A/N: I have, in a fit of hyper-caffinated idiocy, given parchment and quill to everyone appearing in 'Downfall' and promised to transcribe their meetings and notes.

I figure, hey, if anyone is going to parody my fanfiction, it should be me. Right? Also, I am making fun of my own fanfiction here, so please don't feel that it's directed at anyone else's work. I know people put a lot of time and thought into their writing, and I am not trying to belittle that.

Note: Quotes from 'Downfall' are in bold-faced type.

Disclaimer: For the sake of not being sued for money I don't have, the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J.K. Rowling and her various publishers.

Chapter One


Ginny looked around. "What the hell am I doing in the Room of Requirement? How did I get here?"

She wandered over to the door, only to find that it was locked. Curious, she scanned the room and saw only a long table surrounded by many chairs, and a stack of papers lying neatly in the centre of the table.

She walked over to the table and picked up the top page. "What the hell...?" she mumbled, as she perused the first few sentences. "Someone wrote a story about me?"

Ginny tapped her foot impatiently, wondering how much longer this was going to take.

Merlin, I wish I was never made Prefect. I could be doing my Charms essay, or having a nice bath, or best of all, sleeping...

"I'm a Prefect? Wicked! That means Mum and Dad will buy me something! I like this story!" She pulled out a chair and sat down, continuing to read.

... She tucked her hair behind her ear for what seemed the thousandth time, wishing she had brought a hair tie down with her. She glanced suspiciously over at her ex-boyfriend...


"What is going on?!" she screeched. "Michael? How did you get in here?"

He scratched his head, looking very, very confused. "Dunno," he replied. "What're you reading?"

"A story someone left here. One minute I was in the Great Hall, eating breakfast, the next I'm locked in here."

"Oh. So we're locked in here. Alone?"

"Yes. And don't go getting any ideas, either."

"Wouldn't dream of it. So what's it about?" he asked, gesturing at the paper in her hand.

"Not sure. I've only read the first few lines. Want to read it too?"

"Sure. Nothing better to do, is there?" He pulled out a chair next to her and sat down, reading over her shoulder.

... the other Prefect overseeing this joyous little party with her. Ever since Cho Chang had finished her 7th year, Michael Corner had been staring at Ginny and volunteering to partner her on nightly rounds...

"Hey!" he cried. "I don't like you like that anymore! And what's this business about Cho? I never thought about her like that!"

Ginny snorted. "Sure, Michael. That's why you were such a prat about that Quidditch match, right?"

"I wasn't... I mean, I didn't..." he huffed defensively. "Oh, forget it. There's still no telling you anything, is there?"

Ginny shot him a nasty look. "Let's just read this until someone comes along and lets us out, alright?"

"Fine," he crossed his arms and nodded.


... Apparently, the 4th year Potions class of Slytherins and Gryffindors had sniped at each other a little too much before sitting an exam, and Snape had assigned the lot of them to detention that night, even the Slytherins...

"It's 'bout time," Ginny grumbled. "Lets his House get away with bloody murder, he does."

... Low murmurs, the bubbling of cauldrons and the scratching of Snape's quill were the only sounds in the oppressive room for several minutes, lulling Ginny into a daze...

"Lulling me into a daze, indeed. Blah blah. Pointless drabble."

... A noise to her left startled her. The door swung inward with a groan as...


Draco Malfoy landed in a very ungraceful heap next to the door.

"Aargh!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet and drawing his wand. Pointing it at the two students at the table, he demanded, "What the hell is going on, Weasley?! What sort of sick curse is this?!"

She made a face at him. "Dunno, Malfoy, but I didn't do it. I swear. Same thing happened to the two of us. Door's locked, by the way. There's a story someone wrote about us here, so we're just killing time reading until someone gets us out of here."

He walked closer and glanced at the story Ginny held. "What's it about?" he asked, curious.

"Us, genius."

"Oh. Lemme see it." Ginny handed him the page, pointing to where they had left off. "We're right here."

... Draco Malfoy strode in, Head Boy badge gleaming on his robes...

"Head Boy! Ha!" he yelled happily. He began to dance around, sing-songing in a falsetto voice. "I'm the Head Boy, I'm the Head Boy, I'm the-"

"SHUT IT!" Ginny and Michael yelled together.

"No need to be snippy about it," he whined. He perked up and tapped the paper. "Great story so far. Let's see the next page."

... He paused as he surveyed the room, and seeing her glare, raised an eyebrow. With a jaunty little salute that only furthered her ire, he wove his way to the front of the room, pausing to converse with a Slytherin here and there...

"Jaunty little salute?" Ginny chortled. "You? Ha! Whoever wrote this is insane!"

"Hey!" a voice boomed.

The three looked around. Simultaneously, they cried, "Who said that?!"

"I did," the author chuckled, amused.

"And you are..." Michael asked, bending over to look under his chair.

"I am the author, you half-wit."

"Well, where are you?" Draco chimed in, turning in a circle and trying to look behind him.

"I'm sitting at a computer, writing this."

The three teenagers looked at one another. "A what?" they chorused, obviously confused.

"A comp- oh, nevermind. You can't see me anyway, so don't worry your pretty little heads about it."

"Erm, yeah. Okay." They looked at one another. Strange things happened at Hogwarts all of the time, but this took things to a whole new level.

"Do you have any questions for me?"

"Who brought us here?" Michael asked, stealing a look under the table.

"I did. And I told you, I'm not in the blasted room. You can't see me."

He flushed. "Oh. Well, why are we here?"

"I've decided, rather charitably, to let you lot have a go at the story I wrote."

"YOU wrote this?" Draco drawled increduously.

"Yep. Do you have a problem with that, Draco? The story's not finished yet, you know. I could always write in a chapter about you dressing up in Pansy's frilly robes from that Yule Ball."

"Er, no. I love it actually. Yes, fantastic story, especially the Head Boy bit."

"Stop being such a little sycophant," the author said nastily.

"A what? That didn't sound like a compliment."

"It wasn't. Arse-kisser is a good approximation."

"What?! Why, you-" he sputtered.

"Uh uh," the author chided. "Be nice. Remember, I have frilliness waiting for you." Draco fumed, but kept his mouth shut. For once.

"Eh, author?" Ginny asked timidly. "You mentioned a story?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Ginny. I wrote a fanfic involving you and pretty much everyone at this school. That's what you're reading, and why you are here. As you read, when a person enters in my story, they will appear in this room. When their character exits a scene, they will disappear here, as well."

"I see," Ginny mused. "That makes sense, sort of. But what's a fanfic? And what's this one about?"

"A fanfic is like this. I am a fan of your world and everyone in it. Therefore, I have decided to write a fictional story about it. This story is about you and Draco the Genius here, and how you fell in love."

"How we WHAT?" both Draco and Ginny choked.

"But, but... that's just sick!" Ginny wailed.

"I think I'm going to be ill," Draco moaned, clutching his stomach. "What on earth gave you the idea that we should fall in love?"

"Oh, I think you two are perfect for one another," the author gushed. "Besides, there are thousands of other stories dedicated to your relationship."

They looked at one another, horrified.

"There are?" Ginny gulped.

"Oh, yes. There are entire groups who send notes to one another about you two. Don't worry, there's lots and lots of other people you're paired with," the author consoled. "Ginny, the most popular choices for you are Neville, Harry, Draco and Lucius. Or sometimes mmph mmph mmph..."

"What was that last part?" Draco asked, smirking, ignoring the retching noises Ginny made as she dry-heaved.

"Er... I said: 'Or sometimes a combination thereof."

Delightedly he crowed, "Does that mean what I think it does?"

Disgusted, the author made a note to treat Draco terribly for another few chapters of her story. "In some stories, yes. Pervert."

"Hey!" he protested.

"Well, you are. Ginny, love, stop crying. Do you want me to tell you the most popular choices for our darling Draco here? Would that make you feel better?" the author wheedled.

Ginny sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I want my mum. That's just sick."

"Stop being such an infant, Weasley," Draco taunted.

"Play nice, Draco, you may be sharing a therapist's couch with her someday, you know. Your true love is usually one of three people. Ginny here, Hermione Granger-"

"That Mudblood! Who the hell is spreading these vicious lies? I'll kill them! I'll-"

"Ahem. I wasn't done, frilly pink Draco."

He swallowed meekly.

"Better. The last 'true love' of yours is usually Harry himself."


Ginny and Michael look bemusedly at Draco's prone form.

"Wow, I feel kind of bad for him," Michael muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Ginny.

"Michael?" the author said.


"I know I've neglected you, but you are really only a peripheral character."

He smiled happily. "Oh, don't worry. If being a main character is like that, I'm glad I'm not one."

"Good. Didn't want to hurt your feelings or anything. D'ya mind waking up the Spineless Wonder there, please?"

"Sure, no problem."

With a quick charm, Draco was woozily perched on a chair next to Ginny, mumbling to himself. "Potter? What sick, twisted person would do that to me? Why? I'm not... it's... I mean, DAMMIT! Potter?!"

"And sometimes Ron. I forgot that one. Want me to tell you the REALLY bad ones?"

Draco drew his knees up to his chest and began to rock back and forth.

"No? Okay, enough torture for now. Read the story. I'll be watching, but I'll try not to say anything unless someone asks for me. Deal?"


They leant forward and began to read again.

... "Mr Malfoy, I hope you have a reason to be disrupting this detention?" Snape demanded...


"You have GOT to be kidding me," Ginny groaned.

Snape glared at the students. "What the-"

Draco, still slightly green, cut him off. Dully, he said, "Apparently there's someone who wrote a story about us and everyone in the story gets sent here as they appear in it, but leave when their scene is over, and we can't leave until we read the story, and..." he stopped abruptly and looked up at the ceiling. "Did I miss anything?"

"No, you're doing brilliantly. Go on."

"I see. This is one of those fanfic thingies, isn't it?" Snape sighed wearily, plopping into a chair across from them.

Astonished, Michael asked, "You mean you know about them?"

"Oh, yes. This is the third or fourth time this has happened to me. Author, can you hear me?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?"

"I'm not a pedophile in this one, trying to shag any of the students, am I?"

The author snorted. "Of course not. No one below the age of consent, anyway. I'm kidding. Put that wand away, it won't do you any good."

Warily, he continued. "And it's not slash?"

"What's slash?" Ginny asked.

"Like Draco and Harry together romantically, dear," the author said kindly. "No, not slash," the author paused thoughfully. "Well, there's one tiny moment, but it doesn't involve you."

Snape sighed gratefully. "Thank you."

Draco hid his head in his hands and whimpered. "Please tell me it's not me. Please?"

"No, Draco, it's not you, either. Now, back to reading."

... "Yes, sir. There is a House matter that requires your guidance. May I have a moment?"

A movement at the corner of her eye caught Ginny's attention. Dennis Creevey was turned toward her with his hand raised. The little dark-haired girl at the table behind him, who, if Ginny was not mistaken, was Ivy, Pansy Parkinson's little sister, said something to cause his face to darken with anger....

(Pop! Pop!)

Dennis Creevey and Ivy Parkinson looked at the table of people.

"Don't ask. Just come here and read this, alright?" Snape sighed.

"Er, sure, Professor. Whatever you say."

.... "WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?!" Snape bellowed.

As the mist lessened, she could see Snape standing next to his desk, which unfortunately now only had three legs and a large hole where the fourth corner should have been. His face suffused with unnatural colour, he howled, "MY CLASSROOM IS UTTERLY DESTROYED! WHO? I WANT TO KNOW WHO DID THIS, RIGHT NOW DAMMIT! I WILL HAVE YOU EXPELLED FOR THIS, I SWEAR IT!"...

"Why is it always the Potions classroom? And why am I always a raving lunatic?" Snape complained aloud to the room.

"Wow! Ivy blew up the classroom! That is so wicked!" Dennis enthused. He turned and slapped her on the back. "What's with the insults, though?"

Ivy shrugged. "Don't look at me. You're a Gryffindor. I'm supposed to hate you, right?"

Ginny speared them with a dark look. "Stuff it. Keep reading. The faster we finish it, the faster we're out of this mess."

... Ginny continued around the room as Michael muttered the incantation to dissipate the remaining mist. Miraculously, no one looked to be seriously injured. A few scrapes and bruises seemed to be the extent of it, and most of those were owned by Ivy Parkinson, who was bawling her eyes out. Ginny thought she had found the culprit. She was making her way to the front of the room to try to calm the apoplectic-looking Snape down when she tripped over a foot.

"Oh, Merlin! Professor, it's Malfoy, sir!"

He lay on his side, surrounded by an half-dozen shattered jars, with a pool of blood oozing steadily around his shoulder. A large shard of glass was sticking obscenely out of his upper chest. Ginny was shrugging out of her robes as Snape reached them...

"Why me?" Draco wailed. "I don't want to get hurt! It'll leave a scar like that awful..." he stopped and blanched. "Gah! I can't even say his name!" He began to bang his forehead against the table. "Sick, sick, sick!"

Snape looked at Michael and Ginny quizzically. Snickering, Ginny told him, "The author told him that he and Harry are one of the favourite pairings in fanfic."

"Ah. Don't worry, Draco. I've been paired with much worse, believe me. Just keep reminding yourself that it's not real."

Michael picked up the pile of papers and began to read aloud.

... "WHOEVER CAUSED THIS IS DEAD!" he roared. "Corner! Go fetch Madam Pomfrey. Tell her it's an emergency, and to hurry. The rest of you, go directly to the Headmaster's Office and wait for a staff member to admit you. Do not leave until I arrive. I will have the wand of the person or persons responsible. Now get out!"...


He disappeared, the papers fluttering back to the table.

"Oh well. Weasley, pick up where he left off."

... Ginny sank to her knees next to Malfoy's head, her discarded robes in a pile next to her. She knew he was still alive, as his chest was rising and falling, but she feared the situation could change any minute; there was so much blood, and it was spreading rapidly...

"Eew! That's rather graphic." Ivy shuddered.

... A loud groan, and then, "I'm bleeding, Weasley, not deaf."

"Are you alright, Mr Malfoy?" queried Snape.

She noted that Snape actually appeared concerned. Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose. It wouldn't do to have the first Slytherin Head Boy in, what, fifty-three years, die from wounds received in his Head of House's classroom. Looks bad on the references...

"Ah, how Gryffindor of you. Mock your Potions professor. Not very original, mind you."

Ginny shot Snape a dark look before continuing.

... Malfoy, in his customary dry drawl replied, "Oh yes, think I'll have myself a stroll round the lake now. No, it bloody hurts!"

Ginny carefully grasped his upper body with one hand, and whilst cradling his head with the other, rolled him onto his back. She held him up and wriggled herself, cross-legged, beneath his neck, supporting his head in her lap.

"Does that help a bit? Are you more comfortable?" Ginny handed her robes to Snape. "Here, Professor. We can use these to stem the bleeding."...

She stopped short. "What? I wouldn't help him! He tried to help that nasty Umbridge destroy Hogwarts!"

"But you don't hate me. And I am dying in there, after all. It's the proper thing to do. Hell, I think I'd help if you were the one hurt. Maybe."

Ginny laughed. "Yeah, sure."

... Madam Pomfrey bustled in, skirts swirling around her. "Professor, what on earth happened? Mr Corner was gibbering about an explosion and Mr Malfoy... Oh my!"...


Snape waved her over. "Fanfiction again, Poppy. Have a seat."

Ginny cleared her throat and picked the story back up.

... Ginny leant back, and began to smooth the hair off Malfoy's forehead absently. She made soft, soothing noises in the back of her throat like her mum used to when Ginny was small, stroking his hair and temple as Madam Pomfrey prodded at the glass with her wand...

"Hey! Mum actually did do that! No way, that's eerie." She looked up suspiciously. "How did you know that, author?"

"All mothers do it."

Ivy raised her hand. "Mine doesn't do that."

"Shut up. You are a bit part. Be a good little role player and be quiet."

Ivy looked around, her lower lip quivering. "That was mean!"

The author sighed something that sounded like 'teenagers'. "Sorry. Ginny?"

... Malfoy grunted in pain as Madam Pomfrey sat back and began rolling her sleeves up and over her elbows...

"Wait, wait. Sorry to interrupt, but we have a glitch in the system here. Ivy? Dennis?"

"Yes?" they sang out. After all, this was kind of fun for them.

"You were supposed to leave when Snape kicked the class out. Say goodbye."

"Do we have to?" Dennis whined.


(Pop! Pop!)

"Sorry. Please continue."

... "That has to come out now. I can't put him on a stretcher with it imbedded like that; if he's jostled it may pierce his lung. Professor Snape, Miss Weasley, I'm going to need your help to hold him still for this. Professor, please keep his abdomen as steady as possible. Miss Weasley, take his shoulders."

Malfoy, who was very pale now and trembling lightly, laughed, "Careful down there, Professor. The ladies will never forgive you if there's any collateral damage."...

"True, true," Draco laughed. "Good one."

"You know, I'm beginning to think you're a virgin, Draco," the author laughed maliciously. "No social skills to speak of, and, well, you're rather short and skinny for a seventeen year old. By the way, I've always wanted to ask you this. Are you anaemic?"

"No, I have a beautiful complexion unmarred by the sun... Hey, I'm no virgin!" he looked around nervously. "I'm not, you know. Really. I've-"

"Who cares anyway? Being a virgin is good. You can save yourself for your true love," Dennis squeaked.

Draco blanched at the words 'true love' and quickly covered his mouth, running for a dark corner.

Oblivious, Dennis continued. "And why do Colin and I always have to scurry and squeak, I'd like to know?"

"Because J.K. Rowling said so. And as far as you lot are concerned, she's Merlin, the Founders and God all rolled into one."

A brief silence fell as they processed this information. "Oh."

The author thought hard. Something was off. I've got it! "Dammit! How did you get back here, Dennis?"

He looked around. "I dunno. I-"


"How did that happen, I wonder? Oh well. Go sit down, Draco. Fun, non-homosexual things are about to happen to you."

He looked up hopefully and shuffled back to his chair. "You mean it? Really? Weasley, get a move on!"

Ginny huffed, highly irritated. "I quit. I keep getting interrupted. If you want to hear it," she thrust the sheaf of papers at him, "here. You read it."

... Ginny looked at Madam Pomfrey and rolled her eyes as she sweetly countered, "Oh dear, he's growing delusional. Must be from losing so much blood. Hurry, Madam Pomfrey, hurry!"...

"Hey, that's not fun! You promised-"

"Keep reading, pillock."

... Malfoy, indignant, rolled his head back to give her the dressing-down she so richly deserved. And, quite inelegantly, began to splutter.

"Bloody hell, Weasley! Who knew you were hiding those under your robes! No wonder your freak of a brother acts like a rampaging manticore when anyone with a Y-chromosome looks in your general direction." Pausing thoughtfully for a moment, he continued. "They HAVE to be real; your family is too poor to feed themselves, let alone pay for-"

"One more word, Malfoy, and I will personally see that piece of glass into your lung."

Dryly, Snape commented, "I think it would serve the Head Boy well to recall the decorum expected of his position."

Malfoy, with a wicked look of pleasure, replied, "Funny you should mention position, sir. Personally, I find my current one-"

"Mr Malfoy!" Madam Pomfrey screeched, horrified. "I never! Cease your prattle this instant!"...

He looked Ginny up and down doubtfully. "I'm admiring Weasley's tits? Seriously? Well, I guess they're nice." He snorted. "But she's kind of... well, fat."

"Fat!" Ginny screeched. "Why you skinny little-"

The author cut her off before she reached full rant-mode. "Er, Draco? It's February, and about four degrees outside. She has on at least two jumpers. Care to reassess now?"

"Oh." He shrugged sheepishly at Ginny, ignoring the growling noises she was making. "Sorry."

"Fat," she pouted. "Hmph. Git!"

"Play nice, Ginny, or I'll start using given names. D'ya want that?"

"No," she replied reluctantly.

"Besides, you two will be snogging in a few chapters. May as well try to get along."

"We'll be what?!"

Shaking her head, the author asked condescendingly, "Romance, remember?"

Snape and Pomfrey laughed at the identical looks of horror on their faces.

Draco scanned the page in front of him, eager to move on. The author was mean. She kind of reminded him of his mum. "Blah blah blah. Who cares? Get to the good stuff. Ha, here we go. Listen to this!"

... Ginny, thoroughly embarrassed and brilliantly red from neck to hairline, leant down, placed her elbows directly on the front of Malfoy's shoulders and grasped each arm firmly at the elbow. She looked to Madam Pomfrey to see if this was sufficient, when-

"Mmph mmphh bwaff!!"

She released him and sat up quickly. "What?"

Malfoy, grinning widely and looking completed unhinged, shouted, "I say! Capital idea, Madam Pomfrey. Brilliant way to go, really, suffocated between two luscious breasts. Professor Snape, see that my tombstone is inscribed with that." He began to snicker, interspersed with gasps of pain from laughing...

Snape snickered, shooting a look at Madam Pomfrey. "Not bad, Poppy. Kind of amusing, actually. At least the grammar and punctuation seem to be in order."

She trilled a happy little laugh. "Oh, you only like it because we're only in supporting roles. And..." she trailed off as Ginny had a mini-breakdown.

Ginny, thoroughly embarrassed and brilliantly red from neck to hairline, clambered on the table and began to shout and shake her fists at the ceiling. "How could you! How, damn you! That's... that's... well, that's wrong!"

Draco smirked up at her. "Ha ha! I thought it was very well done. But what's with the 'capital idea' business? What is this, the 19th century?"

"Shut it, Draco, or you've a nice, cosy little scene with Harry coming."

He twitched. "Sorry."

"Thought so. Get her off the table and get back to the story. You're almost done with Chapter One. Since I'm very happy with how this is going, I'll even give you a little break before the next chapter."



"Okay, it's a deal. Weasley." He waited, but she continued to shout threats. "Weasley? Dammit, woman, c'mere." He snagged an ankle and pulled her down into her seat next to him and began to read again.

... "- hallway to your left, three intersections down, left again. You'll see a statue of Salazar Slytherin. The passcode is... Draco?"...

"Wait, I get my own room? Yes! That is- Sorry. Sorry! I'm reading."

... "Cheers for ditching the robes, Weasley. It was definitely my pleasure," he called back.

Madam Pomfrey sqeaked indignantly and began to loudly and vigorously berate him for his "incorrigible behaviour and utterly unacceptable comments... proper, good young witches... foul-mouthed boys... never married... better breeding than that... mother appalled..."

Snape sniggered as he moved towards the door himself. "Woman is a veritable harpy when her 'sensibilities' have been offended. Off with you then." Ginny stared at him. He was being almost civil.

Must have gotten coshed by a jar in the explosion.

He stopped and looked round at his shambles of a classroom. "Bloody little menaces, the lot of them," he muttered. "I ought to quit before one of the incompetent little bastards manages to kill me. Weasley! Move it! Out!" He sighed, his shoulders slumped wearily. "I'll deal with this mess later."...

Madam Pomfrey gasped and wheezed. "Ha! Of course, I would yell if you said something like that in front of me. But a harpy? With sensibilities? Nonsense, Severus, all nonsense. And what were you thinking, being civil in front of one of your Gryffindor students?"

"Well," he began, "it's not like I had a choice. Miss Author here, -I presume it is Miss?"

"Yes. Guilty as charged."

"Miss Author here apparently gave me a heart. Thank you. I'm usually either Evil personified or a simpering little ponce. Normality is a nice change of pace. And you have a point about the students. I should quit. Maybe I can write fanfiction for money."

"Erm, there's no profit. The story doesn't belong to us. Sorry."

He sighed. "Well, are Poppy and I in the next scene?"

"Very good deduction. You're right on top of things," the author laughed. "You're a bright one, Sevvie."

He cringed. "Gods, I hate that. If you find out who created that petname, let me know so I can hex them, alright?"

"Sure thing. Say goodbye, you three."

Snape and Madam Pomfrey looked at one another. Giggling, the nurse waved at a still simmering Ginny.

Draco patted Ginny's leg comfortingly. "Look at the bright side, Weasley. You have some time to yourself with the author to straighten things out. And we get a break!"

When she swatted at him, he pulled back. "Fine, be nasty. See you around."

(Pop! Pop! Pop!)
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