Author's Note: Well this little...piece is in response to The Shuffle Challenge in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. Basically, the rules were to put my itunes on shuffle and to write a piece for the duration of the random song, drawing inspiration from it! This is what i come up with, basically! It's my first challenge, and i've posted these up just as i wrote them - no editing! So go easy on me, okay? Brownie points if you can guess which song the title came from!
Everything Back But You - Avril Lavigne
Hermione hadn't even realised that their relationship had been going stale. She was too entrapped with her work, too busy to even sit down and reflect on the small changes which she had not noticed.
The first sign she did see, was when she returned home from work one Friday evening. Ron wasn't home; she could tell, because there was no spell of cooking food, no blast of the television.
He hadn't mentioned that he was going anywhere, hadn't said that he would be out. Idly, she wondered where he might have gone.
As she walked into the sitting room, she noticed a small card propped up on the windowsill. It was covered in an image of the seaside – it was striking and beautiful.
She picked it up, quickly scanning the squashed writing inside. He had gone, left her. Clearly he was with someone else – she could smell her cheap perfume radiating from it. On the bottom, scribbled so insignificantly, were the four words which broke Hermione's heart and shattered her world.
I wish you were her.
If You Can Afford Me - Katy Perry
Fleur Delacour had always known she was stunning; it was impossible not to.
Whenever she entered a room or walked down the street, if she even breathed, she was suddenly surrounded by dozens of admirers. None of these men had ever caught her heart though; not the rich ones, the handsomest, or even the most intelligent. She hated being treated like a piece of meat or a bimbo – something none of those guys had ever understood.
When she met Bill Weasley though, everything was different.
At first, he hadn't even seemed interested. His eyes merely flicked up when she entered the room, and he refused to wait on her hand and foot. She liked him instantly. They went out in the evenings after work, talked about everything; politics, music, literature…love.
She realised that he didn't need to be rich to win her heart, and he realised that money didn't matter to her. Bill Weasley was the only who man who had truly been able to afford her, and he didn't even have enough money to pay for it.
Hate That I Love You - Rihanna
Contrary to her reputation, Pansy Parkinson was not a spoilt brat without , she had money; yes she could get almost whatever she wanted with the wave of a wand.
But the one thing she wanted, she would never properly have. And that, ladies and gentlemen, really did hurt.
Her parents had been telling her about Draco Malfoy ever since she could remember. They wanted her to marry him, to continue the 'honour' of their pure-blooded families. She had always sworn it wouldn't be so, but when she first met him…she fell in love. And she hadn't fallen out of it since.
It had always appeared that he loved her too. He held her hand, kissed her, took her to all the pureblood socialite events. They had even briefly talked of marriage. But he had never once uttered those three little words. She knew that all he thought about were the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, but she longed for him to once think of her. She hated how he didn't. It hurt her so much to be in love with him, and she hated how much she needed him.
She hated that she loved him so.
Womanizer - Britney Spears
It had always been a secret, but Lily Potter hadn't always fancied her husband James. The first boy whom she had ever had a real 'thing' for had been none other than Sirius Black.
She had met him on the train, all those years before, and had fallen head over heels. He was leant nonchalantly against the window, inspecting his fingernails as though he was bored to tears even being there. She loved his floppy black hair, his wide brown eyes; he reminded her of a helpless puppy that only she could save.
She had spent her first three years of Hogwarts mooning after him. She watched him date almost every girl in Gryffindor (except her of course!), and continued watching as he moved through every other house. She wondered every night when it would be her turn, when he would realise that it was her he really wanted.
She knew he was a womanizer, but she thought she could change him. She was certain she could.
Teenage Kicks - The Undertones
The Gryffindor House Parties were legendary.
Everyone in the school knew that the Gryffindors were notorious for throwing the best parties; it was even written in Hogwarts: A History as a bonafide fact. T
he last day of school was always the day of the most epic party, and it was no exception when Ron, Harry and Hermione were behind the helm. All of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' finest had been ordered, the best food from the kitchen had been selected, and a copious amounts of alcohol had been procured from Hogsmeade.
Gryffindor House was officially ready to party. Even Hermione Granger was ready to let her hair down. Ron approached her to ask her why she changed her mind so suddenly. She had always been opposed to parties before. Hermione smiled coquettishly and took a sip of her drink, admiring their handiwork.
"Well, you only get one chance in life for your teenage kicks, don't you?"
Ultraviolet - The Stiff Dylans
Neville Longbottom had never been a romantic. According to his grandmother, he wasn't intelligent or brave enough to be one. But when it came to Luna Lovegood, well, everything changed. She was beautiful, she was strange she was…perfect. He looked out for her in the crowds every day without fail; seeing her always gave him a burst of energy. She had a special kind of air about her; like ultraviolet light. One fortuitous day, he happened to pass by her in the corridor and she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Neville." She said simply, smiling ethereally. "Why do you always stare at me, but never say hello?" He blushed to the roots of his hair; he could feel his face scorching.
"I…well…I'm shy." She laughed gaily, tossing her blonde hair backwards.
"Well you needn't be! I stare at you too, you know. It's kind of odd, because you have this strange sort of light about you…like ultraviolet. Do you get what I mean?" Neville grinned and nodded.
"I know exactly what you mean!" They smiled at one another for a long moment, neither of them too keen to move. "Would you like to walk to lunch with me, Luna?"
"I'd love to Neville! Perhaps after lunch we could go for a walk? Or to the library? I think we must investigate this odd light phenomenon at the school. Father will find it very interesting; he could even print it in The Quibbler …"
Family Portrait - Pink
For all of the pleasantries, the airs and graces, that the Malfoy's possessed, no one could ever truly know what went on behind closed doors.
Draco was used to sitting up during the night, listening to his mother sobbing in the next room. He was used to the sound of glasses shattering as his father sent them spinning across the room. His parents were always arguing about something; they were always red-faced, panting and swearing. A far cry from the composed and idyllic couple that they showed the rest of the wizarding world.
Draco was certain that his father would never stop shouting; his voice was always raised, always on the edge of cracking from the strain. He had tried running away once, but his mother had loving hunted him down. She had lovingly brought him back to World War Three.
He would do anything to make it right, anything to cease the endless arguments that he could never avoid – he would be nicer, he would be better.
He wanted to look like their family portrait, the one that could be found in any wizarding newspaper in the world. His father standing proudly, his mother flashing a dazzling smile and him…looking at the pair of them as though he admired them. At breakfast in the Great Hall, he picked up The Daily Prophet and saw yet another family portrait. With a grimace, he tore it up.
It was only a portrait.
It wasn't the truth.
I Wanna Have Your Babies - Natasha Bedingfield
Lavender Brown sometimes worried that someone was able to read her mind. She often wondered if Snape could, when she looked up to see him looking at her disgustedly whilst she was daydreaming in class, but she was certain that mind reading was impossible.
If someone could see inside her head they would surely run away screaming; especially Ronald.
In her mind, everything was perfect – just how she wanted it to be. She could see herself married to Ron. They would live in a beautiful house in the countryside; surrounded by daisies with a pony nibbling away, and a few chickens living in the back garden. They would have three children. All of them with her beautiful blonde hair; of course, the Weasley redhead wasn't a trait you would wish on anybody. Ron would be the perfect husband; kind, loving, always attentive and naturally filthy rich.
With a contented sigh, she opened her eyes and looked across the dining table at her perfect boyfriend, watching him munch on his breakfast. They would have such a wonderful life, if only she could get rid of that little hussy Hermione Granger! It would be easily done, she thought, and then she could have everything she wanted.
"Won-Won!" Lavender cried happily. "Let's go for a walk, I want to tell you all about my plans!"
Envy - Ash
Hermione and Krum were one blurred swirl of blue and red as they whirred around the dance floor at the Yule Ball, apparently having the time of their lives.
Ron Weasley, on the other hand, was hating every single minute of it. His date had left him for another of those Bulgarian usurpers, the food wasn't very good, and Hermione was too busy waltzing with Viktor bloody Krum to pay him any attention.
He wasn't certain what this strange feeling in his stomach was; he felt ill watching them together, like he was going to throw up all over his dress robes. Not that anyone would even notice if he did, they were already ugly enough. He found that he couldn't even look at them as Krum told her a joke and Hermione laughed prettily.
He should have asked her to the dance; why hadn't he done it earlier? He wanted it to be him that she was dancing and laughing with; he wanted it to be his arm that she was touching so gently with her delicate fingers. She looked beautiful in her dress, better than any of the other girls did. That stupid prat didn't deserve her; he was ugly, and he wasn't even that good at Quidditch anyway!
As Harry sat down next to him with a miserable thud, Ron suddenly realised what he had just thought. Hermione, beautiful? He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling his ears turning red. Adamantly he told himself he really was not jealous.
Even if he didn't quite believe it.
In For The Kill - La Roux
Hermione hadn't realised what she was doing, before it was far too late.
She would flash Draco Malfoy a little grin now and then, a slight wink, a cheeky flash of her thigh. It had started out as a game, an enjoyable little mind trick which brought her pleasure at his confusion.
It was only when he began properly responding, that she realised she had possibly got herself into trouble. She found him staring at her in the Great Hall, she bumped into him in the library when he had neither been studying nor reading.
Yet for some reason she was not sure of, she continued.
It developed into flirtatious banter, gentle touches on the arm or knee, lingering glances across classrooms that made her heart flip when it shouldn't. She only realised that a simple game had developed into something much more dangerous when he cornered her in the library one night.
A strong arm at either side of her head, his body forcing her against the wall. His face was barely an inch from hers, his breath fluttered her hair. Her mind was screaming that it was time the game ended, that she should beat a hasty retreat and end the foolishness she had started. But her heart pounded, her blood raced, her breath quickened. She loved the thrill, and she was not ready for the game to end. She was going in for the kill.
With a small, flirtatious smile she stood on her tiptoes and planted him with a kiss.
Author's Note: The title came from the final song In For The Kill by La Roux. Google it. It's great!