NEW FIC: The Sequel of DOOM!
Jan. 22nd, 2005 07:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skoosiepantsYes, my flisters. I've been snowed in. And this is the fruit of my cracked mind. Another crossover, a sequel to Wherein Little Boys.... And it's bad. So very very bad.
A few notes:
1) Obviously, you need to have read the crossover of doom fic: Wherein Little Boys Make Merry.
2) I've always been a huge fan of Ghostbusters II, so I felt I had a right to poke fun at it. Yes, I own the soundtrack. Yes, I love it. Yes, it'd be really, really helpful if you'd at least seen the first Ghostbusters - although Justin sums up the whole II plot. Yes, I know random quotes and almost all the lyrics from the songs. Yes, I'm insane. You already knew this.
"On Our Own" is by Bobby Brown off the soundtrack. (also, the song JC starts to sing and is veto'd by Lance is "What You Won't Do For Love" by Bobby Caldwell. Excellent song. I'd love to hear him sing it for real.)
3) This is for everyone who got Lance/Hermione stuck in my head from the first go around, and for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sanityinstrife for encouraging my cracked-out behavior.
4) This is very bad. Cracked and bad. And it made me laugh hysterically, as usual, while writing it. I really think I'm going to be the only one laughing.
5) *blinks* You want a summary? Um, well. Dumbledore comes up with a plan, blackmails the trio into participating, Seamus gets roped into the fun of overseas flights, Justin recognizes the plan for what it is, and they all save the world. Also, there's slight slash.
6) Seamus improves everything he's in, merely by existing.
7) I don't care about facts. Some people are real, but *shrugs* I have no idea what they do in real life.
So without further ado, I give you
Ghostbusters II-ish
Hermione blinked. “You’re joking.”
“I’m afraid not, Miss Granger,” the wizened old Wizard said somberly.
“But-but…” Harry’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, gasping for air.
Ron slumped down in his seat. “This is really weird.”
“It’s stupid,” Hermione stressed. After all this time, fighting and fending off evil, researching, creating brilliant – if she did say so herself – new spells and hexes. And this was how it was going to end?
“It’s necessary,” Dumbledore countered, tapping his fingertips together, brow furrowed.
“It sort of makes sense,” Ron mumbled. “I mean, the wanker just won’t die, will he? He was a bloody,” he waved his hand around, “ghost-y undead thing and Harry couldn’t kill him. And now he’s full-blown, dancing around in brand new legs – courtesy of Lucius fucking Malfoy – and well… it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Hermione stared at him, incredulous. “You think weakening him with good cheer and happy thoughts so Harry can finally trounce him makes sense?”
“The problem, of course,” the Headmaster went on smoothly, “is that in this time of war, we aren’t exactly overwhelmed with positive energy.”
Hermione eyed him warily, sensing something even more unpleasant in the air. “Yes?”
“And there was that little incident last year…”
“Oh, no. No, no.” Hermione shook her head emphatically, knowing exactly where the conversation was going.
Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling infuriatingly. “…which Mr. Weasley could very well get into a large dose of trouble for instigating, however accidental…”
“Oh gods,” Ron groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck me.”
“…and I had no qualms helping to gloss-over that within the Ministry, mind you, seeing as how no actual harm was done…”
Hermione harrumphed. “You can’t blackmail us into this.”
“…but, of course, no one wants to rehash that incident, least of all me. And since you seem to have an in now…”
“I can’t,” Harry said softly, finally finding his voice. “I can’t deal with them again. Truly.”
“They wouldn’t be five, Harry,” Hermione pointed out, before trying her very best to glare Dumbledore down – which wasn’t an easy thing to do, and she obviously wasn’t the least bit successful.
Dumbledore was wily and surprisingly tenacious.
Which was how she ended up on an overseas plane next to a squirmy Seamus Finnigan, knocking back vodka and cranberries.
***
Las Vegas was bright. And hot. And really, really dry. Hermione decided immediately she didn’t like it all that much. Seamus was in love with the place, though, and plastered himself up against the taxi window, mouth slacked open in awe.
“Pretty,” he breathed, and Hermione snorted.
“A bit overblown, not to mention hideously tacky.”
He threw her a grin over his shoulder. “Perfect for me, then.”
They took a taxi, of course, because they didn’t know the exact Apparation coordinates, and Hermione didn’t fancy getting splinched or popping in on some random stranger. Showing up on the doorstep of one mostly-stranger’s home was bad enough.
Doorstep, though, wasn’t entirely accurate.
“Security’s a bitch,” Seamus said after letting out a low whistle.
They could Alohmora the gates and door, but alarms were a hassle, and who knew what sort of beasts the bloke had roaming about the grounds? “I think we can make it to the front hall,” Hermione said, squinting through the bushes.
Seamus nodded. “Apparating it is.”
Hermione knew he wasn’t too clear about the details of the whole thing, and that he’d only been recruited because a) technically, he was her partner down in Spell Reform, b) Ron was terrified of being trapped inside an airplane, and c) Harry was none too anxious to meet up with… them again.
But Seamus was game for anything, usually, and without any more coaxing he Disapparated, leaving Hermione to roll her eyes and follow a second behind.
The man was just as handsome as she remembered him, his narrow hands this time holding a pool cue instead of a mobile phone. And he was brandishing it as menacingly as possible at Seamus, before spotting her and letting his arms fall to his sides.
“Oh, hi. It’s you.”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, well. Um.” She twisted her fingers around her wand. “Been a while.”
His grin was just a bit snarky. “Not that pleasantries aren’t pleasant, but it might be nice to know why you and,” he gestured to Seamus, who was grinning at him in lazy amusement, “shaggy here just sort of beamed in for a visit. Phone calls are good.”
“Not really the sort who ring, mate,” Seamus said, stepping towards him with a hand outstretched. “Dean would love your eyes, and your house is fucking huge.”
“This is Seamus,” Hermione introduced hastily as the two men shook hands, Lance with a wary eye and Seamus still filled with a puppyish sort of eagerness.
“He’s random,” Lance pointed out, sending her an easy smile.
Hermione grinned back, and some of the tension that had been gripping her body slipped away. “Yes, often, but we love him anyway.”
He surprised her when he folded her in his arms for a hug, but she leaned into him and wrapped her own loosely around his waist.
“How’ve you been?” he asked, stepping back and sweeping her with an assessing glance.
“Good.”
“And your boys? Where are they, anyway?”
Hermione bit her lip. “No offense meant, but… they really weren’t up to seeing all of you again.”
Seamus bounced on the balls of his feet. “Harmonizing pretty boys,” he sing-sung, sliding his hands into his pockets and craning his neck around the foyer doorway. “Where is everyone?”
Lance’s brows arched. “Probably at their own homes. You know, not here. Where I live. And not them.”
Seamus patted his arm. “I’m sure they wish they were here,” he said sympathetically, and Lance frowned at him.
“I’m not—”
“Of course not,” Seamus cut in, giving him a one-armed hug. “Not at all.”
The blond shook him off, sending him an icy glare.
Seamus backed away, hands up in supplication. “Bit touchy there?”
“Seamus,” Hermione growled a warning.
“You collect them, don’t you?” Lance asked, skipping his gaze back and forth between her and Seamus. “Lost boys.”
Hermione bristled a bit, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe you have any right to poke fun at me about that,” she pointed out. Really, his boys were ten times worse than hers. Although, admittedly, she’d really only known them as five-year-olds. From Lance’s reaction at the time, though, she gathered they weren’t much better behaved as adults.
“Hermione,” Seamus said, draping his arm over her shoulders, “is my incredibly level-headed partner in crime.”
“On that side of the law are you?” Lance drawled, clearly amused, his eyes twinkling.
Hermione shoved Seamus off of her and glared at them both. “Can we please just get on with this?”
“Well, you’re going to have to tell me what ‘this’ is, or I won’t be any help at all,” the blond said, an infinitely patient tone in his voice that Hermione really wondered how he managed to maintain.
She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seem him rankled. Which really wasn’t saying much, though, as she’d spent perhaps twelve hours total with the man. Trying hours, of course, but still. Hardly representative of his temperament.
He gave off that nonchalant air, though. Like Dumbledore, only more sarcastic.
“We’ve a slight problem, or… um…”
“A solution, actually,” Seamus provided, stepping across the hall into Lance’s living room and settling down into a seat, “to a rather large, pasty-white, living dead problem.”
Lance nodded his head slowly. “Uh huh. All right, I’ll bite. What’s this got to do with me?”
“Um… you might want to sit down for this…”
***
“It’s like. You know. Ghostbusters II.”
“Like what?”
“Ghostbusters II,” Justin repeated, waving his spoon and spattering the table with milk.
Seamus scooped a heap of Captain Crunch into his mouth and chewed slowly, eyes narrowed in thought. He nodded his head as he swallowed, then said, “Still not following you.”
Lance bounced his gaze between them, then leant back and threw an amused glance over to Hermione. She smiled in return.
The two of them were awfully cute, arguing over cereal with suspicious glowers. They were surprisingly alike, it seemed, and hadn’t yet decided whether they should live in each other’s pockets or not. The ‘not’ requiring sneers and, more than likely, catfights over the course of their stay.
Hermione wasn’t sure about Justin, of course, but Seamus never really had the energy to properly hate someone. He was even cheery to Malfoy, which drove the blond completely mad. Admittedly, though, that might have been Seamus’ goal to begin with.
Chris hopped up on the counter next to Joey. “'Death is but a door. Time is but a window. I'll be back.'”
Justin nodded. “Vigo.”
“Who?” Seamus cocked his head to the side.
“The Despised. The Unholy. The—”
“Butch,” JC interjected, grinning widely, maneuvering himself between Chris’ dangling legs.
Lance shook his head wryly. “Y’all have seen that movie too many times.”
“It’s not even a good movie,” Joey commented.
“But. Vigo!” Chris said, mock-horrified, hand to his heart. “The Portrait of Evil! The oozy River of Doom! Egon!”
JC patted Chris’ thigh sympathetically. “It’s all right. He didn’t mean it, did you Joe?”
Joey grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest.
“What was that?” Chris cupped a hand around his ear and leaned closer.
“I said, 'He is Vigo. You are like the buzzing of flies to him.'” His voice was deadpanned and his scowl was deep, but his eyes were twinkling.
“He’s gone to the dark side,” Lance whispered to Hermione.
She giggled, then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth because, really, she never giggled. Her face pinked and Lance smirked at her.
Chris slapped Joey’s back. “That’s the spirit.”
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Seamus pointed out, scraping the bottom of his cereal bowl. “Doubt Hermione does either.”
“All right. See? This evil ugly dude, Vigo the Carpathian, who was like half-alive or something in a painting, was trying to come back to earth, take over the world. And. There was this ooze, right? And it wasn’t really bad ooze—”
“Just misguided.”
Justin spread his hands over the tabletop, nodding. “Yeah. No one was setting a good example for this ooze, because, yo. New York City wasn’t full of the love back then. It fed off bad vibes, and this Vigo. He had these freaky eyes and shit, and could control the misguided ooze.”
“Misguided ooze,” Hermione echoed woodenly.
“Right. But the Ghostbusters knew that all the ooze needed was some sweet love and care.”
“And music,” JC added.
“And music,” Justin conceded. “So they sprayed it—”
“The ooze,” JC interrupted again, and Justin sent him a brief glare.
“Right, the ooze. They sprayed it all over Lady Liberty, amped up Jackie Wilson, got the whole city feelin’ groovy--”
“Groovy?” Chris snickered.
“—defeated the bad guy, saved the city, and got the girl,” Justin ended grandly, giving Seamus a smug smile.
Hermione wrinkled her brow, not entirely sure she’d followed him correctly. “So…” She drifted off, gazing helplessly at Seamus, who merely shrugged. “Um.”
“Do we get proton packs?”
***
Hermione’s hand touched Lance’s when she dug her fingers into the popcorn bowl. “Sorry,” she whispered.
The room was dark, but she could see the flash of his teeth as he smiled.
The seven of them were watching Ghostbusters II. Well, Lance and Hermione were watching it. And possibly Joey, although Hermione suspected he was asleep, slouched at the end of the couch.
Justin and Seamus were in the midst of some sort of fight over an overstuffed armchair, shoving each other with increasing violence and harsh whispers. She suspected JC and Chris were snogging in the shadows of the sofa, but she wasn’t exactly sure, given that Chris was prone to shouting out random lines of dialogue from time to time.
Still, it was obvious that she and Lance were the only ones paying total attention to what Hermione thought was a completely ridiculous movie.
“Wait!” Chris yelled suddenly, scrambling to his feet. “Wait, listen!” He grabbed for the remote and turned up the sound, then recited, “'On a mountain of skulls, in a castle of pain, I sat on a throne of blood. What was will be, what is will be no more. Now is the season of evil.'”
“That your guy?” Lance asked her.
“Um.” She nodded. It sounded sort of Voldemort-like. And they were trying to utilize the same kind of weapon, per se, to defeat him. She just wasn’t entirely sure it was going to work.
***
Seamus was eating a sandwich at the counter. Justin was beatboxing. And Joey and Chris were singing a catchy tune from the end of the movie.
“…found out about Vigo, the master of evil. Try to battle my boys? That's not legal.”
“Ooh-we-oh.”
“They’re in. control.”
“Ooh-we-oh.”
“Y-ya ya know it.” Justin did some sort of hip-spin-thrust move that seemed to stop Seamus in his tracks, mouth pausing mid-bite.
JC smiled and leant against the counter, chin in his hands. “It’s a fun song.”
“Well,” Hermione hedged. They were great for helping them out. Really. The best. But she thought perhaps Harry had it right. Age didn’t really make them any less… difficult to swallow.
“Okay,” Lance announced to the room, entering the kitchen with his mobile and a sheaf of papers. “We’re all booked. Flight’s at nine-forty tonight. The rest of the crew’ll be over sometime in the next few days. JC, you’re in charge of the set-list; something upbeat. Not necessarily our own work.” He glanced over at Hermione. “You realize we won’t have much time to practice. We’ll be sloppy at best.”
“I don’t think it matters,” she explained. “We just have to get enough people there who love you.”
Lance grinned at her.
“Um.” Why the hell did she blush and stammer so much around the man? When did she turn into Neville, and how had she not noticed?
JC danced over to Chris and Joey, all sunshine and humming. “What you won’t do, do for love…”
“Nope.” Lance shook his head. “No way, C. Not enough time to get the track down, or live instruments.”
“Fine.” JC’s pout was short lived. “Let’s do some Backstreet.”
Lance waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever we can get the music for.”
“Y-ya ya know it.”
Hermione thought she detected a hint of drool at the corner of Seamus’ lips.
***
“He’s a pretty thing, isn’t he?” Seamus commented softly, leaning over the armrest.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, Seamus. Justin is a pretty, pretty man.” He’d been making sly observations the whole flight, presumably watching Justin out of the corner of his eye. “Quit it or he’ll hear you.”
“He already knows you’re talking about him,” Lance said absently, turning a page in his magazine without looking up. “He’s got a sixth sense for those things.”
Hermione pursed her lips, then leant forward around Seamus and shot a glance across the aisle at Justin. The man winked at her. She couldn’t help but smile back.
Chuckling, she relaxed into her seat and murmured in Lance’s ear, “I think Seamus has a crush.”
Lance mumbled something that sounded like “makes two of us,” but when Hermione pressed, he gave her a small smile. “I said it’s better than them killing each other.”
Her brows arched. “Really?”
“What?” He widened his pale green eyes. “You don’t think it’s better?”
Hermione frowned at him. “Well…”
“Exactly,” he said, then turned back to his magazine.
On her other side, Seamus nudged her arm. “That bloke can talk circles around you, love,” he whispered. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“I know,” Hermione grumbled. “I’m channeling Neville.”
Seamus nodded solemnly. “Happens to the best of us.”
***
“So, do you really think this’ll work?” Seamus asked Hermione, propping his feet up on the chair in front of him, intently watching the stage where they boys were practicing. They were just outside Hogsmeade, in a Muggle enough area that would accommodate their regular fans, but still magic-friendly for the droves of Wizards and Witches who would hopefully show up to support the cause.
It was just the two of them, since Harry had been studiously avoiding Justin for days, ever since the man first uttered ‘Harry! Listen, yo!’ when they arrived.
It’d been a joke, of course, and Justin couldn’t seem to understand why the brunette hadn’t laughed. Or stuck around longer than the five minutes it took to thank them for coming.
Ron was backstage harassing the crew, still convinced that Dumbledore would rat him out to the authorities if everything didn’t go according to plan. Dumbledore himself had been scarce, creating spells, apparently, that would channel the good vibes from the venue to whatever hole Voldemort had currently dug himself into. It wasn’t ever very hard to find the dark wizard, as he almost always went overboard with the black flags and dead flowers strewn across the grounds, not to mention the large number of hooded sentries.
“I’ve no idea, Seamus,” Hermione answered finally, eyes following Lance. They were all very pretty men, weren’t they? It was somewhat disturbing.
“Either way,” Seamus went on, “it’ll be a good show. Music’s catchy, and. Well. I saw their outfits.” He sent her a brief, half-smile half-leer before turning back to the stage. “Sparkly.”
Hermione snorted a laugh.
***
“Heh. That went well.”
“Yup. Pretty solid performance.”
“Better than I’d hoped.”
“Felt good.”
“Is Harry still hiding?”
Hermione sighed and patted Justin’s arm, slick with sweat and slightly glittery. “Actually, he’s off defeating evil. If this even worked.”
“Aren’t you worried about him?” JC asked, holding onto the ends of the towel around his neck and rocking back on his heels.
“A little,” she admitted. “But—“
“Harry’s been fighting Old Pasty-arse for years and years,” Seamus finished for her, hopping up the stairs. “If he doesn’t kill the fuck it’ll just be a stand-off, same as always.”
“Some kind of life he’s got there,” Joey commented.
“Eh.” Seamus shrugged. “I imagine it’s routine now. Automatic. Meet, grapple, dodge, watch forlornly as Voldie flees like a little girl.” Sliding over to Justin, he grinned up at him and purred, “Nice moves.”
Justin shimmied a bit and smirked.
JC hooked his chin over Chris’ shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist. “So now what? We just wait?”
Hermione nodded, but before she could open her mouth to say more, a loud crack sounded and Harry and Ron dropped onto the floor in front of them.
“Damn,” Ron breathed, bent over and huffing.
Harry had blood smeared across his face and his robes were torn and dirty, but his mouth was stretched in a wide smile. “Had a bit of a scuffle with the Death Eaters, but the bastard was weak as a baby.”
“You had a bit of a scuffle? Pucey nearly tore out my lungs!”
Harry clapped him on the back. “Thanks for keeping him occupied.”
Ron staggered a step, then straightened and flung an arm across Harry’s shoulders. “No problem, mate. What I’m here for.”
“Awwww,” Chris cooed, clasping his hands together and fluttering his eyelashes up at them.
“Piss off,” Ron growled, but it was half-hearted and a grin pulled at the corner of his lips. Hermione suspected he was too exhausted to get properly angry.
Justin nodded. “So it worked. We helped.”
“You helped,” Harry agreed, managing to not look completely terrified of the man, although he did maneuver himself subtly behind Ron.
“Thank you for everything,” Hermione said, looking up at Lance. “I really honestly didn’t think it was going to work, and, well. Um.” There was Neville again, creeping up under her skin. She had the most uncomfortable feeling that Lance was undressing her with those intense, odd eyes.
He smoothed a hand over the flat of his stomach, lips slightly quirked up. “It was for a good cause.”
“Yes,” she said faintly. Was it a little too hot in there? “Very good.”
Joey reached over and squeezed her into a one-armed hug, snuggling her against his side. “It was fun. Unorthodox, but fun.”
“We should do this every year,” Seamus said. “You know. Without the whole Ghostbusters II parallel.”
“Who ya gonna call?” Chris crowed, and Seamus gave him a blank look. “Dude, we watched the movie. Did you even pay attention?”
JC nuzzled along his hairline, face crinkled up in a smile. “Come on; let’s go back to the hotel. You can be Venkman, and I’ll be Dana.”
“Hate to tell you this, C, but there’s no way you’re Dana. Ray, maybe.” He cocked his head at Joey. “You’re Winston all over, man.”
“I suppose I’m Egon, then?” Lance drawled, clearly amused.
Chris shook his head. “You’re Dana, Lance. So Dana.”
Ron glanced over at Hermione, wand raised. “Are you sure I can’t…?”
“No, Ron.”
“Not even a teensy, little,” he held his hand up, thumb and forefinger curled close together, “itty, bitty Memory Charm?”
She gave him a stern glare, and he mouthed ‘sorry’ and hung his head.
“You know,” Lance mused from beside her, “you should think about having a girl next. Help balance things out.”
Ginny’s latest debacle with Malfoy instantly came to mind. “I already do. She isn’t any easier.”
“Well, there goes my plan to ask about magicking J into a girl.”
“Tried that, too,” Hermione said absently, eyeing Seamus as he flirted shamelessly with Justin. He’d been a complete nightmare that year.
Lance chuckled dryly. “So you’re saying we’re stuck.”
“Erm.” She slanted him a look, tamping viciously down on her inner Neville. “We could always, um… combine forces, so to speak.”
He slid a hand down her arm, circling her wrist lightly before smoothing their palms together. “Might be wise. For the greater good and all.”
“Yes,” she said. And she thought she’d done lots of things over the years for the greater good, so one more wouldn’t hurt.
THE END.
[ Still in the mood for HP/Popslash crack? Try A Family Affair, and then frolick in the campy world ofdont_feed - Don't Feed the Squirrels ]
*evil cackle*
A few notes:
1) Obviously, you need to have read the crossover of doom fic: Wherein Little Boys Make Merry.
2) I've always been a huge fan of Ghostbusters II, so I felt I had a right to poke fun at it. Yes, I own the soundtrack. Yes, I love it. Yes, it'd be really, really helpful if you'd at least seen the first Ghostbusters - although Justin sums up the whole II plot. Yes, I know random quotes and almost all the lyrics from the songs. Yes, I'm insane. You already knew this.
"On Our Own" is by Bobby Brown off the soundtrack. (also, the song JC starts to sing and is veto'd by Lance is "What You Won't Do For Love" by Bobby Caldwell. Excellent song. I'd love to hear him sing it for real.)
3) This is for everyone who got Lance/Hermione stuck in my head from the first go around, and for
sanityinstrife for encouraging my cracked-out behavior.4) This is very bad. Cracked and bad. And it made me laugh hysterically, as usual, while writing it. I really think I'm going to be the only one laughing.
5) *blinks* You want a summary? Um, well. Dumbledore comes up with a plan, blackmails the trio into participating, Seamus gets roped into the fun of overseas flights, Justin recognizes the plan for what it is, and they all save the world. Also, there's slight slash.
6) Seamus improves everything he's in, merely by existing.
7) I don't care about facts. Some people are real, but *shrugs* I have no idea what they do in real life.
So without further ado, I give you
Ghostbusters II-ish
Hermione blinked. “You’re joking.”
“I’m afraid not, Miss Granger,” the wizened old Wizard said somberly.
“But-but…” Harry’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, gasping for air.
Ron slumped down in his seat. “This is really weird.”
“It’s stupid,” Hermione stressed. After all this time, fighting and fending off evil, researching, creating brilliant – if she did say so herself – new spells and hexes. And this was how it was going to end?
“It’s necessary,” Dumbledore countered, tapping his fingertips together, brow furrowed.
“It sort of makes sense,” Ron mumbled. “I mean, the wanker just won’t die, will he? He was a bloody,” he waved his hand around, “ghost-y undead thing and Harry couldn’t kill him. And now he’s full-blown, dancing around in brand new legs – courtesy of Lucius fucking Malfoy – and well… it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Hermione stared at him, incredulous. “You think weakening him with good cheer and happy thoughts so Harry can finally trounce him makes sense?”
“The problem, of course,” the Headmaster went on smoothly, “is that in this time of war, we aren’t exactly overwhelmed with positive energy.”
Hermione eyed him warily, sensing something even more unpleasant in the air. “Yes?”
“And there was that little incident last year…”
“Oh, no. No, no.” Hermione shook her head emphatically, knowing exactly where the conversation was going.
Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling infuriatingly. “…which Mr. Weasley could very well get into a large dose of trouble for instigating, however accidental…”
“Oh gods,” Ron groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck me.”
“…and I had no qualms helping to gloss-over that within the Ministry, mind you, seeing as how no actual harm was done…”
Hermione harrumphed. “You can’t blackmail us into this.”
“…but, of course, no one wants to rehash that incident, least of all me. And since you seem to have an in now…”
“I can’t,” Harry said softly, finally finding his voice. “I can’t deal with them again. Truly.”
“They wouldn’t be five, Harry,” Hermione pointed out, before trying her very best to glare Dumbledore down – which wasn’t an easy thing to do, and she obviously wasn’t the least bit successful.
Dumbledore was wily and surprisingly tenacious.
Which was how she ended up on an overseas plane next to a squirmy Seamus Finnigan, knocking back vodka and cranberries.
***
Las Vegas was bright. And hot. And really, really dry. Hermione decided immediately she didn’t like it all that much. Seamus was in love with the place, though, and plastered himself up against the taxi window, mouth slacked open in awe.
“Pretty,” he breathed, and Hermione snorted.
“A bit overblown, not to mention hideously tacky.”
He threw her a grin over his shoulder. “Perfect for me, then.”
They took a taxi, of course, because they didn’t know the exact Apparation coordinates, and Hermione didn’t fancy getting splinched or popping in on some random stranger. Showing up on the doorstep of one mostly-stranger’s home was bad enough.
Doorstep, though, wasn’t entirely accurate.
“Security’s a bitch,” Seamus said after letting out a low whistle.
They could Alohmora the gates and door, but alarms were a hassle, and who knew what sort of beasts the bloke had roaming about the grounds? “I think we can make it to the front hall,” Hermione said, squinting through the bushes.
Seamus nodded. “Apparating it is.”
Hermione knew he wasn’t too clear about the details of the whole thing, and that he’d only been recruited because a) technically, he was her partner down in Spell Reform, b) Ron was terrified of being trapped inside an airplane, and c) Harry was none too anxious to meet up with… them again.
But Seamus was game for anything, usually, and without any more coaxing he Disapparated, leaving Hermione to roll her eyes and follow a second behind.
The man was just as handsome as she remembered him, his narrow hands this time holding a pool cue instead of a mobile phone. And he was brandishing it as menacingly as possible at Seamus, before spotting her and letting his arms fall to his sides.
“Oh, hi. It’s you.”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, well. Um.” She twisted her fingers around her wand. “Been a while.”
His grin was just a bit snarky. “Not that pleasantries aren’t pleasant, but it might be nice to know why you and,” he gestured to Seamus, who was grinning at him in lazy amusement, “shaggy here just sort of beamed in for a visit. Phone calls are good.”
“Not really the sort who ring, mate,” Seamus said, stepping towards him with a hand outstretched. “Dean would love your eyes, and your house is fucking huge.”
“This is Seamus,” Hermione introduced hastily as the two men shook hands, Lance with a wary eye and Seamus still filled with a puppyish sort of eagerness.
“He’s random,” Lance pointed out, sending her an easy smile.
Hermione grinned back, and some of the tension that had been gripping her body slipped away. “Yes, often, but we love him anyway.”
He surprised her when he folded her in his arms for a hug, but she leaned into him and wrapped her own loosely around his waist.
“How’ve you been?” he asked, stepping back and sweeping her with an assessing glance.
“Good.”
“And your boys? Where are they, anyway?”
Hermione bit her lip. “No offense meant, but… they really weren’t up to seeing all of you again.”
Seamus bounced on the balls of his feet. “Harmonizing pretty boys,” he sing-sung, sliding his hands into his pockets and craning his neck around the foyer doorway. “Where is everyone?”
Lance’s brows arched. “Probably at their own homes. You know, not here. Where I live. And not them.”
Seamus patted his arm. “I’m sure they wish they were here,” he said sympathetically, and Lance frowned at him.
“I’m not—”
“Of course not,” Seamus cut in, giving him a one-armed hug. “Not at all.”
The blond shook him off, sending him an icy glare.
Seamus backed away, hands up in supplication. “Bit touchy there?”
“Seamus,” Hermione growled a warning.
“You collect them, don’t you?” Lance asked, skipping his gaze back and forth between her and Seamus. “Lost boys.”
Hermione bristled a bit, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe you have any right to poke fun at me about that,” she pointed out. Really, his boys were ten times worse than hers. Although, admittedly, she’d really only known them as five-year-olds. From Lance’s reaction at the time, though, she gathered they weren’t much better behaved as adults.
“Hermione,” Seamus said, draping his arm over her shoulders, “is my incredibly level-headed partner in crime.”
“On that side of the law are you?” Lance drawled, clearly amused, his eyes twinkling.
Hermione shoved Seamus off of her and glared at them both. “Can we please just get on with this?”
“Well, you’re going to have to tell me what ‘this’ is, or I won’t be any help at all,” the blond said, an infinitely patient tone in his voice that Hermione really wondered how he managed to maintain.
She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seem him rankled. Which really wasn’t saying much, though, as she’d spent perhaps twelve hours total with the man. Trying hours, of course, but still. Hardly representative of his temperament.
He gave off that nonchalant air, though. Like Dumbledore, only more sarcastic.
“We’ve a slight problem, or… um…”
“A solution, actually,” Seamus provided, stepping across the hall into Lance’s living room and settling down into a seat, “to a rather large, pasty-white, living dead problem.”
Lance nodded his head slowly. “Uh huh. All right, I’ll bite. What’s this got to do with me?”
“Um… you might want to sit down for this…”
***
“It’s like. You know. Ghostbusters II.”
“Like what?”
“Ghostbusters II,” Justin repeated, waving his spoon and spattering the table with milk.
Seamus scooped a heap of Captain Crunch into his mouth and chewed slowly, eyes narrowed in thought. He nodded his head as he swallowed, then said, “Still not following you.”
Lance bounced his gaze between them, then leant back and threw an amused glance over to Hermione. She smiled in return.
The two of them were awfully cute, arguing over cereal with suspicious glowers. They were surprisingly alike, it seemed, and hadn’t yet decided whether they should live in each other’s pockets or not. The ‘not’ requiring sneers and, more than likely, catfights over the course of their stay.
Hermione wasn’t sure about Justin, of course, but Seamus never really had the energy to properly hate someone. He was even cheery to Malfoy, which drove the blond completely mad. Admittedly, though, that might have been Seamus’ goal to begin with.
Chris hopped up on the counter next to Joey. “'Death is but a door. Time is but a window. I'll be back.'”
Justin nodded. “Vigo.”
“Who?” Seamus cocked his head to the side.
“The Despised. The Unholy. The—”
“Butch,” JC interjected, grinning widely, maneuvering himself between Chris’ dangling legs.
Lance shook his head wryly. “Y’all have seen that movie too many times.”
“It’s not even a good movie,” Joey commented.
“But. Vigo!” Chris said, mock-horrified, hand to his heart. “The Portrait of Evil! The oozy River of Doom! Egon!”
JC patted Chris’ thigh sympathetically. “It’s all right. He didn’t mean it, did you Joe?”
Joey grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest.
“What was that?” Chris cupped a hand around his ear and leaned closer.
“I said, 'He is Vigo. You are like the buzzing of flies to him.'” His voice was deadpanned and his scowl was deep, but his eyes were twinkling.
“He’s gone to the dark side,” Lance whispered to Hermione.
She giggled, then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth because, really, she never giggled. Her face pinked and Lance smirked at her.
Chris slapped Joey’s back. “That’s the spirit.”
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Seamus pointed out, scraping the bottom of his cereal bowl. “Doubt Hermione does either.”
“All right. See? This evil ugly dude, Vigo the Carpathian, who was like half-alive or something in a painting, was trying to come back to earth, take over the world. And. There was this ooze, right? And it wasn’t really bad ooze—”
“Just misguided.”
Justin spread his hands over the tabletop, nodding. “Yeah. No one was setting a good example for this ooze, because, yo. New York City wasn’t full of the love back then. It fed off bad vibes, and this Vigo. He had these freaky eyes and shit, and could control the misguided ooze.”
“Misguided ooze,” Hermione echoed woodenly.
“Right. But the Ghostbusters knew that all the ooze needed was some sweet love and care.”
“And music,” JC added.
“And music,” Justin conceded. “So they sprayed it—”
“The ooze,” JC interrupted again, and Justin sent him a brief glare.
“Right, the ooze. They sprayed it all over Lady Liberty, amped up Jackie Wilson, got the whole city feelin’ groovy--”
“Groovy?” Chris snickered.
“—defeated the bad guy, saved the city, and got the girl,” Justin ended grandly, giving Seamus a smug smile.
Hermione wrinkled her brow, not entirely sure she’d followed him correctly. “So…” She drifted off, gazing helplessly at Seamus, who merely shrugged. “Um.”
“Do we get proton packs?”
***
Hermione’s hand touched Lance’s when she dug her fingers into the popcorn bowl. “Sorry,” she whispered.
The room was dark, but she could see the flash of his teeth as he smiled.
The seven of them were watching Ghostbusters II. Well, Lance and Hermione were watching it. And possibly Joey, although Hermione suspected he was asleep, slouched at the end of the couch.
Justin and Seamus were in the midst of some sort of fight over an overstuffed armchair, shoving each other with increasing violence and harsh whispers. She suspected JC and Chris were snogging in the shadows of the sofa, but she wasn’t exactly sure, given that Chris was prone to shouting out random lines of dialogue from time to time.
Still, it was obvious that she and Lance were the only ones paying total attention to what Hermione thought was a completely ridiculous movie.
“Wait!” Chris yelled suddenly, scrambling to his feet. “Wait, listen!” He grabbed for the remote and turned up the sound, then recited, “'On a mountain of skulls, in a castle of pain, I sat on a throne of blood. What was will be, what is will be no more. Now is the season of evil.'”
“That your guy?” Lance asked her.
“Um.” She nodded. It sounded sort of Voldemort-like. And they were trying to utilize the same kind of weapon, per se, to defeat him. She just wasn’t entirely sure it was going to work.
***
Seamus was eating a sandwich at the counter. Justin was beatboxing. And Joey and Chris were singing a catchy tune from the end of the movie.
“…found out about Vigo, the master of evil. Try to battle my boys? That's not legal.”
“Ooh-we-oh.”
“They’re in. control.”
“Ooh-we-oh.”
“Y-ya ya know it.” Justin did some sort of hip-spin-thrust move that seemed to stop Seamus in his tracks, mouth pausing mid-bite.
JC smiled and leant against the counter, chin in his hands. “It’s a fun song.”
“Well,” Hermione hedged. They were great for helping them out. Really. The best. But she thought perhaps Harry had it right. Age didn’t really make them any less… difficult to swallow.
“Okay,” Lance announced to the room, entering the kitchen with his mobile and a sheaf of papers. “We’re all booked. Flight’s at nine-forty tonight. The rest of the crew’ll be over sometime in the next few days. JC, you’re in charge of the set-list; something upbeat. Not necessarily our own work.” He glanced over at Hermione. “You realize we won’t have much time to practice. We’ll be sloppy at best.”
“I don’t think it matters,” she explained. “We just have to get enough people there who love you.”
Lance grinned at her.
“Um.” Why the hell did she blush and stammer so much around the man? When did she turn into Neville, and how had she not noticed?
JC danced over to Chris and Joey, all sunshine and humming. “What you won’t do, do for love…”
“Nope.” Lance shook his head. “No way, C. Not enough time to get the track down, or live instruments.”
“Fine.” JC’s pout was short lived. “Let’s do some Backstreet.”
Lance waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever we can get the music for.”
“Y-ya ya know it.”
Hermione thought she detected a hint of drool at the corner of Seamus’ lips.
***
“He’s a pretty thing, isn’t he?” Seamus commented softly, leaning over the armrest.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, Seamus. Justin is a pretty, pretty man.” He’d been making sly observations the whole flight, presumably watching Justin out of the corner of his eye. “Quit it or he’ll hear you.”
“He already knows you’re talking about him,” Lance said absently, turning a page in his magazine without looking up. “He’s got a sixth sense for those things.”
Hermione pursed her lips, then leant forward around Seamus and shot a glance across the aisle at Justin. The man winked at her. She couldn’t help but smile back.
Chuckling, she relaxed into her seat and murmured in Lance’s ear, “I think Seamus has a crush.”
Lance mumbled something that sounded like “makes two of us,” but when Hermione pressed, he gave her a small smile. “I said it’s better than them killing each other.”
Her brows arched. “Really?”
“What?” He widened his pale green eyes. “You don’t think it’s better?”
Hermione frowned at him. “Well…”
“Exactly,” he said, then turned back to his magazine.
On her other side, Seamus nudged her arm. “That bloke can talk circles around you, love,” he whispered. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“I know,” Hermione grumbled. “I’m channeling Neville.”
Seamus nodded solemnly. “Happens to the best of us.”
***
“So, do you really think this’ll work?” Seamus asked Hermione, propping his feet up on the chair in front of him, intently watching the stage where they boys were practicing. They were just outside Hogsmeade, in a Muggle enough area that would accommodate their regular fans, but still magic-friendly for the droves of Wizards and Witches who would hopefully show up to support the cause.
It was just the two of them, since Harry had been studiously avoiding Justin for days, ever since the man first uttered ‘Harry! Listen, yo!’ when they arrived.
It’d been a joke, of course, and Justin couldn’t seem to understand why the brunette hadn’t laughed. Or stuck around longer than the five minutes it took to thank them for coming.
Ron was backstage harassing the crew, still convinced that Dumbledore would rat him out to the authorities if everything didn’t go according to plan. Dumbledore himself had been scarce, creating spells, apparently, that would channel the good vibes from the venue to whatever hole Voldemort had currently dug himself into. It wasn’t ever very hard to find the dark wizard, as he almost always went overboard with the black flags and dead flowers strewn across the grounds, not to mention the large number of hooded sentries.
“I’ve no idea, Seamus,” Hermione answered finally, eyes following Lance. They were all very pretty men, weren’t they? It was somewhat disturbing.
“Either way,” Seamus went on, “it’ll be a good show. Music’s catchy, and. Well. I saw their outfits.” He sent her a brief, half-smile half-leer before turning back to the stage. “Sparkly.”
Hermione snorted a laugh.
***
“Heh. That went well.”
“Yup. Pretty solid performance.”
“Better than I’d hoped.”
“Felt good.”
“Is Harry still hiding?”
Hermione sighed and patted Justin’s arm, slick with sweat and slightly glittery. “Actually, he’s off defeating evil. If this even worked.”
“Aren’t you worried about him?” JC asked, holding onto the ends of the towel around his neck and rocking back on his heels.
“A little,” she admitted. “But—“
“Harry’s been fighting Old Pasty-arse for years and years,” Seamus finished for her, hopping up the stairs. “If he doesn’t kill the fuck it’ll just be a stand-off, same as always.”
“Some kind of life he’s got there,” Joey commented.
“Eh.” Seamus shrugged. “I imagine it’s routine now. Automatic. Meet, grapple, dodge, watch forlornly as Voldie flees like a little girl.” Sliding over to Justin, he grinned up at him and purred, “Nice moves.”
Justin shimmied a bit and smirked.
JC hooked his chin over Chris’ shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist. “So now what? We just wait?”
Hermione nodded, but before she could open her mouth to say more, a loud crack sounded and Harry and Ron dropped onto the floor in front of them.
“Damn,” Ron breathed, bent over and huffing.
Harry had blood smeared across his face and his robes were torn and dirty, but his mouth was stretched in a wide smile. “Had a bit of a scuffle with the Death Eaters, but the bastard was weak as a baby.”
“You had a bit of a scuffle? Pucey nearly tore out my lungs!”
Harry clapped him on the back. “Thanks for keeping him occupied.”
Ron staggered a step, then straightened and flung an arm across Harry’s shoulders. “No problem, mate. What I’m here for.”
“Awwww,” Chris cooed, clasping his hands together and fluttering his eyelashes up at them.
“Piss off,” Ron growled, but it was half-hearted and a grin pulled at the corner of his lips. Hermione suspected he was too exhausted to get properly angry.
Justin nodded. “So it worked. We helped.”
“You helped,” Harry agreed, managing to not look completely terrified of the man, although he did maneuver himself subtly behind Ron.
“Thank you for everything,” Hermione said, looking up at Lance. “I really honestly didn’t think it was going to work, and, well. Um.” There was Neville again, creeping up under her skin. She had the most uncomfortable feeling that Lance was undressing her with those intense, odd eyes.
He smoothed a hand over the flat of his stomach, lips slightly quirked up. “It was for a good cause.”
“Yes,” she said faintly. Was it a little too hot in there? “Very good.”
Joey reached over and squeezed her into a one-armed hug, snuggling her against his side. “It was fun. Unorthodox, but fun.”
“We should do this every year,” Seamus said. “You know. Without the whole Ghostbusters II parallel.”
“Who ya gonna call?” Chris crowed, and Seamus gave him a blank look. “Dude, we watched the movie. Did you even pay attention?”
JC nuzzled along his hairline, face crinkled up in a smile. “Come on; let’s go back to the hotel. You can be Venkman, and I’ll be Dana.”
“Hate to tell you this, C, but there’s no way you’re Dana. Ray, maybe.” He cocked his head at Joey. “You’re Winston all over, man.”
“I suppose I’m Egon, then?” Lance drawled, clearly amused.
Chris shook his head. “You’re Dana, Lance. So Dana.”
Ron glanced over at Hermione, wand raised. “Are you sure I can’t…?”
“No, Ron.”
“Not even a teensy, little,” he held his hand up, thumb and forefinger curled close together, “itty, bitty Memory Charm?”
She gave him a stern glare, and he mouthed ‘sorry’ and hung his head.
“You know,” Lance mused from beside her, “you should think about having a girl next. Help balance things out.”
Ginny’s latest debacle with Malfoy instantly came to mind. “I already do. She isn’t any easier.”
“Well, there goes my plan to ask about magicking J into a girl.”
“Tried that, too,” Hermione said absently, eyeing Seamus as he flirted shamelessly with Justin. He’d been a complete nightmare that year.
Lance chuckled dryly. “So you’re saying we’re stuck.”
“Erm.” She slanted him a look, tamping viciously down on her inner Neville. “We could always, um… combine forces, so to speak.”
He slid a hand down her arm, circling her wrist lightly before smoothing their palms together. “Might be wise. For the greater good and all.”
“Yes,” she said. And she thought she’d done lots of things over the years for the greater good, so one more wouldn’t hurt.
THE END.
[ Still in the mood for HP/Popslash crack? Try A Family Affair, and then frolick in the campy world of
dont_feed - Don't Feed the Squirrels ]*evil cackle*
