says that a lot. "Thanks for catching me! If I had fallen, you would've been left to pick up the pieces. Wow, that really is a nasty mental image. Moving on!"

Suddenly, lyrics from Velvet Revolver's Fall to Pieces pop up, because this has magically become a song fic.

After the author had her little giggle over the song fics that she despises for some reason, she continues on with the pointless fic.

"Wow, I'm glad you're ok, Hermione. Hey, listen, would you like to go sit beside the lake that's appeared behind the Burrow so we can talk about our sudden realizations that we love each other because of your fall down the stairs? Or we could talk about the Chudley Cannons. Either one'd be great."

And so the pair set off for the lake, to sit beneath the humongous tree… humongous… that's kind of a funny word. Anyways. Hermione somehow ended up sitting between Ron's legs, leaning against his chest, and crying. Why is she crying, you ask? We don't know, we lost the plot.

"Shh, Hermione. It'll be alright. I mean, honestly, you don't really have to cry. I'm sure the plot will come back, and then we can live happily ever after. Unless it's one of those fics were one of us die and the other is left to mourn the loss for the rest of our lives. But still," Ron trailed off when he realized Hermione was staring at him oddly. "What?"

Suddenly, Hermione was upon him in the most passionate, earth-shattering kiss of their young adult lives. Because apparently, though neither of them has had an amazing amount of experience, they are experts. And after only a paragraph of descriptive kissing, they have sex. That's right. Right there under the tree. Why are they having sex, you ask? We're still not sure, the plot's on a vacation.

Two cups of tea later, the author notices that Ron and Hermione are still going at it under the tree. Upon checking the clock, she notices that they've been love-making for over twenty minutes. Impossible, you say? Not for the unrealistic author! They're in love, which makes up for lack of experience; hence, twenty minutes of love-making.

The author, however, gets incredibly bored of the beast with two backs, and breaks them apart. But only so they can have a fight over something incredibly trivial.

"Ron, you stepped on my hair when you got up! I never want to speak to you again, you git! Bollocks! Other English words that I'm throwing in for good measure so people don't realize I'm American!"

"Fine, you scarlet woman! More English words! Randy!" And they never spoke to each other again. Or at least for another five years, because things happen in increments of five.

…Five years later…

Hermione padded from her room in the flat she shared with Ginny (suggestive wink, part two), because she had still managed to stay friends with the fiery-haired woman without once running into her brother. How, you ask? Because the author said so. She took a sip of her tea (because that's all I'm allowing them to drink), looking up as her friend came out from her own room, too.

Ginny sat down next to Hermione, making herself a cup of tea. Hermione admired how wonderful Ginny had grown to look over the years. She was fragile, yet strong. Petite, yet somehow managed to have an incredibly huge rack. Thin, yet fat. Frail, yet unbreakable. Wholesome, yet a ho.

The two chatted about mundane things that had absolutely nothing to do with the plot that was slowly yet surely returning. They chatted about things like the weather (it was really sunny, until Hermione thought about Ron, and then it started to rain), Hermione's appearance (which had gone from awkward and frizzy-haired to buxom with long curls), and the twelve guys Ginny had managed to bang last night. Because she's a big old ho-bag in this fic.

Suddenly, Draco Malfoy rushed into the flat. Why, you ask? It's at this point the author gets excited, because she actually knows! It's because Draco Malfoy was one of the twelve guys Ginny had penciled in to her busy schedule! And he was there to profess his undying love for her, since the author killed Harry off in her last fic! And he had somehow managed to become one of the good guys at the last second, and everyone believed him!

It was at this point that Malfoy had started to rub his hands together and cackle evilly, which left a very confused Hermione and Ginny in the kitchen. "Um, Draco, you're doing that evil cackle thing again."

"Oh, yea. Sorry. Flashback. Moving on! CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Wait, no, wrong character. Let me start over." Draco took a deep breath, then continued on. "Hermione, I love you! I've always loved you, I've just been too bli—what? Oh, my bad. Ginny, I love you! Ignore that last part about Hermione!" It's at this point that Ginny realizes her overpowering love for Draco, and they go at it right there on the kitchen counter. Why, you ask? You should know not to ask by now.

These revelations of love made Hermione realize that she needed to get out of there and tell Ron how she really felt about him. That, and the fact that her best friend's foot as continuously hitting her arm as her and Draco went at it on the kitchen counter. Ew. Nasty mental image. Moving on!

Hermione apparated over to Ron's flat because, despite the fact that she hadn't been in contact with him for five years, she still knew where he lived. How, you ask? Because she'd been stalking him, that's how. Now stop asking questions in the middle of my fic.

Ron awoke with a start as Hermione apparated into his flat, jumping to his feet. He covered himself with a blanket, even though Hermione had already seen him naked, because he's just like that. Hermione stared at him for awhile, though, because he had somehow become a hulking muscular sex-god. How does she know he's a sex-god, you ask? Because he's got 'I'm a sex-god' tattooed across his now-muscular chest. Now shut up and let me finish!

"Hermione!" Ron yelped. "What're you doing here?"

"I've come to tell you that I love you! And that we need to have hours of mind-blowing sex on the kitchen counter, because that's what you do after you tell someone you love them!"

As tantalizing as that sounded to Ron, Lavender had just strutted out of his room. And at that moment, Hermione chose to ignore the fact that she was wearing only Ron's old Chudley Cannons T-shirt, and instead noticed the ring on her finger.

"You're married? What in the hell, Ron! You were supposed to be pining for me for the last five years, not getting it on with Lavender, the biggest bitch ever portrayed in fan fiction!"

"I'm actually pretty nice once you get to kno—" Lavender started, but was cut off as Hermione shot a spell at her, knocking her out the window or something like that. And she was never to be heard from again. She actually was pretty nice, you know.

"Wow, Hermione! That display of jealousy and strength has made me realize that I have been secretly pining for you for the last five years, even though I was happily married!" And they proceeded to have hours of mind-blowing sex on the kitchen counter. The end. Fin. It's over.

Flabbergasted! That's another funny word. Damn, should have put that in there. Anyways. Here is where I put in a shameless plug for a review (shameless plug), even though I wrote this on a sugar high (excuse for terrible fic). CONSTANT VIGILANCE!