What to do if you suddenly start growing fangs/wings/pointy ears after your 17th/16th/15th/13th/11th birthday, inspired by all those vampire/veela/dementor/fae/elf-inheritance fics.
Step one, exhibit symptoms of changing shape/color/teeth length/hair length/ear pointiness/toe pointiness.
Harry looked in the mirror, and promptly screamed. He had fangs! 'The bloody hell...'
Step two, carefully examine all birthday presents; Lupin probably sent you something on it, 'cause he does stuff like that. Alot. Or rather, every. Single. Fricking. Time...
He stared at his reflection for a moment and blinking a bit, deciding that he was probably hallucinating and going over to examine his birthday presents for any hints as to what was happening, in case he was, in fact, not hallucinating. He wasn't far too worried about it either way, however. He had heard voices before – just look at his second year!
Step three, ...except the one time you look. If no info is found in birthday presents, either A., search the library for information, and avoid getting caught by Ron, or B., go talk to Dumblefuc – oh, excuse me. Dumbledore.
Surprisingly enough, there was nothing amongst his presents about magical creatures or vampires or secret family... er, secrets, so he went off to the library to examine various books for why he might gain fangs on his seventeenth birthday.
Step four, find out from library information/Dumblefuc – I mean Dumbledore that you are a Vampire/Veela/Fae/Elf/Dementor/Mermaid/Ballerina, and have an pre-chosen mate. D'oh.
Harry glared at the book. It had to be a joke. The only reason he could get fangs on his birthday (of course) would be because he had come into a vampire inheritance. Which meant he had a predetermined mate. Which meant that, with his luck, his mate had to be...
Step five, you should attempt to avoid Draco Malfoy... for the rest of your life. If impossible, resign yourself to the fact that he is probably your mate, because let's face it; everyone loves slash, and that's just the way your horrid luck goes.
Draco Malfoy. He knew it without even seeing the prat. He just knew it had to be him; nothing else had gone correctly in Harry's life, so why should this? And so, after some careful Potions Class Skipping and Great Hall Avoiding, he was forced to run into Dra – Malfoy in the hallways, which confirmed his suspicions. Yup. Nothing ever went right for the poor little wee Potty lad, as Peeves had put it when he'd found out. That was, of course, before he made up some sort of humiliating poem about it and sung it to the entire Great Hall at breakfast.
Step six, attempt to avoid the "My mate has been kidnapped" plot if possible, and if not, get some Voldemort-Be-Gone (it's like TV-Be-Gone, only better) because really, who else would be bored enough to kidnap your mate and lure you into a lair only to be heroically defeated and have to watch you and said mate "bond" while the Grim Reaper gets his butt into action and gets said evil villain's spirit away from here?
Harry stared at Dumblefuc-- Dumbledore in shock and sorrow and frustration and anger and sadness and a bunch of other depressing emotions. Draco had been kidnapped! He quickly rushed to his trunk, grabbed some Voldemort-Be-Gone (A/N: And you thought I was kidding!) and ran off to rescue Draco.
Step seven, "Bond" with mate after rescuing – because really, what interesting fanfic is not M-Rated, and you've now rescued said mate from great evil, so you just have to shag.
I'm sorry, but I do not want to write a lemon. In fact, I outright refuse. This is T-Rated. T-Rated. Not M-Rated. Not R-Rated. T-Rated. And that's only because of Dumblefuc – Dumbledore, and my mentions of Lemons.
Step eight, you you develop freaky telepathic/empathetic/telekinetic/telephonic powers with mate now that you've bonded.
'His butt looks quite good from over here...' Draco thought, examining Harry's bottom from his position on the bed, and tilting his head to the side to get a better angle.
Harry screeched. "URGH! YOU PERVERT!"
Step nine, Avoid remaining Death Eaters; they will kidnap your mate/children/self, no matter how many times they claim to be good now – unless they're Lucius Malfoy and Draco was your mate. Then he somehow magically decided to be good now – either that or he's threatening to use the Imperius on Draco to make him kill you, thus causing an angsty breakup/suicide. It depends.
"Hello. I am Lucius Malfoy, and I am no longer evil," Lucius Malfoy – for that was indeed the speaker's name – stated randomly one day.
"Why, of course you are not, dear father," Draco Malfoy – for that was indeed this speaker's name – replied cheerfully.
Step ten, live happily ever after with your mate and 2-10 children, forever living in joy and happiness and Mpreg and stuff.
Janie, Connor, Derick, Hadrian, Drake, Jamie, Leila, Geoffrey, George and Daniel all smiled cheerfully at their two fathers, skipping around in happy meadows with bunnie wabbits and flowers and daisies -- "But daisies are flowers!" "Shut up!" -- and lived happily ever after forevermore.
A/N: I am not insulting any of these plot twists/bunnies. Really, they're wonderful, I love them to death, and I read them constantly. They're just quite cliche, and thus make for wonderful comedy. Sort of.
Feel free to flame me if it's horrid, but praise is muchly appreciated.