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Musical Mayhem

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What's the Story, Morning Glory? What's the word, Hummingbird?

 

“Have you heard about Malfoy and Granger?”

“No,” replied Snape sourly. “And I'd like to keep it that way. I'm trying to enjoy my breakfast.”

“I caught them in my greenhouse last night,” gossiped Pomona. “And there was bondage involved.”

Snape choked on his pumpkin juice. “You've got to be joking.”

“Mr. Malfoy was bound up in my recent batch of Devil's Snare, and Miss Granger seemed to be enjoying it immensely.”

“I have no doubt,” said Snape, rolling his eyes.

“I also caught Anthony Goldstein peeping through the window trying to take pictures.”

“What is it with those Ravenclaws?” grumbled Snape. “I caught Terry Boot spying on them the other day.”

“You Ravenclaws are a pervy bunch, Filius,” quipped Pomona.

“It's what comes with knowledge,” admitted Filius. “The smarter you are, the pervier. I bet Albus has some stories.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “I've had a few adventures in my time. I remember one time Grindy and I–”

“No Grindelwald stories!” Snape ordered. He shuddered remembering the last one Dumbledore had told him.

“Ooh! I haven't heard any of the Grindelwald stories,” said Pomona, sounding interested.

“Count yourself lucky then,” muttered Snape.

“I bet they're juicy,” Pomona mused.

Snape pushed his pumpkin juice aside. “You have no idea.”

 

The Rain in Spain Falls Mainly in the Plains

 

“Well, that was a bust,” Anthony sulked.

“You're telling me,” said Terry. “You didn't get any pictures, and you lost us House points.”

“I don't know went wrong,” whined Anthony. “It was the perfect romantic setting. There was flowers and bondage... I think Granger was into it, but Malfoy didn't even try to make a move. I mean, he was a little tied up, but still. I'm not sure he's even attracted to her.”

“Well, he was all over her the night before last.”

“Maybe he came to his senses,” retorted Anthony. “I mean, she's not that bad to look at. Nothing a bit of makeup and a new wardrobe wouldn't fix. It's her personality.”

“It's horrid,” agreed Terry.

“Someone needs to go full out Henry Higgins on her,” said Anthony. “Not that Malfoy's any prize, of course. He's a real dick. But girls like that in a guy.”

“Yeah, the bigger an asshole a guy is, the more the girls like it.”

“No joke. Those assholes are like, 'Get my slippers, bitch,' and the girls are falling all over themselves. Pathetic.”

“And then nice guys like us get zero action,” complained Terry. “Go figure.”

“Yeah, go figure,” said Padma Patil as she passed by them, rolling her eyes.

“You think she heard us?” asked Anthony.

Terry shrugged. “Who cares? She wants to win the House Cup just as much as we do. Unfortunately, we've already lost enough points with this crazy scheme. Who are we going to sucker into doing our dirty work for us?”

 

Hello, Hufflepuffs!

 

The Hufflepuffs were suckers for romance, particularly the hopeless, never going to happen variety. And if there was ever such a case it was with Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. With her a Gryffindor and him a Slytherin, they didn't stand a chance. Not to mention, the two of them were like oil and water. Or as the Muggles would say, like fire and a stick of dynamite.

After hearing about Hermione's unrequited crush from three different Ravenclaws, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbot decided to take Hermione under their wing. They cornered her in the library.

“I'm sorry. This table is taken,” said Hermione, looking up from her book when the two of them sat on either side of her.

“We're here to help,” said Hannah, patting her hand comfortingly.

“I can study for N.E.W.T.s on my own, thank you very much,” replied Hermione tersely.

“We're here to help you with something much more important than N.E.W.T.s,” replied Justin.

“What could possibly be more important than N.E.W.T.s?” asked Hermione.

“Your love life,” whispered Hannah.

“We know about your crush on You Know Who,” said Justin.

“Voldemort?” said Hermione in confusion.

Hannah let out a giggle, earning herself a glare from Ms. Pince. “No, silly. Like we would really set you up with an evil dead guy. That's a little creepy, don't you think?”

“Truthfully, I find the fact that you want to set me up with anyone a little creepy,” confessed Hermione. “Matchmaking schemes make me uncomfortable.”

“But I live for matchmaking!” Hannah squealed, earning herself a glare and a shush. “And besides,” she added in a whisper, “I'm very good at it.”

“But who–”

“Don't you worry about it,” said Hannah, cutting her off. “I'll take care of everything.”

Hermione shrugged. She supposed it didn't matter whom Hannah was planning on setting her up with. It was finally time she got herself a love life. She was starting to have dreams about Malfoy and that couldn't be healthy.

“Now for the makeover,” said Justin, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

“Makeover?” gulped Hermione

 

Give Me a Head With Hair, Long Beautiful Hair

 

“I think the color is good,” said Justin, circling around Hermione, studying her hair. “What do you call that? Caramel, Chocolate... Mocha?”

“I call it brown.”

“The texture is horrible though,” continued Justin, ignoring her. “Perhaps a hair straightening charm would do the trick.” He tapped his wand to her head and stepped back to admire his work. “You look hot. But not at all like you.”

“Definitely not at all like you,” agreed Hannah.

“But isn't that a good thing?” asked Hermione, reaching for the mirror. “Don't I want to look different?”

“Uh, uh, uh,” said Justin, slapping her hand away from the mirror. “No peeking until we're finished. And to answer your question, no, you do not want to look different. You want to look the same – only better. That's what good makeovers do anyway. I think we'll just keep it natural and go with an anti-frizz potion, some Muggle hair mousse and a little Sleekeazy's for good measure.”

“You call that natural?”

“Now for the eyebrows,” said Justin, reaching out and plucking a hair.

“Ouch!”

“Beauty is pain,” said Justin unsympathetically, plucking a hair from the other eyebrow and causing Hermione to yelp again. “Now just a few more.”

Before he could continue, Hermione punched him in the stomach. “How many more?” she growled.

“Oof! I think we're good,” gasped Justin, doubling over.

When he recovered, Justin slathered her with moisturizers and various other products Hermione didn't know the name of. Then there was foundation, bronzer, blush and something called contouring that Justin kept rambling on about. It seemed like for every part of her face, four or five things had to be applied. It was ridiculous that girls (and Justin apparently) spent so much time on something so stupid. She could have read Hogwarts, A History from cover to cover in the time it took Justin to 'put on her face'.

“Ta da!” said Justin, holding up the mirror.

Hermione took the mirror from him and opened her eyes. She stared at herself for a while in disbelief and then turned on Justin. “Three hours of torture and I look exactly the same?” she snapped.

“The same but better,” said Justin, smiling.

 

Don't Rain on my Parade, Ronald Weasley

 

Hermione walked down the steps to the common room, tugging on her clothes self consciously. Along with her makeover came a new wardrobe. Anthony actually had really good taste. Everything was simple and for the most part sensible. It was just a little more fitted than she was used to. Ever since she had blossomed, as her mother liked to call it, she had gotten into a habit of wearing oversize Weasley jumpers. Now that she was wearing something that showed off her figure, it made her feel like she was putting herself on display.

When she entered the common room, she was relieved to see Harry and Ron in their usual spot by the fire and immediately headed toward them.

“What the hell happened to you?” asked Ron, his mouth gaping open.

“You look nice, Hermione,” said Harry, elbowing Ron in the ribs.

“Thanks, Harry,” she said gratefully before glaring at Ron.

“You look different,” said Ron, staring at her chest.

“Justin and Hannah wanted to give me a makeover. It's not a big deal or anything. I mean, I practically look the same.”

“Your skirt's too short,” said Ron.

“It's longer than my uniform,” protested Hermione.

“And your blouse is too tight. It's a little tart-ish, if you ask me.”

“No one was asking you,” snapped Hermione angrily. “And just because you've finally discovered that I have breasts does not make me a tart!”

“Leave her alone, Ron,” said Harry, trying to calm the situation.

“No,” said Ron, not listening. “Someone needs to tell her what a fool she's making of herself.”

“What's he talking about, Harry?” asked Hermione, trying to remain calm and not kick Ron's ass before she got all of the information.

“Well,” said Harry, sounding uncomfortable. “Lavender heard from Parvati who heard it from her sister that you're...”

“That you're hooking up with Malfoy,” Ron spat.

“What!” gasped Hermione.

“It's not true, is it, Hermione?” asked Harry uncertainly.

“No, of course not,” said Hermione, crossing her fingers behind her back just in case snogging Malfoy in detention and getting aroused at the sight of him being tied up in Devil's Snare counted as 'hooking up'.

 

Ya Got Trouble, Right Here in Slytherin

 

“We've got trouble,” said Crabbe, marching into the common room.

“Huh?” asked Theo, looking up from snogging Daphne.

“We think Draco's in love with Granger,” explained Goyle.

“You two are idiots,” said Blaise. “That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. There's no way Draco likes Granger.”

“We heard a couple of Ravenclaws talking–”

“Before we beat the crap out of them,” added Goyle.

“And they were saying that Draco and Granger were practically having sex during their detention the other night,” said Crabbe.

“After we beat the crap out of them,” continued Goyle, “the one admitted that Draco and Granger had threatened him to keep their secret.”

“Apparently, Granger knows 552 hexes,” added Crabbe.

“Draco has been complaining a lot about Granger,” said Theo thoughtfully. “It seems like it's the only thing he talks about lately.”

“And have you seen the way they fight?” asked Daphne. “It's like some weird mating ritual.”

“There is a lot of tension between the two of them. It's probably sexual,” said Goyle.

Crabbe nodded. “Something's bound to happen sooner or later... if it hasn't happened already.”

“Maybe he's with her now,” said Pansy gravely.

“This is bad,” said Blaise. “We can't have one of us with a Gryffindor. It's going to bring the whole House down.”

“We need to get Draco a girlfriend,” said Theo. “A Slytherin girlfriend.”

They all turned to Pansy.

“Fine. I'll take one for the team,” she said with a sigh.

 

Whatever Pansy Wants

 

“Where is everyone?” Draco asked when he finally returned to the common room.

Pansy shrugged. “They're out.”

“That's weird,” said Draco, taking off his outer robes and sinking down into an empty chair. “I don't think I've ever seen the common room this quiet.”

“It's kind of nice, isn't it?” said Pansy sauntering over to him. She ran her finger seductively across his shoulders as she circled around him.

“What are you doing?” asked Draco wearily.

“What do you want me to do, Drakey Poo?” asked Pansy, dropping into his lap.

“Knock it off, Pans. I'm not in the mood.”

“Perhaps I can get you in the mood,” said Pansy, flicking her wand to turn off the lights and fill the room with candle light.

Draco looked at her suspiciously. “What's going on here?”

“Anything you want, Draco,” she whispered sexily into his ear, giving his earlobe a bite.

Panicking, Draco jumped up from his chair, dumping Pansy to the floor. “I have to go.”

Pansy glared at him for a minute before composing her expression and picking herself off the floor. “What's the rush? You just got here.”

“I just remembered that I have something to do.”

“Is that something Granger?” she asked, unable to hide the contempt in her voice.

“What? No!”

“You don't really like her, Draco. You're just lonely. I'm lonely, too. We're two lost souls. We've been fighting our feelings for years. Maybe it's time to... give in,” she said huskily, closing her eyes and puckering up her lips.

Draco took the opportunity to run.

 

Was There Ever a Cat (Half Kneazle) So Clever as Magical Mr. Crooksy!

 

“Oh, Hermione!” exclaimed Hannah. “Thank goodness you're here. Poor Crookshanks is trapped in a broom cupboard.”

“How on earth did he do that? Crookshanks is normally very clever.”

“It's a tricky cupboard,” said Hannah dismissively. “Students are always getting themselves trapped in it.”

“Hold on, Crooksy,” said Hermione to the door. “Mummy will get you out of there.”

“Meow!”

“Have you tried an Alohomora?” she asked Hannah.

“Oh, no,” said Hannah. “I always forget that spell.”

“Well, can you try one now? I didn't have anywhere to put my wand in my new outfit, and I forgot to grab it in the rush.”

“I can't! I mean, I don't have my wand either. I never carry one.” Hannah laughed nervously.

“How curious,” said Hermione, giving her a funny look. “I'm guessing you tried opening the door manually?”

Hannah hit herself in the head. “I never even thought of that. Hufflepuff!” she sang deprecatingly.

Shaking her head in disbelief that anyone could be so stupid, Hermione grabbed the doorknob. It turned easily in her hand, and she opened the door. Crookshanks ran out and gave her an angry, “Meow!”

“I don't know why you're angry with me,” answered Hermione. “You're the one who got yourself locked in a broom cupboard, not me.”

“Sorry, Hermione!” said Hannah, pushing her into the cupboard and locking her in. “This is for your own good.”

“Let me out!” shouted Hermione, banging on the door.

“I can't,” said Hannah apologetically. “He should be here any minute.”

“Who?”

“Why Draco Malfoy of course,” replied Hannah. “Your new boyfriend!”

“You're setting me up with Malfoy!”

“We've already talked about this, Hermione,” said Hannah patiently. “I'm sorry for shoving you in a broom cupboard, but this is how I do my matchmaking. It works every time.”

“Hannah Abbot, I swear, when I get out of here, I'm going to–”

“Thank me. They always do. Oh, here he comes! Sound like you're trapped in a broom cupboard.”

“I am trapped in a broom cupboard!”

“Good work!” Hannah stage whispered. “Oh, Malfoy! Quick, over here! Hermione Granger's trapped herself in a broom cupboard.”

“Granger's trapped herself in a broom cupboard? Classic.”

“You have to rescue her,” pleaded Hannah. “The doorknob is stuck. I need a strong boy like you to open it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes on the other side of the door. As expected, Draco opened the door and Hannah pushed him in. The sad thing was, Hannah probably couldn't have budged him if Crookshanks hadn't tangled himself in Draco's legs. Traitor.

Draco uselessly banged on the door cursing out Hannah and Crookshanks.

Crookshanks hissed in reply and then plopped down in front of the door and started licking himself.

“Just do an Alohomora,” Hermione ordered.

“I can't,” began Draco.

“It's easy. You just–”

“I know how to do it,” Draco growled. “I just can't do it now. I don't have my wand.”

“What kind of idiot goes anywhere without their wand?” snapped Hermione.

“It was in my robes, but I had to leave in a hurry.”

“You couldn't just grab your robes?”

“No, I couldn't!” snapped Draco. “You don't know. There was some scary shit going on in the Slytherin common room. Why don't you just Alohomorait?”

“Because I don't have my wand either,” Hermione muttered.

“What was that? I didn't quite catch what you said.”

“I said I don't have my wand!” Hermione snapped. “Are you happy?”

“No, I'm not happy. I'm stuck with you in the kissing cupboard.”

 

Hernando's Hideaway

 

“Is this the kissing cupboard? Are we trapped inside the kissing cupboard!” shrieked Hermione, starting to hyperventilate.

Not knowing what else to do, Draco kissed her.

She returned his kiss with a sharp slap to the face. “What was that for?”

Rubbing his cheek, Draco replied, “You were in shock. I had to do something.”

“And that something was to kiss me!”

“Well, I couldn't very well slap a girl, although now I'm wishing I did,” he grumbled.

“Sorry,” mumbled Hermione. “I just wasn't expecting you to kiss me, is all.”

“Yeah, because we've never done that before,” said Draco sarcastically.

“Don't remind me. I haven't been able to completely Obliviate that particular memory yet.”

“Keeping you up at night, is it?” Draco smirked.

“No, is it keeping you up at night?” she asked pointedly.

Draco scowled.

“Now can we please focus on the task at hand? We need to find a way to get out of here. Okay, we should just take a deep breath and focus. There's nothing to worry about,” said Hermione as much to herself as to Draco. “Crookshanks will get us out.”

“If you're talking about that orange monstrosity who helped lock me up in here with you in the first place, I don't know how he can help.”

“He's very smart. Crookshanks,” Hermione called through the door, “go get Professor Dumbledore. Wait. Don't get him. He can be such a gossiping old biddy. Go get Professor Snape.”

“No! Don't get him,” exclaimed Draco. “He'll just give us another detention.”

“Oh, I don't know then. Crookshanks, go get someone to get us out of here. Get whoever is best for the job.”

“Meow,” replied Crookshanks, getting up and stretching before leisurely trotting off down the hallway.

“You're going to leave it up to him? A cat?” asked Draco incredulously.

“I told you he's very smart. I trust his judgment. He'll find the right person. I know it. And he's half Kneazle by the way. They know things.”

Two hours later, Crookshanks finally returned to the cupboard with help. It had taken so long that Draco and Hermione had finally just made themselves comfortable – well as comfortable as you could be in a broom cupboard. So, that is how Ron came to find the two of them 'snuggling'.

“I knew you two were hooking up!” exclaimed Ron angrily. “Just wait until I tell the rest of Gryffindor about this. Slytherin is going down!”

Hermione watched Ron stomp off down the hallway. “Did you have to bring him of all people here?” she asked Crookshanks sternly.

“Meow!” retorted Crookshanks saucily.

“Bad kitty,” Hermione hissed.

 

The Rumble

 

“Another year has come and gone,” said Dumbledore as he began his end of the year speech. “It's so nice to look around and see all of your smiling faces.”

Actually, due to word getting around about Draco and Hermione, the room was filled with a lot of scowling faces, but whatever.

“You're all probably wondering which House has won the honor of the House Cup. In the last few days, Ravenclaw has made an impressive showing and has pulled ahead into first place!”

All the students at the Ravenclaw table cheered. Terry and Anthony high-fived one another.

“However I have a few more House points to give out,” continued Dumbledore.

All the Ravenclaws groaned.

“To Justin Finch-Fletchley for the best makeover Hogwarts has ever seen... 50 points!

The Hufflepuffs all cheered.

“And to Hannah Abbot for the best matchmaking this school has ever seen... 50 points!”

The Hufflepuffs cheered again.

“It looks like we have a change of colors. For the first time in, well, forever, Hufflepuff has won the House Cup!”

The Hufflepuffs cheered again, but everyone else booed.

“Now, now, settle down,” ordered Dumbledore. “In the interest of House unity, I insist we drink a toast to the Hufflepuffs.” He raised his glass. Everyone reluctantly followed suit and choked down their pumpkin juice which left a bitter taste in their mouths.

Suddenly, Hannah jumped out of her chair. “I like to be in Hufflepuff!” she sang loudly and a little too perkily.

“O.K. by me in Hufflepuff!” added Justin in baritone, standing up next to her.

“Everything's great in Hufflepuff!” finished Hannah, throwing her hands up dramatically to draw everyone's attention to the Hufflepuff-colored decorations.

“Hufflepuff makes me want to throw up,” Terry muttered bitterly.

Then across the room, Blaise Zabini stood up on the table and started singing a song about his House. “When you're a snake, you're a snake all the way. From your first Stinging Hex to your last dying day.”

The other Slytherins joined him and a snappy, little song and dance number ensued.

“What are my feet doing?” asked Crabbe.

“It's called a jazz square,” replied Goyle. At the funny looks he received, he quickly added, “Or so I've heard.”

Luckily Goyle was saved from certain persecution by Malfoy singing “I feel pretty...” Malfoy's eyes went wide with horror, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't stop singing about feeling pretty.

“You know, he is kind of pretty,” admitted Blaise, giving Pansy a twirl.

“It's the hair,” said Crabbe.

“Very silky,” agreed Goyle.

Not to be outdone, the Gryffindors got up off their feet and an epic dance battle began. There were jazz hands everywhere.

The Ravenclaws, still sulking about losing out on the House Cup, watched the dance off from their table without much enjoyment. They were too depressed to even make any snarky comments.

“I've seen this musical,” said Anthony, observing the ridiculousness with his head propped in his hands. “It doesn't end well.”

“Serves them right,” grumbled Terry. “I can't believe we went to all of that trouble and frigging Hufflepuff won the House Cup. I have never been more embarrassed in my life.”

“I know how you feel,” replied Anthony glumly. “Want to sing a sad song about it?”

Terry nodded his head. “I kind of do.”

Terry and Anthony stood up on their bench and, swaying in rhythm, belted out a melancholy ballad. The duet inspired the rest of the Ravenclaws to raise their Lumos-lit wands and sway along to the music.

As this touching scene came to an end, all hell broke loose as the dance off between the Gryffindors and Slytherins transformed into a beautifully choreographed fight scene.

“Are we just going to sit here and do nothing?” asked Snape, looking around the Head table in disbelief.

“We're not doing nothing. We're enjoying the show,” replied Dumbledore, holding out a bowl . “Popcorn?”

Snape impatiently waved it away. “This is irresponsible, even for you Albus. What if someone gets hurt?”

“It's a musical,” replied Dumbledore dismissively. “What's the worst that can happen?”

“Don't a lot of people die in this one, Albus?” Pomona remarked.

“Hmm,” Dumbledore mused. “Good point. Severus, make sure they don't kill one another.”

Scowling, Snape stood up and a jazzy new song began. Much to his chagrin, he noticed that the tempo of the music seemed to match his every step and his fingers involuntarily twirled his wand like a baton. Snape turned and glared at Dumbledore who shrugged.

Pomona started laughing. “Severus is Officer Krupke. Classic!”

The tempo picked up as Snape angrily stomped off, uncontrollably throwing in a few fancy jazz steps along the way. As Snape suffered through the students' usual insubordination, only this time through song, Hermione and Draco quietly slipped away from their Housemates and danced their way over to the door.

 

We Go Together Like Rama Lamma Lamma Ka Dinga Da Dinga Dong!

 

When they met, the music changed to an upbeat happy tune.

“What am I singing? This doesn't make any sense,” grumbled Hermione.

“It doesn't have to, it's a musical,” replied Draco, grabbing her hand and twirling her into his arms.

“No, I mean us. This,” she said, gesturing between them.

“Oh. Does it have to?” he asked swaying her along to the music.

Hermione smiled. “No, I guess not.”

“If I kiss you, are you going to slap me again?”

“I don't know. Want to get out of here and find out?” she asked pertly.

He eagerly grabbed her hand and danced her outside, but much to their dismay, everyone else followed them.

Luckily, Ron's Dad's car had come out of the Forbidden Forest and was waiting on the lawn, so Draco and Hermione quickly climbed in before the dancing mob reached them.

After locking the doors, Hermione laughed in relief. “That was a close one. I don't think I could handle another big musical number.”

“Tell me about,” said Draco. “Besides, it's time for us to move on to the kissing scene.”

“Awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?”

“Mmhm,” he replied, moving in closer to her. His lips were just about to touch hers when he suddenly stopped and looked her up and down. “There's something different about you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. Did you just discover that I have breasts, too?”

Draco shook his head. “No, I discovered that a while ago. It's something else. I know. You look less uptight. Like you finally found yourself a boyfriend.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Does this answer your question?” Draco asked, leaning in and kissing her. “Merlin, I've been wanting to do that for a long time now.”

“Tell me about it, stud,” replied Hermione, lunging at him.

Outside, the dance number was in full swing. The music was contagious, and the students were finally getting into it and having fun. Even the Ravenclaws seemed to be enjoying themselves.

“You changed musicals,” Pomona noted.

Dumbledore shrugged. “West Side Story has some great musical numbers but the ending is a bit of a downer. You know me, I'm a sucker for a happy ending. And, eh, we had the car.”

“This song is so catchy,” said Pomona, tapping her foot. “It makes me want to dance. How about it, Severus?”

“What? Who me?” asked Snape, looking somewhat horrified.

“Yes, you. What do say? Want to take this old witch for a spin?” she asked wiggling her hips suggestively.

Snape rolled his eyes and then let out a sigh. “Oh, what the hell.” He held out his hand and gave her a twirl. “Who am I to get in the way of the big musical finish?”

Hermione and Draco kissed and waved from the sky as the Ford Anglia flew off into the sunset.

“Now that's an ending,” said Dumbledore, smiling.

“And that's the way it should beeeeee! Whaooh Yeah!”