A/N: hi-o, all. wow. it's been a long, long, long time since we've uploaded. er, think of it as a late x-mas present.
Luuuurrrrrve, Michi et Elizarita
Disclaimer: yes, of course, we have more money than the Queen and we write stupid parodies of our own highly successful childrens' book. perfectly logical!
Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief
Chapter 9: Chatroom Chaos, Bloodline Bonanza, and an Alliterative Array of Adjoining, Adjacent Adjectives
Ronald Weasley rolled out of the stupendously stubborn shrubbery, grumpily grumbling and pulling precariously placed leaves and tremendously troublesome twigs out of his hair. He scowled sourly at the pesky, perpetrating muffins for several monumental moments before his features softened and he lovingly patted one. Picking it up gingerly, he cradled it and cooed at it before cramming it into his ovular oral orifice.
"Oi! He's just eaten Melvin!" croaked the most decrepit of the muffins. "After him!" it shrieked, in a muffin-y sort of way, before crumbling into bits. The other muffins levitated into the air and growled menacingly (not to mention maniacally) at Ron ((A/N: it seems that the mold on the muffins was of a 'magical' strain and made them quite vicious)).
"OH MY GAWD, A TALKING MUFFIN!" Ron cried shrilly as he scrambled swiftly away from the marauding, murderous muffins. They pelted after him, hitting him mercilessly.
(Insert muffin hitting left knee noise here) "Aay!" Ron yelled, startled.
(Insert muffin hitting right ear noise here) "Eee!" he cried after a violent blow to the ear.
(Insert muffin hitting right ankle noise here) "Eye!"
(Insert muffin hitting lumbar region noise here) "Oh!"
(Insert muffin hitting gluteus maximus noise here) "YOU!"
(Insert muffin hitting rather hollow sounding cranium noise here) "And sometimes whyyyyy!" Ron's quasi-vowel cry echoed as he tumbled down a hill, off a small cliff, and into the lake.
-----
Far (but not too far) away, a much-feared personage was cackling gleefully while peering out a dirty window framed by filthy, tattered curtains. "Yes, yes," the figure crowed, "Wormtail has returned from his," here he paused, before adding (with a standard evil accent so as to suggest some sort of mischief, foul-play, and/or skullduggery), "errand."
Indeed, the figure was quite elated, and he threw back his hood to reveal a vaguely human visage. Voldemort, a.k.a. The Dark Lord, a.k.a. Ol' Red Eyes, a.k.a. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a.k.a. Tom Marvolo Riddle, a.k.a. The-Wizard-Formerly-Known-As-Tom, a.k.a. The Prince of Bleeping Darkness (he had stolen it from Ozzy after much coercion and several death threats), a.k.a. Tom-Tom (but only to a select few), a.k.a. Voldie-poo (a well-loved pet name from his earlier years), a.k.a. Moldy Voldy was ecstatic.
Pettigrew shuffled into the room warily, sniffling and sniveling and carrying a rather grimy, manky (not to mention mangy) breen burlap sack. "I-I hav-ve them, M'Lord," he spluttered.
He-Of-Many-Names grinned evilly and touched his fingers into an arch (Mr. Burns style). "Excellent," he cackled. "Wormtail, dump them out so I may see," Voldie-poo hissed.
Wormtail emptied the contents of the sack onto the dirty floor. A neat pile of Halloween Peeps sat at Tom-Tom's feet, and he clapped in glee. "Ah, yes," he sighed, "splendid work, Wormtail. Our Peep army is building! Now all we need are the Christmas, Valentine, and Easter Peeps so that we may attack at the end of the school year, as is our unchangeable custom!" Voldie-poo laughed manically for several minutes while Pettigrew, stopwatch in hand, dutifully timed him.
"Oh. F-four minutes an-and s-s-seventeen second-ds, Your Evilness. I th-think that might b-b-be a new rec-cord," he stuttered reverently. Voldemort curtsied.
"I must inform the Death Eaters of this favorable, marshmallow-flavored development. Wormtail, fetch the 'magical' communication box," commanded His Evilness. He settled into his favorite moldy armchair and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. Pettigrew returned, panting, and handed him his laptop, which was covered in sparkly Care Bear, Fraggle Rock, and Rainbow Brite stickers (Tom-Tom does it old skewl style, yo).
Voldie-poo chortled to himself as he logged onto all six of his linked screen names on AIM. He immediately summoned all of his faithful followers into a chatroom (entitled "Extra-Special Super Secret 'Magical' Funtime News!!!!111oneone").
((Enter the Chatroom))
SexiSnapeSnoggR has entered the room.
TricksyLadyBella has entered the room.
Goyle 22 has entered the room.
Crabbe 33 has entered the room.
3vu7 70rd V07d13: ahh…good. i have speshul newz 4 every1 and…
3vu7 70rd V07d13: ...
3vu7 70rd V07d13: wheres sev??!!
SexiSnapeSnoggR: i…im not sure, tom-tom…liek, um…can i have teh job of—er—punishing him this time? snickers
SexiSnapeSnoggR: hes so modelicious now…
Goyle 22 has left the room.
Crabbe 33 has left the room.
3vu7 70rd V07d13: dammit, lucius, u always scare those sillies away…
SexiSnapeSnoggR: oh, shush…u like it ;) ::nudgenudge::
3vu7 70rd V07d13: teehee ::giggles::handflip::
TricksyLadyBella: Ugh, not again. It's hard to be evil and crazy when you two get all feminine…
LusciousLuciLuvR has entered the room.
3vu7 70rd V07d13: rollseyes there u are…its not like we were waiting 4 u or anytang…
LusciousLuciusLuvR: jeeeez. chillax. i was fixing my hair.
3vu7 70rd V07d13: anywayz, liek, i have newzz…wormtail just brought back teh allies…
TricksyLadyBella: The allies? What a splendid new development! cackles
SexiSnapeSnoggR: who r these allies that u speak of?
3vu7 70rd V07d13: rly, luci dearest, u should listen at teh meetings…
SexiSnapeSnoggR: pssh. wot-evah. how can i concentrate when sevvy's delicious bod is right in front of me?
LusciousLuciLuvR: wait, wth?
DeathEatRQueen has entered the room.
SuprSailorSaturn has entered the room.
KillnWitDaHomiez has entered the room.
SlimNSexxxay has entered the room.
Pale izda Nu Tan has entered the room.
3vu7 70rd V07d13: oh my stars! mocksurprised who r u fiends?
KillnWitDaHomiez: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!
SlimNSexxxay: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!
DeathEatRQueen: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!
Pale izda Nu Tan: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!
SuprSailorSaturn: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!
3vu7 70rd V07d13: BWAHAH—er, i mean, thats my evul laugh! mockpouts
LusciousLuciLuvR: er, my lord? we know those are all your screennames…you try to pull this bs every time we do this stupid chat thingy…
SexiSnapeSnoggR: dammit…that SuprSailorSaturn sounded pretty hawt…
3vu7 70rd V07d13: severus, quiet u fool!!! AVADA KEDAVRA!!!
LusciousLuciLuvR: ...um…yeah…
SexiSnapeSnoggR: sevvy-poo! ur alive!!!
LusciousLuciLuvR: so it would seem…
-----
Back at the castle, Harry Potter jumped away from his jigsaw puzzle, his scar tingling. "Must…log on…AIM…" he cried in a strangled sort of voice and quickly scurried away. Draco looked on reproachfully before returning to his baking.
-----
HDawgPotterPants would like to enter the room.
3vu7 70rd V07d13: wtf? guys…guys, i swear, this time, its not me…
LusciousLuciLuvR: rolls eyes…it's that prat POTTER, your ARCH NEMESIS…
3vu7 70rd V07d13: damn, hes a tricksy one…
3vu7 70rd V07d13: …wait…sev, dear, didnt i just, liek, avada ur n00bz0r arse?
-----
A rather loud "What the h-e-c-k, he denied me!" was heard from the first year girls supply closet. Inside, Harry was perched on an old bucket, laptop balanced precariously on his knees. Quite ingeniously, if he did say so himself, Harry had hooked up the laptop to a small, makeshift treadmill on which Trevor was hopping gleefully (he had achieved compliance from the normally disgruntled amphibian by dangling a bit of old, moldy cheese just out of the toad's reach).
Harry typed furiously for several moments before grinning in triumphant satisfaction. "Time to hit 'em with the super secret second screenname," he whispered.
-----
FrshPckldToadEyes would like to enter the room.
SexiSnapeSnoggR: fresh pickled toad eyes? isnt that liek a delicacy in crustacea?
TricksyLadyBella: Don't you mean Croatia?
3vu7 70rd V07d13: whatev… i already accepted thurr request
FrshPckldToadEyes: 713k 0H 3/\/\ G33, N00I3Z0RZ….1 P\/\/N j00 477!!!!
SexiSnapeSnoggR: sprackens ye english?
LusciousLuciLuvR: um, i think he said, "liek oh em gee, noobzorz….i pwn you all!"…and you totally effed up that german, luci…
3vu7 70rd V07d13: wow sev u shurr r s-m-r-t (just liek meeeeee)
HMasta Jeneraal has entered the room.
3vu7 70rd V07d13: LIEK WTFFFF? who invited him?
HMasta Jeneraal: wurd to yo MOTHAAA, g, i do wut i waaant
LusciousLuciLuvR: …
HMasta Jeneraal: cuz baby ima gangsta southside representin'
FrshPckldToadEyes: professor!!! help me pwn these newbs!
LusciousLuciLuvR: whyyy, WHY did you let POTTER in?
3vu7 70rd V07d13: holy shniekies batman! it is potter! out, u fool, out!
FrshPckldToadEyes has been blocked.
3vu7 70rd V07d13: hey i cant block albus :(
HMasta Jeneraal: that's cuz i bes too fresh to handle, t-dawg
HMasta Jeneraal: Oh, and before I forget…Severus, there will be a faculty meeting tomorrow after last period to discuss proper dress code. That get-up you wore yesterday, although fashionable and fantastic on your body, was a bit too inappropriate for class. Neville Longbottom is still recovering from shock. However, you may wear it to faculty parties all you like.
LusciousLuciLuvR: grumbles incoherently
HMasta Jeneraal: peace out
HMasta Jeneraal has left the room.
3vu7 70rd V07d13: how does he do that? its liek majik or sumthin, teh way he bursts in…
TricksyLadyBella: So, My Lord, is it safe to assume that this meeting is adjourned?
3vu7 70rd V07d13: yah, i guess…i have a facial in five minutes…
3vu7 70rd V07d13 has left the room.
TricksyLadyBella has left the room.
SexiSnapeSnoggR: sevvy?
LusciousLuciLuvR: yes, luci?
SexiSnapeSnoggR: after ur faculty meeting, how about u come pay me a visit and, um, show me that inappropriate outfit of urs…winkwink
LusciousLuciLuvR has left the room.
-----
Draco had exactly eighty-seven pairs of shoes, thirty-two pairs of underwear, fourteen sets of school robes, seventeen dress-robes in assorted shades and patterns of green/silver/ebony, fifty pairs of pants (six pair leather), sixty-three shirts, three headbands (with matching terrycloth armbands—these were for his workout regime as well as for the occasions he decided to go ghetto), and four frilly frocks that few knew of. Darling Draco knew this because he was very, very bored. Harry had left him in a rush, leaving behind his assigned jigsaw puzzle, Draco might add. He sat in that silent and solemn kingdom known as boredom and patiently waited for his deliciously delectable, not to mention delightful, muffins to finish baking.
Finally, after Draco had started re-counting the hairs on his oh-so gorgeous head, Barbie's lilting voice called out, "Mm-mm, they're done, and they smell delicious!"
"Excellent, Barbie. Now to carry out my scrumptiously sinister plan. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—"
Draco's lengthy manic laughter was cut short as he noticed a nasty, mousy looking man with horrible hygiene and no fashion sense standing behind him and holding a running stopwatch ((A/N: why don't you go catch it?)). "F-four minutes-s and-d tw-twenty seconds, a n-new record!" he cried annoyingly as a slightly confused and thoroughly violated blonde roughly shoved him into the hallway.
-----
A less-offensive-on-the-olfactory-sense Harry (he had just showered) entered the Great Hall, yawning drowsily. After all, he had been rather rudely deprived of sleep that night and had yet another day to survive. He just knew it was going to be a long day when he discovered that, in his lethargic state at the breakfast table, he was drinking from the syrup pitcher and pouring his glass of orange juice all over his pancakes (and this time it was not on purpose).
Harry was surprised to discover that Hermione looked just as tired as he did. "What, you stayed up late studying again?" he asked the hebetudinous girl across from him. Hermione blushed profusely and focused intently upon her blueberry bagel. Harry shrugged and studied the empty space next to him quizzically. Where on earth is Ron?
(Ron was, at this very moment, engaged in a rousing game of Go Fish down by the lake with the giant squid, who was rather aptly named Xavier Reginald Bartholomew XXIV, a grimy grindylow, and two meticulous merpeople)
Hermione took her attention away from her beloved carby breakfast item to notice Harry staring concernedly at Ron's place. She patted his arm comfortingly and said softly, "Don't worry, he's probably bwoen wownen flargheneejer nefjnnnnnnnghhnn."
Harry stared quizzically at Ol' Bushy Hair as her voice completely crapped out.
However, it seemed that Hermione was not the only one to have lost her voice. The entire Hall fell silent as both young Fabio—er—Draco and the-slightly-less-watched-yet-still-absolutely-bello-and-fresh-out-of-his-secret-private-'magical'-spa-Blaise entered the room suavely, techno music pumping in their wake, striking poses and sauntering modeliciously to their seats.
((A/N: hey! wait! don't open that document! oh no, our muffins are burning! don't touch anything! bee are bee.))
And Drekko runned to Heri andsed, "Ur sooooooooo georgeous and hott!" And Heri wuz liek "Whoa!" And Dreko wuz liek "Wot?" And Herri giggleyd "Teeeheee" And Hermyonie dyed. And romantick mewzik playeded and Drekoh Melfoi sed, "I luv u Hare-cakes-shuger-dompling-pye-sweet-berriez-snugle-mufen" And Harr Pottre sed, "OMG I luve u 2 Drake-dellishus-yummie-chery-bizkit-choclat-chese-popscal-belljunwafful-crosant-pienappul-cofee-darlng-poopsee-noodal-bigmac-bunie-mangoe-krumpit-lolypop-hottiepantz-poptart" And then Drekko kissd Hare-cakes-shuger-dompling-pye-sweet-berriez-snugle-mufen andthen Herri new he wuz pregnant and Drake-dellishus-yummie-chery-bizkit-choclat-chese-popscal-belljunwafful-crosant-pienappul-cofee-darlng-poopsee-noodal-bigmac-bunie-mangoe-krumpit-lolypop-hottiepantz-poptart wuz happi and they had teh bebe and it's name wuz Cobalt Lucifer Cinderella Ford Kraft Barbie Sir Elton John N00bz0r Billy Joe Kelloggs Severus Turkwazz Hephaestus Michelob Caesar Orangejello oh RON gzhell oh Lemonjello lem OHN gzhell oh Gerard Winston Banana Gwen Potter-Malfoy Malfoy-Potter Malter Potfoy and theylived happlee evur afturr. (a/n: (athor's note!!!11) ok,liek that wuz my 1 fanfic evur! it wuz soooooooo cuute! it wuz sooooo suzpenzfull…i peepeeed mi pantz! teeeeheeee liek eeeuww not! lolz zomg rofl lmao ya.)
((A/N: what the h-e-double hockey sticks is that…? we go to save baked goods and this appears on screen when we return???… and the seat's all wet for some reason…um…moving right along…))
So, to recap, Draco did not run over to Harry and proclaim his undying passion for the bespectacled brunette. Nor did Hermione die (unfortunately). The boys did not make up excruciatingly painful pet names for each other, nor did they kiss (yet). Finally, Harry most certainly did not conceive a fetus in some weird male womb, especially not one with twenty-eight names. And it should be noted that nothing, nothing, in this glorious tale involves stupendously horrid grammar, spelling, or lexicon.
Nor did Harry have to go get a physical to find out exactly why on earth those pervy doctors held his testicles and asked him to cough (Hermione told him, and only Merlin knows from whence she learned that little tidbit).
Harry spent the rest of breakfast focused quite intently upon the Slytherin pair across the Hall. In fact, he was so distracted by Blaise and Draco that he missed seeing Ol' Bushy Hair fall asleep and face plant spectacularly into a bowl of grits.
Blaise and Draco, full of sangfroid and totally not noticing a certain Gryffindor even though they were taking surreptitious glances when they thought the other was not looking, were calmly buttering their English muffins.
"Ugh," Draco whined as he slathered copious amounts of spread onto his bread, "butter is sooo fattening, yet so delicious."
"Hmph. You know, the school doesn't actually give us real butter. It's too expensive and we'd all end up like Longbottom. That's just imitation spread," Blaise scoffed as he, too, coated his breakfast.
"What?" Draco cried out in fashionable surprise. Displaying his English muffin and the jar of spread, he exclaimed, "I can't believe it's not butter!" ((A/N: oh, come on, you knew it would happen eventually.))
Half the school fainted, including a certain green-eyed, goggling Gryffindor.
-----
When everyone had recovered from that morning's eventful breakfast and made his or her way down to the dungeons for potions, the students were surprised (and possibly pleased) to discover that Snape was running late. Indeed, the class happily chatted and giggled while awaiting the arrival of their newly-sexy professor.
Blaise had coaxed a shy and skittish Harry into joining him at his table. Draco promptly vacated his seat with Crabbe and Goyle to join the pair, not wanting Blaise to gain an unfair advantage over their mutual prospect.
"So, Harry," Blaise was cooing as Draco sat down, "what were you thinking of dressing up as for the ball? I have to plan my outfit, you know! (Insert on-a-scale-of-1-to-10-it's-SuPeR-GaY handflip here)"
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Silly Blaise, I have no need for a costume!" Harry exclaimed proudly. "This," he proclaimed, gesturing to himself, "is my costume."
Blaise looked quite befuddled. "Um, well. I was thinking of dressing as a pirate. Or a gigolo." He winked at Harry. Draco scowled.
"Well, you can be a jiggly-crow if you want, Blaise. I'll just call upon my 'magical' genetics and invoke my mystical beastly powers to transform me into the belle of the ball," Harry said superiorly.
"'Magical' genetics? Potter, what are you on about?" Draco scoffed (but not really. In his mind, Harry was rather beastly, in more ways than one).
"No, Dra-Malfoy, listen," Harry began eagerly as he leaned across the table towards Draco, laid his hand atop the blonde's, and locked his eyes earnestly with Draco's. Draco felt slightly warmer and his hand tingled under Harry's. Several moments passed before Draco realized Harry was speaking, and he quickly put all of his energy into paying attention.
"…and so after I tried to sabotage Voldie-poo's chatroom, I went to this website that yielded some very valuable information about my past and my genetics and such. I think it was fansfriction or fannedaffliction or some website like that. Anyway, it turns out that the reason I'm so weird is because I'm a vampire-elf-dark veela-secret transvestite-unicorn-faerie-secret transvestite-fallen angel-human basilisk-cowboy-secret transvestite-son of Satan-pony-sea nymph-alcoholic-tree child-secret transvestite-half girl-Flying Spaghetti Monster-evil twin-secret transvestite-submissive/dominant mate-copy cat-secret transvestite-insomniac-feral child raised by wolves-secret animagus with phoenix powers." Harry took a gasping breath before continuing. "And you, Malfoy, are actually a full-powered veela-imp-mermaid-centaur-vodka lover-pegasus-Templar knight-fairy-faerie-fairee-fée-fey-faye-seraphim-rowdy drunk-rebellious son of God-troll bogey-incubus/succubus-part angel-schizophrenic-kinky closet pervert-white blood cell vampire-OCD freak-ferret/dragon/white wolf/peregrine falcon/albino cobra/fluffy arctic hare/chinchilla animagus." Harry sat back in his chair, winded.
Draco and Blaise blinked bemusedly at one another for several moments before Blaise leaned in towards the recovering brunette and asked, with a large, toothy, minty-fresh grin, "And what did the, um, webspot say about me?"
"Oh, er," Harry thought hard for a moment. "It said you were a boyfriend stealer and a slut, whatever that is. It also said you were a fag and/or faggot, though I don't know why anyone would mistake you for a cigarette or a bundle of kindling." ((A/N: just in case you didn't know and so you won't be infinitely confused, cigarettes are called "fags" in Britain, and no, we did not make this up))
Blaise's smile slowly faded. "Oh, really? That's all?" he queried through gritted teeth, trying hard to hide the disappointment in his voice. Draco smirked maliciously.
"Well, it said you were a total fairy as well," Harry added. Blaise brightened (or did he glow?) a smidgen at this bit of news.
It was at this moment that Professor Snape decided to saunter into the classroom from the side door behind his desk that led into his private quarters. He took his position before the class and shook his tousled hair out of his face to reveal that he was…grinning?
"Good morning, class. Lovely day, isn't it?" Snape chirped cheerily, positively beaming. The class sat frozen, stunned into silence by this strange turn of events. "Today will be a free day! Carry on!" Snape practically bounced over to his desk, flopped down into his chair, propped his feet up in front of him, and pulled out the latest copy of Cooking with Cauldrons, a monthly 'magical' food-preparation magazine.
The students eventually recovered and returned to gossiping, doodling, and twittering. Blaise studied Snape for a moment longer before turning to Draco. "Well, someone finally got laid," he whispered with a smirk. Draco snorted to stifle what would have been a rather unmanly case of the giggles. Granger, you sly minx, he thought. Then he immediately grimaced and fought the horribly overwhelming urge to dry heave at the thought of Granger naked anywhere with anyone.
"What?" Harry asked, befuddled.
"Oh, come on. Got laid? Got down and dirty? Got on with his bad self?" Blaise prompted good-naturedly. When Harry only became more puzzled, Blaise stared at him incredulously. "Er—right, then. Never you worry your pretty head." He ran his fingers through Harry's messy hair and whispered, "I'll, er, demonstrate everything for you after we go to the Halloween Ball."
"Now, now Blaise," Draco growled through a forced smile, "Harry hasn't yet made his decision."
Harry nodded. "Oh, and you don't need to show me, I think I know what you mean," he added matter-of-factly. "Oh, look," he sighed exasperatedly in response to Blaise's querulous glance. He got up, lay down on the floor, and proceeded to roll around in the grimy remains of someone's spilt potion.
"What seems to be the problem here, gentlemen?" Harry stopped rolling to gaze upwards at the speaker, who was none other than their modelicious professor. Snape seemed to have regained some of his former irritableness now that he was in the presence of his least favorite student.
"Oh, er, hello, professor. I was just, um, testing this out. I mean, since you seemed to be so happy this morning, I thought it might, er, work for me," Harry stammered awkwardly.
"And what, pray tell, might that be? Spit it out, Potter, what are you doing?" Snape sneered down at the wriggling boy.
"Getting laid, of course!" Harry replied. Blaise shrank under the table in sheer horror, embarrassment, and disbelief. Draco stuffed his fingers into his mouth and looked away in a desperate attempt to keep from laughing. Harry, blissfully unaware as usual, barreled on cheerfully towards his impending doom. "That is to say," he continued, misinterpreting Snape's violent facial tic as confusion, "that Blaise was saying you got laid last night and that's why you're so jovial today." Here, Hermione bolted from the room like a startled colt in a lightening storm, leaving a perplexed Ron staring after her. By this point, the rest of the class (excluding Blaise, who was cowering under the table in terror) had broken into soft giggles. "So I thought I'd try it out, you know? So I got laid on the floor and was getting down and dirty in this spilt potion, like Blaise sa—"
"Class dismissed!" barked Snape, cutting Harry off before he could do anymore damage. "Except," here his tone changed, becoming soft and dangerous, "Potter, Zabini," he pointed, indicating his next victims. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of white-blonde hair near the door and called, "Mr. Malfoy, you will join us as well." Malfoy turned around, pale as his hair, and gulped as he walked back over to the cowering Blaise, the wriggling Harry, and his diabolical(ly sexy) professor.
Several hours later, the trio emerged, slightly shaken. Harry, not really guilty due to sheer ignorance, was punished only with the deduction of 50 House points and the task of fetching Hermione and informing her to report to Snape's office when he was allowed to leave. Draco, who sidled out of his true culpability through successfully feigning ignorance, merely had to sit through Snape's lecture and watch him dole out punishments for Harry and Blaise. Blaise, the most guilty and least ignorant of the three, was given the interminable task of explaining the birds and the bees (when Blaise had snidely asked, "Homo or hetero?" Snape's facial tic spasmed so badly it seemed as though his skin might fly off and do la cucaracha) to a very ignorant and innocent Harry whilst Snape hovered over him like a gathering thundercloud. Needless to say, the experience was not pleasant at all for any of them.
The three entered the Great Hall for lunch, parting ways to sit at their customary tables. Harry notified Hermione that her presence was requested by Snape, and she blushed red and quickly exited the Hall. Harry sighed glumly and listlessly poked at his food, his appetite diminished by the loss of House points and by Blaise's graphic descriptions. Uncomfortable, fidgety, and not hungry, he left the Hall more preoccupied than normal, so, naturally, he ran into twice as many people as usual, and the human contact made him feel squidgey inside.
After attempting to ride his stationary bike, but having no luck because he was so distracted that he forgot to pedal and his radio consistently went off, Harry sighed with exasperation and went up to his room. He flopped down heavily upon his crusty bed and morosely munched upon some old Pretzel Goldfish and raisins he happened upon scattered between the sheets.
Ron finally re-entered the boy's dorm to find Harry licking what appeared to be marmalade off of his pillow. "Er," he said, announcing his presence.
Harry froze mid-lick, tongue still touching the pillow. "'i 'on. 'ere 'ave 'oo 'een?" he uttered awkwardly.
Ron quirked a ginger eyebrow at his friend. "Er, you all right, mate?" he asked.
Harry removed his tongue from the pillow and sighed. "I don't know. I think something might be wrong with me," he whispered. He turned his attention to wringing his comforter in his hands anxiously. "I can't concentrate. Could I be pregnant?" Harry asked nervously.
Ron's eyebrow rose so high that it threatened to disappear into his hair. "Erm. Right." He shuffled his feet awkwardly for a moment before sitting gingerly next Harry and placing a comforting hand on his comrade's shoulder. He sighed heavily and muttered, "Oh bugger. This might be a bit of a problem, mate."
"What should we do?" Harry asked tentatively, his voice quavering.
Ron gave him a determined look. "We should ask Hermione, that's what," he declared decisively. "C'mon, let's go find her." He stood, pulled Harry from the bed, and set off quickly, dragging a rather distracted Harry behind him.
After informing Ron that Hermione had been summoned earlier by the greasy git himself, the pair awkwardly made their way down to the dungeons (awkwardly because Harry proved a rather cumbersome object to drag down stairs, and because he continuously sang the "Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree" song without pause). The two were a mere ten yards down the corridor from Snape's office when the heavy wooden doors swung open and a very disheveled, blushing Hermione emerged and turned in their direction.
"…laugh, kookaburra, laugh, kookaburra, gay your—egad!" Harry broke off mid-lyric and pointed. "Hiyo, Ol' Bushy Hair!" he cried merrily. Ron merely stood stock still, gaping at an area near Hermione's chest region where a button was haphazardly forgotten.
Hermione recognized her friends and cringed slightly. "Oh, er, hello," she mumbled, glancing shiftily around. "I've, er, got to be going, er…place…" She made to leave, but Harry rushed forward and tackled her. She glared disapprovingly at him, but then her mood shifted to surprise when she noticed that tears were welled up in Harry's eyes (his nose was running profusely as well).
"'Mione," he wailed oddly through his own snot, "I, er, I…" Here he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.
Ron stopped gaping like a big mouth bass to offer, "Harry's gone and got himself knocked up." Harry wailed in confirmation and blew his nose wetly on Hermione's collar.
Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved the sobbing and sniveling wizard off of her. "Oh, honestly," she snapped, her basoomas jiggling in irritation. "Boys don't become pregnant. They lack the proper equipment."
Ron pulled the front of his trousers out and looked down, then remarked, "Er, well, I seem to have a fair bit of equipment…Are you sure?"
Hermione huffed, "Of course. You have different equipment! That's why you aren't girls!" Her hair seemed to curl and frizz with agitation.
Harry and Ron exchanged knowing looks. "Ohhh," Harry replied, enlightened. "I thought we were boys because we always get special treats from Dumbledore and then pass out and wake up later in his office and he sends us home with a pat on the rump and then when we ask him why we get candies, his eyes twinkle and he says, 'Because you've been a good little boy, Harry'."
Ron nodded his head vigorously in agreement as Hermione stared oddly in disgust and disbelief. "Well, that's not the real reason. And you're not pregnant. You can't get pregnant. It is totally and completely physically impossible."
Harry pouted, jutting his lower lip forward and crinkling his nose. "B-but…I already had a name picked out! I was going to name teh bebe Cobalt Lucifer Cinderella Ford Kraft Barbie Sir Elton John N00bz0r Billy Joe Kelloggs Severus Turkwazz Hephaestus Michelob Caesar Orangejello Lemonjello Gerard Winston Banana Gwen Potter-Malfoy Malfoy-Potter Malter Potfoy!"
"What a darling name," Ron squealed, PPSG style.
"What a horrid name," Hermione scoffed. "Well, on that preposterous note, I'm off to the library." She stuck her nose in the air and flounced off, leaving the pair outside Snape's doorway.
The duo shared a mutual shrug and headed back up towards the Tower. Harry decided to use this moment to ask his good buddy for advice. "So, er, Ron," he said hesitantly, glancing shiftily from side to side, "the Halloween ball is this weekend, and—"
"You're asking me?!" Ron interjected happily. "Why, Harry, I—"
Harry shook his head. "Er, no. You're my best mate, not my date." He failed to notice Ron's abrupt mood swing. "No, I need your advice. You see, these two amazingly sexy and gorgeous, er, girls both—"
"Wait, girls?" Ron looked a bit confused. "But I thought Zabini and Malf—"
"No, Ron," Harry cut in, "girls." Ron stared bemusedly at Harry but let him continue. "So, these two girls who are definitely female and not Young Fabio or the Italian Stallion both want me to go to the ball with them, and I can't choose!"
Ron thought for a moment (his expression was rather comical, as this action did not occur often). "Well, I reckon you should just decide that night. Meet them a bit early in the entrance hall and pick whoever looks hawter in her costume."
Harry hugged Ron ecstatically, knocking the wind out of his freckly friend. "Brilliant!" he shouted. "Thanks, Ron!" He abruptly turned and sped off towards the Slytherin common room to tell his, um, "lady" friends of this new development.
Ron shrugged and decided to head to the kitchen. Upon arriving, he stood imperiously before the house elves and commanded, "Get me a drink! I'm 99.9 parched!"
Note: we did not make up the "Kookaburra" song.
"It's a song I learned in pre-k!!!!11one" says Elizarita.
the full version:
Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree,
Merry, merry king of the bush is he;
Laugh, Kookaburra, laugh, Kookaburra,
Gay your life must be.
or, something along those lines...