A Tale Of Absolutely No Plot Whatsoever

Draco: I DON'T like the trousers. Ok? End of story.

Not in the sense that this fic has come to an Edna. Oh no. Not at all. Unfortunately.

Hermione: Come to an Edna?

You're not supposed to be able to hear me. *thwaps Hermione with a mackerel*

Hermione: Ugh. I have mackerel on my face.

Ron: I like mackerel.

Hermione: Yes, but not on your FACE.

Ron: No, I suppose you're right.

Hermione: Of course I'm right. I'm always right.

Harry: No, there was that time ... oh, hang on...

They all stand there for a while, trying to think of a time when Hermione has not been right. They fail.

Harry: Yes, it seems you are always right.

Hermione: I know.

Ron: Hail the all-knowing Hermione.

Draco: Why?

Ron: Because she's always right.

Draco: Oh yes?

Ron: Yes.

Draco: No she's not.

Ron: Yes she is.

Draco: No she's not.

Ron: Yes she is.

Draco: No she's not.

Ron: She is.

Draco: She's not.

Ron: Is.

Draco: Not.

Ron: Is.

At this point the Author, seeing that this could quite feasibly go on forever, decides to have Draco utter something other than 'not'.

Draco: [pokes Hermione] Prove it, miss smarty-socks.

Hermione: Smarty-SOCKS?

Draco: I think socks is a better word than pants.

Hermione: ...

Draco: And it alliterates, too.

Hermione: Um. Right.

Draco: Anyway, if you're always right, prove it.

Hermione: OK.

Draco: I bet you can't tell me what I ate for breakfast.

Hermione: Eggs.

Draco: Hah.

Hermione: Was I not right?

Draco: No, I ate waffles.

Ron: [sings] Birds' eye potato WA-ffles, so WA-ffley versatile!!

Hermione: [ignoring Ron] Waffles?

Draco: Waffles.

Harry: Somehow Malfoy doesn't strike me as a waffles kind of person.

Draco: I like waffles!

Ron: It's cos they're so waffley versatile.

Draco: Shut up, Weasley. [pokes Ron with his pogo stick]

Ron: Ow!

Draco: Oh, come on, I only poked you. It didn't really hurt did it?

Ron: Yes! You've killed me!

Draco: No I haven't. People who've been killed don't tell the person who's killed them that they've killed them.

What a strange sentence.

Hermione: Good point.

Harry: Face it, Ron, you're not dead.

Ron: I know, I know.

Harry: You know what this fic needs?

Ron: What?

Harry: We need to ... sally forth and conquer evil. Or something.

Ron: OR we could stay here and conquer evil.

Hermione: Like Amnesty International?

Draco: ... Amnesty International?

Ron: What's Amnesty International?

Hermione: A charity which write letters to fairly important or very important people in different countries telling them about people who've either been arrested for a good reason but not been given a fair trial or been tortured; or who've been arrested for reasons like their religion or political position and possibly tortured or allowed no access to their family -

Harry: So we're supposed to sit here and write:
'Dear Your Evilness Lord Voldemort,
It has come to my attention that some of your Death Eaters have been torturing or putting to death muggles, muggle-born witches and wizards, and others who oppose your rise to supreme power over the entire planet. You may or may not be aware of these occurences, but I believe that it is wrong and something should be done.
Yours sincerely,
Your Arch-Nemesis Harry Potter.'

Hermione: Well, we could.

Ron: Sounds like a good idea.

Draco: So the Dark Lord is your arch-nemesis?

Harry: Well, yes, considering that he murdered my parents and has been ultimately responsible for several attempts to kill me.

Ron: Silly really, you'd think he'd give up and go home.

Draco: Bugger.

Harry: What?

Draco: I've been aiming for that position for a long time.

Ron: What position?

Draco: Potter's arch-nemesis.

Harry: Sorry, Voldemort's got it.

Ron: Eek!

Harry: Ron, saying 'Voldemort' -

Ron: Eek!

Harry: - will not make him jump out from the fireplace and shout 'boo'.

Ron glances nervously at the fireplace.

Draco: I may have to write angry letters to him as well.

Hermione: To who?

Draco: Voldemort.

Ron: Eek!

Hermione: Hee hee.

Ron: You're my best friend, you're not supposed to laugh about my fears.

Hermione: You're also my best friend and therefore not supposed to ogle my bum, but does that stop you?

Ron: This conversation is NOT going as planned. [glances in what he believes to be an Autharium-ly direction] Can you edit that out?

Author: [appears] No. [disappears]

Ron: Bugger. [goes off to corner to sulk]

Hermione: Hee hee.

Ron: [glances over his shoulder, shoots evil death glare at Hermione]

Hermione: Ah, bless his cotton socks.

Harry: Oughtn't we get on with writing angry letters to Voldemort then?

Ron: [slightly muffled, because of being in a corner] Eek!

Hermione: Yes.

Draco: Oh, alright.

Harry: Why are you still here?

Draco: Because I want to write angry letters to the Dark Lord.

Harry: Why?

Draco: I told you, he's stolen the arch-nemesis of Potter position, and I want it.

Harry: You are indeed strange.

Draco: I believe so, since I can still think of no explanation for my wearing yellow leather trousers.