Chapter Text
Harry Potter, the Boy (well, I suppose he is a man now) Who Lived, was bumbling happily along down Diagon Alley with his friends, Ron and Hermione. Having defeated Voldymoldy last year, the trio went back to school to redo their final year.
Only Hermione was actually studying, though.
"I need new quills and inks," Hermione mused, tapping a finger against her chin. "Oh, and maybe some parchment and books."
"Hermioooone," Ron groaned, "it's literally summer. I just want to lie down and do nothing for the next three months of my life."
Harry nodded eagerly. "And also play Wizarding Chess."
Ron shook his head. "I'm so tired I don't even wanna do that."
Hermione rolled her eyes but said nothing. The magic people entered a coffee shop and plopped down onto cushy sofas that were placed at the front. They sighed in unison.
"Ugh, my feet hurt," Harry complained.
"They stink too," Ron said under his breath. Unfortunately for him, the other boy heard him.
"Stupefy!" Harry cried out, sending the ginger flying into the wall. The portraits rattled violently. One of the inhabitants gave them a rude hand gesture, so Harry blasted him too.
Hermione shouted, "Stop it! Stop it, Harry!" but it was too late. Ron had already unleashed his secret weapon.
"Rictusempra!!!!" he roared. Harry tried to avoid the spell, but it was all in vain. The red sparks hit him in the chest, and he keeled over laughing as thousands of invisible feathers began violently tickling him all over his body.
"Nooooo," Harry moaned, holding onto his stomach for dear life. "Hermioone, help."
Hermione just crossed her arms and turned up her nose. "I'm going to get a coffee," she said, leaving the boys to suffer.
When she came back with a steaming brown cup, she found that the boys had disappeared somewhere. Weird, she thought, it's only been a few minutes.
She suddenly felt a large hand on her shoulder
"Are you lost, sweetheart?" a low Scottish voice purred.
Hermione whipped around, startled. In front of her stood a very tall, very large green goblin with two round sticks coming out the sides of his head. He was wearing a brown vest over a stained white blouse and brown pants and boots. The shirt was holding on for dear life, so round was his stomach.
She had never seen a more beautiful creature in her life.
"No-no, I'm okay," the poor girl stammered out, blushing furiously. "I'm just looking for my friends. They were here just a moment ago..."
The goblin interrupted her, "Oh, well, it can't be helped. Do you want to be my girlfriend?"
Hermione had enough sense to be at least a little bit surprised. "M-me? But whatever do you mean, Mr. Goblin?"
"First of all, it's Mr. Ogre to you, missy," the goblin (sorry, I meant to say ogre) scolded. "Haven't you learned anything in that silly head of yours? And secondly, I mean just that. Will you be my girlfriend? I haven't seen a girl as lovely as yourself before."
Hermione gasped. "Oh my goodness, Mr. Ogre, I would be most delighted," she exclaimed, clapping her hands (and completely forgetting about the coffee in her hands, which spilled unceremoniously onto the ogre's shirt. Thank goodness it had cooled down by this point.).
Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh my freaking God, I am so sorry, Mr. Ogre. Are you okay???" She bent down to inspect the damage. The brown liquid stained everything in an ugly fashion and was sopping off of his shirt and onto the floor. She lifted her wand to clean his shirt, but the ogre held up a hand.
"Nuh-uh," he told her. "I don't want any of that witchy magic from you here. Bad experience, don't ask." With that, he promptly rubbed his vest into the shirt, drying himself off instantly. Hermione thought it was the hottest thing anyone could do.
And she fainted right into his arms.
When she came to, she could only ask, "What's your name, anyway?" before passing out again.
"Shrek," he told her gruffly. "My name is Shrek."