Time flies when you're having fun, and Harry was having a lot of fun indeed. His tenth birthday came and went with much fuss and a lot of presents- But in Harry's view, no gift could ever beat the amazing gift of finally having a family to call his own. And to have the most amazing daddy ever, of course. And even a baby brother...
"Harry." Damien knocked on the door-frame of his older brother's room before peering inside. His older brother was sitting by his computer, laughing maniacally as his game character threw a lighter to start a fire. One that ended up burning the two -now screaming- animated guards to a crisp.
"Hey, Damien. C'm in. Just gotta..." He moved his character Lucius -the Antichrist- to a corner before saving.
"Is it time to burn down the church?" He turned around to look at his younger brother.
Damien didn't speak much, and he had a calm, eerily adult air about him and a way of staring people down that unsettled most humans, but he was polite to a fault.
And much to his mother's dismay had recently taken up a liking for wearing a black old-fashioned boarding-school uniform he found in a thrift store.
Harry, on the other hand, knew that his younger brother had just watched The Omen one time too many, and had gotten caught up in the hype about how a proper Antichrist should dress and behave.
If anyone who knew Tom Riddle had seen him they'd probably shudder at the likeness. His sadistic tendencies and love of fire did not make the impression any better.
But all Harry saw was his beloved baby brother. The toddler who laughed happily at him when he let him out of his cage. The brother he played Cards Against Humanity and their own version of Call of Cthulhu with. The one he played hide and seek with and summoned his very first demon with.
The fact that his brother was someday going to take over the world to pave the way for their father's return -ultimately destroying the entirety of existence- was secondary to that.
And their mom had told Harry that he needed to look after his younger brother so often that it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Harry to help him out with everything. Whether that meant homework or bringing about the apocalypse.
Based on his baby brother's frustration with his Art and Design homework, they might very well end up being related. Teachers were so squeamish.
This is why Harry chuckled lightly and walked over to unbuttoned his brother's crookedly buttoned shirt -ignoring how his baby brother scrunched his nose up at being treated as a child- before button it back up again.
"I can button it myself!" Damien stated grumpily, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. He hated it when his little fingers sometimes failed to get everything perfect. And he'd been a bloody nightmare back when he was five and threw a fit over his poor language skills.
Harry almost regretted letting him watch The Omen. Almost. The adorable grown-up act was just too cute to not like. Even to Harry, who was not yet a teenager. He was still the oldest, and that was almost like grown-up!
"Lighter," Damien demanded, holding out his small hand, staring at his older brother. He did love his family, but sometimes they frustrated him to no end.
"Damien..." Harry sighed. "Mom said you're not old enough yet."
"Lighter!" Damien demanded, glaring at him with his Intimidating Look, which -in all fairness- was pretty damned scary...to most people. Harry, however, was used to his brother's fits and merely rolled his eyes.
"We'll ask mom, okay?" He smiled down at him, patting his head. "If she says yes you can borrow my zippo lighter. The nice one with the fire and reversed cross on." He offered.
Damien swatted Harry's away grumpily, before he contemplated the offer. Then he gave a short, adorably stoic nod.
Harry grabbed his new leather jacket and ushered Damien out of the room. He wouldn't miss the family outing for anything in the world.
At the same time, a very different family drama was unfolding just a few miles north of Surrey, somewhere in the greater London area...
"Check these out, honey! I got us the whole shebang. The infern-all-inclusive!" the man held out several tickets to his wife. They both had long, black hair and enough corpse-makeup to make most heavy metal fans green with envy and make old people die of fright.
Lillith watched as her father showed off his latest attempt of spoiling his wife and family. At least it sounded like a family thing. She went to sit on the couch, arms crosses in what looked liked the perfect picture of teenage petulance.
"To be honest, I'm not usually this hyped, but-" her sour looks suddenly took a dramatic turn for the worse as her rarely used smiling-muscles pulled her corps-painted face into a great, big grin, cracking her black stitches lipstick as it stretched far wider than normal while she spoke to herself.
"Guess who's going to hell!" she grinned and raised her hands in exited victory. "Oh, oh! I hope they take us to Dismayland! Oh! I want to see the Black Magic Kingdom!" "Oh! Oh! I-"
Her teenage excitement was abruptly and rudely interrupted by her father shouting for his kids.
"Pack your bags kids! You're going to grandmas!"
"...what?!" The look on the young girl's face was priceless in its dismayed surprise. Joy and excitement were quickly replaced by affrontment and a growing anger.
'...And people wonder why I'm so angry all the time. Fuckin' parents!' she thought, crossing her arms and getting ready for a long haul of teenage grouchiness.
"I hate grandma!" Lillith screamed, as she stood up and rushed into her room, slamming the door after herself, before throwing herself dramatically down on the bed.
"And I fucking hate my parents!" she muttered into the pillow, before grabbing the remote control to the music player to drown out her parent's insistent knocking on the locked door.
Harry bounced down the stairs, hoping he might be able to find some snacks to go with his game-play, when he suddenly heard voices at the door. Curious as to what it was, he snuck closer to the door. He didn't want to be rude by making his eavesdropping obvious after all.
"...and that's why we called you. Thank you for accepting on such a short notice," the woman in the doorway said. Harry peered around the corner to catch a glimpse of her.
Her hair was just as long and dark as his mom's hair, if a bit wavier. And she didn't look much more than a few years older than her. Then again, his mom was, like 19. But it was hard to say for sure, seeing as her face was painted a pale white and her eyes had big, black rings painted around it.
The black lipstick and reversed cross painted on her forehead only added to his first impression that it must be one of his mom's satanic friends. Maybe she was in a metal band or something? She looked like it.
"Don't worry about it Lucyfer. I compactly understand. Teenagers are a gift from Satan himself, but you shouldn't let it interfere with your own plans. It's always important to be selfish and take some time to manipulate your husband to dedicate his soul to you completely." Sharon said, patting the shoulder of the frustrated woman compassionately.
"Thank you for understanding. I know my mother can be a bit overbearing sometimes, and I didn't want to teach my kids blind obedience," she said with a sigh.
"Naturally. Lucifer encourages rebellion, and so shall we." Sharon said with a nod, as they headed out the door to fetch the aforementioned kids.
Harry couldn't help but stalking after them, trying his best to hide behind the bushes and the hedge, to catch a glimpse of them. Other kids?
"You know you're not fooling anyone, right?" a young female voice drawled from behind him, making Harry jump.
"They're just humoring you. Adults do that," she sniped. And Harry turned to find a teenage girl that strongly resembled her mother, if with slightly shorter hair as it barely brushed the nape of her neck, but equally wavy.
Her face was painted very similar, except her mouth looked like it was sewn shut and she had a diamond rather than a reversed cross on her forehead. The continued talking, however, indicated it was all makeup and not REAL stitches.
"Nice scar, scarface."
"Thanks." Harry beamed. "I got it when my parents died. Mom says they're with satan now. Cuz they were drunks and sinners according to the people I used to live with," he smiled. It felt good to know his parents would be in a place that allowed them to have fun, and not the disgustingly dull and dreary heaven place.
It had taken years, but is new family had finally managed to convince him that it was a good thing to stand out. And that having scars added character.
At least it was original and not like the fifteenth girl who was cutting herself that he had seen at last year's Satanic Convention in London. Cutting yourself was soooo last decade.
"Whatever," Lillith said, rolling her eyes. His cheerful attitude was just too much right now.
'Great. Instead of being stuck with a wrenched old bitch, I'm stuck with a bunch of children.' she thought. 'They BETTER not want to play board-games or play with an Ouija board!'
She wasn't five! If she wanted to talk to a demon, she'd bloody well summon one! She stomped into the house to see what the stupid guest room looked like. She bet it was pink. It would be just her luck.
"Sweet logo. Umm... What band is it?" another voice suddenly said, and Harry quickly spun around to face a kid that looked to be about his own age.
The boy's hair nearly reached all the way down to his shoulders and was almost straight -not unlike his own- but he had the same black circles with jagged edges underneath around his eyes that the rest of his family had.
"Oh, um.. Iron Maiden. I...um..." Harry blushed and ruffled his hair in embarrassment. "...mighthavespilledsomegoatsbloodonthetitle," he rushed out. It wasn't his fault that goats blood was impossible to get out, and it was his favorite t-shirt. But the other kid seemed pretty chill about it.
"Oh, cool. Sacrifice?"
"I was trying to summon a demon." Harry quickly explained, crossing his arms and tilting his head up arrogantly. He was actually pretty excited about it. Even if all he got was an imp.
"How did it go?" the other kid asked curiously, before the whole thing divulged into an excited discussion about the best way to summon demons, and which was their favorites.
"Oh, hey, what's your name?" Harry finally remembered to ask.
"Leviathan. You?" the kid very nearly grinned at him.
"Uh...Harry." Harry said, looking down in embarrassment. The other kid had such an awesome name! His own sounded stupid and boring by comparison.
"Hey, it's okay. Parents always do stupid shit like that. Don't feel bad. I'll just call you...um... Hades? Hannibal? Hemlock?" Leviathan really tried hard to think of good names that sounded like Harry...or even just on H...but it was hard.
"I like Hemlock." Harry said, excitedly. Poisons were cool!*
"Cool" Leviathan said. "So, Hemlock... Wanna play?" he grinned sadistically, and Harry grinned back and nodded.
"Come on! I know where the preacher lives, and he has the funniest reactions ever!"
Time flies when you're having fun, and Harry was currently having more fun that he had ever had in his life.
He had a loving family that would do anything for him. Good friends he could play with -well, Lillith wasn't so much for games, but she did eventually thaw up to him when he suggested they could burn down the church together. Even if the fire department stopped it just as it was getting good. Stupid minister. Should have tied him up inside it. And taken his phone.
Okay, sure... The kids at school were terrified of him, and his friends lived, like, miles away in the big city- but he saw them almost every weekend!
They sometimes even stayed with him for weeks at the time when their father was Touring with the band, his mother insisting she'd be the only groupie he'd allow backstage and if he was going to commit adultery, she wanted in on it.
It was definitely a vast improvement over his old life, that much was certain.
And now he was nearly 11, and on his way to his very first big satanic convention! In London of all places! Needless to say, Harry was excited.
Lillith had promised him to show all the cool places, and the pubs that didn't care if they sold beer to underage kids, and Leviathan told him he'd show him all his favorite cemeteries. And that was without even mentioning the chance to meet so many cool people who worshiped his awesome daddy!
His mom had spent nearly the entire day in front of the mirror, insisting that she had an image to upkeep as the Devil's Mistress, and she couldn't allow anyone at the convention to find the slightest flaw in her looks.
Which probably explained the super-tight and exposing tank top and miniskirt she was currently wearing. He sincerely hoped her boobs wouldn't pop out like the threatened too. It was his mom after all!
Harry thought she didn't look anything like his mommy should. Although the effect on the male population was very impressive. As was the sheer amount of jealousy and disgust from the women, paired with a few of the older generation that promptly fainted or started to quote bible verses and pray.
Luckily they weren't stopped by the cops before they reached the convention, and there was no need for her to use her emergency robe to avoid being locked up for indecent exposure.
Harry was just happy his grandma did not choose the same route. Nobody wanted to see that!
"Hail Satan!" A black-robed teenager greeted him, making the devil sign with his hand.
"Hail Satan," Harry replied, more to be polite than anything. He sighed.
If he had to hear ONE more teenager whine about how nobody but Satan understood him, and that one time he accidentally cut himself deep enough to leave a scar, he'd scream!
He thought a big Satanic convention like this would be fun! But it turned out to be filled with boring adults talking about how they became rich and how to become even richer, and whiny teenagers -and where was his family?! Talking to a group of dentists of all things!
Where were the people who joined in orgies and black masses? Probably at a hedonist convention.
How about the serial killers or cult leaders? ...oh, right. Jail or on the run... Damn.
Well, then, what about the black magic users?! ...busy with their witch covens probably. Or whatever school of magic they belonged to. They probably didn't even worship Satan. Or if they did, they clearly didn't do it right!
Why couldn't he AT LEAST find some common criminals?! ...apparently they were either religious enough to pray to the stupid-ass-god, or they justified their actions. 'Stupid people.'
'Didn't cool people worship Satan anymore?!' Harry grumbled to himself as he watched a black-clad woman speak about the importance of recycling. Pathetic.
He shuddered at the mere thought of going near them, but he couldn't take a single angsty teenager conversation more, so he might as well brave the dentists...
"...I know! And she was such a good little girl too when she was younger. I still remember how she set that bullying girl on fire by just looking at her. She is such a gifted little witch." the woman had a tired look of exhaustion on her face. Her hair was black, as was proper, but she wore a dreadfully dull, white blouse, a mouse-gray shawl covering her shoulders.
Her husband nodded at what his wife said. He looked every bit as bleak and dull as his wife. Just a regular, button-down, striped shirt, with a grey sweater tossed over it. He supposed they must be one of those couples who pretended to be normal, either to tempt people to their satanic ways -although based on their looks he doubted they could tempt anyone- or because they wanted to derail any suspicion of crimes.
Based on what he knew about dentists, he was sure it was the latter. They did not look like deranged sadists who tortured children for fun, but that's what they were. He was very sure of that!
It was a good disguise, he grudgingly had to admit. But not very stylish or remotely cool.
"Oh, there ya are, Harry!" his mother hauled him over, and he was forced to greet the couple. He smiled politely, but kept close to his mother, just in case. You couldn't trust dentists. Ever.
"We were just talking about how you'd make a great friend for their daughter!" Sharon said, grinning excitedly.
"It's just..." the father spoke up for the first time -sounding just as dreadfully normal and as conservative as he looked- how dull.
"Our little Hermione is having a rebellious phase." the mother quickly chimed in.
"We're worried she's turning..." he lowered his voice and spoke solemnly, "...normal!" he almost hissed out the dirty word, drawing gasps of horror from the rest of the group.
"It's true!" the mother took over again. "Just last week I caught her putting up a Margret Tacher poster on her wall!" she said, wiping her eyes with a black frilly napkin.
"And she refuses to wear her beautiful Gothic leather outfits anymore." she continued, sniveling slightly, as he husband held her comfortingly. "Why, just the other day she brought home this awful pink sweater and brown pants. She even got one of those blue jeans jackets!"
"It's true." her husband said, stroking his wife's back comfortingly. "And it's not because she plans to go on a killing spree anytime soon either. We asked." he looked stoically upset.
"My little darling, my own devil-spawn said... she said..."
"She said she just wanted to fit in and make friends and be normal!" the father finished the sentence for the wife, who had by now burst into tears.
"She even started reading books on ethics and moral, for Satans sake!" the father exclaimed with pain. The mother sobbed loudly into her husband's chest, clutching at his shirt.
"Oh, how horrible!" Sharon gasped, clutching her chest. "Why, if it were my kids..." she cast a glance at Harry, before sighing in relief at his black leather coat, studded belt, and overall black outfit. She quickly leaned down and hugged him closely.
"Don't worry, miss. I'll be her friend!" Harry said, feeling very sorry for the girl. She must be terribly sad and lonely to subject herself to something some horrible as normalcy just to have friends!
"I'm sure she's just lonely. And if I'm her friend, and if maybe my friends become her friends too, then she won't be so desperate to be accepted by the pathetic sheep." Harry said, nodding solemnly in his childish attempt of acting adult and all responsible and shit.
He smiled as the mother hugged him, and thanked him over and over again. He patted her back, just like his grandpa always did.
It was sad to see a family all torn apart like this. He knew too well how bad it could get if your family wasn't happy together. He shuddered as he thought back to his life before he met his mom...
He'd save the girl! He'd totally save her! He wouldn't let her make that terrible mistake and become a brainwashed sheep to get stepped all over! He nodded to himself in determination. He'd be the bestest friendly friend she'd ever had!
Harry stared at the owl. The owl stared at Harry.
"Hooth." The owl held out its leg.
"Is that a letter?!" Harry stated, incredulously.
"Hooth." If an owl could roll its eyes, this one would have.
"Why the fuck do an owl have a letter?!" Harry kept staring.
"Hooth!" The owl was very persistent.
"Fine! But if I catch any bird-germs, I'll have you put down!" Harry took the letter tentatively, staring suspiciously at the owl.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry... " Harry stared at the letter for all of five second before he broke into a big grin.
"Mom! Mooooom!" His shouts rung through the house and had Sharon run towards him, worrying something might be wrong.
"I got in!" He waved the letter in the air. "I didn't even have to apply I got in!" Harry was waving his letter in her face and grinning like a maniac, which quickly settled her nerves.
"What? Gimme!" Sharon said, grabbing the letter and hoping it wasn't Juvie. She knew her son had rambled about all the cool stuff people learned in prison after watching all those documentaries last month, but she had hoped she had gotten over that phase by now.
"Hogwarts, mom! Pay attention!" he said, bouncing up and down like a cute little puppy-dog. Sharon chuckled and patted his head. He was such a precious boy sometimes.
"A boarding-school? I don't know..." Sharon frowned. They HAD researched the school, hoping to learn how Harry could get in, even if she secretly hoped he wouldn't.
She knew his heart was set on Scholomance, and to go there he would need the best magic school in all of Britain... although they had only heard rumors of that one. But they had no clue on how to contact them to apply.
And Sharon really didn't like her son being away from her for so many months a year. Damien would throw a fit too, she was sure. He pretended to hate everyone, but she knew he loved his older brother dearly. He'd be crushed that he couldn't go with him.
"But moooom...!" Harry whined, his puppy-dog eyes made her heart melt.
"Oh, Harry." She hugged him. "Ya know I can't say no to those eyes, Evil child." she smiled as he hugged her back, and she could nearly feel his grin at the compliment. When he was happy, he radiated happiness in a way that she was sure was magic.
The sudden appearance of cotton candy and ice-cream on the table certainly helped that impression.
"Thanks, dad! Hail and praise Satan!" Harry said for good measures, assuming his daddy must have somehow overheard the conversation and used his awesome devil powers to make his favorite celebration snack for him.
"That's gre... Oh, one moment sweetie." Sharon's words were drowned out by the classical Black Sabbath song emitting from her phone.
"Hello? What? Oh, that's great Emma!" Sharon congratulated her friend. "Yes. Harry just got his letter too. Although I don't know... boarding school...? Isn't that a bit..?" She listened and nodded as the conversation went on.
Harry was more than happy to munch on his snack and tuned out completely. Adult talk was boring!
Note: The next part is 99% inspired by KafkaExMachina's short prompt in Accio Brain! All credit for this bit goes to them. (I've been dying to see this used in a full fic for years. lol)
Sharon found herself quite impressed with the stately Granger residence. She lead Harry up to the main doorway and pressed the ringer. They shared an appreciative nod at the echoing organ notes that followed. Religious or ominous...it depended on context.
"See kiddo? Sometimes there's a proper bit of merit to a cliché." She lectured happily at her son.
Harry nodded, having reached the same conclusion. The door opened, revealing the same couple they had met at the convention.
The walk in, the woman hurrying into the kitchen to put on tea, while her husband gave them a short tour of the grounds, pointing out this or that award or spot of art. Sharon and Harry made appropriate noises of appreciation. They clearly had done well for themselves.
Finally they found themselves in a comfortable living room. Sharon raised a single eyebrow at Dr. Granger -the male one, as they both held the same title- whom then nodded back.
"My daughter's room is up the stairs and two doors to the left," Dr. Granger said to Harry.
"Seeing as the two of you will be classmates soon, why don't you run up and introduce yourself? Who knows, might get started early making friends." Sharon said.
Harry rolled his eyes and looked straight at his mother.
"You're trying to protect me again, aren't you?" he said.
Sharon grinned, glad that her boy was no dupe.
"That's right Harry, and we're sending you out of the room to do it," she smiled at his boy's indignant expression.
"Here now son, protecting their kids is what good mothers do. I'm not going to have many more chances, seeing as you're leaving in a few weeks. Let your mommy take the burden this time."
Harry broke out into a wide smile, and quickly gave his mom r a hug.
"All right, Mom, but you better not try and spin a line of shite later."
"That's my boy. Now go run along and maybe do something about that thing I told you about earlier."
Harry nodded, and walked out of the room.
As soon as Sharon heard Harry's footsteps going up the stairs, she motioned for Dr. Granger to tell her everything.
As it turned out, Hermione had gotten a proper visit by a teacher, who answered every question they had. They both agreed it looked like someone was trying to screw Harry over.
It wasn't long before the pair broke out the Gin and Tonic. It was going to be a long night. The father poured himself a glass of high-quality scotch and joined the women.
Harry found the door to Hermione's room and knocked politely.
He heard a the sounds of somebody bustling about behind the door, before it opened to reveal a bushy-haired buck-tooth girl dressed up in the most unflattering clothing possible. Harry barely managed to repress his shudder. The situation was far worse than he'd suspected.
"Hi, I'm Harry DeVille. My mother wanted to talk about Hogwarts with your father, and suggested that perhaps we could get to know each other early."
Hermione took in the boy. He was dressed in black, positively dripping with satanic jewelry and his shirt was covered in obscene phrases. She sniffed a bit in disdain. Harry thought he might have thrown up a little in his mouth.
"Well, come in then," she said imperiously, holding the door for him. He meandered into the room, taking in bookcase after bookcase.
'Hmmm… Neitze, Baudelaire, Goethe, Limbaugh… wait, Limbaugh?!'
"So, Harry, I've heard stories about you from my father." She made it sound like that was a bad thing.
"Did you really manage to convince thirteen high-school girls to sacrifice their virginity in your name?" She definitely made that sound like a bad thing.
Still, Harry couldn't help beaming in pride.
"Yup! Still a bit amazed at that one myself!" Harry said with a grin.
Hermione crossed her arms under her breasts, turned her head, and sniffed.
'What. The. Bloody. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. Her.' He thought, sickened.
Trying to come up with something positive to say, and failing, he started looking about the room. His eyes fell upon a large poster of Margaret Thatcher's glowering face given a spot of honor on her wall.
"No. No no no no no," Harry mumbled out, disgusted.
"What?" Hermione asked sharply.
"The evil white-lady afro just threatened to eat me. Take it down."
"What? No! Honestly, Harry, you need to show the Prime Minister the respect due her station!"
Harry'd heard enough. "Respect due to her station? Didn't your parents raise you better than that?"
Hermione flushed. "Don't bring my parents into this!"
"Well, I don't see why not! That woman," he spat out, "is a threat to your parents simply because they don't follow her mindless morality. What ever possessed you to start acting this way? Don't tell me you thought that being bossy and kowtowing to authority would actually impress your classmates."
"My classmates are nothing but immature children," she retorted spitefully, a glimmer of pain in her eyes.
Harry shook his head. "So, it's your teachers then. You chose to impress the mindless parrots of the government over the two people who love you and gave you life? Were you high?"
"Mr. DeVille!" Hermione hollered out, utterly affronted.
Harry walked over to her closet and flung open the doors.
"What do you think you are doing?" She screeched.
He started pulling her dowdy, conservative clothing off of the hangers and tossing them onto the floor.
"I'm seeing just how bad off you are, and how long you've been there."
"You, you can't do that!"
"Hmm? Oh, right. No, sorry, yes I can," he said, tossing a particularly horrid article of clothing over his shoulder.
"You see, you've decided to become a mindless sheep, and now you're getting fleeced. A pity, I'd hoped to have found a friend, but I suppose I could always use a slave."
"Will to Power, Hermione. I have it, you don't. Ergo, it is your moral imperative to do as I say." His eyes lit up as he finally found some proper outfits, all black lace, and Victorian corsets. Even some leather.
"Not so far gone," he mumbled to himself. He swept past the closet towards her bookshelf. He began randomly tossing books onto the pile of clothing.
"No, don't need that, crap, crap, crap." he kept going, knowing he'd sooner or later hit jackpot.
"YOU STOP THAT! RIGHT NOW!" Hermione screamed. Harry grinned. He'd found her weak point. His eyes lit up at the sight of an original printing of LaVey's works. He laid his hand on it.
"Oh, this is entirely too good for you. Hmmm… oh, I've read it. Oh well, always need some kindling for the fire." He said, pulling the book from its perch.
"You… you…" Hermione sputtered.
"Now now, Candi, don't get angry. You know that anger is bad. Smile and nod and shut the hell up. Know your role and all that." He said jauntily.
Hermione snapped. She flung herself at Harry, and floored him with a surprisingly painful right hook.
"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF DOG SHITE! I BET YOU TEABAG DONKEYS WHILE SUCKING COCK FOR A PENCE ON THE CORNER!"
"Good!" Harry exclaimed, "Good! Hate me! Don't take this shit!"
Hermione was past the point of reason.
"YOU FUCKING ARSEHAT! I'LL FLENSE THE SKIN FROM YOUR SCREAMING BODY BEFORE I HAVE YOUR STILL TWITCHING CORPSE DEFILED BY DEMONS!"
"Oh God I think I just had my first erection," Harry said in awe.
"I'LL TEAR OFF YOUR BALLS AND WEAR YOUR FUCKING HEAD AS A HAT YOU SHEEP BUGGERING COMMUNIST!"
Harry smiled happily and stood, brushing himself off.
"There now luv, don't you feel better?" he said, still grinning.
Hermione blinked. She nodded shyly, blushing at the scene she'd made. It wasn't like her to lose control like that.
"Come on, let's clean this mess up. Just think, there's a whole new school full of unsuspecting sheep. Do you really want to be one of them? Are you really so pathetic that you crave the hollow compliments of disinterested authority over the genuine love of your parents?" Hermione shook her head.
"Good, good! Now, first things first: Get that ugly bitch off of your wall. I'm serious. I think her afro wants to eat me."
Hermione laughed, then walked over to the poster, and tore it down with relish.
"Friends, then?" Harry smiled at her. Hermione nodded, a bright gleam in her eye.
The couple busily set about removing all traces of Hermione's tragic mistake.
"You really do throw yourself one hundred percent into things, don't you?" Harry asked. Hermione blushed, and nodded.
"I suppose I do," she said, somewhat ashamed.
"Bah, stop that! Guilt is for the Catholics. Come on; let me hear you say it." Harry said.
Hermione blushed. "But I feel silly…"
"That's the point!" Harry said. "You don't accept it! Prove to yourself you that aren't their little bitch! Say it, revel in it, and spit in their faces! Glorify in your own godhood!"
Hermione grinned. "Hail Satan."
Harry shook his head. "Pathetic. Come on, a bit more conviction!"
Hermione growled. "Ave Satanis!" She shouted, as loud as she could.
"Ave Satanis! Welcome back!" Harry casually waved his hand at the pile of Conservative Propaganda and dowdy dresses.
"I think we need to give this whole mess a proper ending. Look, get dressed in something respectable, and we'll put this behind you for good."
"Expecting to watch?" Hermione grinned.
Harry blinked. "Um, look, the morality may be willing, but the flesh is prepubescent."
Hermione's eyes flashed and she shoved her hand down Harry's trousers. Harry let out an 'eep!' in surprise. Feeling nothing but smooth skin, she hummed thoughtfully before removing her hand.
"I suppose you're right. Out you go then!"
Harry blinked as she bustled him out the door.
"Dear Satan she really does fling herself into it, doesn't she?" He smiled. He'd found a new friend.
He casually walked down the stair and poked his head into the room where his mother and Dr. Granger were plotting.
"Excuse me, Dr. Granger? Do you have a fire-pit we can borrow for a spot?"
Dr. Granger blinked. A moment later Hermione appeared next to Harry, wearing her black petticoats, lace dress, and leather thigh-highs.
Dr. Granger blinked again. "Well, I suppose there's always the barbecue pit…"
"Thanks Daddy!" Hermione said before running back up the stairs.
"Harry, mind giving me a hand? This shite is heavy." She yelled down. Harry grinned and raced up to help her.
"Well I'll be damned," Dr. Granger said, turning to his now smiling wife. "That boy's amazing."
"Ain't he though? Makes me proud to be his mother, he does." Sharon puffed up with maternal pride.
She suddenly turned and smiled at Emma, speaking in a confiding tone.
"Ya know... At first I was a bit skeptical to you. I mean... Ya ain't got no robes or anything like that. But..." she glanced back at Hermione. "I have to admit that Addams inspired creation she's wearing, especially with the occult jewelry, really makes her look like a proper little succubus.
This time it was the Granger's turn to puff up with pride.
"She's been a proper little hellion since the day she was born. Do you remember the collic?"
"And don't forget her first day at school..."
"Or when those girls tried to bully her..."
"And the way she set fire to that puppy that bit her in fourth grade..."
Emma leaned into her husband's embrace and they smiled as they reminisced of their only daughter's childhood. They looked like the perfect picture of happy, conservative parents. It was really picture perfect.
It was one hell of a good disguise, Sharon thought. 'I wonder if they'll let me watch them kill someday. It's bound to be a sight, considering how hard they tried to look normal.'
*A small nod to Hemlock Addams. I love that fic. ^^