I Panicked

I Panicked

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The lights from the common room fireplace glinted against Harry's glasses. The lights also shone brightly off Hermione's gorgeous amber eyes. After a summer spent discovering their true feelings for one another, the pair of them was now ready to take their relationship to the next level. They were both rather nervous, but the excitement of finally being together in every sense overruled any apprehension they may have had. All the other students in Gryffindor tower were all snug in their beds and the only sounds to be heard, apart from the occasional cracks and pops from the burning logs in the hearth, were faint scratching noises and the distant sound of music. Harry and Hermione did not pay attention to these things. They were only aware of one another.

"Hermione, I love you. I've always loved you. The moment I saw you on that first day on the train in my first year I knew that, one day, I would be with you in this way, even if we were only eleven at the time." Harry gave Hermione little nibbles all down her neck.

Hermione gasped in delight. "Oh, Harry. I love you, too. I thought the very same way. I just couldn't wait to be in your arms like this. And even though I've only had one boyfriend, and the most we ever did was hold hands while we danced, I've always dreamed of losing my virginity before I got my driver's license. I always wanted it to be you, Harry." Hermione let her hands wander to Harry's lower back, allowing them to cup each buttock. Harry was on the verge of easing himself into her, when she suddenly stopped short.

"Fred!" Harry shouted keeping one hand on each of Hermione's kneecaps.

"Harry, dear, I think this would be a bit more romantic if you refrained from yelling out the name of our best friend's brother," Hermione said a very concerned look on her face.

"No, not that Fred, the other one. Fred!" Harry yelled again and stared up at the ceiling.

Suddenly, the sound of scratching stopped, as did the distant sound of music. Nothing else changed, however, and Harry now got up and put his clothes back on.

"Well, I guess I'll have to go to desperate measures," Harry said. He then turned toward the steps up to the boys dormitories.

"Oy! Ron! Come down here a second!"

The next instant, Ron Weasley came down the steps to stand at the landing. His appearance caused Hermione to pull her skirt down and close her oxford shirt.

"What's up, Harry, I didn't think I was slated to appear in this one." Ron asked.

"Change of plans. Why don't you take over for me here? I need a night off," Harry said making his way over to the dormitory steps.

"Sure thing, mate, I'll just get my lad out and..."

NO!

"What was that?" Hermione screamed.

"Aha! I knew I could get you with that one." Harry smiled triumphantly. "Now, since I've got your attention, I have a few things to talk to you about."

We can't do that. I'm the author. Besides, you aren't even real.

"That's what you say," Harry replied. "Look, this has got to stop."

What does?

"Harry, who are you talking to? Where is that voice coming from?" Hermione asked.

"It's Fred. He's the bloke writing this. He's written a bunch of these things, and that's what I wanted to talk to him about," Harry replied. "Now, Fred, about these stories. Would you please give it a rest with all these angst pieces? I'm on my second bottle of Xanax thanks to you."

"He's right you know," piped up Hermione. "I'm tired of crying myself to sleep every night. We're only sixteen, and you've had me pining over Harry like we're soul mates or something. Couldn't you just have us all doing something together? Like a quest, or maybe another travel piece? I liked the idea of being in Spain."

You will all do what I tell you! I'm the author!

"Be careful, Fred. I would hate to get our union president involved in this," Harry said.

Union president, who's that?

"I am." Suddenly, every character in the Harry Potter universe was filing into the common room. The man who spoke led them all. He no longer wore a turban, but he still seemed to have a penchant for purple.

Quirrell? But you're dead!

"Yes, well, sort of," Quirrell replied. "My character did indeed perish at the end of the first book, but since a fictional character is never truly alive, I can never truly die. And besides, once a year I get a free weekend in Blackpool for meetings, so it's a pretty good deal."

What kind of union are you?

"We are the Fictional Universe Character Consortium."

FUCC?

"Ha! Yeah, George came up with that one." Ron laughed.

"Yes, well, back to business." Quirrell resumed. "We are prepared to stage a walk out if you don't agree to go easy on the angst pieces."

You've got to be kidding.

"Nope, we're all in this together. Solidarity now!" Tonks said.

Who are all those people in the back?

"They don't come in until book six and seven," Quirrell said. "Don't look at them, you'll spoil the surprise."

Who is the one character transforming back and forth between a boy and a girl?

"Ah, that's Blaise Zabini. They show up as both genders in some of the stories here, so they just morph from one to the other as need be," Quirrell replied as if this was a very common thing.

I still don't understand why you need a union in the first place.

"Are you kidding," Quirrell asked with an amazed look on his face, "with all the merchandising out there? And you also have to consider the three worlds we're all forced to live in."

What three worlds?

"Well, there's the prominent one, that's the world of the actual books," Quirrell replied. "That's the main thing we all do. Second, there are the fan-fictions like you and so many others do. These are sort of our free-lance jobs. It keeps us eligible for insurance between books. The third world is the one we're in when we aren't in a book or a fan-fiction. That's where the rest of us were before Harry sent us out here to talk to you."

You mean that you have an existence apart from these stories? How is that possible?

"Once published, characters take on a life of their own," Quirrell continued. "For example, Sirius and I were just discussing these stupid Americans bitching about their high price of petrol. I'd like to see them pay what we do in Europe for a while. Damn Americans."

I'm an American.

"Are you really?" Quirrell asked astonished. "What about that story you did about Harry staying with Hermione over the summer? From the way you wrote, it sounded like you knew what you were talking about."

I spent time there during my college days.

"Oh, I see," Quirrell replied, "one of those hippie liberals touring Europe. Good for you."

"Quirrell, be nice," Professor McGonagall said.

Hold on a second. I just realized something. We know the first name of most of the other teachers, but not yours. What is it, Quirrell?

"He's right, Quirrell. What is your first name?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"That is not what we are here to discuss!" Quirrell yelled getting red in the face. "We are here to discuss our unhappiness with the depressing tone of the author's stories."

You tell me your first name, and we'll discuss anything you like.

"Yeah, come on, it couldn't be that bad," Tonks said. "I mean, what could be worse than Nymphadora?"

"Fine!" Quirrell shouted. "If you all must know, my first name is Burl."

Burl Quirrell? That's hysterical! No wonder you went bad.

"Yes, yes, fine. My mother was a big Burl Ives fan and I got stuck with it. At least I don't share a name with a cartoon character." Quirrell snapped.

Ouch.

"Could we please get back to the matter at hand?" Harry yelled over the giggles of the rest of the assembled people.

"Wait, Fred, have you seen either of the movies that have been released about us?" Hermione asked.

I own them both on DVD. They're both wonderful, but certainly not as good as the books themselves.

"Wow! Hey, what do the people look like who play the three of us?" Harry asked. "I mean, the guy who plays me has obviously got black hair and green eyes, not to mention short and scrawny."

Actually, the actor who plays you has brown hair, blue eyes, and isn't that short or scrawny.

"Ooh, what about me?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Is she plain looking with buck teeth and impossibly bushy hair?"

Well, no. She's actually a very attractive young woman with perfectly nice teeth. And her hair is really more Carole King than Art Garfunkel.

"Oh and what about my guy," Ron jumped in, "I couldn't care less about what he looks like, I just hope he's got a better name than Ronald bleeding Weasley. What's his real name?"

Rupert Grint.

"Figures."

"Look, again, let's get back to the subject at hand." Harry cleared his throat once and continued. "Don't get me wrong, I have no problems at all with putting the spurs to Hermione."

WHAT DID YOU SAY?

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry said, "I forgot, you're Mr. Sensitive. I don't mind 'making love' to Hermione. That's fine. But give it a rest with the Tori Amos stuff. Hermione and I have both had enough of being depressed all the time."

But that's what I write about. I have a reputation as being an angst writer now.

"Reputation? You think people actually read your shit? There're a lot of owls looking down at the bottom of their cage at your stuff, more like. And why are you so hung up on getting Harry and Hermione together? It's obvious that she and I are going to be the ones to be together. Haven't you seen the previews for the next movie? We're always catching little feels at one another." Ron said.

NO! What about that kiss at the end of book four? Huh? Did she give you a kiss? DID SHE? Besides, that's all stuff that the new director added. There's no romance between you two in book three. If anything, Harry and Hermione are the ones who always seem to be hanging on one another. Like when they come to rescue you from Sirius, she's got a death grip on him most of the time.

"Fine, whatever you say. Geesh, get a life, man." Ron snapped.

I have a life, thank you.

"Could have fooled me," Ron replied. "You work during the day, come home, and then write all night. And if I've heard those damn Tori cds once, I've heard them a million times. Oh, I get it; you're trying to live through Harry. That's really sad, mate. When was the last time you had a bird in this place?"

None of your fucking business!

"Whatever happened to Tanya? She was really nice, and you two seemed so happy," Hermione asked.

"Yeah, she was a real looker, that one. What happened, come to her senses did she?" Ron laughed.

Ron, maybe you'd like my next piece to be a slash story concerning you and Hagrid? That umbrella of his may have some new uses.

"Whoa, sorry, never mind," Ron muttered as she backed up a few paces to hide behind the sofa.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a few minutes while everyone looked around, unsure of what to do now.

"Burma!" Luna shouted.

What did you yell Burma for?

"I panicked."

Of course.

"You see, Fred, we characters can do anything an author wants us to," Quirrell said. "Most of the time it's basic stuff that goes along with our character."

"I've just been to the library," Hermione said.

"Exactly. Or, we can do something not at all in our character," Quirrell said.

"Hey, mother fuckers! It's time to rock out with our cocks out!" Voldemort yelled.

"Precisely," Quirrell said. "Now, although we can do anything, there are things we tend to get tired of. Looking over your song fics, the bulk of them are, well, depressing."

No they aren't!

Quirrell took a deep breath and continued. "In your first work, 'Hey Jupiter,' you have Hermione depressed over her feelings for Harry. In 'Crucify,' it's Ginny depressed over Harry. In 'Girl,' everyone is either depressed or dead. In 'Silent all these years,' Ginny and Ron are both depressed. In 'Winter,' Ginny is afraid her dad is going to die. In 'Tear in your hand,' Cho is depressed about Harry. In 'Little Earthquakes,' Hermione is depressed over Harry, again. In 'Baker Baker,' Winky is depressed over Dobby. In 'For another time,' Harry is depressed over Cho. In 'Always the last to know,' Krum has cheated on Hermione. In 'Just getting by,' Ron is depressed. In 'Haven't seen for a while,' Harry is depressed. In 'I'm still here,' Harry is depressed over Cho. In 'The unchosen one,' Harry is depressed over Hermione. In 'Liberty,' Ron is depressed over Hermione. And, finally, in 'Girl in the picture,' Hermione is depressed over Harry. True, these aren't all of the things you've written, but it certainly is the bulk. Notice any trends?"

Ok, so maybe I do tend to get a little...down. I've got other stuff lined up, though. And they aren't all angst stories.

Quirrell nodded. "Good. I think we've made our point."

"Right, now, what do you say Hermione and I go back to making the beast with two backs?" Harry said rubbing his hands together.

"Do you mean the bi-bactorasmus?" Luna asked.

"Oh, give it a rest, Luna. We aren't in character now." Hermione spat.

"Oh, well, in that case. Eat me," Luna replied.

Girls! There will be plenty of time for that sort of thing in other people's fics.

"You got that tight. Now, Fred, tell us more about these other things you're working on," Harry said.

Well, this story was supposed to be the start of another trilogy, but I'll scrap that now. It was going to be incredibly sad. Instead, I'm going to use my vast experience with Las Vegas to do a little humorous piece. And I'm also working on a five part series that will be sort of a "What if?" type of thing. And then there's my larger work that I can't talk about yet, but will be my first venture into Schnoogle length stuff.

"Wow, you must have a rich social life with writing all that stuff. No wonder Tanya did a runner." Ron sniggered.

Ron, perhaps you'd like Filch involved in that story also?

"Right, sorry." Ron lowered his head.

"Ok, we're done here. Just remember what we said. Go easy on the angst stuff." Quirrell turned to follow the rest of the characters out the common room doors.

Fine. Oh, there's just one more thing.

"What's that?" Quirrell turned to ask.

Catch you later, Burl.

"Eat me."