The Big Cliché

Subtitle: Punk Rock Depression

Summary: Sick of those stories where our lovely Draco is transformed into Muggle-clothed, punk, bad-ass and Hermione becomes beautiful but depressed and they INSTANTLY fall in love? Introducing role reversal: Punk Hermione and Depressed Draco.

Rating: PG-13. Sexual references, bad words. Nothin too explicit.

Hermione lay on her bed, her massive D cups heaving up and down as she breathed. It was a lovely, lazy summer's day and she was bored. Thank God she was leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow. She swung her legs over and got up, checking herself out in the mirror. The dark black eyeliner smudged under her eyes gave her an awesome look, or so she thought. She looked like the Smashin' Pumpkins lead singer, Po (short for POSER!!). She trailed her fingertips across her nose, the fifty nose rings feeling a little bumpy. She could breathe right out of the cartilage if she ever took them out, she supposed. Well that was a plus to dropping all that money on the rings. But most of all she adored her lip ring. It was a tiny little symbol of Satan, her newest obsession.

She slicked on three gallons of Sticky Red Annoying Shit, her favorite lip gloss ever, and rubbed her lips together. To her shock, her lips were stuck together! "Mmmph, Mmph, mmmmmmmmmmph!" she screamed, trying to loosen them. Suddenly she heard a sound at the window.

"Sounds erotic, Granger." She looked up and in her surprise saw a sleep-deprived Malfoy.

Suddenly able to speak again, because the author didn't bother to remember that her lips were stuck together, she opened her mouth to release the sweetest sound Malfoy'd ever head. She belched.

"Good one, Mione!" Malfoy said, suddenly deciding to become courteous and nice and polite. The author passed it off as multiple-personality disorder. Hey, wizards can get that too, okay? Oh wait, they can't? Well then, the author huffed, story's AU 'cause I'm too lazy to change that.

"Thanks, Draco! Wow, you're really hot! Did you just suddenly change over the summer like a mofo?"

"You betcha, gee, by golly whiz, I sure did and you're lookin' mighty purdy in that lovely little Goth outfit. Make the skirt shorter, my sweet cupcake, and we've got us a field of corn! Yum, yum if you know what I mean, hun bun!" (Another personality switch, the author decided. Malfoy can be Southwestern!).

"Hey, wait a minute," Hermione said slowly. "What the hell are you doing outside my window before school starts in my Muggle neighborhood when you hate Muggles, especially me?" Of course, it had taken her this long to ask him that. He was only her archenemy, and she was only the smartest girl in the school.

Suddenly Malfoy's blue-green eyes began to water. The author obviously didn't remember or didn't bother to look up Malfoy's real eye color, so she picked what she liked best.

"Drakie, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, suddenly perturbed. A punk rock chick with a huge motherly instinct. We're all entitled to our differences!

"It's just that…I ran away from home today. Came here, tried to find a place to stay. Oh god, it hurts to be this way. In my life of darkness you are the only ray!" Draco chanted, his brown eyes, changing because the author didn't remember what eye-color she'd used before, looking straight into Hermione's chocolate ones.

"That's so sweet," she exclaimed, reaching over to hug him.

"Shall we snog?"

"But of course. No, wait, wait, I want it but the story's got to be longer. Everyone knows that this is all about sex anyway. What else could we possibly want from each other?" said Hermione, Mighty-Brain kicking in.

"Uhh, love?"

"No, you bimbo. Love is just a pretense they put up so they can write porn! We've all got to get off somehow, no?"

"True. Especially the thirteen-year-olds with graphic sex scenes. The errors are kind of funny."

"Mmmhmm. I love the fact they get their sex knowledge from other authors."


"Okay, I'm ready to snog. How long was that?"

"Three minutes."

"All right, you lie down on my bed and pretend you're strategically placed there so that you're just so tempting. And I'll stand her and lick my lips and you've got to whisper something or groan or whatever that gives me the idea that you want it to."

"That sounds more like animalistic lust than love."

"Whatever that gets us to the snogging!" Hermione huffed. She walked over to her mirror and slicked on the stuff, licking her lips. The stuff went by the liter down her throat and she began to choke. Spurting out the silver red substance, she threw up all over her mirror and sighed. "All right that postpones sex by about four minutes. Hold it." She raced down to her bathroom and rinsed her mouth out. She pulled out her second favorite make-up item, because she had so much and she'd always worn the stuff. The second one was deep pink, called The Punk Poser's Pink Gloss For Preppiness While Acting Punk.

"Okay, I'm ready!" She said seductively and walked over to Draco.

[Graphic sex scene, which was totally not needed for the plot]

Suddenly out of nowhere, Pansy Parkinson appeared.

"OH MY GOD, YOU WENCH! GET YOUR FILTHY MUD BLOOD HANDS OFF MY BOYFRIEND!" She was shaking with rage and her nails were ruined because they were still wet when she went absolutely insane.

"I hate you Pansy you're a bee-yatch," Draco said, obviously reluctant to use the B-word after there had just been an explicit, steamy little scene above.

"What. No you don't you love me because I never hear when you say you hate me anyway. I have no brains, you dummy don't even bother telling me that. Now, where was I?" She pulled out a little notebook and put a nice, big check next to "Yelling". Next on the list was "Tantrum". Obediently, she got down on the floor and screamed and kicked and nearly scratched her eyes out. This accomplished absolutely nothing but Pansy could put a lovely check next to the next item on the list. "Okay, guys," She said. "I'm all done here so I'm just going to leave now because my presence is no longer required in the story."

Draco suddenly remembered, or rather, the author suddenly remembered that Draco was supposed to be depressed. "Hermione," he said quietly. "I love you (my arse! But I do love your bum) but I can't do this." He picked up a wand, which had Apparated itself out of Hermione's closet for the author's unforeseen needs, and bellowed at the top of his depressed little lungs, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Hermione screamed, trying to jump in front of the curse. The spell hit the mirror instead and bounced off, instead hitting the window pane and…Voldemort? Yes, the author had decided to bring him in to give the story some real plot. So, the spell issued by Draco bounced off the mirror and hit Voldemort. No wonder Draco was used as Seeker. His aim sucks! Anyway, now that Voldemort was dead--and Harry hadn't done it, so the author could say that her story was different!--everything was peachy keen in the wizarding world and Draco and Hermione could live happily ever after.


Three hundred miles away, Lucius Malfoy was playing a round of poker with his buds MacNair, Crabbe, and Goyle, when he suddenly dropped dead to the floor. The author had forgotten he didn't like Mudbloods.


Important Author's Note: I wasn't trying to offend anyone. Okay? I just wanted to give my tribute, shall we say, to those lovely, lovely authors who pass these off as actual stories.

Oh, Disclaimer: Don't own 'em but I sure did get to change their personalities.