Disclaimer: I personally think J.K. would murder me if she read this, so yeah. Characters and settingnot mine.
A/N: Ok, Harry/Hermione shippers, please do not kill me. I'm going to make fun of R/Hr and H/G and many other pairings in due time. I am only basing some of the things in here off of CERTAIN H/Hr shippers who I found to be a bit...well...maniac, but don't worry. I know there are maniac R/Hr shippers out there too. We'll get to them eventually.
In Which Harry Temporarily Hearts Hermione
and Voldemort is Vanquished…Sort Of
Abruptly changing settings and zooming about three months into the future, the Author lays out a scene of grim, grotesque, gloominess. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione ("'Mione/Herm-Never-Mind-That-Ron-and-Harry-Only-Call-Her-Hermione-in-the-Books") Granger were sitting in the tearful, terrible, tiny town of Godric's Hollow, guarding…something…unspecified. Something unspecific but totally important. Yes, it was imperative He Who Must Not Be Named never discover the UIO (Unspecified Important Object). Ron was hungry, because when is he not? No, seriously. Name one time when he's not moaning about food and saying bloody hell or irritating Hermione.
"Bloody hell," Ron moaned. "I'm hungry!"
"Well," Hermione said irritably (because when is Hermione not irritable?), "why don't you go find some food, then, and stop bothering my one true love—I mean Harry—and me?"
"Bloody hell, 'Mione," Ron said thickly, looking delighted. "What a bloody brilliant idea!" And with that, he ran off to a local pub. Or something.
"So," Harry said once the bungling sidekick had departed, completley oblivious to Hermione's one true love comment, "how've you been?"
"Tired!" Hermione cried dramatically. "I am so tired of hiding!"
"But Herm," Harry said sensibly, "we have to hide. D'you want to die?"
"No, that's not what I mean," Hermione said impatiently. "I mean hiding my true feelings…for you!"
"Oh," Harry said, beginning to catch on. "That." The pair sat in silence for a moment before Harry nervously glanced up at the Author, who was busy playing Solitaire and momentarily ignoring them. "Erm, Hermione," Harry whispered, "you're acting a bit odd."
"I know," Hermione agreed in hushed tones, "but they'll stop at nothing! They're determined that no matter what J.K. Rowling says, they are the ones who have the right idea." She snorted. "After all, J.K. just wrote the books. What does she know?"
"So what do we do?" Harry asked nervously.
"We have to be totally out of character," Hermione responded at once. "If my love for Ron gets in the way, they'll just make him more stupid and then 'accidentally' kill him off. We have to be careful. Say something about Ginny being a whore, and then tell me I look nice."
"Good idea!" Harry said enthusiastically. "We might have to snog and forget to guard the UIO, though." He wrinkled his nose. "Gross."
"Harry," Hermione said primly, "do you want Ron and Ginny to die mysterious, random deaths that don't make sense?"
"Then Goddammit, TAKE ME NOW!" Hermione cried dramatically, throwing herself at Harry and once more attracting the Author's attention.
"Erch—I mean, ok!" Harry said nervously, trying to think of something convincing. "Ginny is a ho, and Hermione, you look nice today!" Not that he could actually see her, as she had accidentally knocked his glasses off in her fit of passion.
"I said whore, not ho," she hissed in his ear. "Those are two completley different things!"
"No," Harry argued, deciding to go out of character and grab the conveniently located dictionary in his pocket to make this "I Heart Hermione" thing more plausible. "Whore," he pronounced studiously, locating his glasses and then shoving Hermione off of his rib cage, "an offensive term for a prostitute." He flicked back to the letter 'H.' "Ho: a taboo term for a prostitute." He glared at Hermione. "Now, you can't tell me that doesn't mean the same thing."
"Oh, whatever," Hermione said anxiously, glancing up at the confused Author. "Harry, I love you!"
"Oh. Right. I, um, you know, love you, too." Harry coughed, and Hermione elbowed him in the face. "I mean, yes, Hermione, I love you as well! My heart beats for you and only you!"
"Wait," Hermione hissed at Harry, staring irritably into his engaging, emerald eyes, "Ron is the only one who says that in fanfiction! Don't get too OOC!"
"Harry didn't say that," a tragic voice proclaimed, "I did!" A shocked Hermione and Harry glanced up to see a horrified Ron standing before them, a turkey leg clutched in his fist. The Author smiled evilly and munched on another handful of popcorn.
"Crap," Harry muttered. "Um, Ron, this isn't—"
"Don't try to hide it anymore!" Ron cried angstfully, taking a huge bite out his turkey leg. "I've seen the wistful looks you two shoot each other when you think that I'm, not looking! I know it is kismet that you are meant to be together, no matter what that moron J.K. Rowling says! Oh, Hermione, I am woeful that you do not love me as I have for so long loved you, and Harry, Ginny will become even more of a skank once she finds out you have tricked her, but I want you to know, I'm happy for you!" He paused to draw a breath after such an uncharacteristic use of so many long words. The Author looked up guiltily from her thesaurus, then gave up. "And yah, I think I'm like feelin kinda depressed now," Ron admitted, chomping down on the turkey again. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he pointed tremblingly at a spot slightly to the left. "Bloody, blimey, blinking hell—check it out, yo, it's Voldemort!"
And, sure enough, it was.
"Hey, Potter," the Dark Lord himself said impatiently, folding his arms and tapping his foot. He'd been watching this little tête-à-tête for far too long; he definitely had wasted enough of his evil time. "We gonna do this or what?"
"Yes!" Harry cried bravely, throwing Hermione off of him and jumping up heroically. "You will not win, Voldemort! You will not kill my friends anymore! You will not find the Unspecified Important Object, which is located at the site of my parent's house in Godric's Hollow!" He glared menacingly at his archenemy. "Yes, the very same!"
"Uh..." said Voldemort, understandably bemused. "…right." He drew his wand. Takeover time was ticking away—ticking!—and he still had his weekly AA session in a half hour. "Ok, so, time to die, kid. Avada Kerdava!" he yelled diabolically. "Sayonara, sucker."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" cried Ron, in ridiculously slowed-down anguish. "Haaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyy!" He dove spectacularly in front of his best mate, absorbing the spell.
"Ron!" cried Harry, somewhat more quickly. "No!" But it was too late: the redhead and his turkey leg had kicked the bucket.
Which means they were dead.
"I'll get you for this, Voldy!" Harry hollered angrily, but Voldemort was already cursing him again. The Avada Kerdava spell hit him with the force of a tractor, but miraculously, Harry survived. The spell bounced off of him and hit Voldemort, who, since Harry still hadn't managed to find the last Horcrux, disappeared with a pop, once more reduced to little more than a pathetic excuse for a soul. Hermione stared at Harry, who stared at the Ron's corpse, who stared at the turkey leg, who stared at…
Ok, never mind.
But, no, anyways, Hermione said sadly,
"Harry, what's that on your forehead?"
"This?" Harry reached up, and found that he had not just one scar, but TWO now! The second scar seemed to be in the shape of a turkey leg. "Oh my God!" Harry yelled. "Ron's loyalty and brotherly love have saved me from the Killing Curse, just like my mother's love saved me when I was a baby!" He drew a large breath. "This is so cool. Just think: we get to go find Voldemort a second time, and go back to school because he will undoubtedly possess/control a DADA professor. Oh, and we gotta bring Ron back from the dead."
"I'm not dead," Ron said suddenly. He jumped to his feet. "The turkey leg took most of the spell. You all right mate?"
"Yep," Harry said, proudly showing his friend his new scar.
"Well," Hermione said, sighing wearily. "Come on. We'd better go to school and find You-Know-Who."
"Again," Ron groaned. "Ugh, I thought we were well shot of Hogwarts."
From somewhere not too far away, the Author cackled evilly.
A/N: Once again, scared to see reviews. But oh well. That's what I get for writing under the influence of cold medicine. XDD