A/N I am so sorry for publishing this. It's so bad that even the characters start taking shots at me. Just read to see what I mean.
THE ONLY CHAPTER-GUARANTEED
WHEN HARRY MET EDWARD AT THE EMO HERO REHAB.
A seventeen year old boy with untidy hair looked across the room, and found someone just a year or two older, standing in a corner smiling. The other boy was a few inches shorter but also had the popular untidy hair that young, manly, emo main characters have.
"You must be Harry Potter," he said, holding out a hand.
"Hi, you must be Edward Cullen." Harry was quite shocked, staring at Edward. Edward reminded Harry tremendously of Cedric Diggory.
"I am," Edward replied. "I haven't seen you at a 'Coming of (Under)age Guys Absent of Reality' rehab meeting before."
"Oh? Is that what C.O.U.G.A.R. means?"
"Yep, sure is. We just call it boytoyfic land. What do you think of the seminars?"
Harry looked down at the paper in his hand, looking at the different seminars available for today. "A few of them seem interesting. I think I'm going to go to the one titled, 'Why Emo Heroes are Sexy to Middle Aged Female Authors.' "
Edward laughed. "I definitely have that one marked on my list as well. But I thought everyone liked you because you weren't a emo hero?"
"Oh, come on, Edward. My author has me locked up in a closet, always abused by my blood relatives, brooding every other chapter over something, and being so self-sacrificial I might as well be cutting my own arms. If I'm not the epitome of emo, I don't know what is."
Edward spread out his arms. "Ahem."
"True," Harry conceded. "But at least you're 'in touch' with your emotions. My author practically strangles me with mine."
Edward smiled at him. "Okay, we'll call it a draw. What other seminars are you taking?"
"Well, I thought about going to, 'Why Can't My Story End with Me Kicking My Enemy's Ass.' "
Suddenly, Harry turns to me, the author of this fanfic.
"If you are going to write me and take me out of character, at least get the British slang right. It's 'arse'."
. . .
Excuse the slight break in the story as I fix a couple things.
. . .
"Well, I thought about going to, 'Why Can't My Story End with Me Kicking My Enemy's Arse.' "
"Oh my god. You have nothing on me there." Edward was chortling. "My author sets up this unbelievable battle scene. She brings in all these extraordinary powerful vampires and a pack of shape shifters who are as big as horses, and then just sends us all home."
"That's almost as bad as what my author did," Harry informed Edward.
"Oh? Almost as bad?"
"Yeah, she had my two mates and me out hunting for these magical things called Horcruxes all over Britain. We find and destroy all but two of them before we get back to Hogwarts, which was the main setting of my story. Then there is this big battle scene and halfway through while the other side is kicking our rears, their leader calls a truce and asks for me to come out. Well, I go and to make long story short, the Darth Vader wannabe kills me, freeing me since I'm the last Horcrux but I'm able to come back."
"Exactly," Harry said.
"Oh come on Edward. half of the wolf pack have Hebrew/Greek names from the Bible. Look at Jacob, who begins a new race. He also has sisters named Rachel and Rebecca. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"Ok, so both of our authors plagiarized the Bible."
"Yeah." Harry winked at Edward. "I guess that should put an end to the whole 'who-stole-what-from-whom' discussion. They both stole from a much older book."
They both laughed and Edward shook his head. "I guess you're right. Jacob and a new people or a resurrection, they've both been done before. But at least there was a fight in your story."
"A fight? Oh come on. I faced this snake-faced git, dance around for a little while talking, then I didn't even have the dangly-bits to kill him off with the killing curse. No, I have to try and disarm him."
"Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me."
"Not even close. I guess my cougar—I mean author, wanted her Coming Of (Under)age Guy Absent of Reality to always be an innocent child like Peter flipping Pan. Anyway, the curses met in mid air and his bounced back, killing him. Seven books all led up to a whole bunch of talking, a little dancing and one single curse."
"That is just horrible!" Edward shifted his weight onto his other foot, though he didn't have to. After all, he was a vampire. "But at least she gave you a good resolution to the story right?"
"I wish." Harry ran his hand through his raven black hair that looked just like his fathers, fluffing it up so that he could look like all the male models with windswept, unkempt hair on the front cover of bodice rippers. "Once the battle is over, she sent me to bed. Then picks the story up fifteen years later, saying nothing about most of the characters who suffered through the battle."
"Well, that is pretty bad. But how would you like to be referred to as a Greek God with marble skin and abs as hard as granite and liquid topaz eyes and on and on and on andOhmygodIthinkI'mgoingtopuke throughout four entire books?"
"It's no wonder they call these meetings C.O.U.G.A.R." Harry thought out loud.
"You're telling me."
"Hey, it seems we've talked well into the first seminar hour. I think we're going to miss it. Want to go grab a bite to eat?"
Edward's face split ear to ear in a smile. "No, I don't eat food, remember. I only chase down animals."
"Oh yeah, that's right. What kind of animal do you fancy today?"
"Well, after this discussion, I'm seriously thinking about thinning out the cougar population, or at least a subset of them called Cougaris Feminis Authoris. But that's too much like a real vampire so maybe I'll just stand in the sun and blind them all so they can't write any more stories about me."
"I'll make you a deal. Since I'm a powerful wizard but can't even kill Hitler—I mean Voldemort, because I'm so good, why don't I cast a spell to get a couple of that subspecies of cougar together? It'll do us both a favor."
"I think that might be a good idea," Edward agreed, "and then I can go home to my wife; the perfect, beautiful, Bella. Well, perfect and beautiful after coming through the unsure, two left-feet stage of life, but now the perfect goddess that walked the earth, that is."
"I'd like to go home to my firebrand, small, athletic, take charge, everyone-likes-her-but-the-bad-guys, baby of the family, couldn't-say-two-words-around-me-and-put-her-arm –in-the-butter-until-she-grew-up-and-came-back-a-beautiful-witch, Ginny as well."
Harry's deep green eyes that looked so much like his mother's that it drove Snape mad because Harry looked so much like his father in every other way, came to rest of Cedric.
Harry turned to me (the author) again. "No, you stupid fanfic author, that's Edward."
—break in story for some "author/character discussion time" on who's in control—
"Okay, I'm back Edward, sorry about that. The fanfic author screwed up again and had me calling you Cedric. I have no idea why."
"Cedric? The Entertainer?"
"Who?" Harry asked.
"No one. Never mind. You looked like you had a thought earlier before this obviously amateur author screwed up your thoughts."
"Oh, yeah. We should get our wives together sometime."
Edward looked thoughtful for a second, then answered. "Sure, we'll even bring our daughter if we can get her away from the family dog."
"Huh? Is the family dog that protective?"
"Sure is. He's going to marry her someday." Edward gritted his teeth. "Stupid shape shifters."
"I'm not sure whether that's better or worse. My author had my father's best friend, who was also my godfather, as my dog. He wasn't even that good of a protector since my author had him killed off by his psycho-deranged cousin in a battle."
"Let's be fair to your author though Harry, I heard that psycho-deranged cousin was supposed to be a very good fighter."
"Really?" Harry questioned. "Then why was a dumpy, overweight hausfrau able to kill her?"
"Motherly instinct?" Edward wondered.
"Yeah, tell me that's not degrading to women. Sure, your author gets railed on for not being a feminist. But my author turns a hausfrau into Super-Ninja-Witch when one of her children are in danger. Of course, it's her daughter, who obviously isn't good enough to win the battle. She doesn't come to the aid of any of her sons' battles, however."
"Hmm," Edward pondered before answering, "maybe we should get our wives together and hear their side of it."
"I don't know." Harry was hesitant now, going into a deep brood and not wanting anyone else to speak to him while he figured out all of life's problems on his own, or at least the problem he was now thinking about. "Maybe that's not such a good idea. You ever get the thought that your wife is actually the fictional rendition of the cougar—"
Harry turned to yell me (the author) of this fanfic again, "DAMN IT SCRUBB! I never screwed up that many lines that many times in the real story, you no-good writing hack. Stop making me say 'cougar' when it's supposed to be 'author'."
"Well, excuse me!" I responded. "But I have control and I say this story is done."
"Good." Harry said. "It sucks anyway. Why the hell would I be going to some seminar in the first place? You didn't explain that, you didn't explain where it was, nor did you pay any attention to any literary devices like foreshadowing, characterization, or even canon and spelling, you amateur wanna-be writer."
I had finally had it. "That's it. We're done."
But Edward cut in, "But the story isn't done!"
"But I don't care." I told him.
Harry snorted in disgust. "Look at that, he used 'but' three times and 'done' twice in two sentences and even said that he 'told' someone something. Completely horrid writing. I don't even think a beta could help him."
"You're lucky I didn't write your story," I QUIPPED (and made sure Harry knew that I hadn't told him). "I'd have killed you off in the first book with that kind of attitude."
"Then the story wouldn't have been completed." Harry informed me smugly.
"That's two for two," Edward piped up, "he's not finishing this one either."
"Probably got his feelings hurt." Harry laughed.
"This is the third time," I said in disgust. "We're finished."
"Just like my author." Edward grinned. "One little internet leak and she throws the entire new project away and ends our world."
"I..." but I gave up, printed a copy of this story and burned it.
But Harry's last words could still be heard coming from the story. "What kind of fire, you imbecile! Was it fiendfire ? SPELL IT RIGHT! Was it a blue-bell fire? IT'S A FLAME YOU SCHMUCK!"
A/N Fanfic author here. Like I said, sorry to inflict this on all of you. I promise it won't happen again.
If, by some bizarre chance you do decide to leave a review, please be kind.
. . .
"Hey, Scrubbly! Do you really think the five people who read this because they're too drunk to do anything else are going to want to leave you a review?"
"Shut up Edward or I'll start talking about your liquid topaz eyes and sparkly skin."
"Shutting up now."