Chapter 23. Sorry, it has been ages since I've written! So. . .Thanks so much to Pervert Bitch, Silver Fox, Ambrosius, and especially, my new proof reader (* g *). . .*dramatic entrance music* Naomi! Lol! So now you can blame all spelling mistakes on her, instead! ; ). Nah. . . . just feel grateful! DISCLAIMER: I don't even own the spelling/grammar mistakes any more, seeing as there aren't any! The Drama Progressed. Nearly a whole week had passed without incident, mused Snape in his classroom. He had just had the Sixth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins in. Longbottom had, once again, added to the collection of dark stains on the stone floor, while Potter and Weasley muttered mutinously (something that Snape always found vaguely amusing. As if they could do anything) and Granger sulked. As far as Snape could see, there had been some sort of fight. Which was good. He grinned evilly into the empty dungeon. Draco had been very quiet again. He had been all week, but today was an all time low. He hadn't even been listening to instructions, as far as Snape could make out. Not that it mattered. He shook his head. Draco wasn't his problem any more. He'd get over it. In time. Looking at his watch, he noticed that it was time for lunch. He hadn't really felt hungry in a while, but still. . . He picked up the essays and other bits of marking that needed to be completed, and swept down to the Grand Hall for lunch. He reached his place at the table, and sat the papers down to one side. He might as well start looking through them now. He picked up the first one. It was by Draco. Of course, thought Snape angrily, Fate must have it Her way, I see. . . He cast it aside and picked up the next. Potter's. Snape scowled at it, but scanned through it, noting anything that might call for lost marks. He reached the end and grimaced. Potter was catching onto him. Even the usually dodgy grammar had improved. He put it to one side with Draco's. He paused for a while and looked around the chaotic room, and the idiots that filled it. On the Hufflepuff table, someone had put a large, fake, toad on the centre platter, which croaked realistically from time to time. No-one had taken anything from that particular plate. They probably thought that it was real, fools. The Ravenclaw table was the probably the most orderly, although scattered with books and half finished games of chess. The Gryffindor table was the messiest by far; a small food fight had broken out at one end, (probably started by one of those blasted Weasleys), and food, cutlery and plates were everywhere. Slytherins on the far table looked over disapprovingly. They had the best upbringing - and table manners - as parents such as theirs believed in elegance as much as Narcissa did. Idly, Snape let his eyes drift over his house's table, picking out people who he liked, and favoured, disliked, but favoured anyway, disliked and ignored. . . his eyes rested on the bent head of Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle sat either side of him, and in the corner of his range of view, Snape could see Pansy hovering anxiously to get at the poor boy. Draco looked up, and Snape looked away. You do NOT stare at your pupils, Severus, he told himself severely, staring down at his plate, hard. They were both unaware of it, but they were being watched with interest from two quarters. McGonagall and Dumbledore both watched in their own discreet manners, as the drama progressed. Snape stood to leave. Looking up and seeing Snape leave, Draco did also, making his excuses to Crabbe and Goyle, and somehow evading the ready mouth of Pansy. The drama progressed.