"Yes," said Hermione grumpily. "Basically, they all boil down to this: 'My name is Estirreana/Winter/Katherine-but-you-can-call-me-Kat/Nikki. I am half-blood and secretly the sister/cousin/daughter of (usually) Harry Potter. I am even more powerful than he is, and was a secret Auror from the time I was 12. I have long, flowing, abundant tresses of the deepest red/chestnut/ebony/burnished gold and ageless eyes of amethyst/violet/fathomless black/piercing emerald/sparkling blue. I have an impossibly small waist and size EE bosom. Everyone instantly loves me, beside from my incredible (wandless) magical powers, I am the most intelligent witch in 900 years and have the voice of an angel. I am wonderfully gifted at Quidditch—far surpassing the Potters—and have a sense of humor equaled by the Marauders and the Weasley twins put together. I know all the secrets of Hogwarts and can avoid Mrs. Norris without the invisibility cloak, since all animals adore me. I am part-Elven. Draco Malfoy turns into the world's sweetest boy-toy around me, and Snape gives me points in class for absolutely no reason at all. Harry and Ron, of course, are madly in love with me, as are Sirius and Remus since I traveled back in time and got James and Lily together...'"

She stopped. Harry and Ron were staring at her, mouths wide open. Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times before swallowing and managing to choke out, "People actually write this rubbish?"

"Oh, loads of it," Hermione said darkly. "Many of them portray me as a Sue! Me! Usually I am abused in some way, or have some horribly depressing life that no one knows about—but I manage to grow about 8 bra sizes and capture the hearts of every boy at Hogwarts, and, disgustingly, Snape himself. Often these stories lead to Malfoy and I snogging, or worse." She shuddered. "By the way, Sues may be the bravest/strongest/most powerful beings on the face of the earth, but they seem to be incredibly helpless as well, crying into the 'strong, handsome young man's' shoulder to avoid looking at the dead bunny rabbit."

"Which their 'sweet' singing voice probably killed," muttered Ron darkly.

"Oh, and you know how much of a little...little...scarlet woman I'm portrayed as?" Hermione demanded, hands on hips.

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, then collapsed to the floor, nearly choking with laughter as they rolled around, clutching their stomachs.

"What? What did I say?" Hermione glared at them accusingly.

"S-scarlet...woman..." Harry gasped. "You...have... got...to be...kidding me..."

Hermione flushed red. "Oh, shut it."

"Erm...Harry? You sure this is a good idea?" Ron's face looked rather pale in the light from the computer screen. "I dunno how to work one of these..."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Ron. I lived as a Muggle for eleven years, remember? Hermione too. We know what we're doing."

"So what's that, then?" Ron pointed to the screen, where a rather pudgy cartoon monkey was jumping around and singing a ridiculous children's song. Harry moved something in his right hand--the mouse?--and pressed a button. With a click, the monkey went away.

"Sorry, advertisements," Harry said. "Hermione, what was the name of that site?"

"Fanfiction dot net." Hermione looked like she was trying very hard not to smirk.

"What's a net got to do with..." Ron fell silent as Harry typed in and hit a button, causing the screen to change. A white page with a blue bar across the top came up. "Blimey, this Muggle thing is fast!" He peered at the screen. "Movies...books...anime...what's that?" Harry just shrugged.

Hermione was getting impatient. "Click on 'books', Harry," she said urgently.

"Right." Harry hadn't gotten much of a chance at the Dursleys' to go on the Internet, and was still a bit dazzled by all the information on the page. A whole list of book titles came up. He searched through until he found "Harry Potter", after which was the number "209520", and clicked on it with a strong feeling of apprehension.

He was assaulted with hundreds of titles. "Wha--what do I click on?" he asked Hermione, feeling slightly dazed by all of it. Some of the titles looked decent, while others looked as if they had been written by a lovesick four-year-old.

"Your choice." Hermione was definitely smirking now.

Ron looked rather green as Harry scrolled down to a story called "All I Ask is Forever" by someone called "MalfoyzLover". The summary went: "Virginia Weaseley"--"It's Ginevra!" Ron barked, "and they spelled Weasley wrong!"--"goes back to Hogwarts for her sixth yer, what happens when someone she dosnt expect falls for her and now she can't get Draco Malfoy out of her mind?"

Harry's eyebrows went up. "Who in their right mind would think that Ginny and Draco..." He heard snickering from Hermione. "What's so funny?"

Hermione shook her head. "Wait 'til you get to the ones with "Sirius falls madly in love with so-and-so and they have a secret child, what happens when she comes to Hogwarts, how will Harry react?"

Ron snorted. "That's just wrong, Mione. They'd be, like, cousins or something."

Hermione glared at him. "My name is NOT 'Mione', thank you very much."

"According to this it is." Harry pointed to the summary of another fic, called "Stars in Your Eyez" by "moonlight-Hermione". "'Draco', Hermione whispered, 'let's leave this place'. Draco gaze into her chocolate brown eyes and his heart filled with love, 'yes Mione, I'd go anywhere for..." He stopped. Hermione was laughing, and Ron looked positively revolted.

"Hey..." Harry looked up at them, an evil glint in his eyes. "I have an idea. Let's write our own fanfic!"

"Um...why?"

"We can make it so ridiculous that even Dudley wouldn't believe it!"

Ron stared at him. "You serious, mate?"

"Completely."

Hermione grinned. "Excellent...we need a penname, something good...I mean bad...I mean..."

Harry laughed. "We get it, Hermione. How about...what do they call us?...'The Golden Trio'."

"That's awful, Harry," Hermione said disapprovingly, but then her face changed into the first truly evil grin he had ever seen on her. "It's perfect."

"Right." Harry stood up and let Hermione take his place in front of the computer, where she began the registration process.

Harry stared at the screen. "What? Bloody—"

Beside him, Ron was laughing. "I can't believe they believed that! Hermione going back in time and falling in love with Professor Lupin? How ridiculous can you—" He stopped and looked at Hermione. "Nice idea, Mione."

The aforementioned gave him a death glare. "How many times, Ronald—" she smirked at the look of disgust on his face "—must I tell you, my name is not Mione!"

"Oh, about six hundred...every second..." Harry grinned. Hermione smacked him on the shoulder. "Shut it, you git," she said half-jokingly. "Keep reading."

He rolled his eyes at the screen. "That's it. I can't believe it! Where'd you get that idea, anyway?"

"Oh, it's quite common, really. I either go back in time and fall in love with Professor Lupin or with your godfather, Harry. Evidently he was quite a handsome young man in his time."

Ron glanced at her. "Really?"

She sighed. "Yes, really, Ron. Have you seen Harry's pictures of his parents? There's a rather nice one of him at their wedding, where—" She broke off. "What? I'm just kidding, you know."

He turned red. "I never—"

"A-HEM." Harry was glaring at them. "Could you two please stop for just one second and help me with this?"

Silence.

"Fine." Hermione looked at the screen. "I don't understand how anyone could think this was good! I mean, the spelling is obviously horrible, and the plot—or lack thereof—I just don't understand how..." She trailed off. "They want us to continue?"

Harry had an evil grin on his face. "Hey, Ron, what do you think? Should our dear Mione fall in love with Sirius as well? Maybe we could throw in a dark and stormy night, when poor widdle Hermione is scared of the lightning, and—" Hermione hit his shoulder again, causing him to laugh even harder.

"Shut up, you git! That's so...wrong!" She shuddered. "I mean, I love Sirius, but—"

"She admits it! Look, Ron, she's turning pink!"

"So, Mione, you like older men, eh?"

"Ronald Weasley, if you dare say that again, I'll—"

He said it again. Five seconds later, he was running around the room, only a pillow between him and the mighty wrath of Hermione.

Watching them, Harry decided to call his next chapter just that: "The Mighty Wrath of Hermione." Then move somewhere far, far away. He wondered if Krum needed a roommate.

Not for the first time did Harry stare aghast at the screen. Ron, who had been leaning over his shoulder and slurping loudly from some Muggle drink Hermione had recommended, nearly sprayed it all over the monitor. They had stolen, or "borrowed" as Hermione said innocently, her parents’ old computer and had moved it downstairs, more so that their hysterical laughter wouldn’t disturb the dental clients than anything else.

"What...the...bloody...h—"

"Ron!"

"What? Have you seen this?"

"Yes," Hermione sniffed. "Rubbish, absolute rubbish. As a matter of fact, I’ve looked at the story she claims we stole ‘her’ character from..." She trailed off and looked at the two boys, who were regarding her suspiciously. "Uh...research?"

"Riiiiiight." Harry glanced meaningfully at Ron. "That wouldn’t be where you got the idea for snogging Malfoy—or ‘Draco’—in the Hogwarts broom closet, would you?"

Hermione turned what could not in any way be termed a "delicate" shade of pink. "NO, that was RON, and I just today looked at her fic, thank you very much."

Ron slurped his drink even more loudly. "Mrrfgerh fmeww," he said around a mouthful of smoothie.

"What?"

Swallowing with great effort, he burped with satisfaction—to Hermione’s horror and Harry’s entertainment—and said stolidly, "Wasn’t me."

"Excuse me, Ronald Weasley, but I did not..." She held up a hand. "Wait...was this the afternoon your mum gave us loads of sugar cakes?"

"You mean Fred-and-George-sneaking-things-onto-Mum’s-cookie-tray day?"

She laughed uncomfortably. "It’s a wonder your mother lets those two anywhere near the food. Yes, that day. The day we created this...thing. Complete with amazingly clichéd title."

"Yes, that was Fred and George’s day off..."

Hermione groaned. "Oh, I remember now...caffeine pills. They put caffeine pills...God, Ron, you don’t even drink coffee, you were so bad..."

"You were hilarious, Hermione." Harry adopted a pose. "‘Wouldn’t it be f-funny, Ha-ha-ha-Harry, sorry these are sooo good, what’d your mum put in them, anyyyyyway if we had me and Malfoy SNOG.’" He did a rather terrifying imitation of Hermione’s face, complete with caffeine-dilated eyes, leaning close with enthusiasm. Ron nearly dropped his smoothie. He continued. "Hahahaha—wouldn’t it? He could, y’know, shove me in tha-that broom closet, hahahaha, and—and I don’t know, Mrs. Norris could get her TAIL stepped on, can you imagine th’ noise she’d make, Ron? Heehee do it, Ron, make a noise like Mrs. Norris getting her tail stepped on, hey will you pass me some more sugar cakes?’"

It was then that Hermione, watching the two boys laughing, decided to have her revenge. What shall my name be? She stuck out her tongue at them, but they didn’t notice the evil grin behind it. HarryandRonareprats was too easy...but she’d think of something.

"Um...what is this thing? AIM? Does that mean like aiming at something?"

"No, Ron." Hermione grinned. "It’s IM-ing."

Ron looked blank. Harry looked exasperated. Hermione...Hermione was still holding a pillow. Harry noticed this and instantly put on an angelic smile.

"It means instant messaging, Ron," she said gently. "It’s like...typing...on the phone? Is that a good explanation, Harry?"

Ron looked suspicious. "Like the fellytone? I mean...oh, whatever you call the bloody thing. Nearly took my ear off last time, I had to yell so much."

Harry winced at the memory. "You mean my ear."

"Right. So it’s like typing...um...run that by me again, will you?"

"Instant...messaging." Hermione repeated slowly, grinning at his confusion. "I type something to another user, and it instantly appears on their screen. They do the same to me."

"Oh, I get it!" Harry’s face brightened. "Right...so how do we do it?"

"We need a username...you could always use your own name, I suppose, but...well, I wouldn’t really advise that..." She smirked. Harry frowned. "Why not? What’s wrong with my name?"

"Oh...nothing...go ahead, try it."

Ron glanced over at Harry. "Um...I dunno, Harry..."

But Harry had already typed "Harry Potter" in the screenname space.

Harry yelped. "There are 1280 other Harry Potter screennames? But...but..."

"Of course," Hermione laughed. "I’m sure there are many others on that fanfiction site."

Ron shuddered. "My brain!" He had just finished reading—looking at, rather—a particularly awful one about male pregnancy with none other than the ferret. Hermione looked sharply at him and started laughing hysterically at the memory of his horrified face. "Shut it, Mione," he muttered as his face slowly turned red. He got a pillow in the face. "As you wish, Ronnie."

Ron buried his face in the pillow, apparently trying to smother himself with it as the traumatic memories came flooding back...

"Oh, Ronnie!" Draco gasp from the feeling of love he feeled when Ron his luvr kissed him so deeply and he suddenly fell to the floor. Ron gathered him in his arms lovinly "whats wrong Draco my love"he murmured (AN: I think that’s right?) macholy . "I—I" Draco sobbed tears streaming down his face "I’m pregnant Ron I know you didn’t want children but I—I" Ron face light up and—

At that point Harry had had to restrain Ron from bashing in the computer screen.

Now, remembering, Ron screamed into the pillow. "WHY? WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME, EVIL PEOPLE?"

Harry was...well, he certainly did not appear to be properly sympathetic. "Ready-to-burst-from-holding-in-laughter" might have been a more appropriate description. It was lucky for him that Ron was currently blinded by purple-fuzz-to-the-face and could not see his gleeful expression.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really, Ronald. Harry’s trying to figure out something."

"Says Mrs. Snape," Ron muttered, ears still bright red. Hermione huffed and turned back to Harry. "So, Harry," she said, grinning, "let’s try one of these fanfiction chat rooms. What do you say?"

"Bloody—"

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione squawked, hands on her hips. "Do not use that langua—"

"YES!" Harry yelled. "Harry James Potter! That’s brilliant!"

"What are you talking about?"

"My screenname!"

Hermione looked doubtful. "It’s probably already taken, Harry. Besides, like I said, you probably shouldn’t use the name Harry Potter."

Ron peeped out from behind the pillow. "I lik—"

"Ronald."

"Shutting up."

Harry ignored Hermione. "I like it too."

Miraculously, Harry James Potter was not taken. Harry grinned delightedly as the little chat window popped up.

A moment later, the grin slid off his face.

"O-M-G you are stupid!" Ron said in a mock girly voice.

No way! That’s so kewl omg omg I’m talking to Harry Potter OMG wait wait I’ll go get my friend Doris, she’s your biggest fan cept me of course haha lemme holdon brb!

Okay.

Hermione was laughing. Harry looked petrified as a barrage of random acronyms, apparently by the two girls fighting over the keyboard, followed. "Help...Hermione...Ron..." he whispered. "Make it go away..."

Crookshanks finally did the sensible thing and jumped on the keyboard. Evidently whatever he entered in the little IM box was highly insulting in IM-language, for there was another barrage of acronyms and angry little yellow smileys.

And the little box went away.

Harry sighed. "Um...guys? Let’s, uh, go get some ice cream, shall we?" Even Crookshanks meowed in agreement.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, REJECTED?" Harry bellowed at the screen. They’d been stuck inside for three days due to rain—there was nothing else to do, so they’d been on the computer. Harry had had the great idea—as he thought—to try other fanfiction sites.

"Whatsa matter Harry?" Ron mumbled. He’d been reading one of Hermione’s books on wizarding history and was bored out of his mind; he was beginning to think that fanfiction actually sounded like a good idea, conveniently forgetting that last time he’d traumatized himself by reading about a pregnant Draco Malfoy.

"They rejected my story!" Harry gritted his teeth and glared at the screen. Ron detached himself from the Muggle beanbag and ambled over to Harry, reading the following over his shoulder:

It yammered on for quite a while about the reasons that Harry’s story couldn’t possibly be true. Ron started laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. "They rejected your story over what kinds of pets Hagrid has?" he choked.

"Yeah," growled Harry. "Have they ever met Hagrid? He has an entire cage of rabbits out back! You’ve seen them, Ron?"

"‘Course I have."

"And about the girl coming to the school in her fourth year..."

"What’s going on?"

The two boys turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway, looking grouchy. She took one look at the screen and sighed. "Oh no...please tell me you didn’t go to that site..."

"You know about this?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Of course I do. They have the biggest collection of rubbish—’Dramione’, they call it—and yet they reject good stories because of stupid little details that they couldn’t possibly know anyway because, as they quite obviously advertise, they’re Muggles."

"Hmm." Ron pondered this for a moment. "Y’know, guys, it’s a bit sad, really, what we’re doing."

"Um...yeah. Let’s go into London or something, shall we?"

"I’ll go get the car keys." Hermione jumped up. Harry and Ron looked at each other, alarmed. "Hermione!" they shouted in unison. Given her driving skills, fanfiction suddenly seemed like a good idea.

That’s when they realized that they really, really needed school to start again, Malfoy and all.