Harry Potter and the Half-Arsed Pinch
A/N: Much commentary about HBP has been made, and it seems that almost everyone has put in his two cents worth. Almost, but not quite, since nothing has been heard from the main subject of discussion. I refer to Harry Potter, and what HE thinks about sundry matters revealed recently in Book Six!
This is a first person, way-over-the-top parody of parts of HBP, so expect OOC-ness, or maybe not, depending upon how strong your feelings are. Warnings are given, and should be heeded, for smut, profanity, really excessive vulgarity, always-popular gratuitous Slytherin/Draco-bashing, and other nastiness.
I do not own Harry, Hermione, Ron, et al, who are property of the usual suspects, though Harry himself may have different ideas about that.
Chapter 1: Optimist or Pessimist?
"There comes a time in every man's life - and I'VE had a LOT of them!"
- Charles Dillon "Casey" Stengel
Quite a few years before I was born, the above was said by a famous American baseball manager, philosopher, and all-around clown. He was the inventor and sole practitioner of a peculiar dialect of English, "Stengelese," with its own uniquely bizarre grammar, syntax, and logic. Nevertheless, in a single sentence, this quotation captures the sixteen years of my life far better than does anything else that I've ever heard or read.
I, Harry Potter, also have experienced a lot of interesting "times" in my still young life, and most of them have been decidedly less than pleasant. But, there have been just enough good ones to keep me going.
Perhaps I should have written "created" or "invented" in place of "born" in the first sentence of the first paragraph above. After all, most people believe that I'm only a fictional character, and not a real person! It's undeniably true that the esteemed biographer of my student days at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, J. K. Rowling, initially did construct me, my friends and enemies, and my entire magical world solely from her own imagination. Further, she made up my personal background, including the first eleven years of my life, which were NOT very nice.
However, regardless of legal technicalities related to commercial rights to my name and its use in various media, I've taken on a life of my own, and as time passes on, I've become more and more independent in my own mind. With such independence comes a realization and I, and only I, ultimately will make the meaningful decisions in my life.
In short, I have issues with my creator, and among the more significant ones are her depictions of my relationships with magical persons of the feminine persuasion in general, and with two young witches in particular.
I find that no longer can I remain silent, in the light of the most recent publication of what my "owner" deemed to be a worthwhile chronicle of the important events of my sixth year at Hogwarts. While almost everything in the book did happen, so much else was omitted. Now, I do realize that she writes for a very large audience, including young readers, for whom certain delicate matters must be handled very carefully, if at all. Also, certain constraints afflict every writer, such as book length, editorial requirements, and other policies of the publisher.
That said, I once read that one of the most effective ways to lie is to tell only part of the truth, and then to shut up, allowing the listener to draw the wrong conclusion from insufficient data. Accordingly, I offer here a small portion of the "so much else" missing from the book, which I assure the reader is the true, unvarnished, and uncensored story of what happened.
* * * * * *
In the Gryffindor House common room, my best mate, Ron Weasley, and I were engaged in a conversation, concerning what had become A Most Important Subject for both of us. It was not about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, or any other area of scholarly magical theory or practice. Nor was it serious preparation for or speculation about the war with Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and possible other evil doers. Nor was it concerning Quidditch, our mutually favorite form of magical sport and recreation.
Rather, it was about certain fellow classmates, specifically student witches of roughly similar age as us, their virtues and vices, their strong and weak points, and most important of all, their potential "shaggability."
Yes, both us have grown up, to put in mildly, and just as with almost all other males in middle to late teen years, our interests are changing. To be blunt, both of us have become VERY interested in the aforementioned female schoolmates, or at least in certain parts of their bodies, since constantly we are as randy as the proverbial three-balled tom-kneazle!
Temporarily, Ron's style was somewhat restricted, as he had become involved with house and classmate Lavender Brown. She was Gryffindor's prime airhead and self appointed Gossipmonger-in-Chief, BUT, she did have some redeeming features; a body built like a brick broom shed, AND an enjoyment of physical contact with members of the opposite sex.
She and her sidekick, Parvati Patil, entered the common room and sashayed across it. Ron's back was to them, but I got a double eyeful of the fronts of their VERY tight cashmere jumpers, pink and light blue respectively, both tremendously misshapen and moving about in the most delicious of ways.
Observing my attention becoming locked onto some obviously interesting sight, Ron turned, only to get a glimpse of the rear ends of the pair of witches, by no means unpleasant in themselves, as they headed toward the dorm stairs.
"WON WON!" yelled Lavender, looking back over her shoulder. "Don't wowwy, I'll wush wight back! I weally want to wun my fingews thwough your wondewful wed haiw!"
The first time I heard Lavender's new, cutesy, "Won-speak," I thought someone accidentally had stepped on a duck. But, I was used to it by now, and I could easily ignore it.
On the other hand, Hermione Granger, my other best friend, never had - gotten used to it, that is. She was sitting across the room and reading. She cringed visibly, shot Lavender a dirty look, and seemed to be contemplating whether or not the old custom of burning witches at the stake might be worthy of reinstatement, at least in certain special cases.
"Some fwiend you awe . . . ERK . . . she's got me talking that way!" Ron exclaimed to me, "why didn't you let me know that THEY were passing by?"
"Sorry, mate," I replied, grinning, "but I was preoccupied with the sight of the four, er, the TWO of them for a while. Have you ever seen a pair of witches whose bodily accessories can move in so many different directions simultaneously?"
"You're right about that, mate," said Ron, and he turned to catch one last glimpse of the girls' bums, as they headed up to their dorm. "And, if those jeans of theirs were any tighter, they be wearing them on the inside!"
"HONESTLY!" huffed Hermione from across the room, "don't you think of anything but female backsides, Ron Weasley?"
"Sure, I do," answered Ron, "I'm a firm believer in practicing a balanced approach to reckless eyeballing, but my good friend here failed to warn me in time!"
"I said I was sorry, mate," I said, and then I exclaimed, "HEY! Just to show you that my heart's in right place, here comes another way-too-tight-jumper bit of goodness!"
"BOYS!" Hermione huffed again, as if that four-letter word was a REAL four-letter word, and she returned to perusing her well-read copy of 101 Reasons Why Cucumbers Are Better Than Men.
We ignored Hermione, and Ron turned to see a young witch heading directly for us. Indeed, she was wearing - or maybe it was painted on - a very tight light green jumper, which also was VERY distorted in shape in the upper front, and under which the two causes of said distortion were bouncing and jiggling in a most wonderful manner.
Unfortunately for Ron, she possessed both a beautiful head of red hair that contrasted nicely with her green sweater AND a too closely shared genetic heritage with him.
"YUCK, Harry," Ron said, looking away from his sister's chest, "I can't stare at GINNY, for heaven's sakes! She's my sister!"
"That's alright, Ron," I said, "what are friends for? I'LL be more than happy to stare at her enough for the both of us!"
"Er, ah . . . thanks . . . I guess," Ron said. "Wait a minute!" he continued, but his sister interrupted.
"HARRY!" exclaimed Ginny Weasley, as she flopped onto the couch beside me, causing me first to smell flowers, and then to experience gastrointestinal distress. Yeah, right!
No, I just lied. What actually happened FIRST is that I enjoyed the view of her boobs alternately defying and obeying the law of gravity, by continuing to move up and down for a bit, after the rest of her had stopped.
'Hmm,' I thought, 'should I follow Lavender's example with 'Won Won' and make up a cute nickname for Ginny, or not? 'Gin Gin' sounds either Asian or like a drunk demanding a refill. Somehow, a flowery name such as 'Hollyhock,' or 'Snapdragon' or 'Rhododendron' just doesn't do it. Nor do 'Pepto Bismol' or 'Miss Maalox,' either.'
"My tummy hurts," I said, "are you ready for us finally to get together? Could you rub my tummy? Would you like to go somewhere private and, er, TALK, or whatever? Answer the last question first, please."
"Yes, no, and yes!" answered Ginny.
"Huh?" I said. "Oh shit! Had I actually asked those questions ALOUD?"
"Yes, I'd like to go somewhere private, but I can't, because, no, I'm not ready yet for us to be together. BUT, yes, I could rub your . . . tummy," Ginny answered brightly, giving a brief glance at my midsection and a much longer look at the area immediately below it.
"Uh, why not?" I asked.
"Because there remain at least three student wizards here at Hogwarts whom I haven't yet shag - , er, I mean DATED," said Ginny.
"ARGH . . . URGLE . . . BURGLE," A very red-faced Ron attempted to speak, but he sounded less like an angry teenager and more like an elderly member of the House of Lords who had been partaking of an excessive quantity of port too early in the day. Alas, he did confirm my fear that I had vocalized my thoughts, and he did seem to be expressing his brotherly protective instinct toward his sister.
"Ginny, if you're really interested in and have feelings for me," I began in a quiet voice, "then why are you, er, DATING so many other blokes?"
"Because I'm saving the best - YOU - for last, of course," said Ginny. "Anyway, look on the bright side, Harry, at least I don't swing both ways. Think of how much longer you'd have to wait, if I had to date every witch in the school, as well!"
"BLOODY HELL!" Ron shouted, finally recovering his voice.
Ginny ignored him, but Hermione gave him a nasty glare from across the room.
I tried to warn Ron about his language, but Ginny continued speaking.
"I wonder," she said, "if I should try to give Draco another chance? When we got together yesterday, things did not go very well."
"M-M-M-Malfoy?" Ron sputtered, but before he could say another word, the lovely and clinging "Lav Lav," having sneakily returned from upstairs, pounced upon him from behind, pulled his head around, and planted a classic lip-lock on his mouth.
"D-D-D-Draco?" I asked.
"It was sad, Harry," said Ginny, "you remember how I used to become paralyzed and speechless around you for the longest time, don't you?"
"Yes," I replied, unsure precisely where this conversation was heading.
"Well, I seem to have the opposite problem with Draco," said Ginny, "and every single thing I said to him yesterday seemed to be wrong!"
"How so?" I asked.
"After quite a while, we decided to take the next logical step in our relationship. I mean, we had been on our first date and snogging for ten whole minutes!" said Ginny.
"MMPH . . . BLOOG . . . " Ron tried valiantly to speak, which was impossible due to Lavender's tongue massaging his upper esophagus.
Both Ginny and I attempted gamely to ignore the sounds emanating from the juncture of their mouths, which resembled nothing so much as the gurgling of bathtub water emptying into an old drain pipe. From across the room, I noticed that Hermione had begun to huff and puff like a steam engine.
"We got undressed, and Draco showed me his . . . his 'Little Draco,' and he asked me what I thought of 'him.' I told him the truth, that 'he' was cute, and that 'he' looked just like a typical erect penis, only smaller!" Ginny continued.
I couldn't help but to laugh, and Ginny went on.
"Draco didn't like my answer, so I asked him if it would get any larger. Sadly, that too was the wrong thing to say, because it got both somewhat smaller and a bit . . . less firm. Come to think of it, 'Tiny Draco' would have been a more realistic nickname. Then, we got into an argument about semantics, of all things!" said Ginny.
"Huh?" I said
"L-L-L-L-LESS FIRM!" Ron shouted, Lavender finally having been forced to break off oral contact, due to oxygen requirements.
"Well, yes," said Ginny, "it just wasn't up to performing as designed. Think of trying to shoot a game of snooker with a length of rope, instead of a cue, to use an apt analogy."
Now, Lavender started to giggle. So did Parvati, who had entered the room and taken a seat near us.
"Anyway, the argument started when I asked Draco why his thing was half-soft. He accused me of being a pessimist, rather than an optimist, and he insisted that 'Little Draco' was NOT half-soft, but rather, 'he' was half-hard!"
On hearing this, even Ron had to smile.
"Though it took a while, with some help from me, 'Little Draco' was restored to operating condition, more or less. So, we started to do the deed, as it were," said Ginny. She continued, "I knew that something had to be wrong, because I wasn't feeling much of anything. Draco must have, though, because after about fifteen seconds, he started to move faster. Then I said something else that he didn't appreciate."
Amid our laughter, I managed to ask Ginny, "what was that?"
"I simply asked him the most obvious of questions, 'is it in yet?' and - how shall I put this most accurately - either it never had been, or, if it had, suddenly it wasn't anymore!" said Ginny. "Of course, then we found ourselves back in the 'optimist/pessimist' and 'half-hard/half-soft' debate situation. Draco was NOT happy, and he seemed to take even greater offense when I giggled and showed him that all I needed to handle 'Little Draco' was a thumb and forefinger. He told me to get out and never to come back!"
No one in the room, including Ron, said anything for a long time, mainly because all of us were laughing so hard. Even Hermione seemed to have calmed down, and she actually gave a slight chuckle.
"I heard Draco yell for Pansy Parkinson, and just as I opened the door to leave, I saw her outside it on her knees. The sneaky bitch had been listening or watching us through the keyhole! And," Ginny continued, "she was dressed in a black leather outfit, topped off with a feather duster in one hand and a cat-o-nine-tails whip in the other. AND, she had a 'you-know-what' attached to a harness strapped around her waist!"
Everyone seemed too shocked to laugh at first, and Ron looked a bit confused.
"I got the hell out of there VERY quickly," said Ginny, "and I started to run when I heard Pansy and Draco calling each other 'my bitch' and 'big daddy,' though with conventional gender roles reversed, if you understand my meaning!"
"BLOODY HELL!" Ron exclaimed, and Hermione's face clouded over. Ron continued, "what exactly did you mean by 'a you-know-what,' Ginny?"
Ignoring Ron, Ginny lowered her voice and said, "if I'm not mistaken, it looked like a 'Model HP' from Fred and George's 'special' catalog!"
"NO!" exclaimed Lavender.
"REALLY?" said Parvati, and all three girls smirked in my direction.
"How did Pansy manage to get one?" asked Lavender.
"Fred and George said that they're almost impossible to keep in stock, and they've been backordered for weeks!" added Parvati.
"Months, actually," said Ginny, "but, I suspect that my prats of twin brothers might just have arranged for some special payment method from Pansy!" That said, she winked at Parvati, opened her mouth wide, forming a circle with her lips, and in front of it, she curled the fingers of her right hand, as if grasping a cylindrical object.
I couldn't resist that opening, so to speak, "you're probably right, Ginny, because when the twins visited last week, somehow, the subject of Hogwarts witches came up." The girls rolled their eyes, but I continued, "both of them mentioned that in spite of her Slytherin affiliation, Pansy did have one of the most talented mouths that they had ever come across!"
Hermione hid her face behind her book again, but I did hear a giggle from her direction. The other girls blushed furiously, but also they laughed very loudly at my crude joke.
Ron, who missed it completely, still seemed to be at a complete loss. Then, he noticed my red face.
"BLOODY HELL!" he yelled again, and Hermione dropped her book, and she gave him a REALLY nasty look, but he continued. "What the bloody hell is 'a Model HP you-know-what,' Ginny?"
"It's one of Fred and George's 'adult novelties,' Ron," answered Ginny. "You have seen their special catalog, haven't you?"
"NO!" yelled Ron, "I haven't a clue of what all of you are going on about!"
Without a word, Hermione reached into her book bag, withdrew a glossy sales brochure, and threw it across the room at Ron. She glared at him and returned to her reading.
He looked at the cover:
WEASLEYS' WIZARDING WHEEZES
Adult Products for Adult Fun
WARNING: Not for Sale to
Underage Witches or Wizards!
"Turn to page eighteen, the section of 'Toys for Witches - Realistic Famous Wizard Wands - Extra Large,' and I believe that you'll see what we're talking about," said Ginny.
"BLOODY HELL!" Ron shouted, "what exactly are these . . . these THINGS?"
"See," said Lavender in a whisper to Parvati, "I told you that 'Won Won' can be totally clueless at times!"
"They're . . . they're 'phallic symbols,' Ron," said Ginny, with a grin, but also with her blush deepening.
"Huh?" said Ron, with a puzzled expression, "you say they're 'phallic symbols?' Are you really sure about that?"
I was biting my tongue to keep from laughing.
"I'm sure, Ron," said Ginny.
"Well, thank the gods for THAT," said Ron, "I hate to say what I thought they looked like!"
Everyone burst out in uncontrollable laughter. Ron glared at us, and then he started to laugh, as well. "I had all of you going there, didn't I? Of course, I know what they really are . . . let's see . . . Aha! Here's 'Model HP' . . . Holy dragon dung, that one's a real whopper! Hmmm, I wonder just what the 'HP' stands for. It could be 'Hippogriff Pecker' or 'Horse Prick' or . . . or . . . "
Suddenly, a look of horror appeared on Ron's face. He looked first at me and then at Ginny. Then he looked at each of us again, only this time below our waists. He looked back at the catalog description of 'Model HP' and carefully read the exact measurements. His mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound emerged.
Ginny arose, blew me a kiss, and said, "well, I'm off. I have people to see and things to do . . . and vice versa." Then, to Ron, she added, "now, do you understand why I'm saving Harry for last?"
"BLOODY HELL! BLOODY HELL! BLOODY HELL!" Ron shouted, but before he could say another word, from across the room, Hermione exploded.
"RONALD WEASLEY! You are the most insensitive, insufferable, and thoughtless piece of shit I've ever had the misfortune of knowing!" she screamed, as she got out of her chair, grabbed her book bag, and stalked across the room to the portrait hole exit.
"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Hermione?" Ron yelled back.
Just before passing through the exit, she tossed off as a parting shot, "why don't you owl your brothers' shop, order a centaur-sized 'wand,' and go fuck yourself!"
"WOW!" I said, speaking first after a long period of silence in the room.
"Definitely, 'wow' is right!" added Parvati next, her eyes wide in surprise, "I can't believe it! Hermione Granger just laid TWO profanities on you, Ron, including the ultimate 'F-word,' no less!"
"Ignore her, sweetie Won Won," said Lavender, "you know how Hermione gets on her special day each month."
"Oh," said Ron, in a very small voice.
"I tried to warn you a couple of minutes ago, mate," I said, "and if I recall, I definitely mentioned to you first thing this morning about Hermione's 'day of the month' and your 'B-H' comments."
"I know, I know," said Ron, "but, I just can't help it! What can we do, Harry?"
"I think I know where she may have gone," I said, "I'll see if I can find her and square things."
In reality, I knew precisely where Hermione had gone, to a place she thought to be private from everyone, including her two best friends.
To be continued . . .
A/N: There will be one more chapter, in which Harry will describe what happened in Hermione's secret hideaway, which unfortunately was omitted from the HBP canon version of his sixth year, hopefully to be finished by next weekend.
Also, I hope to have Chapter Six of Gryffindor Sixth Year Follies posted within a few days.