Disclaimer: (A Dialogue)
Disclaimer:
(A Dialogue)
“How
do you pronounce parody?”
“Icky...
Ichyjow... Ick... Joooooowow...”
“Ichijouji,
you pronounce it Ichijouji.”
“Are
you sure? It seems like there’d be more p’s and fewer
“jouji’s”.”
AT
ANY RATE, the characters enclosed within are the sole property of
J.K. Rowling and her soul would cry tears of blood and acid if she
had the slightest idea what I was doing to them in the name of
mockery.
“Why
am I doing this? I'm a Prefect! This is an aberration of everything I
stand for as a human being!” All of these thoughts were trying
to enter Hermione Granger's head, but Hermione Granger's head was a
bit busy focusing on Ronald Weasley's tongue.
The
two could hear voices and footsteps as people walked by, but the
entangled teens ignored the passersby. They were safely hidden behind
the suit of armor, so unless someone had business in that area, they
were relatively safe.
“Well,
well, well,” said a voice. Hermione and Ron dutifully ignored
it.
“Well,
well, well...” it said again, more insistently. Hermione
moaned into Ron's mouth, or possibly Ron into Hermione's. Difficult
to tell from this angle.
“GRANGER!
WEASLEY!” The two teenagers jumped apart as if hit with a spell
specifically dedicated to pulling apart snogging teens. Such as a
Snogging Teen Be Gone Charm. Anyway. The two took notice of the
person to find them: Severus Snape.
“Shit,”
said Ron.
“Shit,”
Hermione agreed.
“You
two are in a lot of trouble,” Snape said, with a sinister smile
on his face.
“Erm,
I suppose it's too late to say ‘it's not what it looks like?’”
Ron said hopefully.
“Somehow,
Weasley, I feel that your plea would be better received if you were
wearing a shirt.” Indeed, Ron's shirt had been parted from his
body, in the manner that clothing often is during a session of
snogging. “Come with me,” Snape spat.
Ron
was taller than Snape (as well as most other people) but the Potions
Master managed to drag Ron out of the space behind the armor and in
the direction of the Great Hall. Hermione took a brief moment to
attempt fixing her hair, or at least make it less obvious that Ron's
fingers had been running through it, and ran after Ron. She barely
remembered to scoop up his shirt on the way.
---
Arriving
in the Great Hall, the shirtless student and the irate professor
stormed (or rather, Snape stormed, and Ron was stormed with) up to
the Head Table, where sat Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall.
“Hello, Headmaster, Professor McGonagall,” Snape greeted
coolly.
“Hello,
Severus,” Albus said. He looked at Ron. “Is there a
reason you have a half-naked Gryffindor in tow?”
“I
caught him and Granger,” he said, motioning to the girl who had
just entered the Hall at a run, “committing acts unbefitting
Prefects in my spot—er, behind one of the suits of
armor.”
Ron
had been certain up to that point that Snape was incapable of such
human acts as blushing, but Ron was certain that he saw Snape's
cheeks become slightly less pallid for a moment.
“Is
this true, Weasley?” McGonagall asked, peering at the boy.
“Yes,
Professor,” Ron said, bright red. Oh, how he was glad that it
was conveniently the winter holiday and no students were in the Great
Hall. Himself excluded, of course. And Hermione, who was standing
near the doors talking with the Astronomy professor and still holding
Ron's shirt.
“Well,
then,” McGonagall said, awkwardly. She was silent for a moment,
and then looked at Snape. “What do you expect me to do about
it, Severus?”
Snape
looked at her as if he was mad. “Strip him of his badge!”
He spared a brief glance at Ron. “Not that there's much left to
strip.”
“Well,
there's no actual rule against kissing behind suits of armor,
Severus. It's not a public place, since they wouldn't have been
caught unless you went looking for them,” McGonagall pointed
out.
I've
got to read Hogwarts, a History sometime, Ron thought. Out
loud, he said, “Can I have my arm back now, Professor Snape? I
need it for heavy lifting and such.”
“Ten
points for your cheek,” Snape hissed, releasing Ron's arm. To
Dumbledore, he said, “What do you suggest then, Headmaster?”
Dumbledore
shrugged. “There's nothing you can do. If it bothers you so
much, challenge the boy to a duel.” The way he said it, it was
obvious that it was a perfectly logical progression of events and not
simply the stupidest plot device since the invention of deus ex
machina.
“How
would that solve anything?” Ron asked nervously, rubbing his
wrist where Snape had been gripping it.
Snape
grinned. “Don't be daft, boy. Dueling has solved wizard feuds
for millennia. The terms shall be so: when I win, you shall swear
never to hide behind that armor for all your days.” There's
something to be said of Snape's oratory skill that he could make “all
your days” sound frightening. “If, by some chance of fate
you win... I'll add fifty points to Gryffindor... or something.”
Snape
was offering him a choice? There was a catch.
“And
if you decline to duel altogether, you can serve week of detentions
for disobeying a teacher.”
Ah,
there it was. Ron nodded dumbly. “Very well. It shall be
tomorrow at sunset. Do not be late.” Snape stormed out of the
Hall, stormed back in, took a muffin, and stormed out again.
Hermione
hurried to Ron and asked, “What happened?”
“I
have to duel him,” he said.
He
heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a throat being cleared
by someone who was used to being a cat. “Cold, Weasley?”
Professor McGonagall asked.
“Ack!”
He grabbed his shirt from Hermione, put it on backwards, and rushed
awkwardly out of the Great Hall.
---
Tomorrow
became today, and today became yesterday, and last week remained last
week because last weeks are funny that way, and it was time to duel.
Ron was already there when Snape hurricaned onto the grounds.
“Are
you prepared, Weasley?” Snape asked.
“Do
you care?”
“No.”
“Then
no, no I'm not.”
“I
don't care.”
“I
knew you wouldn’t.”
“Then
why did you answer?”
“You
asked!”
Before
this conversation could sink to still lower levels of stupidity,
Hermione bid the duel begin.
They
followed the traditional bits that always come before beating one's
opponent half to death, and stood facing each other on the frozen
soil. “Tarantallegra!” Snape yelled. The spell flew
through the early evening darkness and hit its target on the mark,
assuming its target was a tree about fifty yards behind Ron. The
stupid boy had ducked!
“Expelliarmus!”
Ron cried, getting to his feet. His spell formed a ball of glittery
light that sailed toward Snape.
“Protego!”
Snape yelled, raising his wand to block the spell. It ricocheted off
the shield and headed back to Ron, who made his own Shield Charm when
the hex came his way. It bounced again and headed toward Snape, and
then back to Ron, like some demented game of Pong. Ignoring, of
course, the fact that neither duelist had ever heard the word “pong,”
and if they had, would probably have tried to imagine it on toast.
Faster
and faster the spell bounced, borrowing power from each of the
shields until finally, Snape raised when he should have lowered, and
was thrown back. “Did I just win?” Ron asked Hermione.
“Yes.
Idiot.”
“There's
no need to call me an idiot!”
“Well,
you've obviously won! Otherwise Professor Snape wouldn't be on the
ground like that!”
“He's
an experienced fighter. Of course I'm shocked to have won!”
“Don't
be stupid; you've fought before too!”
“Only
with you, and that's enough of a challenge, I don't mind telling
you.”
“Obviously
not.”
“Peace!”
Benedick Ron cried. “I will stop your mouth.”
He kissed her, but this time Snape stood up before anything could
progress.
“Enough!
Dear Lord, if I'd had known Potter went through this every day, I'd
have felt more pity for him a while earlier. Take your points and get
out of my sight. I'll find somewhere else to take her.”
“Her?
The Astronomy professor?” Hermione asked, not really expected
an answer. To her mild surprise, one was provided.
“Yes.
Not that it's any of your business, but we frequent that... spot. She
once threw a coffee mug at me,” he added, apparently talking to
himself.
“We
were snogging in Snape's love nest?” Ron had a look of utter
disgust on his face. “Merlin's beard! That's disgusting! I
think I'll be ill. I'm never going there again.”
Hermione
led Ron back into the castle, presumably to become violently ill.
“Does
this mean I win?” Snape asked himself. Then, realizing that
he'd just lost a duel to a student, he tried to salvage his pride.
“Of course I win,” he told no one. “That was my
plan all along. I just didn't know it. I am truly brilliant. Wherever
did Auriga wander off to?”
Snogging
is such a romantic word, isn’t it? It makes me feel all
a-twitter every time I hear it.
Snogging.
Woo. All tingly.
Auriga
Sinistra is the property of JK Rowling, except that She's a Star has
completely stolen her and made her her own. Auriga, that is. She
stole Auriga. Not JKR. Although that would be cool too, maybe she'd
fill us in on book six.
