Gone With the Wand

Hermione Granger sat on the edge of the tower as the sun set, throwing wild red streaks across the sky. On either side of her was a gorgeously hot beau. One named Dean Thomas and the other Seamus Finnigan.

“Hey, Hermione! You ought to marry me,” said Dean with a sly grin.

“No, I think you should marry me!” said Seamus playfully.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Hermione going inside. The two left in mock sadness. They were both quite in love with her and her absolutely gorgeous body with its full chest, wide hips, and tiny waist. Needless to say, as much as she liked to play with them, she wasn’t in love with either of them.

The next day, she was attending a party, much like she had done so many times in the past. It was hot. The Hufflepuffs sat around casting cool spells over themselves while Hermione, the only Gryffindor at the party that she could see, made her way inside.

As she stood in the sweltering kitchen, Hermione caught someone’s eye. He was tall, dark, and handsome, with bright green eyes and a rather large grin. They sat down and began to talk which soon became rather inappropriate flirting.

“Harold Potter,” said the man.

“Hermione Granger,” she replied.

“Charmed, I’m sure.”

“Quite.” I’m in love with him! thought Hermione. Why don’t I ask him to marry me right now?! She proposed her idea in a subtle manner, yet he burst out laughing anyway.

“My dear, I am not a marrying man!” Standing up, she glared at him.

“Fine! Combusto!” She pointed to a figurine near his head and it exploded. He smiled at her.

“Fiery one, you are.” Hermione sighed. She loved him after five minutes. Did he love her? Of course he did; every boy loved her. But still…he was so different. Did he?

“Hold it,” said Harry. “Are you telling me that it takes approximately eight hundred pages for them to get married but two to fall in love? What is this? Romeo and Juliet meets Hogwarts, A History? Way too long with all the action in a clump.”

“Well that’s not all of it. First she marries about five other men and has a bunch of kids,” said Hermione, flipping through the book. “There is a lot of…erm…action in this book. Just not the right kind.”

“And it’s a classic?” scoffed Ron. Hermione shushed him.

Hermione married another man who she happened to meet at another party. She didn’t mind him so much, but she certainly didn’t love him. He was in love with her, though. In love enough to get her pregnant. She was not happy. Moreover, she had just lost her father and had inherited his entire estate with its vast fields of hay and such.

“You should not be running this farm!” he scolded.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she yelled. “I’ll run this if I want to! I’ve been living here my whole life! I know it better than anyone!”

“But you’re fraternizing in the jobs of men!”

“Does that sentence even make sense?”

“Know-It-All!”

“Prat!” She turned and stormed out before he could come up with a retort.

A few months later, a war started between the north and south. Her husband went off to fight valiantly, but she didn’t mourn him properly. About a month later, there was a knock on the door. There was a man there, dressed in black.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Your husband, Ronald Weasley, is dead.” Hermione sighed in what she hoped was a convincingly depressed tone.

“I don’t get it. Why’d she marry him in the first place?” asked Ron.

“He loved her but she just wanted a good time,” explained Harry impatiently. “Now get on with it.”

“I don’t see why she put up with him,” said Hermione. “She should have just killed him in the first place.”

“I don’t think she killed him, Hermione,” said Harry uncertainly. “I think he died in the Civil War. We learned about it in Muggle School.”

“I know. But she should have.” Harry just shook his head in mock sadness. “He was such a prat. They always get into arguments about the littlest things. He argues with her against her rights as a human being! She should be allowed to do what she wants and not have some man always telling her what to do and how to act and what she can or can’t do.”

“She was doing things that she shouldn’t be doing in those times!” scoffed Ron.

“Don’t you dare say that!” yelled Hermione.

“She’s being a stupid know-it-all and doing things like that spew idea of yours!”

“She was trying to have a good life and make her own decisions and that stupid prat of a husband kept holding her back!” Harry looked between them.

“Well, either way, he’s dead, she’s happy, and it’s all good,” Harry said.

“And it’s S.P.E.W.!”

“I can’t believe I have to wear black,” moaned Hermione. “Stupid husband dying on me!”

“You have to hurry, ma’am,” said her house-elf quickly. “General Malfoy is already near Oxford as we speak!” It squeaked and ran out. Hermione made a face and strode out of the room after it.

“I can’t believe how shamelessly she flirts with that Mr. Potter,” whispered Lavender Brown.

“She’s a floozy,” put in Parvati Patil. “I think we would all do best to stay away from her. She’s obviously up to something that she shouldn’t be.” They stopped as Hermione walked past them, pointedly ignoring their malicious gossip. She didn’t care about them.

Sitting out on her porch, she watched as the sun set lower and lower into the sky. Thinking about her past few husbands, she made a face. She remembered times like this out on her porch back on her nice farm where she used to sit with her many boyfriends and watch as the Sun went lower, lower, lower, lower, changing from yellow to orange to red and then to an almost purple color. It sank lower and lower and lower and lower -

“Oh, screw it!” exclaimed Hermione. “Hogwarts, A History was one thing, but this is just tedious.”

“I agree,” said Harry. “Skip to the part where they get married and live happily ever after. Sort of….”

“That’s what I’ve been doing!“ said Hermione. “That’s why the narration has been so choppy and monotonous. Either that or our narrator is trying to write a story in hundred degree weather.” She glared at the screen.

“Either that or someone spiked the eggnog,” said Harry quietly. Both of them gave Harry funny looks. Hermione flipped through the book to a new page.

He was confessing his love to her? What? “Why, Mr. Potter. I thought you were not a marrying man!”

“I only said that to…I don’t know why I said it, actually. Anyway, marry me.”

“Only if you get me a gorgeous ring. And I want it to be big so that all the other girls can be jealous.”

“I can do that,” he said with a smile. And he was true to his word. Although, the ring was a bit big, even for Hermione’s taste. Of course she would never admit it, but still….

“Hah!” exclaimed Ron. “Serves her right!”

“Shut-up, Ron,” said Harry. “You’re dead.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, mummy! I want to ride my broomstick now!” exclaimed Laurel, Hermione and Harry daughter.

“What kind of name is Laurel?” asked Hermione.

“The author likes it,” said Harry.

“Does she?” questioned Ron mysteriously.

“Yes, she does, Ron,” said both Hermione and Harry at the same time.

“NO!” screamed Hermione as Laurel fell off the broom. Harry dove and just managed to catch her before her certain death would have occurred.

“That’s not what the book says!” exclaimed Ron.

“I didn’t think he should cry over the death of the little prat so I just cut that part out,” said Hermione. “Besides, all classics have the death of a much-loved character. It was getting too cliché for me.”

“Much-loved?!” laughed Harry. “You only mentioned her for the first time two lines ago.”

“That’s when she was born,” said Hermione defensively.

“She was not! She was born almost a hundred pages ago!”

“Harry? Shush.”

“Well, now that our family is finally going right, Harold manages to fall in a pit of despair and depression because of a death that never happened but really should have,” muttered Hermione to herself. “And now, to top it off, General Malfoy is burning the city. I need my hero right about now to come and save me. Not this crazed fool lying in the dark in his dormitory.” Suddenly Harold came skidding out of the room and grabbed Hermione by the hand.

“ComeoncomeonletmecomesaveyouandtakeyouthroughttheonepassageoutofGeorgia!” he yelped as he dragged her and the kids out of the house, piled them on a wagon, and started it out of the city at full speed.

“Jeez, Harry. Switch to decaf,” said Hermione as they raced out of the town.

“I thought they were in England,” said Ron.

“Must you always interrupt?” asked Hermione.

To cut a really long story short, the writer got bored and decided to end Gone With the Wand but Ron, being a prat, kept interrupting and so

“I am not a prat!” cried Ron indignantly.

Anyway, they made it out of the burning town okay and everyone that Hermione cared about was fine. Which wasn’t that many people. The cold-hearted b-

“You were not about to type what I think you were about to, were you?” accused Hermione.

And Hermione lost her wand.

“My wand is gone!” she cried.

“That means that mummy’s good cooking is gone with the wand!” exclaimed Laurel. She began to cry.

“I thought you were dead,” said Hermione, looking at her daughter oddly.

“Technicalities.”

“That story was way too long,” said Harry. “That is the last time that I let you talk us into reading one of these books with you.”

“It could have been better if she cut out eight hundred pages,” sighed Hermione.

“I hate reading,” sniffed Ron.

“You only hate reading Professor Snape’s essays,” said Hermione.

“And I hate it when you’re right,” said Ron.

“Which is always.” Ron crossed his arms and turned his head away like a child. “Oh, come on, Ron.”

“I think we should never do this again,” said Harry. “It causes tension in my solar plexus.”

“That’s because you slouch,” said Hermione.

“It is not.”

“Of course it is. And I think it would be fun do this again. We could read Little Witches or The Squib of Notre Dame.”

“That’s even more boring. There’s not even a cute play on words,” complained Ron.

“Do you know how hard those things are to come up with?” scolded Hermione.

“But how come lawyers have all such good stories?” asked Ron.

“What?”

“There’s Rebel Without A Clause and Legal Weapon IV.”

“Ron. You truly are an idiot.” Hermione glared at him while Harry snickered.