There's Something About Mary Sue

The morning of October 31^st dawned bright and clear. Usually Hogwarts would already have had deep, rumbling thunder storms once a week and on other days fog-filled, chilly days this time of year, yet with the appearance of Mary Sue, everyday was a sunshiny day.

Harry woke with the red, hot sun blinding him and a grin on his face. Well, it wasn't so much of a grin as it was a deeply excited expression. Okay, so it was a grin.

He was terribly anticipating being able to bond with Mary Sue, this being the day that both their parents had mysteriously died. Springing out of bed and doing a short version of the infamous touch-down dance, he flung on his robes and headed down to the Great Hall.

Ron had barely awoken and was staring blearily at Harry's retreating figure.

"Harry, what are you doing? It's 5:00 o' clock on Saturday-"

Harry raised a hand to still Ron. "Can't talk now, have moping and deep connection making to do with Mary Sue."

Ron's look of extreme jealousy went unnoticed by Harry as he jauntily closed the door. "Lucky blighter," he muttered and went back to dreaming of Mary Sue.

***

"Mary Sue! Mary Sue! MARY SUE!"

Mary Sue raised calm orangey-red eyes (they're in a transitional stage, okay? They're still incredibly beautiful!) from her buttered toast and to whoever was desperately calling her name. Harry stumbled to the seat next to her, clutching the apparent stitch in his side and breathing hoarsely.

"Do... you... know... what... day... it... is?"

Mary Sue nodded and promptly replied, "Saturday." She looked around at everyone, expecting them to cheer her for knowing such a difficult subject. They did.

"No, that's not what I meant, but good job anyway! No, I meant," Harry's face suddenly took on the perfect morose, puppy dog look. "This is the day our parents died."

"Oh? That's nice. Pass the bacon please, it's delicious."

The thought that Mary Sue was even the slightest bit of a vapid, shallow waste of space because of this comment did not occur to Harry. No, he was thinking much more miserable thoughts like, 'She must already have mourned privately,' and 'Obviously she wouldn't want to mourn with me, she must have already found a much more sensitive guy- like Malfoy,' and then less miserable thoughts like, 'She's soooooooo beautiful! I wonder if she knows how gorgeous she is?'

Harry burst out laughing at that last thought.

'Naaahhh...'

Mary Sue suddenly turned towards him and Harry felt a bomb go off in his heart. No really, one did. Madame Pomfrey stepped in for a minute of two to fix the small hole, Dumbledore came by and told Harry that this was clearly Voldemort's doing, but Harry shooshed him away so that Mary Sue could say whatever it was she had been 5 minutes ago. Dumbledore fled to his room, brought out his blankie and stuffed toy called Mr. Stuffles, and sucked his thumb, all very wisely.

"ANYWAY..." said Harry with deep annoyance, glaring under the table where I, the author, am hiding to write down all the dialogue and desperately avoiding looking up anyone's skirt. That's right, not any girl's, anyone's. You'd never know it, but there's quite a lot of wizards who do enjoy the occasional ' healthy breeze round their privates' at Hogwarts and-

Harry's glare intensifies.

-okay I'll shut up now.

"Harry, I wanted to know if there are any open spots on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" Mary Sue asked finally.

"Oh, do you play?"

"No, actually, I've never even flown before and I have no idea what the rules are, but I feel that it would get me a bit more popularity with the students. I feel as if no one knows me!" Mary Sue confided while pouring a container of milk that had her picture on it with the title of 'Mary Sue, er... Something! Hogwarts' Best!' into a glass that had her picture on it, and then stirring it with a spoon with her picture on it, and then wiping her mouth with a napkin that had her picture on it, and so on and so on...

"Well we've got lots of positions open! Hundreds! Tons!" Harry exclaimed, which was a total lie, but who cared if they had to knock off one of their regular players for a likely-to-be extraordinary, magnanimous player like Mary Sue?

They made plans to meet on the Quidditch field that night, forgetting completely about the Hallowen feast and that dastardly things usually happened on this night.

***

"Okay, just place your wand arm above the broom and say, 'UP!'" Harry instructed as Mary Sue, in swishy, glimmering gold robes that set off her brown-streaked-black hair, placed his own Firebolt near her sweet, beautiful feet.

With her hand perfectly poised, she said in great commanding, and very much melodramatic tones, "UP!"

The broom, which usually would just lie still if it felt the rider would be untrustworthy, scampered away in the opposite direction with scared little yelping noises. Harry ran off to it, flew onto the ground to catch it, and brought it back struggling in his firm grip.

"Sorry, it's never acted this way before. It must be because you're so beautiful," said Harry apologetically, yet also disgustingly awed.

If the Firebolt had eyes, it would be rolling them right now.

"Thank you," Mary Sue said with a perfunctory blush. Oh yeah, the girl had the whole coquettish thing down good.

Fearing that the Firebolt would run off again, Harry simply held it still while Mary Sue climbed on, and then gripping it with her thighs of steel! With a single, great push she was off.

There she was, soaring high, high above the clouds (like SUPERMAN!). Her brown-streaked black hair gleamed in the soft light and rippled behind her slender form. Her orangey-red eyes and cheeks glowed with the adrenaline Harry knew so well whenever he took off in flight. Not surprisingly, she was a fantastic flier. Harry had no idea you could do such things on a broom, or where many of her suddenly appearing props had come from, but he didn't care. Finally someone understood what it was like to be utterly fantastic at Quidditch! He knew she would be special, but this...

The polished, chestnut tip of her broom seemed about to touch the bright silver moon itself when, after an incredible acrobatic twisting flip while balancing a coffee pot on her head, she plummeted straight to the ground. The crumpled pile of silk and lace gold robes was indeed a pitiful, but ever beautiful sight.

"AAAAGH!"

Harry had already been rushing to Mary Sue's rescue when he'd seen her falling, and now after hearing this terrified scream pierce the night air with the power of someone just losing the love of there life, he increased his speed to that of Anna Nicole Smith driving to the liquor store.

Which is unreasonably and frighteningly fast, mind you.

Crystalline tears were pouring down Mary Sue's face with great abandon as she lay in the fetal position, clutching her hand to her chest. Kneeling down, Harry cautiously placed his hand on hers and brought it close to see the horrible, deep, permanent gash overflowing with blood he was sure that would be there. His forest green eyes, full of concern and sympathy, looked down to behold-

A single broken nail.

"Is it very bad?" Mary Sue whispered, biting her full, pink, slightly dry, bottom lip.

Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that she would have to wait a full two weeks before her nail grew to the length of her other perfect nails. Two weeks! It was a lifetime!

"Oh, it'll be just fine... I'm sure."

Gently he lifted her limp, featherweight, tiny, very small, quaint, skinny, little, miniature (er, did I mention small?) form and carried her effortlessly to the castle. Mary Sue's pure tears drenched Harry's own robes as she cried on his strong, manly suddenly buff shoulder. They forever sparkled and smelled of Irish Spring thereafter.

To be continued...

A/N: Did I mention how very much in love I am with all of my reviewers? Thank you...