Take It From Me, NEVER Interview Mr. Potter

lillyfan16

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 31/01/2006
Last Updated: 19/04/2006
Status: in_progress

Take if from Hermione Granger...NEVER interview Mr.Potter...AU

Chapters

1. Annoying Interviews And Such...

2. Writing Articles and Going to Jail

1. Annoying Interviews And Such...

Right, Archie is back, and I know I haven’t posted for Potter Vs. Granger Rivalry for a while, but bear with me, I’m still trying to come up with a chapter I could be proud of! But I wrote this a while back, it’s AU, and I think I’m going to make it a 2 shot, I’m not sure. It’s suppose to be funny, but I dunno if I was successful in that or not….lol. REVIEW!

Chapter 1: The Interview

Eighteen-year-old Hermione sighed loudly as her agitated gaze swept through the room once more before glancing down at her silver wristwatch for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. She did not appreciate being brushed off like this. The interview was suppose to start a little over forty-five minutes ago, but he still wasn’t here. By he, she mean The Harry Potter. Hermione was a junior reporter for Witch Weekly magazine, and her supervisor promised their readers an interview with the Wizarding world’s youngest hero in their next issue. A full article about him with a few pictures was suppose to make this week issue’s centerfold. But it was kinda hard to hear what he had to say when he wasn’t here! Hermione paced around the small room again, her eyes dancing from the clock on the wall, to her wristwatch, then back. ‘Who did he think he was? Just because he was the Savior of the Wizarding world does not excuse him from being on time for his interview. People do NOT have all day to wait on him.’

Hermione didn’t even want to write this article in the first place. Instead of writing about some stuck-up Mr. Full-Of-Himself, she would rather write about something important! ! But, the witches that read their magazine wasn’t interested in the duo bandits that have been raiding Diagon Alley and other Wizarding areas almost nightly; not when they could read about what sort of hair gel Harry Potter used and if he liked his eggs sunny-side up or hard-boiled!

Hermione was getting extremely impatient. I mean, you could only wait for someone for so long before giving up and throwing in the towel. Another five minutes and she was gone. She did not appreciate this at all. It was as if he didn’t care what sort of commitment he had made and he expected her to wait for his sorry ass.

Three and a half more minutes.

Her supervisor would kill her for walking out on this interview.

Maybe she would wait until the minute hand was on the seven.

Still nothing.

Hermione looked at the door, hoping for it to open.

The nine, yes, she would wait until the minute hand was on the nine. It was a “quarter til” mark, so it would be a more reasonable time than the seven.

Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock……..

Hermione heard the soft pelting of the rain on the windows facing the city.

Split-splat…Split-splat…Split-splat…Split-splat…Split-splat…Split-splat……

The ceiling fan made a soft swishing sound as it cut through the air.

Swish…swish…swish…Swish…swish…swish…Swish…swish…swish…….

Hermione swallowed and looked back up at the clock, five minutes until it was on the nine, thank God.

The combined background noises were starting to get on her last nerve.

Tick-tock…

Split-splat…

Swish,,,

Split-sp-

-Tock

Ish…Swish

Tick-

-splat

Finally Hermione let out a loud frustrated growl and starting picking up her things. This was annoying! That’s it, she was gone. Less than thirty seconds later, she was in the elevator on her way to the ground floor.

As soon as the metal doors opened, Hermione rushed out of the elevator and bumped into someone, knocking herself down and her things went flying.

Hermione let out a strangled whine as she got to her knees and started cleaning up the mess.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. I’m running a litt-” But another male voice cut him off.

“Would you watch where you’re going? No, Harry, we don’t have time to help, we need to get up there and get your interview underway!”

Hermione finished picking up her things and stood up at the second man’s words. Hermione recognized the first man instantly as Mr. I-think-I’ll-be-as-late-as-possible-for-an-interview-Potter. She felt her anger start to bubble over, and in a cold voice, she tried to say nonchalantly, “That won’t be necessary. The interview has been canceled.” Both men looked at her.

A slightly balding man’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “And what would you know about Mr. Potter’s interview? Witch Weekly did not inform us of this cancellation.”

His voice was stiff and businesslike, and gave Hermione the impression that he felt superior to her.

She drew her self up to her full height and said just as stiffly, “I know because I am the reporter for this article, but I’ve been waiting for over an hour for Mr. I’m-too-good-to-show-up-on-time, and I am leaving!” Her eyes wondered over to Harry Potter who looked slightly taken aback and amused at the same time. The other man, however, turned slightly purple.

“Well then, I guess we’ll just have to make a little call to your supervisor then, now won’t we? And I hope you don’t like your job, because by the time I’m done, your ass will be FIRED!”

Hermione just shrugged and then turned on her heel to walk out.

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Hermione walked angrily into the office as she played the morning over once more in her head. ‘How dare that man threaten to fire her?!?! Who in the Hell did he think he was? Just because he was Harry Potter’s agent, did NOT mean he was God!’ But truth be told, Hermione was slightly frightened of the power he would have. Witch Weekly had been advertising this interview in their last few issues, and from the comments they were receiving, this interview had definitely caught quite a few witches’ attention.

But Hermione still had to maintain her dignity. She was not some floozie that was willing to wait for some big shot for 2 hours before he decided to show up. To Hermione, showing up late was a sign of disrespect, which didn’t sit with Hermione too well. Replaying it over it her mind, she wished she would’ve gave Mr. Potter a little more piece of her mind. She should’ve told him exactly what she felt and then given him a nice kick in the-

“Hermione?”

Hermione was roused from her musings by Rita Skeeter’s secretary. Hermione looked up. “Yes?”

“Ms. Skeeter would like to see you, and she doesn’t seem too happy either,” she said with a smirk. Now most of the staff thought Rita Skeeter’s secretary, Nancy, was practically the nice girl next door. But Hermione knew the truth. She couldn’t stand the little snob. Nancy knew that she was in second position for Hermione’s spot in the magazine, so it would make her day if Hermione was fired. She always acted as if she was better than Hermione. Hermione had to take her down a peg or two more than once by mentioning that she didn’t have to run around and get Rita coffee or whatnot to get paid, not to mention she got a better salary. But now, Hermione was gave a tight smile and followed Nancy to her boss’s office.

Rita was leaning back in her chair shaking her head. She motioned for Hermione to sit. Hermione was very apprehensive. Rita tried to give a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “So, Hermione, how was the interview this morning?”

Hermione bit her lip before replying slowly, weighing each word carefully, “Actually, the interview did quite go a planned. I didn’t seem to catch him in time. I did wait for over an hour and fifteen minutes. I guess Mr. Potter seemed to have some sort of pre commitment he had forgotten about when scheduling the interview with us.” Hermione struggled to say evenly. She decided to leave the elevator incident out.

Rita nodded, “Many readers were counting on that interview with Mr. Potter.”

Hermione nodded.

“And I would hate to disappoint them.

“I see.”

There was a moment of silence.

Rita gave a loud, false laugh she used when someone would tell her a joke that wasn’t funny but she wanted to flatter the person who said it. “You know, the funniest thing happened, Hermione. I just got a call from someone. You would never believe who it was and what wild tale they had told me. It was Harry Potter’s agent, and believe it or not, he told me that you had been a right smartass in the presence of Harry Potter. Also, that you were quite rude and walked out on the interview because they were a little late. I know you, Hermione, and I just know that you wouldn’t do such a foolish thing that would jeopardize Witch Weekly. Isn’t that right, Hermione?” Her voice was coated with sugar and Hermione hated it.

“He was not just a ‘little late!’ He was over an hour and a half late! I was not going to wait here for him just to ask him a few dumb questions. I have to keep my dignity!” Hermione burst out, looking angry.

Rita stood up now and said angrily, “Well I guess you can take that dignity you salvaged and find work somewhere else! We cannot afford to have reporters that are not willing to wait for a story, Hermione. You have to be dedicated! You’re one of the best I got, but if you don’t have the devotion, then Witch Weekly just doesn’t need you. Consider yourself unemployed; have your office cleared out by three.”

Hermione just stood there, stunned, before angrily standing up herself, “No devotion?” she asked incredulously. “I put my heart and soul in my stories and you know it! I have been more dedicated to this magazine than anything thing, or anyone else. And I guess this is my thanks.” Hermione scoffed. With a huff, she left the office, slamming the door behind her.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“…can you believe the nerve of that girl? Where does she think she stands? The only reason she’s alive is because of you!”

Harry just tuned him out and focused on playing his PlayStation 2, even though his mind was far from it. No one had treated him like that in a while, especially since his defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort. People acted as if he was God and they worshiped the ground he walked on, though it was clear that this reporter did not think too much of him. And it bothered him, yet he was also slightly impressed. He hated it when people treated him so differently, but he didn’t want people to think that he was a stuck up celebrity either. He sighed as he failed a driving test on his racing game for the twelfth time in a row before tossing the controller away from him.

“…indeed, she was being a right smartass and I won’t rest until she is fired!…Yes, I understand that, but we do a lot of work with your Magazine, Ms. Skeeter, and if all we are going to get is ungrateful reporters that have such disrespect for the World Savior, I don’t think we want to do business with you anymore!…I want her out by this evening!…And yes, we will take another interview with s respectful business reporter that does not let their opinions interfere with their work!…Yes…We will schedule another interview soon.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She had nothing to do! First, she had taken al her things home, not even bothering to unpack them. Then she went out for something to eat because her refrigerator was empty. On the spur of the moment she stopped at a grocery store on her way home and got some bread to feed to the ducks at the city park, which is where she could be found right now, sitting on a green community bench.

She still couldn’t believe she was fired. The man had been late and she was not about to wait on him like some groupie. She appreciated what he had done, but it’s not like he had done everything alone! Other people had died in the War, but they weren’t remembered! No one ever wanted to know about their life! Harry Potter would be dead if it wasn’t for some of them. They did the dying for him, and now here he was, soaking up all the glory. It wasn’t fair to the loved ones that had died to be worshiping someone for killing the Dark Lord, when they had done just as much when it came to laying their life out on the line, but they hadn’t been so lucky. So many had died, yet they receive no gratitude. It wasn’t fair.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“…Harry, I was thinking sometime next week for the interview. That way they can’t make it in this issue and the tabloid will get some backlash. They deserve it! Hiring such mediocre reporters that don’t know how to hold their tongue when talking to superiors. The girl has been fired and a different reporter will take the story.” His voice was businesslike and cold.

Harry looked up from his food and shook his head, swallowing a bite of his sandwich. “I don’t want another interview with someone else. I will give them their story, but that girl is the only one I’ll talk to.” Harry answered before taking another bite. He was intrigued by this girl and wanted to talk to her again.

His advisor looked at him as if he was mad. “Are you crazy? What’s wrong with a new reporter?”

Harry shrugged, “I want that one.”

The older man shook his balding head, “Well, she no longer works there, so you’ll just have to settle for someone else, Harry.”

“Nope, you’ll just have to get her job back for her, now won’t you? If you can get her fired, I’m sure you can pull a few strings to get her rehired again.” Harry replied pleasantly, but there was a threatening undertone in his voice.

“But-”

“No girl. No interview.” Harry said, talking a big drink of his water. His agent grumbled.

Harry grinned, “Good then. We’ll meet tomorrow for breakfast at the Muggle Denny’s in London at 8:30. I won’t be late.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

RRRIINNNNGGGG! RRRIINNNNGGG! RRRIINNN- “ ‘ello?” Hermione’s voice was thick with sleep, for it was 1:30 in the morning. Who could be call her at this hour?

She sat up when she head her ex-supervisor’s voice on the other end. “Hermione! Great, I’m glad you’re up. The interview is set up for 8:30 tomorrow morning, well this morning I guess, at Denny’s in London. You will be having breakfast together.” her voice was desperate and fast.

“Er…what are you talking about, Rita?” Hermione asked, extremely confused.

“HARRY POTTER OF COURSE! You have an interview with him tomorrow morning, 8:30 sharp at-”

Hermione cut her off, “Yes, I know, Denny’s in London. But I don’t work for you anymore, remember? You fired me this afternoon if I remember correctly.” Hermione reminded her, a skeptical look crossing her face.

“Yes, I know, but Mr. Potter insists that you take the interview, otherwise he refuses to do it!”

“Why would-”

“I don’t know, Hermione! But we need this story! Please say you’ll do it. You’re the only one that he’ll talk to. And we really need this story. Our points are going to skydive if we don’t get this in our next issue, you know that! Please, Hermione? I’ll give you a raise! And a paid vacation! Just please do this for me!”

Hermione considered her options. She really needed the money, and the raise would definitely help her financial situation. Also, maybe it was just because it was 1 in the morning, but she almost felt sorry for the hysterical voice on the other line. Heaving a big, fake sigh, she said feigning apprehensiveness, “Well, I suppose I could come back, the raise would help after all…I dunno how long I’ll be able to stay in the same room with him, but I guess I could give it a shot, but you must apologize for your rudeness earlier.”

“I’m sorry! I really am! You’re the best that I’ve got, and I never should’ve let you go. The biggest mistake of my life. Than you thank you thank you! Remember, 8:30 sharp at Denny’s in London!”

Hermione nodded her head while jotting down the information on a yellow legal pad on her nightstand. “Yes, I know, and I’ll have the story to you by tomorrow…yes, a new chair in my office sounds great…no a fruit basket won’t be necessary…I wouldn’t say no to a new car though…joking, Rite, calm down. I’ll see you tomorrow…Employee of the Year is quite flattering…Rita, I really need to get to bed if you want to do this story…No I do NOT need any warm milk or anything. I-…Yes, I’ll be there on time, but I really-” Hermione sighed as her boss went on about new furniture in her office. Finally she said goodbye before hanging up. The phone rang a second later, but Hermione just turned the ringer off. What had she gotten herself into?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry glanced down at his watch as he pulled into the parking lot, it read 7:45. He was forty-five minutes early, but he didn’t’ care. He didn’t want to blow this so he’d just wait. After about half an hour, he went inside into a lobby so he could watch for the girl when she walked in. He only had to wait about five minutes before she made her presences. He walked up behind her, “Now look who’s late this time.” He said, slightly teasing.

She turned around to face him, “Oh, I’m glad you decided to grace us with your presence this time. And I am not late, I am in fact ten minutes early.”

He grinned at her, “Well, I was forty-five minutes early, so I beat you!” He said childishly. She just rolled her eyes and followed the waiter to a rather secluded spot in the restaurant, which was good because to the average Muggle, some of the things they would be talking about would be weird. Once they got situated and ordered their food, Hermione pulled a pen and a notebook out of her black bag. Turning to a fresh sheet, she clicked her pen and posed it over the paper, ready to get this interview underway.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“ My name is Hermione Granger. I don’t see why you insisted on having me do this interview, but I’m sure you have your reasons. I know I don’t want to be here, so Mr. Potter, if you don’t mind-” But she was cut off.

“Ah, so it’s “Mr. Potter” now? I kinda fancied that name you gave me, what was it again? Something to do with me being too good to show up on time. Which, I just might add again, I was forty-five minutes early today!” Harry raised both his arms over his head in a victorious gesture and bowed his head to an invisible audience. With a dramatic sigh and fake sob, he continued in a choked voice, “Aww, thank you. Thank you, thank you . It was nothing.”

Hermione just rolled her eyes before beginning again, “If you are done playing around, can we please start this interview?”

Harry tried, and failed miserably, to look ashamed of himself, before nodding. “Let’s get the show on the road.”

Hermione started in a businesslike tone, “So, Mr. Potter,” Harry was about to say something, but Hermione quickly continued before he could get his two cents in. “You are eighteen years old, correct?”

Harry leaned back in his chair and said, “Well, I mean is the old necessary? Because honestly, I think it would be more logical to say eighteen-years-young. I am young after all. You can call me old when I turn senile, but until then, it’s eighteen-years-young. Next question.” He gave her a smirk before nodding his head for her to continue.

Hermione gave a huff before asking the next question on her list, “Being a young adult, you must have many dreams and goals. Could you please share some of them with our readers?”

Harry gave her a grin, “Of course. Well, ever since I was a wee lad in me nappies, I always wanted to live in a house made of cheese. Now, I was thinking that each room should have it’s own special type. And I got a few names as well.”

Hermione sighed. “Let’s not be ridiculous-”

“No wait, like I want one room to be all string cheese, and I was thinking about calling it the String Room! Pretty original? I thought so myself. And then the dungeons will be made of stinky cheese, being the Stinky Cheese Dungeons. I was thinking for torture I could hang people up by huge mozzarella sticks of cheese and put smelling cheese in the room. And then the Chunky Cheddar Room would have-”

But Hermione broke him off. “Do you have any real goals?”

Harry looked affronted. “Have you not been listening? I am explaining Cheesy Palace right now. What, is it a bit too cheesy for you, huh? Huh?,” He asked, quirking his eyebrows before continuing, “Or should I call it Tower of Cheese? Or how about Cheese-a-rom-a? Kinda catchy don‘t you think? What do you think of the Cheese-a-rom-a in the town of Cheeseville? Or maybe it should be Harryville, because that’s my name, and a portion of it can be Cheese Square, which is where the Cheese-a-roma will be. I am a genius! ”

Hermione rubbed her temples and decided to move on to the next question. “Right, next question. If you had to pick one person to be your hero, who would it be, and why?” She had her pen posed, ready to write down anything intelligent he just might let slip.

Harry pulled a pondering face before speaking, “Well, do you ever watch TV? You know that Burger King commercial with Coq Roq? Those evil looking devil chickens singing “Cross the Road” and all the chickens get hit besides the lead singer? Well, he has to be my one and only true hero. Why you may ask? Well, not only is he the only one to get pass the traffic and take the chicken fries from that greedy girl, but he also provided us with an intelligent answer to the world-wide controversial brain buster, “why did the chicken cross the road.” Now everyone can proudly say, to get the BK Chicken Fries! Now, yes, I know what you’re going to say, and yes, the chicken was all whacked out looking, BUT it was a chicken nevertheless!” He gave her a triumph grin, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Hermione had had enough. She closed her notebook with a snap and through it in her black bag. “Mr. Potter, you have got to be the most immature prat I have had the misfortune of meeting! I did not find your comments funny in the least! Thank you for ruining my morning, AND now, thanks to your stupid comment that have completely driven me over the edge, I will be fired for a second time, and end up getting evicted from my apartment because I can’t pay the rent. Thanks to you!” And with that, she tossed some money on the table for her breakfast and stormed out of there. A second later, she came back and dropped her bag, before marching right over to Harry and slapping him hard right across the cheek. Then, for a second time, not even bothering to grab her bag, she stormed out of the restaurant. Harry was left sitting there feeling like a jackass with everyone’s eyes on him.

“Er…don’t worry, she does this all the time. Needs to be carted off to the loony bin, that one. She mental. She’s straightjacket, padded room, and preferably away from sharp instruments material if I’ve ever seen one. Mental.” And with that, he grabbed her black bag and threw down some money as well before going out to find his car.

So, what did you think? PLEASE REVIEW!!!

2. Writing Articles and Going to Jail

Hey, I’m back! I know I haven’t updated this one for a LONG time, but, well, I’ve just been busy with Potter Vs. Granger. This chapter isn’t as funny as the last one, but I think I’m going to make an actual fic out of this one, so certain things needed to be added and whatnot, but I tried to add some humor in it! Right, well, I’ll keep this short so you can read and review!

Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR’s, though she totally fuc-. . .err…mucked it up….hehe.

Harry sat in his car, feeling ashamed of his actions. He was just trying to lighten the mood up, just trying to put on a little charm. Evidently, he wasn’t very successful and only got her even more steamed at him. With a sigh, he opened the black bag Hermione had been carrying, and pulled out her notebook she had been writing in. He flipped through a few pages, reading a few of the neatly written questions. He tossed the notebook in the passenger seat and took another look in her bag, looking for some sign of ID. He sifted through some spare pens and unzipped the compartment that concealed her laptop and wand. There was no wallet or purse, so he had no clue where to return this to.

Hermione’s words flooded through his brain….

“Mr. Potter, you have got to be the most immature prat I have had the misfortune of meeting! I did not find your comments funny in the least! Thank you for ruining my morning, AND now, thanks to your stupid comment that have completely driven me over the edge, I will be fired for a second time, and end up getting evicted from my apartment because I can’t pay the rent. Thanks to you!”

Evicted? He certainly didn’t want her to lose her job or apartment. Why did he have to be such a prat? He pondered on that thought for a few more minutes, trying to come up with the best way to fix his mistake. He gently sat the large black bag in the passenger seat, and put her notebook back in it before starting his car and pulling out of the parking lot.

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Hermione slammed on her brakes as she approached a red light. ‘The nerve of him!’ she thought angrily. ‘That prat is trying to bloody well ruin my life! Why did he have to act so immature??!!’ She glanced up at the light again, her patience waning more and more after each passing second. Finally, with a loud huff, she exclaimed, “Oh come on already! Turn bloody green; I don’t have all damn day! I’ve got to find another job!” As if the light was trying to mock her, it still refused to turn green. There wasn’t even traffic around.

Finally, after getting to her wit’s end, she stomped on the gas pedal and took off, only to see blueberry and cherry lights flashing in her rear-view mirror. Hermione growled and angrily pulled to the side of the road, almost ready to spit venom. After turning her car off, she quickly got out her license and insurance information, then rolled down her window. She glanced up towards the dull, grey sky, a scowl on her face, “You bloody well hate me, don’t you?!?!” she said accusingly to an alleged Supreme Being, wanting to blame someone or something for her bleak misfortune!

The bobby bent down in font of her window, and tried to get a better look at the law breaker. “Miss, do you realize you just drove through a red light?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her dark blonde ponytail blowing in the slight breeze.

Hermione gave the policewoman a tight smile, despite her inners thoughts of just wanting to hex the woman into next Tuesday. Hermione tried to appear apologetic, “I’m sorry, officer. I’m really stressed right now; I must have missed it.” There was a bite of impatience in her voice, which didn’t go unnoticed by the policewoman.

“Are you angry, Miss? You shouldn’t be driving while angry. It distracts you and can impair your judgement: You tend to be more reckless than you would normally be,” the blonde woman replied sharply, her eyes narrowing.

Hermione, already bothered about having her patience tested with Potter and now this woman, had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes, “I’m sorry, I’m a journalist, you see, and I had an interview with a rather insufferable prat. So yes, I am a bit angry. He just had to be a right smartass, let me tell you. Everything he said-,” but she was cut off.

The officer shook her head, “I don’t need to hear your life story. Excuses are like assholes, everybody’s got one, and some, like elbows, have got two!” she laughed at her own joke, but if just made Hermione’s face tent red with suppressed anger. The woman’s face turned stern once more, “You shouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel if anger sharks were swimming in your head. Now, wouldn’t it have been a better idea to take a walk and cool off instead of driving?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Hermione had to stifle a laugh and couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she mumbled sarcastically under her breath, “And who are you, Martha bloody Stewart?”

The blonde’s face scowled, “Excuse me, what was that, Miss?” Her tone was clipped and icy.

Hermione sighed, “Err. . . I asked if this was going to take much longer. I’ve got a very busy day ahead of me.”

The woman pushed a bothersome stray hair away from her face and her tone suddenly became defensive, “Oh? Do you think I’m enjoying this? Do you think I get my jollies watching young, crazed, lunatic drivers on the road so I can lecture them about ways to keep he roads safe for everyone?!?! Is it so terrible to want to keep a menace to society, such as yourself, off the road to ensure the safety of others?!?!” Her voice had turned shrill and demanding.

Hermione scoffed and retorted hotly, “I am most certainly not a menace to society.” Her hands released the white-knuckle-grip she had on the steering wheel and automatically went straight to her hips, despite the cramped and awkwardness of the car. A menace? A menace?!?! This woman didn’t know who she was dealing with. Hermione Granger was not a menace or anything of the sort. She didn’t graduate at the top of her class to be called a menace by some common Muggle!

Hermione opened her car door, making the woman jump back, and then Hermione glared at the offending woman, “I happen to be a very helpful citizen, thank you. I do community service whenever I can. I read to the elderly all the time. I even feed the ducks for Christ’s sake! I’m sorry that, for once in my life, I didn’t follow the bloody rules. I am agitated with Harry Potter, nervous about losing my job and my apartment, I am having financial difficulties right now and am in a bit of a spot, and I do not need some common Muggle telling me how I can’t drive!”

The officer had heard enough; she raised her hands up to stop Hermione’s mindless ranting, “Now you see here, there is no need to be name calling. A Muggle? What is that, some new slang word? I swear you youths get more worse than the day is long.”

Hermione cut her off, “I am not a negligent youth! Stop putting me in that category, dammit!” Hermione retorted angrily, stomping her foot.

The woman took a step back, “That’s it, I’m hauling you in; I’ve had enough. Put your hands against your car,” she demanded, her hands pulling out handcuffs from her belt.

Hermione scrunched her eyes and said incredulously, “You’re hauling me in? You have got to be joshing me!”

The woman shook her head, “No, I am not joshing you, now get against the car, now!” she demanded, pulling out mace and pointing it at Hermione threateningly.

Hermione still refused to get against the car. This was injustice! She hadn’t done anything wrong! “You better put that away,” Hermione warned, slowing reaching in her belt for her wand, but then realised she had left it in her bag. She quickly turned around and looked in her car, but couldn’t find it.

“Oh no you don’t missy!” Hermione suddenly felt herself being pulled out of her car and being shoved against her car mercilessly. She tried to fight against this injustice, but a second later, she felt an unbelievable sting in her eyes and let out a yelp. The woman had sprayed mace in her face! Hermione went still as tears immediately formed in her eyes. It hurt like Hell.

“My eyes!” Hermione said, trying to move but she fell to the ground. She was rolled on her stomach, and her hands were in handcuffs just a second later. She felt herself being hauled up and was blindly pushed towards the police car, her eyes stinging. The woman hadn’t warned to her watch her head, so she felt her head get bumped against the roof of the car.

She was silent, trying to clear out her eyes. She didn’t hear what the woman was saying on her radio. Hermione just tried to even out her breathing, resigning to defeat. This was not a very good day.

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Harry poured himself a bowl of cereal before sitting down at his table with Hermione’s bag. He carefully pulled out her laptop and the notebook that had all her questions in it. He opened the laptop and looked at all the buttons. He found the one that was the power and gently pressed it: A lime light ignited underneath it, showing that the power was on. Harry munched on his bowl of cereal and looked over the interview questions while he waited for the laptop to get to the welcome screen. He let out a sigh when a screen came up, asking for a password. He tried typing in her name, but it was incorrect.

“Damn, how about. . . Bananas?” He tried that, but a box popped up, saying it was incorrect.

“Muggles?”

Incorrect.

“Witch Weekly?”

Incorrect.

Finally, he went in the other room and got his wand. He waved his wand and the password suddenly typed itself in. He pressed the ‘enter’ key, and a few seconds later, the start menu and desktop items appeared. He searched the items for some sort of typing program, then opened it. This wasn’t so hard.

He considered the first few questions again:

1.) 18 years old, correct?

2.) Young adult, goals and dreams?

3.) Hero and why?

He gave a nod, and couldn’t help but crack a smile when he thought about their interview earlier. Well, he was just trying to lighten the mood, not his fault this girl was wound so tight.

He wasn’t a writer by any means, but he needed to come up with something, this girl’s job was on the line.

He finished his bowl of cereal and placed his hands on the keyboard, ready to begin, a small grin on his face.

I had the privilege of interviewing the sexiest man alive. I must admit, he has arms like an ape and a smile that left me and my pretty head of hair breathless. I was almost tempted to relieve myself in the restaurant’s restroom, I was so turned on. He is, by definition, too damn sexy to walk this Earth. I’m getting all hot and bothered just typing this up because I am thinking about him so.

Harry stopped typing and read what he had written, laughing the whole time. He was still shaking with amusement as he continued:

I had to restrain myself to the highest extent to hold myself back from robbing him of his innocence. I wanted to plunder his mouth with my tongue and show him the meaning of having been sensationally shagged senseless.

Harry started laughing again and looked around the room for some sort of inspiration. He looked at his dining room table and a wicked smile appeared on his handsome face.

After many tense hours of questioning, Harry Potter being witty and charming as ever, I could no longer resist him. I stole his virginity like a mad cat.

Harry stopped. Mad cat? Where did that come from? That made no sense at all. He deleted that last sentence and began again:

I robbed him of his sacred virginity, which is any girl’s wish, mind you. His innocent lips are innocent no more. I took him right then and there on the table, eggs and kippers flying in every direction in my haste. And because I know all you witches are wondering, despite his inexperience, he was a Greek God! I won’t be able to walk properly for a week, let me tell you.

Harry paused his typing, though he couldn’t contain his laughter. This was hilarious! Hermione would kill him if she found out what he was typing, but he had to admit, she looked cute when she was angry, so it was almost worth it to let her find out.

‘Whoa, where did that come from, Potter?’ a voice inside his head asked him accusingly.

Harry shook his head. Girls were trouble, that’s why he just stayed away from them, especially a girl like Hermione. From what he could see, she was strong-willed and independent. Harry shook his head again, and tried to concentrate on the interview. He saved the document in her Witch Weekly folder as ‘Interview With Harry Potter_8_15_06’ before getting a new document out, ready to start the real interview. He glanced at the clock, seeing that it was a little passed 10. He was a slow typist and not a writer, so he knew this was going to take him awhile. He thought about how she started the interview with him this morning, and decided to start there.

Today, I got the chance to sit and discuss many topics with the World Savoir, Harry Potter. There is a lot more to this young man besides his The-Boy-Who-Lived reputation and defeat of the dark lord, Voldemort. He has agreed to share parts of his new, dark lord free life with our readers..

He just recently turned eighteen years old last July. His closest friends put together a right smashing party for him that he claims was unforgettable.

Harry paused for a moment and read over what he had typed. It sounded alright so far to him. With a small smile, he continued writing the article.

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Hermione looked around the small, windowless room once more, her vision clearing slightly. She doused a little more water from the bottle she was given in her eyes and dabbed at them with a towel. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Hermione Granger did not go to jail; it was simply inconceivable. Out of everyone, she would be the least likely to end up in a place like this. And over what? Just because she drove through a red light! She had been waiting alone for quite awhile. Hermione sure what she was waiting for. She considered Apparating out of here, but that was only end up in a lot of nasty questioning and called for answers she couldn’t give.

The steel door opened and a man walked in the holding cell, a hard expression on his features. Hermione stood up, getting ready to demand to know what was going on here. The mad motioned for her to sit, and she reluctantly obeyed.

“Can you explain to me exactly what is going on here, please?” she asked, blinking a few times in hopes to clear her vision more.

The man sat down across from her and answered her question, “Officer O’Connor filled me in on the events of this morning. You broke the law by ignoring a red light, you got short and insulted the officer, reached for a weapon when she told you you were going to be incarcerated, and finally, she had to mace you in order to get you calmed down because you were resisting arrest. Did I miss anything?” he asked, crossing him arms in front of his chest.

Hermione shook her head guiltily, not sure what to say.

“And is there anything you’d like to say in your defence?” he asked fairly.

Hermione thought for a moment before replying, “There is injustice here. That woman was provoking me because I was angry dammit! She was feeding off that! And it wasn’t a weapon. . . I was simply looking for my bag! ”

The man remained neutral, “Anything else?”

Hermione shook her head.

He nodded, “Good then, you will be placed in a cell until you go to court or can make bail. You are entitled to one phone call.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up at these news. “What?” she asked incredulously, not believing she was in this sort of situation.

“You are to be placed in a cell until-” He began again, but she cut him off.

“Yes, I got that, but you can’t be serious! I didn’t do anything! I’m innocent. It’s that little witch that pulled me over that should be put behind bars dammit!”

The man just came up behind her and returned her into handcuffs. “Let’s go; we need to put you in stripes.” She was taken down a hall and into another room, which held her new attire. The man gave her a small bucket to put all her personal items in. She groaned as she took off her watch and shoes and put them in the bucket. Her jacket came off next. She was about to take off her jeans when she remembered there was a guy in the room. She saw him watching her with his arms crossed. “Err. . .do you mind?”

“Not at all. I need to check you over once you’re naked to make sure you aren’t hiding anything,” he replied.

Hermione’s mouth opened slightly in horror. No one had ever seen her naked before, not since she was a small child. She had always been a rather private person. She had always refused to change in her dormitory when there were other girls around. Her gaze hardened, “I am not letting you see me naked, you pervert,” she replied defiantly.

He just shrugged, “Sorry, Miss, it’s a policy.”

“Well you can take that policy and shove it up your ass, because I will not strip in front of you. Now please be a gentleman and turn around!” Hermione said angrily. He didn’t move. “I swear to you I’m not holding anything, I’m just a very private person, so please do this for me, just this once.”

He sighed, “Just this once, hurry up,” he said, turning around and closing his eyes. Hermione thanked every God she could think of. She did not want to be violated like that!

She quickly got undressed and pulled on the baggy stripped outfit that was her new attire for the time being. She rolled her bra and underwear up in her jeans and stuffed her clothing in the bucket as well.

“Ok, I’m finished.”

He turned around, picked up the bucket, then lead to out. She soon found herself in a cell with a few other girls, all older than her. She was nervous. What was jail like? What would they do to her?

There were three other girls altogether, two black women that were in their mid-twenties, and one white that looked just a year older than Hermione.

The youngest of the three stepped forward, looking devilishly at Hermione. She had short black hair and pale skin. Hermione eyed her uneasily. “Ha, fresh meat. I’m going to go out on a limb and say this is your first time in the cooler?”

Hermione looked at her, uncomprehending, “Cooler?”

The girl laughed, “I thought so. You look innocent enough. What’s white bread like yourself doing in a place like this?” Hermione gave her another dazed look, which just made the girl laugh again.

“So, what’s you name, square?

Hermione didn’t like being called a square, but decided to just ignore it, “Hermione Granger, and you are?” She asked pleasantly.

The girl gave another laugh, even though Hermione couldn’t see exactly what was so funny here. “You can call me Sam and those two scrubbers are Verona and Libby. Verona is the taller one. So, what are you doing here? Like I said, you look too pure for a place like this.”

Hermione couldn’t believe this girl could just talk so. . .carelessly. She seemed so comfortable here, while Hermione was quite the opposite. “I. . .uh, really shouldn’t be here, it’s a bit of a misunderstanding. The bobby on beat was a bit of a bitch, and well, my attitude landed me in here.” Hermione vaguely explained what had happened to her this morning, from her second interview with Harry Potter to her getting arrested.

The girl laughed again (Hermione realized this must have be her first reaction to everything), “So it seems as if you haven’t been a jimmy bastard by a long shot. This chap seems to be quite the clever dick. I’m guessing you two aren’t going to go off on a dirty weekend anytime soon then, eh? It’s a shame: You look like you could use a good ole’ smashing bang. Maybe next time.”

Hermione sat down on the bed, away from the other two girls, who were in a conversation. Sam caught her gaze and gave another one of her carefree laughs, “Oh, don’t mind them. They’re nothing more than just a couple pair of walking bristols if you ask me. Anyway, so. . .”

Hermione turned her attention, which had automatically went to the parts of them that Sam had been referring to, back to Sam. “So, not to be a nosey parker or anything, but why are you in here then? And how long have you been here?”

Sam looked genuinely surprised at her questions, “Well, see, I’m a busker and a part-time barmaid. While I was playing the guitar and singing, some perverted chap told me he’d spot me a few pounds if I went back to his place and showed him a bang up time, if you know what I mean. He wasn’t minger or anything of the like, quite talented actually, I’d go as far as to even say he was a bit posh. But, if you ask me, he was definitely a bum chum too. I told him I wasn’t some slag and he’d better take his John Thomas somewhere else before he knew what it was like to be without a plonker. I think he was some big shareholder, I dunno. But either way, I told him to skive off, and he didn’t like it too well. Called me a Chav and left. He came by the pub that night, and I guess I wasn’t as incognito as I would have liked. He was completely pissed out of his mind, but still, he recognized me. He was getting rowdy and telling everyone that I was a downright horrible bang. The old gaffer didn’t take to that too kindly, let me tell you. I had had enough of this jerk by now, so I gave him a good thump and well, with him being pissed and all, it made him very violent, and before I knew it, we were in an all out brawl. And let me tell you, I’m no big girl’s blouse. That randy nutter made loads of our punters leave. The lot of them that did stay joined in. Once the Bill was called, well, you can imagine. The plod hauled me in, and I had had a few drinks myself, nothing mad, but still. I guess I’m getting charged with battery and whatnot. I think that chap in charged with the same thing, I dunno.”

Hermione nodded her head in understanding. “Blokes can be such jerks, I know.”

Sam let out her trademark laugh that Hermione was beginning to find quite pleasant.

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Harry paused in his writing to get a glass of water. He wondered vaguely where Hermione was right now and how to get this all to her. He had made quite a bit of headway with the article and was beginning to appreciate the fact that he was the one writing it. His words didn’t get twisted and specifics could be made. He didn’t have to worry about dreading the day it came out because he put his spin on things; it was great. He emptied another glass of water and made himself a turkey sandwich and ate that too before returning to the laptop, ready to start again.

He looked over the next few questions.

8.) Everyone wants to know- Girlfriend? Who? Serious? [But, honestly, who bloody cares?]

9.) Future Family? Party bloke forever or settle down?

10.) Plan to get a job fighting, or settle down to something not so extreme? What future occupation?

11.) What is it like living the typical day in the life of Harry Potter?

Harry gave a small laugh. Girlfriend? Hell no. Future Family? Maybe. Future occupation? Dunno. Typical day as Harry Potter? Boring. He grinned as he began typing again.

Harry laughs when he is asked the big, cliché girlfriend question. He looks away and continues to laugh. He says that he isn’t involved with anyone, and is better off for it. He isn’t looking. He wants to straighten his life out first before even considering bringing someone else into it. When asked about past romances, he just shakes his head. There are none. He said he had always been so busy with Voldemort, that he never conceived the idea of having a girlfriend. He is a novice when it comes to relationships, and is still waiting for a girl to catch his fancy and steal his first kiss.

Along those lines, he says he hopes to start a family one day, though he isn’t sure when. He says he has to find that special girl first, then, if things go well, a Potter family tree just might get planted, though he doesn’t look for that to be anytime soon. He’s young and wants to enjoy just being free from Voldemort.

As for the life he plans to lead, he isn’t sure. He says, “I enjoy fighting against the bad guys, but I dunno if it’s a career that I want to go in. It’s dangerous, but at the same time, I always get this rush, so I don’t see how I can part with it. I’ve always loved Quidditch, so I might go into that. I just don’t know!”

He laughs out loud when asked how exciting it is to be Harry Potter. I asked him how his typical day is, and this is what he has to say, “My life is. . .boring! I don’t do anything! I play video games and go to Mrs. Weasley’s for dinner sometimes. I hang out with my best mates, Ron and Draco when I can. I don’t party; I’ve never been into that scene. I like to stay in the Muggle world because I don’t get any attention there; I’m just your typical bloke, nothing special. Mostly, I just hang out all day. A lot of people would be completely bored senseless and wouldn’t be able to see why I like it so much, but I’ve always been running. I’ve always had to battle Voldemort, and I’ve always been the one that has to go off and be a hero. But now, I don’t have to. Now, I can just be normal. I love just sitting around, knowing that I don’t have to look behind my back anymore. I’ve wanted this my whole life, and now, I have it. I’m not saying I don’t like to go out and have a little fun on the Quidditch pitch every once in awhile, or that I don’t like to do anything at all, because I do. I just don’t do anything to the extreme. My ideal typical night is sitting around the telly with Ron and Draco playing video games and eating whatever concoction we’ve managed to throw together. Nothing special. Just having the time of my life.”

Harry read over what he had just got done writing and grinned. It sounded good to him. It struck him at how true it was. That was his typical day. He hated the lime light, so whenever he could get out of it, he seized his chance. Some would call it boring, but he called it the time of his life.

He considered the last few questions.

12.) Many were lost in the war, how do you feel? What do you feel they deserve? How many lost that were close to you?

13.) Had your childhood affected who you are today? Not much known about it.

14.) Because I know every witch wants to know, what are your favourites? Movies, Music, Songs, Bands, Quidditch teams, ect.?

15.) Haha, any trivial secrets our readers might like to know? Like singing in the shower, ect.

Harry looked at the twelfth question again, his throat feeling suddenly dry. He thought about everyone that had died, everyone that had laid their life on the line and didn’t have luck with them. He just sat there, for about fifteen minutes, just remembering. He reached up and felt that his eyes were wet. He cleared the sudden lump in his throat and began again, this time in a more serious manner.

When asked about the War, the atmosphere has a sudden change, and I know I’ve stirred something in Harry Potter’s heart. He is silent for a few minutes, just trying to gather himself together. I can tell the War had a big impact on him. He has this to say about the casualties, “They don’t get enough credit. Plain and simple. They died, they gave their very existence, and what do they get? A few laments, but really, what else? Nothing. If anyone should be the famous ones, it’s them. It’s their families that should receive glory for raising such an honourable human being. I may have finished off Voldemort, but really, I would have died ten times if it wasn’t for others that helped me. I lost so many close me. I lost friends that I had known ever since my First year. I lost mentors that I thought were invincible. So many died; there was so much death. I shouldn’t be the one that gets all the credit. What about everyone else? I just want everyone to understand that. I want others to see what a huge impact their role had in Voldemort’s defeat. I just wish everyone that lost their life in this war could be remembered and be held in high honour. Let them have the fame, they’re the ones that deserve it.

There are others, as well, that need some of the glory. My best mates, Ron and Draco, had a big impact as well. They helped me through everything. Without them, I would be dead right now. Dumbledore, all my professors, other students. . .aurors from the Ministry, my Godfather, Sirius Black. . .Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley. . .there are so many, I’d never be able to even name a quarter of them. They should get most of the credit, not me. They practically carried me the whole way as mentors, as friends, as family. . .” Harry has tears falling from his eyes as he remembers. He remembers how much it hurt, how emotionally drained everyone had been. There are a few minutes of silence as we both compose ourselves from remembering.

Harry looked at the next question. His childhood. Not much was known about it. The only thing people knew was that he grew up with Muggles. No one knew of the hate or the neglect he had to go through. No one knew how much of a freak he was to his own family. And he didn’t want to media to know. It was private, and it was going to stay that way.

After we get the chance to collect ourselves, we turn the conversation to lighter matters. I know everyone is just dying to know some of his favourites. I asked him what his favourite Muggle movie was, and without missing a beat, he easily declared the Lord of the Rings trilogy. He says he loves the adventure, and it reminds him a lot of what everyone was going through with Voldemort. No doubt it is a great comparison. But, he also says he enjoys almost any movie with Jim Carry because he makes him laugh so much, “He’s just all around a brilliant actor. I can’t think of a better one!” Also, when asked about his favourite song, this is what he has to say, “Song? Music is such a big part of my life, there is no way I could even begin to think to pick favourites. I love almost any genre of music, save opera, jazz, and most rap. I. . .I dunno, I like so many songs! Um. . .there’s a song by Warrant, it’s called Heaven. . .that one is really good. . . Santa Monica by Everclear. . . Damn this is hard! Um. . .Alanis Morissette. She is a bloody brilliant singer, just really has her own style. 3 Doors Down! I saw them in concert, I can’t even begin to pick a favourite song by them. Dashboard Confessional! I have all their cds and listen to them religiously. Emery, Eminem, Matchbox Twenty, Toby Keith, Reba McEntire, Relient K is really good, The Offspring, I’d love to see them in concert. Oh, I love Puddle of Mudd. . .damn, there are so many, that question isn’t fair!”

Moving on, I asked him his favourite sport, and he declared that it was Quidditch, which isn’t exactly a surprise. I asked his favourite team, “I’m partial to the Cannons, just because Ron never shut up about them. But I also like the Irish. I got to see Ireland against Bulgaria, so that was enjoyable.” The Cannons isn’t the only thing he’s partial to. He can be found playing his PlayStation 2 a lot, as well as the old school Super Nintendo, which he says, “Is just brilliant.” He says he loves Mexican food over anything else. And he loves to wash all that spicy food down with a cold glass of ice water. His favourite day of the week is Sunday. He loves sharks, “They’re just smashing. I mean, honestly, look at how amazing they are. It’s all just fascinating!” He loves Autumn the most out of the seasons, though he says he loves the other as well, especially summer.

Along with his favourites, come his dirty little secrets. He admits to singing in the shower, though he claims that his voice is dreadful. He doesn’t let his food touch, and even eats one thing at a time before moving on to something else, which he says some people just find annoying, but he says he just can’t help it! Also, he says he loves to drink milk with his pizza, which is just another thing people tend to tease him about. Harry Potter can speak a little Spanish, though most people don’t know that about him. “I’m not very good, I just know a little, but I’m learning! I know all the important things!” “Like what?” He blushes, now on the spot, “Um. . .tengo muy hambre.” “Which means what?” He laughs, “I’m very hungry!” Also, which I am inclined to agree, Mr. Potter happens to be a right smartass. He admits to it, but says he isn’t regretful over it in the least, though he blames his best mate Ron Weasley for rubbing off on him!

I had a great time talking to Harry Potter, and I found out many interesting things. It just goes to show that there is a lot more about him apart from the fame, and he hopes that every else can see that as well. Well, my time is up, but Harry Potter would like to share these last words with our readers, “Apart from just wanting to let Miss Granger know that Cheese-a-roma will happen eventually [don’t ask], I just want everyone to thank someone that helped out in the War because they deserve it more than I do. So please, show them, not me, your gratitude. Well, thank you Miss Granger for your time, it’s been fantastic, I hope we get to meet again! Adios!”

Harry finished typing, quite please with himself. It was late, almost five. He couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to type this up, but also, he did have to write it and he was a very slow typist. He read the whole thing, extremely proud. He saved it, then printed it. He called Hedwig, his snowy owl, over to him. “Okay, girl, I need to you to take this to Rita Skeeter. Hang on, let me write a quick note.

Rita:

Hey, I couldn’t bring this in, so I am sending it in with post. I’m sorry if it’s late, but I haven’t felt the best. Anyway, I hope it reaches your approval!

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

Harry tied the note to Hedwig’s leg. “Okay girl, be fast. I need this there soon!” and with that, Hedwig took off. Harry smiled then sat back down at her laptop. He saved it again, just to be sure. A folder labelled ‘Private’ caught his attention. He glanced around his empty flat as if he was waiting for someone to jump out of the walls. He bit his lip. He really shouldn’t, it was labelled private for a reason. But still, he couldn’t help himself. He looked around the empty flat once more before opening the folder. There were a few different folders in that one, one that was labelled ‘Financial Status’ and another that was labelled ‘Writing.’ He opened the ‘Financial Status’ folder, her words about getting evicted going through his mind.

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Hermione dialled her parent’s number, hoping someone would answer. No one answered at Blaise’s, who was her best mate. She waited. Finally she heard her father’s rough voice accept the call, “Hello.”

In a nervous voice, Hermione replied, “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hermione! It’s great to hear from you!”

“Err. . .Dad, I’m in a bit of a pickle. . . Can I borrow some money?”

“Honey, I told you it’s here whenever you need it.”

“Daddy, I’m. . .in jail.” Hermione said quietly, feeling dreadful because she knew it would be a disappointment.

Silence. Hermione waited with baited breath.

“Hello?” She asked uncertainly, hoping he hadn’t hung up.

“What are you doing in jail, Hermione Jane?” He asked, his voice brimming with shock.

“It’s a long story. I just need someone to get me out. Please?” she asked hoping he would just agree.

“When is the soonest possible? Now?” He asked anxiously to Hermione’s delight.

“I dunno, let me check.” Hermione looked at the guard. “Can I get out today?”

The man looked at his watch and shook his head. “It’s too late, tomorrow is the soonest possible. After ten.”

Hermione nodded, fear sinking in her stomach.

“Tomorrow after ten. Can you do it?”

“I’ll be there at ten ‘till.” He replied.

“Alright, thanks. Please be here!”

“I will be, honey. I promise.”

“Okay, I love you, tell mum I said I love her and good night.” Hermione said.

“I love you too, see you tomorrow, and be careful in there!”

“I’m fine. Good night.” But was she fine? Fear crept through her stomach as the guard walked her back to her cell. Sam was there, ready to welcome her.

“Hey girl, what did the folks have to say?” She asked, trying to appear bright.

Hermione looked away, “They’ll be here tomorrow; it’s too late to get me tonight.”

Hermione noticed the girl’s hazel eye’s brightened at her words. “Well, it won’t be too long!”

Hermione nodded absently.

Verona came up to them, “What’s going on? Whitey gonna be here for a minute?”

Sam gave a nod, “Yeah, nigga, now let’s throw down some cards. I feel like kicking all your asses.”

Verona just laughed, “You better watch it, Whitey. Some people don’t like you talking like that.”

It was Sam’s turn to laugh, “Then they can kiss my ass. I’ll get the cards.”

Verona grinned at the girl, then sat down across from her.

Hermione watched this exchange, feeling utterly confused. This was going to be a long night.

Right, so what do you guys think? I just wanted to make a few things clear so I don’t get hate reviews or whatever!

*I am not racist, so the use of the words “Nigga” “Whitey” and “White Bread” was simply because it was jail-talk. Also, I’m not familiar how the jail-talk is in Great Britain, I just put in all that I knew from over here in the States. (I haven’t personally been hauled in, I’m too young, lol, but I got it from others that I know that have been up.)

*I don’t know British bands, so when Harry was asked the music questions, I just put in some music that I like. I dunno what they listen to over there, but anyway, it wasn’t a big deal so I just didn’t worry about it.

I think that’s it, just a few things I wanted to point out. So please REVIEW, I love to read your input! Thanks for reading!

Rock on, peace out, and stay righteous!

*~Archie~*