Summary: Based on a "Hey Arnold!" episode. Parvati predicts everyone's marriages and our four heroes fantasize about her predictions.
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own 'Harry Potter' or 'Hey Arnold!'. I'd just like to thank their creators for not firing a law suit at me. Believe me, I couldn't afford a settlement.
Author's Note: Yes, I know I should be working on "The Forward" and "...Brethren of Ares". But this popped into my head and my muses wouldn't let it go away.
Kyree: Damn Straight.
Emma: You threw out my story, get on with this one!
Merusa: Ok, ok....
Part One: The Prediction
Harry set down his butterbeer on the table at the Three Broomsticks with a thump. He looked up from his seat to see who had spoken, viewing their large table through tired eyes. His sixteen-year-old body wildly protested as he took in friends. He was exhausted.
Parvati had scuttled into the tavern and had begun to speak excitedly. "Ok, now that everyone is listening, I have an incredible announcement to make!"
"You've finally decided that being a stripper is the right career path for you?" Seamus looked up from his seat next to Lavender hopefully. Parvati smirked over the laughter. "You wish, Finnegan, you wish."
"Damn right, I wish that!"
The laughter broke out in full force again. Harry watched as Ginny, Neville, and Luna leaned against each other for support, and Padma and Dean went back to back, cracking up hopelessly.
"SHUT UP!" The noise immediately stopped, and the group looked up at Madam Rosmerta in shock. The pretty witch put her hands on her hips. "You're disturbing the customers," she said daintily, before stomping her glittering heels away. Ron snickered.
"Ok, Parvati, what did you want to say?" Hermione, the only polite person to have ever set foot inside the Three Broomsticks, had taken a position of diplomacy. The silence came in force as the group of friends looked at the Indian girl impatiently.
"Thank you, Lady Mione. What I've come to say is that I've predicted who each and every one of you shall marry!" She finished with a flourish, visibly waiting to hear the whoops and cheers of joy and reverence.
Ron snorted. "Yes, and Hufflepuff is going to take the Quidditch Cup this year."
"STIFLE YOURSELF, WEASLEY!" Ron shrunk into his seat as the entirety of Hufflepuff house screamed at him.
Parvati nodded. "Now that I have the proper respect, I shall announce the futures of our lives." She cleared her throat.
"Padma, sister dearest, you shall marry Dean."
Dean whooped. "Honeymoon! Honeymoon!" Padma hit the back of his head, but she was grinning rather stupidly.
Parvati grinned, satisfied. "Luna, you shall marry Neville!"
Luna smiled dreamily. Neville looked at Harry, face burning. Harry shrugged back at him, wondering the same thing: Did Parvati find the ring?
"Lavender, you shall marry that disgusting pig of an Irishman."
Seamus smiled. Lavender placed the back of her hand on her forehead, and pretended to swoon.
"Hermione, you and Ron shall wed in the fall."
Hermione dropped her head onto her book. Ron looked at Parvati, mouthing wordlessly. For the second time in his life, Harry watched as his best friend moved like a water-deprived goldfish.
With a lurch in his lower stomach, Harry realized that he was probably next.
"Ginny, you will marry Harry!"
Ginny took another swig of butterbeer before responding. "Lucky you didn't tell me that when I was eleven. It would have encouraged me."
Harry, for one, felt rather like his bottom was frozen to the seat. Ginny glanced at him, and a small blush moved over both their faces, and so they turned away quickly.
Ginny....that was stupid.
Parvati clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, you are so welcome!" Beaming, the pretty girl skipped happily out the door.
An awkward silence fell over the table, everyone avoiding their 'future spouse's' eyes.
Author's Note: What do you think? I'm on a role here; I think I'm going to keep writing.
A review a day keeps the unfinished stories away....