A Day Late, The Chat Up: Old Joke Challenge
Title: Chat Up
Challenge: Old Joke
Team: Death Eaters
Length: 5 X 100
Rating: R
A/N: I ran out of time before the challenge was officially over, but I just had to get in my favourite bad joke. Come to think on it, it's the only joke I actually know by heart... Also, a nod to Victoria Wood's classic series, Dinnerladies.
Hermione was sitting in the Three Broomsticks with Lavender Brown, moodily watching wizard after wizard come in, find a companion to spend the evening with, then leave the pub. Her thoughts were on Professor Snape. She had been trying for six months to get up the courage to ask him out for a drink, but somehow each time she looked into those dark, unreadable eyes, her Gryffindor bravery tucked tail and slunk out of the room, and she with it.
She had been bemoaning her fate when Lavender said, “Oh, I’ve got a foolproof method of pulling. Watch this, love.”
She waited until an unknown wizard approached the bar, and ordered. As he waited, Lavender leaned over to him, and whispered conspiratorially, “Tickle your arse with a feather?”
The wizard spun toward her, a look of startled anger on his face. “What did you say to me?”
Lavender batted her large blue eyes and said, “I said, ‘particularly nasty weather’. Isn’t it?” She turned toward the door, nodding at the deluge bucketing down outside.
Mollified, the wizard sniffed. “I see.” Shortly after, he paid for his drink, then joined another group of men in the corner.
Lavender turned to Hermione.
“See how easy it is?”
“Do it again!”
Just then, a devastatingly handsome wizard leaned on the bar. “Firewhisky, please,” he said.
Lavender turned to Hermione. “That’s Tom! He’s the one I’m dying to have a thing with. Isn’t he just knicker-wettingly, groin-grindingly fab?”
Hermione laughed. “Go on, then. Give him your chat up line.”
Lavender took a bracing, encouraging breath. “Here goes, then.”
She scooted her bar stool a little closer, then leaned toward Tom. “Tickle your arse with a feather?”
Tom looked at her askance, then gave Lav a thousand-watt smile. “Hey, that sounds like a fun evening.”
Hermione shook her head in amazement as Lavender sauntered away on Tom’s arm. And wouldn’t you know it, just as they were leaving, Professor Snape rushed into the Broomsticks, brushing raindrops from his shoulders. He spied her, and nodded solemnly. Then, to Hermione’s excitement and consternation, he headed straight toward her.
“Professor Granger,” he said, in greeting.
“Professor Snape,” she replied, and composed herself. Her heart was pounding with nervous excitement. She was going to do it! She was going to use Lavender’s chat up line. And if he wasn’t amenable, well then, she'd make him think he’d misheard her.
Tickle your arse with a feather….tickle….arse… tick….feather….arse….tickle…feather…
“Professor Granger, are you quite sure you’re alright?” Severus asked, eyeing her warily.
It was at that precise moment that Hermione realised she’d been rehearsing her chat up line under her breath. Her vision grew blurry; she was close to hyperventilating with nerves.
Tickle your arse with a feather. She looked up into his stern face. Tickle your arse with a feather. Tickle your─
“Professor, what on earth is wrong with you?”
“Stick a feather up your arse?”
Snape spewed firewhisky in all directions. “WHAT?”
Mortified, Hermione bellowed, “LOOK AT THE FUCKING RAIN!!”
Challenge: Old Joke
Team: Death Eaters
Length: 5 X 100
Rating: R
A/N: I ran out of time before the challenge was officially over, but I just had to get in my favourite bad joke. Come to think on it, it's the only joke I actually know by heart... Also, a nod to Victoria Wood's classic series, Dinnerladies.
Hermione was sitting in the Three Broomsticks with Lavender Brown, moodily watching wizard after wizard come in, find a companion to spend the evening with, then leave the pub. Her thoughts were on Professor Snape. She had been trying for six months to get up the courage to ask him out for a drink, but somehow each time she looked into those dark, unreadable eyes, her Gryffindor bravery tucked tail and slunk out of the room, and she with it.
She had been bemoaning her fate when Lavender said, “Oh, I’ve got a foolproof method of pulling. Watch this, love.”
She waited until an unknown wizard approached the bar, and ordered. As he waited, Lavender leaned over to him, and whispered conspiratorially, “Tickle your arse with a feather?”
The wizard spun toward her, a look of startled anger on his face. “What did you say to me?”
Lavender batted her large blue eyes and said, “I said, ‘particularly nasty weather’. Isn’t it?” She turned toward the door, nodding at the deluge bucketing down outside.
Mollified, the wizard sniffed. “I see.” Shortly after, he paid for his drink, then joined another group of men in the corner.
Lavender turned to Hermione.
“See how easy it is?”
“Do it again!”
Just then, a devastatingly handsome wizard leaned on the bar. “Firewhisky, please,” he said.
Lavender turned to Hermione. “That’s Tom! He’s the one I’m dying to have a thing with. Isn’t he just knicker-wettingly, groin-grindingly fab?”
Hermione laughed. “Go on, then. Give him your chat up line.”
Lavender took a bracing, encouraging breath. “Here goes, then.”
She scooted her bar stool a little closer, then leaned toward Tom. “Tickle your arse with a feather?”
Tom looked at her askance, then gave Lav a thousand-watt smile. “Hey, that sounds like a fun evening.”
Hermione shook her head in amazement as Lavender sauntered away on Tom’s arm. And wouldn’t you know it, just as they were leaving, Professor Snape rushed into the Broomsticks, brushing raindrops from his shoulders. He spied her, and nodded solemnly. Then, to Hermione’s excitement and consternation, he headed straight toward her.
“Professor Granger,” he said, in greeting.
“Professor Snape,” she replied, and composed herself. Her heart was pounding with nervous excitement. She was going to do it! She was going to use Lavender’s chat up line. And if he wasn’t amenable, well then, she'd make him think he’d misheard her.
Tickle your arse with a feather….tickle….arse… tick….feather….arse….tickle…feather…
“Professor Granger, are you quite sure you’re alright?” Severus asked, eyeing her warily.
It was at that precise moment that Hermione realised she’d been rehearsing her chat up line under her breath. Her vision grew blurry; she was close to hyperventilating with nerves.
Tickle your arse with a feather. She looked up into his stern face. Tickle your arse with a feather. Tickle your─
“Professor, what on earth is wrong with you?”
“Stick a feather up your arse?”
Snape spewed firewhisky in all directions. “WHAT?”
Mortified, Hermione bellowed, “LOOK AT THE FUCKING RAIN!!”