Not at All Formulaic

Not at All Formulaic

by: amanda carol

    Ode to D/Hr Fics

    sung to the tune of "Home on the Range"

    "Oh... give me a fic

    Where Harry and Ron are not pricks,

    And Pansy Parkinson is not a slut.

    Where seldom is read

    Of Draco and Hermione in bed,

    And their relationship is not all smut.

    Save me, save me from bad writing,

    From lack of creativity and originality.

    From HB/HG duties and Death Eaters' mess,

    And out-of-characterness,

    Oh why are we subjected to stupidity?"

    Hermione Granger walked onto Platform 9 and 3/4 with a heavy sigh. "Last year at Hogwarts," she thought sadly. "Whatever can I do to make it memorable? And who can appreciate my new-found beauty?"

    She tossed her honey-brown hair over her shoulders. She had 'grown' over the summer. She was still short, but she was much curvier, with boobs that could now be rightly classified as 'melons.' She had tamed her mane, too; it was no longer frizzy, but fell in soft curls that reached just below her kneecaps.

    She sighed again as she spotted Harry and Ron. "Here we go again."

    They walked over to her, ogling her obviously.

    "Wow, Hermione," said Harry, the sweet, shy one, "you're so... so... pretty."

    "I'd do you," said Ron, looking her up and down, drooling.

    "Oh, boys!" she shook her head in exasperation.

    Draco Malfoy was seated in the Head compartment on the train, smirking at all the students he saw pass out of the window.

    "Well, look, if it isn't Potty and the Weasel?" he stated, keeping up a running commentary. "But who's that hot chick with them?"

    Hermione then turned enough so that he could see her, and Malfoy gasped.

    "Granger?!? The Mudblood?!? Beaver-head?!? That bucktoothed bookworm?!? The epitome of Gryffindor virginity? The bane of my existence?!? The Leia to my Hans Solo?!? How did she get so gorgeous?!?"

    He leaned back onto his seat, trying to grab the reins on his raging erection.

    "I can't be into Granger! I can't think of her as anything other than snooty dirty-blood whore! Malfoys do *not* get hard over snooty dirty-blood whores!"

    At that convenient moment, Pansy Parkinson simpered in. (A/N: The author is not exactly sure how she did this, but simpering is the conventional mode for describing Pansy, and the author is nothing if not conventional)

    "Hi, Draco," she cooed.

    "Ah, Parkinson. Excellent timing. Would you be so kind as to blow me?"

    "I have to go, guys. The train will be moving soon and I have to find out who the Head Boy is," said Hermione, swatting at Ron's hand as it inched up her thigh. "Talk to you two later."

    Lucky for Draco, Pansy had already finished and simpered out (A/N: ?) before Hermione arrived at the compartment.

    When she saw his sitting there, she scowled in disgust and tried to ignore her rapidly beating heart. Draco Malfoy had always been the Hogwarts Sex God, and this morning he was looking particularly delicious. "What are you doing in here, Malfoy?" she asked, putting as much venom in his name as she could muster.

    Malfoy rose to his full, majestic height of 7'3", towering over the 4'8" Hermione. She forced down a squeak.

    "I have every right to be here, *Mudblood*," sneered Draco, "seeing as I'm Head Boy. Didn't you read your letter thoroughly?"

    "Well, fuck," thought Hermione, biting her lip nervously. She hadn't read through the letter entirely, and now she was paying dearly.

    "Perhaps we should come to some kind of truce, considering we'll be working together for the whole year," offered Hermione, holding out her head.

    Malfoy slapped it away, using any and all excuses to touch her. "Why would I want to have a truce with a *mudblood* like you, you filthy *mudblood*?!?"

    "I hate you, Malfoy," declared Hermione, all the while thinking, "Merlin, what a nice ass." (A/N: The author never considers asking herself how Hermione could see Draco's ass when facing him.)

    "The feeling's mutual, *mudblood*," snarled Malfoy, thinking simultaneously, "What superior jugs she has." (A/N: The author's credibility is reinstated!)

    "You get to live in the same dorm as Draco Malfoy? The Slytherin Sex God?" squealed Lavender Brown, while Parvati clapped her hands excitedly. "How are you *ever* going to keep your hands off of him?"

    "I think I will manage," sniffed Hermione sarcastically, but wondering if it would prove true.

    "Granger, huh?" asked boy!Blaise Zabini, seated next to Draco at the Slytherin table. "I'd do her."

    "Zabini, you would do anything that will stand still long enough," Malfoy pointed out.

    "Point taken."

    Entering her new common room that evening, Hermione gasped at the beauty of it. It was fully decked-out in red, gold, green, and silver, despite the fact that the colors really did not coordinate. There was a skylight in the ceiling, a disco ball, and yes, yes, that looked to be an espresso machine in the corner.

    "It's beautiful," moaned Hermione. Then she frowned at the boy beside her. "Too bad I have to share it with you."

    "Too bad," Malfoy repeated, returning her ill will.

    "I'm going to bed," Hermione stated, heading toward the door with the Gryffindor banner over it.

    "Right," said Draco, and proceeded to follow her. "Me too."

    At the door, Hermione turned to him. "Malfoy... your bedroom is over *there*."

    "Right."