Draco's Delicate Condition

Chapter 2 - The Happiest Day in Peeves' Death

No students directly observed Draco getting his comeuppance from Snape, but each entertained his or her own variation of the event. The few facts known about the affair were to be had because when Snape detained Malfoy, half the class lingered in the hall outside of the classroom - and all who lingered were full of meddlesome curiosity.

While the students stood waiting, theories evolved. Many ears pressed against the dungeon classroom door. At first, most believed Snape detained Malfoy to speak to him about becoming a special assistant or some such. That view was supported because Malfoy was chosen over Prefect Parkinson to watch the class. Other theories of Snape's favouritism were bandied about too. Suddenly all theories were abandoned. The dungeon door flew open and Draco shot out of the classroom as if a Dementor was after him. Snape's voice boomed behind him, 'Get out of my sight!' Draco's Slytherin and Gryffindor classmates fell back in stunned wonder. Seeing Draco flee many students took the hint and shot up the stairs after him. No one wanted to hang about and wait for Snape to come out of the dungeon and ease his anger by awarding detentions all around.

It was Pansy Parkinson who had nerve to peek through the dungeon door and ask Snape if there was anything amiss that she might assist him with as Prefect. Pansy and several brave students from both Slytherin and Gryffindor were stunned when Snape snarled his response to Pansy.

'What can you do to help Miss Parkinson? You can earn one hundred points to compensate for the points that your classmate Mr Malfoy just lost for Slytherin House! Now get out and shut the door!'

Pansy nearly swooned - one hundred points from Slytherin house - removed by Snape? Had Malfoy killed someone that she was unaware of?

The removal of points from a teacher's own house, was not unusual. Professor McGonagall, took points from her own Gryffindor House as she saw necessary as did professors Flitwick and Sprout from their houses. But Draco had lost points from Snape, head of Slytherin house. In Snape's entire career as a Hogwarts teacher only on two previous occasions did he deduct points from his own house. The total Snape deducted for those 'unfortunate incidents' amounted to less than 35 points - total. And mind - one of those "unfortunate incidents" took a full time squad of house-elves three full weeks to clean up. The other of the two "unfortunate incidents" used up such massive quantities of "Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover", that Argus Filch the school caretaker had to special order an additional six-month supply of the cleanser.

Of course, one wizard's broken wand is another wizard's doorstop. As Draco raced from the dungeons, news of 100 points removed from Slytherin House was already racing through Hogwarts like a wildfire, gladdening the hearts of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff alike. Christmas had come early. It was time to breakout the vintage butterbeer.

On the broken wand side however, for Slytherin it was a day that would live in infamy. By noon the entirety of Slytherin House dropped their jaws to the news that Draco had caused Slytherin House to languish a full 15 points behind Hufflepuff. Slytherin hadn't ranked behind Hufflepuff since the 13th century in the hay-day of Hufflepuff's notoriously good natured, Brock the Benevolent. In short, were the students of Slytherin not already clad in black robes, black armbands would have been the order of the day.

The celebration began at lunchtime. Afternoon classes caused even the most patient Hogwarts professors to want to tear out their hair, or that of their pupils. Order was nearly impossible to obtain or maintain. The evening meal in the Great Hall was equally disruptive as hats, cats and juice filled vats were thrown in the air, tossed at students or upset - respectively.

When evening fell, as Gryffindor students headed to their commons, the lot of them were giddy with high spirits. The celebrating that began at noon and made shambles of the afternoon classes, did not slow down. The Weasley twins, Fred and George had already conducted a raid of the Hogwarts kitchen and carried buckets of complimentary treats from the House Elves. The whole lot of gleeful students headed upstairs to their commons on the 7th floor of Gryffindor Tower.

Gryffindor house was to throw an impromptu party as enthusiastic as the previous year when Harry's name floated on the flames, out of the Goblet of Fire, naming him a school champion. Butterbeer and pumpkin juice was going to flow like...well, like butterbeer and pumpkin juice.

Ron and Harry climbed the stairs, slapping each other's shoulders occasionally stopping to lean against the staircase banisters to laugh themselves silly. They replayed their interpretations of Snape's assault on Draco, while the rest of the Gryffindors goaded them on. Many Gryffindors sat on the stair steps, nearly too weak from laughing to stand properly.

'Let me have ago at being Snape this time.' Harry laughed so hard he made a disgusting snorting noise, which made him laugh all the harder.

A Gryffindor girl playfully smacked the back of Harry's head yelling, 'You'll need a might more grease on that black hair of yours Harry. Then you'll look a proper Snape!'

'I'll be Malfoy this time,' Ron shouted. He pushed past students, racing to the next stair landing. Ron leaned against the wall under the paintings that lined the grand staircase. He struck the unmistakable 'Malfoy' pose, hands in robe pockets, one leg bent with foot resting against the wall behind him. Ron put on a smarmy smirk and his classmates busted up laughing at the flawless impression of Draco Malfoy.

'On your knees Ron! You're too tall for Malfoy!' Ginny merrily called out.

Ron stepped away from the wall and dropped to his knees, still smirking. A comely 7th year lass stepped up the stairs and placed a white handkerchief over the top of Ron's head.

'Now "Malfoy", you look a proper blondie with white hair, not that red mop you usual sport. Sighing with contentment, Ron looked up, enjoying this new and interesting angle on the buxom and well grown girl.

Harry screwed up his face in an imitation of an angry Snape. He lurched up the stairs to the landing and bellowed. 'Cheating in my classroom Mr Malfoy? I'll have you drawn and quartered. Guards! GUARDS!'

The Weasley twins George and Fred, handed off the buckets of sweets, and raced up the stairs, and scooped up their kneeling brother Ron under the armpits. They turned to Harry, or rather 'Snape' and gave him snappy salutes.

Harry held himself in a way that more resembled more a poorly acted Richard III than Snape - his back all hunched up. Harry grimaced. 'This weasel-faced, white-haired, git had the AUDACITY to cheat on one of MY exams! Take the little shite out and BEAT him!'

The Gryffindor crew crowded on the stair landing and up the stairs, to watch the fun.

'Yes! Beat the little Shite! Beat the little Shite!' They all chanted enthusiastically.

'Yes Master Snape,' called out the twins, doing their best to look like minions of hell. 'And after we beat the shite out of the little shite... can we beat the shite out of each other master? Oh, please master, please?'

'All right,' said Harry trying not to choke on a ginger biscuit he'd just grabbed from one of the buckets. 'But,' he said gruffly, 'then come back and beat the shite out of me too!' Harry cackled so hard at his own joke that he spit sprayed ginger biscuit all over Ron.

The students were hoarse with laugher. Someone had to thump Seamus Finnegan on the back because he'd laughed so hard that he inhaled a Fizzing Whizby. Potter added for his big finale, 'Oh yeah... and Guards...' Harry paused for a little comic timing. 'Before you come back here to give me my - spanking - make sure you put on those little black guard pants. I likes those!'

The stairwell boomed with hilarity. Tears of mirth wet the corner of every eye. Harry, Ron and the twins got their backs thumped and hands shook enthusiastically. For good measure, the students began to thump each other on the back, shaking hands and congratulating each other on having laughed so wonderfully enthusiastically and loudly. There was such good cheer all around one would have thought they'd each and every one had just caught the snitch.

As the mob of chortling students finally climbed their way up the stairs and walked along the lateral corridor to the next set of stairs, a tapestry on one of the walls moved. When the noise of the happy students passed around the next corner and the laughter faded, a hand from behind drew the heavy tapestry aside.

From a door behind the ornately patterned tapestry stepped Severus Snape. Snape was on his way back from his secondary store of supplies below Gryffindor Tower, when he heard the Gryffindor students. Out of habit, Snape had ducked into the room he had just vacated, but left the door ajar. Snape heard every jape, every snide, wicked and naughty comment, every insult made by the Gryffindor students.

Snape seethed with the sort of anger and hatred that often results in vindictive wars that last from one century into the next and beyond.

He had heard the Weasley brat doing an imitation of Malfoy, whom Snape considered to be 'one of Ron's betters'. He heard the equally lowly - in his opinion - Weasley twins make sport of the grand but sadly lost tradition of beating Hogwarts Students. And worst of all, Snape heard Potter having the audacity to do a horrid imitation of his Potions professor, and make the insulting quip about the 'little black guard shorts'.

'So "I likes" those, do I?' Snape raged.

Snape was so angry he shook, the glass bottles he carried rattled like transparent maracas. He muttered to himself. 'Well, we'll see how much you little miscreants "likes" the remainder of the school year.' Fuming, he made his way down the stairs to his dungeon office. He could do nothing much to the Weasley twins, who took no classes from him, but against Potter and the younger Weasley; Snape was already plotting his revenge.

A half hour later the celebratory party in Gryffindor Commons was in full throttle as the last Gryffindor students gave the password 'Hot Cross Buns' and passed through the Fat Lady's painting.

It would seem that every Gryffindor enjoyed laughs at the expense of Draco and Snape, but that was not totally true. After her evening meal, Hermione skipped the festivities all together and went straight to her dorm room. There she sat on her four-poster, stroking her purring ginger cat Crookshanks, and staring at Draco's wand that lay across her grey tweed skirted lap.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The following morning the Gryffindor table resembled the aftermath of an all night frat/sorority party, which in a manner of speaking, it was. The previous evening's festivities had lasted into the wee hours and few students got much sleep. The first through third year students were mostly knackered out from eating copious quantities of sweets, treats and fizzy drinks all night without the benefit of their parents calling upon them to quit before they went too far. Many a first year boy or girl lay prostrate in his or her four-poster at in the wee hours of the morning whimpering, 'Mum... my tummy hurts!'

For the fourth year and older students it was a variety of things that took the roses out of their cheeks. A game of Slytherin Wizard's Chess' was played most of the night. The Slytherin version required a piece of clothing to be forfeited for every chess piece captured. The Slytherin version hadn't been played in Gryffindor Commons since before Percy Weasley was Prefect. Following a poor round of Slytherin Wizard's Chess, Seamus Finnegan, largely deprived of his clothing, suffered from a second-degree burn from a round of Exploding Snap. And worse, Neville Longbottom had a fit of hysterics when he lost a chess game and was promptly accosted by a randy bunch of overly imaginative forth year witches.

There was almost one wizard's duel fought, but it was a draw when both participants proved too tired at 4 AM to 'flick and swish' in a truly effective manner.

Several of the older students who were "seeing" other Gryffindor students spent the evening in the Commons snogging in or behind comfy chairs, or along the stairs leading up to the dorms. Older students bereft of partners spent their energies on conquest of such, chasing the opposite sex, or in a few cases, the same sex. All in all, Gryffindor Commons enjoyed a frat party atmosphere.

All of the above would not have happened under the reign of the previous Gryffindor Prefect Percy Weasley. He would have seen to it that the 'little ones' were tucked into their four-posters by midnight at the latest, and he would have awarded detentions to anyone who dared snog under 'his watch'. But the new Prefect was Hermione and the poor girl so laboured under a fit of melancholy that she didn't even particularly notice that anything unusual was on in the Commons. In Hermione's defence however, it took Percy a full year to drum the fear of righteousness - and/or detentions - into his fellow Gryffindors. It might ultimately take Hermione a while longer than that.

Never in the history of Hogwarts had so much breakfast food been pushed and shoved about plates without any of it actually making into the lax mouths of students. Most students, had they the energy to do so would have headed to Madame Pomfrey in the Hogwarts infirmary, seeking miracles.

One lone Gryffindor student had an appetite - Hermione. While stuffing herself with poached eggs, toast and tea with gusto, Hermione spent a full half hour defending the indefensible. Harry and Ron sat irritably listening as Hermione defending their archenemy.

'After all, everyone has a weak moment from time to time,' said Hermione defensively. 'And then to be subjected to school wide humiliation; poor Malfoy.'

'Hermione,' said Ron. 'I can't believe that you of all people are actually defending that tiny blonde prawn after all the awful things he's said to you. You're completely off your trolley girl.'

'I'm only saying imagine how hard yesterday must have been for Malfoy,' Hermione said in a somewhat hurt tone. She looked exasperated when her comments only caused Harry and Ron to exchange looks, playfully punched each other in the shoulder and then laugh until the pumpkin juice squirted out of their noses.

'Yes Hermione. Malfoy is such a sweet person. We ought to be ashamed of ourselves,' said Harry.

'Oi! Ron, wipe my bum for me,' Harry said in a tired, but passable imitation of Draco hounding Goyle.

'VERY amusing Harry,' said Hermione a bit indignantly. 'Honestly, you of all people know what it's like to be at the wrong end of this kind of cruel humour. I think I know where I can still get my hands on a 'Harry Potter Stinks' button. Haven't the two of you any sympathy at all for how Malfoy must feel?'

'NO!' Harry and Ron shouted simultaneously. They eagerly renewed their listless efforts to chase bits of grilled tomato about their plates. They were decidedly un-persuaded by Hermione's arguments.

'Honestly.' Hermione frowned, 'If anyone should be annoyed at Malfoy it ought to be me. At the lake yesterday, I'm the one he called a...' She stopped herself, and thought on Draco having called her bad names and of the crude, rude gesture he made to her with his hands. Letting Harry and Ron know what Draco did was hardly going to gain support for her argument.

Hermione changed tactics. 'I followed Malfoy down to the lake at lunchtime yesterday, after... you know. Do you know what? Malfoy didn't know I was there, and I watched him throw his... throw something... at the giant squid. Why you may ask?' Hermione eyed the boys daringly. 'To save the innocent life of a precious and adorable baby duckling!'

Hermione paused to allow Malfoy shocking and inspirational actions to settle into the minds of Harry and Ron but to her amazement, the boys appeared unmoved.

'Now really! Don't you think that deep, deep, deep inside, Malfoy must be good?' In all honesty, even Hermione wasn't buying that explanation, so she added, 'Or at least capable of some small amount of goodness?'

'I say Malfoy was trying to hit the duck and kill it. That's what I say,' interjected Harry.

'Bob's your uncle,' said Ron, staring nauseously at a banger skewered on his fork.

'Honestly Hermione, why don't you just admit that Malfoy is a thick git who can't pass a class taught by a teacher who makes a religion of kissing Malfoy's arse?' Ron turned to Hermione, a dubious look on his face. 'Here...hang on... why were you following Malfoy to the lake anyway?'

Hermione froze. She was so agitated that she did not notice that the boys were looking past her. Neither did she notice the Great Hall was now quiet. 'I wasn't "following" Malfoy.' She replayed her trump card. 'I told you, Malfoy rescued an innocent life - a sweet baby duckling!'

Hermione startled when a familiar voice drawled behind her head, 'Taking a stand for my defence Granger?'

Draco had entered the hall and strolling straight over to Hermione. Given the circumstances, even the teachers at the front table, momentarily ceased eating when Draco strolled through the Great Hall doors.

Hermione span around on the bench so quickly, it is a wonder she didn't do herself an injury. She blushed to her fingertips.

'But really, you needn't speak up for my benefit Granger.' Draco stared boldly into Hermione's eyes, and flashed her a quick wink. 'I can hold my own with Scarhead and his sidekick, Rags.' He gestured towards Harry and Ron who had wasted no time setting to the task of glaring hatefully at Malfoy.

'Good Morning Malfoy,' Hermione said civilly. For peace's sake she ignored Malfoy's choice of nicknames for her best mates. 'I trust you are feeling well - today?'

'Quite well, thank you,' Draco said politely, his cool and collected demeanour a complete fraud. On first walking up to the trio, Draco had intended to whisper into Hermione's ear, 'where's my wand you sheepdog-haired, book-nosed thief?' With a little luck, perhaps Hermione would have burst into tears. Then Harry and Ron could have their usual defensive conniption fits and they'd all have enjoyed a lovely manly row that Draco would claim was all the fault of Harry and Ron - all in all, a lovely morning's entertainment. But things did not progress so smoothly. Once Draco stood over Hermione the scent of her damp, freshly washed hair rose to meet his nostrils, which he thought was the scent of orange blossoms. Worse, when Hermione turned about to stare at him, she didn't look at him with hatred or the disgust from the previous day's encounter during which even he had to admit he had been quite rude. No. The witch whipped around on her cute bum and stared up at Draco with only the merest attempt at disguising her pleasure at the sight of him. Kindness emanated from the witch like the sweet scent from a rose. Any animosity Draco had worked himself up to, evaporated like moisture on a sun kissed rock.

Draco felt blindsided as if he'd been hit by some powerful and unjust spell that he had not seen coming. Worse, he realized that rather than hurt Granger's feelings, he would have preferred to introduce himself as an over-bred, stick-up-the-arse, bed-wetting wizard with stabilizing wheels on his racing broom. Realizing he'd lost his nasty edge, that kept him "balanced", Draco gave his head a quick shake, as if to clear his giddy mind. He shifted his feet, and again allowed himself the frightful error of gazing directly into Hermione's unblinking eyes. Overwhelmed by the depths of her eyes, Draco's mind plummeted into nasty boy-thoughts that bubbled up in response to the nubile witch who sat eagerly before him. It occurred to Draco that Hermione's face was about at the level of his favourite boy bits... suddenly Draco snapped to.

'I believe you have something of mine Miss Granger?' Draco asked politely, worked devilishly hard to keep his face impassive.

'Oh. Yes, of course,' and Hermione gave a nervous little laugh. She reached down into her school bag and pulled out an elongated roll of soft red velvet cloth in which she had wrapped Draco's wand for safekeeping. She had used the same bit of cloth to polish and wax the wand so it would not warp. A wizard's wand is a personal item and Hermione blushed as she placed the wrapped wand in Draco's hand.

Looking a slightly befuddled, Draco quickly tightened his handover Granger's. He found himself marvelling how pretty her had hand was and how marvellously soft and plump. With his other hand he took the cloth and wand from Hermione. Only then did he slowly and reluctantly release the witch's hand. Nasty and delightfully indecent sort of boy-thoughts floated unencumbered through Draco's mind. Meanwhile Hermione was still flushed to much the same scarlet as the velvet cloth.

'Here, what is that?' Ron demanded of Hermione from across the table. He pointed accusingly at the red cloth.

'If you must know Weasel - yesterday Miss Granger here was a tad overexcited...' Draco leaned forward towards Ron, and said in a husky and suggestive voice, '....ran off with something personal of mine.' Malfoy smirked. 'My y-fronts.'

'MALFOY, YOU GREAT ARSE!' shouted Ron and with a massive lunge launched himself over the width of the table as though shot from a cannon. Harry was right behind Ron, grabbing him around an ankle to keep his best mate from murdering Draco by light of day and in view of all of Hogwarts. This was a service the boys regularly performed for each other; the better to avoid adjoining rooms at Whipsnade's Reform School for Wicked Wizards, or worse, Azkaban.

Harry's efforts pulled Ron up just short of hitting his blondie target, landing instead, heavily at Draco and Hermione's feet. Harry launched himself at Ron intent on pinning his best mate to the floor. He landed on Ron, setting Hermione skipping a few steps back as she frantically waved her hands about. 'Stop it you two, Harry, Ron, that was only Malfoy's wand!'

'What the...' Ron momentarily disappeared under Harry's full body slam, but his head popped up again and he hollered, 'Bloody hell Hermione! What were you doing with Malfoy's wand?' Ron seemed to infer that handling Malfoy's wand was tantamount to handling other bits of Draco.

For his part, Draco stood cool and calm as a hooded cobra. Perhaps he raised an eyebrow, but that was all. He yawned broadly, simply to enjoy the effect. Meanwhile at his feet he enjoyed watching Harry, who was at it like a crocodile wrangler, frantically struggled to keep his best mate pinned until common sense could remove Ron's resolve for murder.

'Let me GO, Harry! I'm going to murder Malfoy!'

'No Ron! Stop kicking! We'll get the ratbag back some other way than murdering him in front of the professors! You don't want witnesses!'

As the two boys struggled underfoot, the remainder of the hall was not immobile. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, like bees to honey, were drawn to the excitement of Ron and Harry's wrestling. The Gryffindor students were equally as keen for a bit of blood, but were just too fagged to leap up. Meanwhile at the front of the hall, the professors raced towards the row in a futile attempt to head off the ensuing riot.

And where, you may be wondering were the Slytherin? Those who had managed to catch Draco's rude innuendo about his y-fronts, repeated his words up and down the long Slytherin table. The Slytherin students had now been laughing for several minutes and the lot of them looked as if they had been hit with a jelly-legs spell, as all leaned on their table, weak from laughing and each trying to out do the other with snide comments over Draco's naughty insinuation about Hermione and the suspect unseen y-fronts.

In short, the Great Hall echoed with the roar of happy and excited students. Witches clambered on top of the Gryffindor table amid the plates of kippers, bangers and plates of fried tomatoes. All the girls wanted a better view of the wrestling on the floor that featured the famous and highly shag-worthy Harry Potter and the very tall Ron Weasley. It is worth noting that Ron was in no way a slouch in the shag-worthy department himself. Witches jumped up and down on the table top screamed and squealing and making the breakfast jellies bounce in the dishes. Then knickers began to fly through the air, swifter than postal owls, landing on the struggling boys.

As pandemonium reigned, two older witches and one precocious 3rd year witch who suffered an overactive imagination, swooned. Neville Longbottom caught one of the older girls - a buxom 6th year Ravenclaw - catching her in his arms. For the remainder of the day Neville wore a happy satisfied grin. Life was good.

But things were still only just warming up. A volley of breakfast foods sailed in a high arch across the Great Hall, landing on the heads of Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students. The trajectories originated at the Slytherin table. Retaliation was instantaneous, more food in air than on the tables.

Peeves, the mischievous poltergeist, arrived to join the fun, swirled around the ceiling in a totally tizzy of joy, screaming 'Weeeee! It's a riot! A lovely, lovely riot! Weeeeee!' Peeves pelted the kippers and tomato at students, professors, any who were within range. It was the happiest day of Peeves' death.

Hermione stared with total horror at Harry and Ron who were still locked in combat on the floor at her feet. She felt a strong tug at her elbow and she found herself pulled back through the gathering crowd. It was Draco who dragged her, hustling Granger away and, taking a moment to whisper into her ear, 'Thank you for caring for my wand Granger,' then pushing her in front of himself, he shoved her forcefully towards the Great Hall entrance.

'Where do you go after breakfast on Tuesdays?' he queried with great interest, 'to the library to memorize another row of textbooks?'

Though Draco's comment was close to the truth about Hermione's Tuesdays, she walked stiffly forward, ignoring Draco's impertinence. As they were passing through the Great Hall doors, Hermione swivelled around in time to see Professor McGonagall, atop the teacher's table at the front of the hall - angrily pulling out of her hair what looked like marmalade. McGonagall shouted orders for the Prefects to take students back to their commons immediately.

'I can't leave Malfoy,' Hermione turned pleading eyes to Draco. 'I'm a Prefect! I must help the professors restore order!'

'No, swot-girl,' Draco assured her. 'You have got that wrong - as soon as we are gone, assuming your git mates Potty and the Weasel ever notice - the riot will go out like a candle in a hurricane.'

Draco was quite right. Ron and Harry were so preoccupied struggling against each other they had yet to notice there remained no blondie Slytherin to beat up or bushy-haired witch to defend.

Meanwhile back in the Great Hall, Professor Flitwick performed the Sonorus Spell, and his tiny and excited voice boomed out for order. Slowly students grudgingly pay heed. Other happy students reluctantly launched final volleys of porridge, peeled peaches and poached pompano, and thus disarmed, began to settle down. The younger students obediently trooped out of the Great Hall behind the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin Prefects.

Snape finally pushed his way through to the still stubbornly struggling Ron and Harry. With buttered porridge dripping in his already greasy black hair Snape was beyond livid. He bodily yanked Harry and Ron off the floor by their ears. The boys screamed out in pain, yelping and swearing. Their swearing only caused Snape to shake the boys bodily by their scarlet ears. Snape was slightly distracted by Peeves who was floating above, pelting him with an armful of cold kippers.

'Weeeee!' shouted Peeves spinning like a top. 'Happy, happy! Joy, joy! Happy, happy, joy!'

A final volley of kippers landed on Snape. Still clinging to Ron and Harry's ears, he angrily jerked the screaming boys to the front of the Great Hall.

Up front, at the teacher's table sat Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore seemed determined to not allow the major disturbance to interrupt his breakfast. He had taken part in - indeed few knew he had started - far worse student riots in his own student days years and years ago. Dumbledore sat in calm concentration, in respite from far more important goings-on in the wizarding world. He peeled an orange with a butter knife while softly muttering 'tsk, tsk, tsk.' He occasionally ducked to avoid the odd flying potato. Yes, there were a great many pressing matters at hand, but for the greatest wizard of his time, it was all a matter of perspective.

Snape went nearly mental when Professor McGonagall, as head of Gryffindor, insisted on being the one to assign Harry and Ron to their detentions.

Holding a hand clamped gingerly against his aching ear, Ron stoically listened to his punishment and considered himself fortunate; only losing a minor 15 points from Gryffindor house. He did not feel so good however about drawing a full week of detention - a revisit to the engaging world of hand-polishing bedpans in the school infirmary. It was a good long stint of punishment and there were not many students in the Infirmary - it being too early in the season for Witch's Croup or Quidditch injuries. To ensure enough work to keep Ron thoroughly occupied, bedpans were issued to the entire staff of professors for their nocturnal use, as well as doses of a notable long acting purgative.

Harry lost 20 points for Gryffindor house. He wondered if it was possible to go deaf after having one's ear wrung out like a tea towel. Although Harry's role in the riot was trying to stop a murder, he was awarded two weeks of detention at the beck and call of Argus Filch, the school caretaker. As to their punishments, Harry considered Ron to be the luckier, and he was right.

For the umpteenth time, Filch felt bitter disappointment the morning's riot did not automatically reinstate corporal punishment to Hogwarts. Long had Filch kept in polished condition the chains that he had long ago used to truss up errant students by their wrists or ankles. Filch considered it a shame that Dumbledore had relegated the school's collection of antique thumbscrews, stocks, stretching racks and Iron Maidens to Hogwarts dungeons where the implements were allowed to rust away. Still, Filch took heart that he could assign Harry the task of rust removal, oiling, polishing, and in a few cases, repainting the "implements of punishment". Metals would again gleam triumphant and in anticipation in the "Dungeon of Delinquency" in the bowels of Hogwarts. The task seemed futile, but Filch believed in nothing if not the dream of corporal punishment returning to Hogwarts.

Harry and Ron were not the sole recipients of detention. A few of the primary 'food fight' instigators were allotted punishment as well. One student receiving a detention was a 4th year Hufflepuff girl accused of pinching Snape on the bum, on a dare. The hapless girl received five days mandatory non-magical dishwashing in the kitchens. Several snide individuals suggested the girl might do better to receive five years of intensive psychiatric care. Until her dying day, the girl staunchly insisted that she was no bum pincher, but only an innocent bystander. She stubbornly maintained that the pincher of Professor Snape's bottom was, in fact, male. Perhaps unfairly, the girl's accusations never received proper examination because no one wanted to "go there".

It was over - one of the worst student riots in 500 years of Hogwarts history. Mind, the list of "worst riots at Hogwarts" included that horrible day in 1587, when one hundred male Cornish Pixies were accidentally mixed in with a twenty-five female Bavarian Fighting Fairies and were released from a sack to celebrate the headmaster's birthday. That incident had closed down the Great Hall for an unprecedented two months.

Meanwhile, in a Hogwart hall, like a gentlemen from Victorian days, Draco led Hermione by the elbow, away from the tumult. 'Granger,' asked Draco as if perplexed, 'why do you suppose Scarhead and the Weasel...?'

'I would appreciate it if you would stop calling my best mates by those insulting names,' said Hermione hotly.

'Sorry,' said Draco who didn't sound in the least bit sorry. 'So why do you suppose your two Gryffindor mates insisted on flopping about on the floor like greased piglets?'

'Well, I don't now. I mean, they're boys aren't they? Boys love to fight.'

'You are so delightfully innocent,' said Draco with a leering glance at Hermione. Only Draco's devilishly fast reflexes saved him from another of Hermione's unforgettable slaps.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was Sunday and Harry thoroughly enjoyed early morning Quidditch practice. Afterwards, with reluctance and with great solemnity Harry left the bright and sunny Quidditch pitch and headed back to the castle, and down into the depressingly dismal bowels of the castle. Harry was headed for his detention. The site of Harry's punishment was located at the end of two long stairways that lead past cold stone walls. His steps echoed loudly as he clumped down the winding stairwells.

Harry had long since resigned himself to his punishment, polishing the ancient instruments for student torture under the squint eyed observation of Filch. Harry's punishment began several days earlier and he already made a fair dent in his work. Using rough burlap cloths Harry rubbed ancient rust off and preservative oil on to the ancient devices and implements of extreme discomfort.

Harry muttered to himself. 'Maybe if I can get the lot polished before my two weeks detention are up. I'll at least get lighter duty after polishing this lot.' His fingers were already calloused from the work. Harry reached the dungeon door and reached up for the giant brass door ring. The door swung violently back, hitting Harry dead on.

'AAWWWWH!' Harry screamed.

'Mr Potter.' Snape stepped out of the dungeon room. 'Just checked on your work. Assuring that your... duties are still offering a challenge to you. These dungeons are so damp. Things rust up quickly around here.' Snape smiled, said an uncharacteristic, 'Have a good day.' Then he strode away rapidly down the corridor and up the stone steps, his long black robes sweeping behind him like a flight of ravens.

Harry was furious. He fingered his nose as tears of pain streamed down his cheeks. He determined that despite the pain, his nose didn't seem broken. He decided to see Madame Pomfrey after his detention. Swearing at Snape, Harry walked through the dungeon door.

On the other side of the door, Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

The implements of destruction were in place just as he'd left them after his eight hours labouring on Saturday. But things were not precisely as he'd left them. The previous day, shining glints of metal shown from numerous implements. Now there was no gleam on a single instrument, only thick flakes of dark red rust.

Snape had used a rusting charm. Even the items, which Harry had brought to a passable metallic gleam the day before, were now dull under ugly crusts of brownish-red. Harry renewed his swearing at Snape, and looked for the squares of rough cleaning cloth he used the day before. The rough cloths were nowhere to be found. Then he located a small pile of 6-inch squares of slick satin cloths - all he had for completing his task. The small bottles of polishing oil were gone. There was only a single barrel sized rusty container that Harry realized, in annoyance he would practically climb down into in hopes of acquiring any oil at all.

Harry shook with fury. The rust, the ridiculous means for removing the rust - Snape's idea of retaliation.

'DAMN YOU ALL TO PIECES SNNAAAPEEE!' Harry screamed and listened to the returning echo from the darkish grey walls.

Even Heroes have their limits to what they can tolerate.