MMPL2

Mad, Mad Passionate Love 2: Angry, Irate Passionate Love

THE INTERHOUSE ROMANCES

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GINNY WEASLEY AND DRACO MALFOY

Ginny Weasley, the new fifth year Gryffindor prefect, searched high and low for another prefect to help her discipline some Slytherins she had caught snogging in the Astronomy Tower.

"O Draco, Draco, wherefore art thou Draco?" she yelled desperately, unaware that wherefore means "why," not "where."

"Coming, my fiery angel!" he sang sweetly as he flounced up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. Pausing on the landing, he looked up at Ginny. "But soft! What light from yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Ginevra is the sun!"

"Whatever, Malfoy... I caught some of your House members up here. I'll let you take care of subtracting the necessary points," she said, beginning to head back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Wilt thou leave me with so little satisfaction?" he said desperately, clutching his heart as his icy blond hair--so different from Ginny's flaming locks of fiery red inferno hair--shimmered in the moonlight.

"What satisfaction can you have tonight?" Ginny said.

"If you'll come back to Slytherin Tower with me, I'll show you what kind of satisfaction..." Draco said slyly, envisioning himself making mad, mad passionate love to the Gryffindor princess. "Even if your father is an impoverished, Muggle-loving loser."

With that, Ginny slapped him, leaving her burning red mark on his snow-white, aristocratic face. "Good night, Malfoy." With that, she made a clean exit and left the Slytherin prefect pining in the night air.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Draco wailed to himself, watching her leave.

HERMIONE GRANGER AND DRACO MALFOY

Draco Malfoy lay back casually on the green silk sofa in Slytherin Commons. "The thing is, Crabbe, despite everything my father has told me, I think mudbloods are rather attractive." With an elegant gesture, he pushed his silky blond bangs out of his exquisite blue eyes.

"And how does that make you feel, Draco?" Crabbe said, taking notes on a legal pad.

"It makes me feel... weak, and strong... stupid, and smart... like I could do anything, like I can do nothing... like I'm a slave to my heart, like I'm as free as an eagle... like I could even defy my father."

"Tell me about your father," Crabbe went on.

"My father... hates mudbloods more than anything. He would rather see me dead than dating a mudblood."

"But how do you feel about that?"

"I want to make mad, mad passionate love to Hermione Jane Granger, even if I have to go to Gryffindor Tower to do it."

-----

With pale, trembling hands, Draco poured the completed Polyjuice Potion into a vial and inserted Seamus Finnigan's hair. Better him than Potter, he thought.

Grimacing, he swallowed the potion in one gulp and began heading toward Gryffindor Tower.

-----

"Hermione, I've been watching you for the last few months, noticing you... I'd really like to get to know you better."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Seamus!"

Draco leaned in and whispered, "I'm not Seamus. I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Draco!" she shrieked. "How did you know I had a crush on that hot Irishman Seamus Finnigan?"

-----

"And when she told you she had a crush on Finnigan," Crabbe said, "how did that make you feel, Draco?"

"Like a fly smashed onto the wall," Draco said despondently, leaning his head against the armrest of the green sofa. "Like a piece of dirt on the ground. As if my heart had been run through one of those Muggle slicing machines you see on the late night infomercials--my mum bought one once and my father got really angry about it. He doesn't like her using Muggle products, you know."

"And how would your father have reacted if you had had a relationship with the mudblood?"

"He would have killed me. But oh, it would have been worth it! When I look at her, with those effervescent curls, those sparkling cinnamon orbs, that kind smile, I think, she could be my salvation! She could be the one who saves me from the Dark Side! My love for her could have been my saving grace!"

Crabbe sighed and looked back through some other notes. "How do you feel now that the mudblood has rejected you?"

"I'm going tonight to get the Dark Mark."

"Can I join you?" Crabbe said with a suggestive wink, putting up his legal pad.

"Sure, why not," Draco mumbled.

LUNA LOVEGOOD AND RON WEASLEY

"Ronald," Luna Lovegood said seductively, sliding in at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. Despite the fact that she had been sorted into Ravenclaw, Luna Lovegood knew that all the really cool people were in Gryffindor, and if she ever wanted to be part of the action, she needed to stick close to the lions.

"Luna," he said absentmindedly, drinking chocolate milk and orange juice. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Ravenclaw."

"My dormitory may be in Ravenclaw Tower, but my heart belongs to..." she looked up dreamily and began humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like "Weasley Is Our King."

Ronald chomped down some Wizard-O's and scrambled eggs while Luna stared at him.

"You know, Ronald," she finally said, "People with red hair are more likely to be attacked by dragons."

"Is that so?" he said, without paying attention.

"We're going to have to be careful with our children around our pet Hebridean Blacks, especially when they're babies."

"Sure thing," he said, between bites of broiled possum.

"And with so many siblings, Ronald, I'm sure you know what needs to happen before we can have them."

"You know, Lovegood, with a name like yours, one might almost think..."

"Yes?" she said, leaning over in anticipation, beginning to hum again.

"Oh, never mind," he said, swallowing a bite of barbecued armadillo. "I was wondering if you might be a little... mad."

"No, not really," she responded. "I'm just desperate to get in good with Gryffindor, the only house that's worth anything in this book. Is it really my fault that I was sorted into one of the inferior, non-Gryffindor houses?"

Ron nodded with an understanding smile, which was unusual, since he rarely understood anything. "Of course, Luna. It's entirely your fault." He munched down another round of sushi. "But it's all right. Not everyone is an important enough character to be sorted into Gryffindor. But don't cry. The author seems to like you, anyway. At least you got to go to the Department of Mysteries with us."

"You're right, Ronald. That is the closest I shall ever come to true Gryffindor greatness."

"You're darn right it is. Face it, it's better to be brave than smart. At least you weren't sorted into... Slytherin."

BLAISE ZABINI AND HARRY POTTER

"Harry," said a Slytherin student with a soft voice. "I'd like to ask you something."

"Yes?" Harry said, turning around the look at the person, who had curly brown hair.

"I was wondering if you might help me with my Defense Against the Dark Arts homework? I heard that no one has more skill with a wand than you do," the person said, adding under his or her breath, "sweet thing."

"Um, sure... What's your name, by the way?"

"Blaise Zabini."

"It's so... um, nice... to meet you. I can't believe I never noticed you before," Harry commented, suddenly noticing Blaise's really cool striking yellow eyes. "You have really cool striking yellow eyes," Harry said.

"Thanks," Blaise said. "You do, too."

Harry was still grinning five minutes later when it occurred to him that his eyes were green, a fact that he should have remembered considering its obvious significance in the series.

-----

"Blaise, we can't do this," Harry said sadly, moving away from the Slytherin. "People will... laugh at us, tease us... There's just too much... prejudice."

Blaise began to cry.

Harry resisted to urge to comfort him/her. "It's just... a public figure like me... I mean, what would people think? What if the Daily Prophet heard about this? Can you imagine what Rita Skeeter would say?"

Blaise laughed maliciously, a weird high-pitched, bass, tenor, baritone laugh. "You'll pay for this, Potter," the young person hissed. "Wait until Draco Malfoy finds out. You'll pay."

"And I thought you were the only nice Slytherin. I guess there really is no such thing."

"No," Blaise said, storming out. "There isn't."

CHO CHANG AND ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

Cho Chang stepped into Albus Dumbledore's office wearing a strapless red gown that clung to her...

Oh never mind, that pairing is a little squicky even for this author.

DRACO MALFOY AND ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

Draco Malfoy stepped into Albus Dumbledore's office wearing leather from head to toe and a dark green silk shirt. My father would not approve of this, he thought...

(See above.)

TOM RIDDLE AND ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

Tom Riddle stepped out of Albus Dumbledore's office wearing leather from head to toe and a dark green silk shirt. I gave that man the best years of my life, he thought, and he repays me by breaking my heart!

He replayed their conversation. "Tom, it just isn't working out," the older wizard had said. "I'm a Gryffindor, you're a Slytherin. We're just too different."

"But I love you," Tom had said, tears streaming from his bright red eyes. He couldn't blame Albus... he wasn't nearly as handsome as he'd been the year before, when his eyes had still been a normal color and he had actually had a nose.

"I love you, too, Tom... in my own way. But I think it's time for both of us to move on. You are, after all, only seventeen years old. You have your whole life ahead of you. I'm sure you'll accomplish great things."

"I don't want to accomplish great things! I want to be with you!"

"That's just not possible, you hideous-looking Heir of Slytherin! Get out of my office now!" the bearded man had shouted.

He would move on, somehow. Perhaps he really could accomplish great things... perhaps even terrible, great things.

He sobbed one more time and sniffled through the slits on his face. What he feared more than anything was having his heart broken again. And Albus Dumbledore was the only one he would ever love. He was now the only one he had to fear.

Tom pulled out his wand and aimed it at the nearest mudblood. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted through his tears. "I am Lord Voldemort, hear me roar!"

HERMIONE GRANGER AND SEVERUS SNAPE, PART 2: THE MARRIAGE LAW

Ron rushed into Gryffindor Commons holding the latest copy of the Daily Prophet. "Hermione, you're not going to believe this," he said, shoving the paper into her face.

"Oh, my," she gasped, beginning to read the front page story aloud. "All Muggle-born witches, under a new Ministry decree, will be required to marry a pureblood wizard. This decree was enacted to prevent the large number of squib births that have recently been occurring in pureblood families... Ron, this is terrible! They're using us like we're... breeding horses or something! Whoever conceived of such a concept, even as a plot device, must be absolutely depraved!"

"So, how about it, 'Mione?"

"Huh?" she said.

"Aren't you going to marry me now? I'm pureblood, you know."

"Um, yes," she said, imagining a flock of children with bushy red hair. "But I think... I think... Look, Ron, look what else it says! All unmarried Muggle-born witches between the ages of 17 and 40 will have two weeks, as of today, to marry a pureblood. Names and photos have been registered at the Ministry of Magic for the convenience of wife-shopping wizards. This is terrible! I have only two weeks!"

"What are you thinking, Hermione? You're only sixteen."

"No, no, you forgot about the Time Turner third year! I'm already seventeen years old!"

Ron gasped in awe at this shocking plot development.

-----

Hermione sorted through a large stack of marriage proposals, most accompanied by photographs. "They would have done better to leave off the photos," she said to no one in particular, as a remarkably ugly picture of Gregory Goyle winked at her.

She had looked through almost the entire stack when she found one on the bottom, unaccompanied by a photograph. This was unimportant. She already knew what the man looked like.

The name stared back at her, almost as if it had obsidian beady eyes just like his: SEVERUS SNAPE.

-----

"Miss Granger, I'd appreciate it if you'd stay after class," Snape said.

"Er... sure, Professor."

He closed the door behind her. "I'm sure you're wondering about that marriage bid you received from me."

"I was rather uncertain."

"Just so you know, I did not want to have to do this, but I'm afraid you're going to be forced to marry me. I certainly detest you, but I cannot allow you to marry Gregory Goyle or Draco Malfoy."

"Draco hasn't proposed yet," she said, reflecting on the fact that Draco, despite being evil, was actually rather sexy.

"Well, he will," Snape said, "and you cannot marry him."

Hermione didn't ask why.

"For a variety of reasons that I see no point in explaining here," he went on, "I, as much as I hate this, am your only option."

Hermione was silent, staring at Snape. It suddenly occurred to her that he was not, in fact, an ugly, greasy git as she had once thought. Despite his bad dental hygiene, unwashed hair, gigantic nose, and sallow skin, he was by far the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on, even sexier than Draco Malfoy. It confounded her that she had not realized this obvious fact before.

"Is that all you have to say about this, girl?"

She nodded, rendered speechless by his complete hotness.

"You'll need to sign my proposal as soon as possible. I think next... Saturday, do you think? The wedding?"

"All right," she croaked out.

"And, as much as I detest the idea, we will be forced to... er... consummate the marriage... within 24 hours."

Hermione suppressed her flirtatious smirk as she nearly went weak in the knees gazing into Severus's attractive obsidian orbs.

-----

Friday afternoon, Snape sat at his desk and buried his elegant head in his beautiful white hands. He moaned, moped, and sulked.

His situation was truly lamentable. What normal 38-year-old man wanted to have sex with a beautiful 17-year-old girl? He certainly couldn't think of any.

Snape thought about it for a few more minutes and proceeded to continue sulking.

-----

"You know I don't want to have to do this," Severus said, glaring at his new wife.

"You've made that abundantly clear," she said, gazing lustily at him.

"But other things are at stake here than our selfish desires."

"Fine," she said, unzipping her wedding gown.

-----

Around midnight, Mrs. Norris heard screams coming from the dungeons, the mingled screams of a young girl and a man with a silky voice. She rolled her feline eyes and walked on.

-----

"I love you, Hermione!"

"I love you, too, Severus!"

"Your cinnamon orbs, darling," he said, running a finger down her cheek. "They are beautiful."