Meanwhile, Ron was sitting in the middle of the vast green sea known as the Malfoy lawn. He had been mowing and mowing and mowing and friggin mowing some more. He looked back to where he had come from, and was able to make out the trailer as a tiny speck in the distance, and the Malfoy house about two inches tall. He then looked the opposite way, which still was pretty much nothing except more grass. Crap, these people could at least get trees or something. He just eyed all of the grass stretching out so very friggin far, it was intoxicating. Not even that blur half a mile away could compensate for all of the- wait, a blur?

Ron got up and toward the blur, which, as he got closer, looked more and more like a person. Once he got up to it, he wished he had just stayed where he had been. It was a person alright, who had been dead for lord knows how long, and only a skeleton remained... clutching it's nonelectric mower in it's hands where it lay.

Well, now seeing what fate had in store for him, Ron wondered if it would be in his better interest to start walking back, and just say he took care of it. Then again, he knew the Malfoys would Crutio him to death, so with a heavy heart, he got his mower, and continued on his long, devastating trek of the Malfoy backyard.

-*-

Back at the Malfoy mansion, Harry gulped as Draco's father eyed him up and down. Finally, he spoke.

"Draco, honey bee, this one is simply mmmaaarrrvelous. I dare say that his outfit is to die for in those kinky master/slave relationships, which are always splendid. Yes, he is quite the catch of the day. I was planning to put you into a nice little bundle of love with those Crabbe and Goyle boys, but this one just makes you just want to take Charles Atlas by the hand. Now then, I'm sure you two will want to run off to one of the bedrooms. As they say, kug first, talk later. Besides, I have some rather urgent business to attend to."

As Mr. Malfoy said this, Harry noticed another one of those smelly sculptures laying on the seat where Lucius had got up. Considering he had known of other people who wore strange things and surrounded themselves with weird smelling things, maybe Mr. Malfoy was a psychic of some type perhaps?

He and Draco left the room shortly and were heading who knows where. Harry, though not the sharpest tool in the shed, had picked up on at least one thing about Draco's father. He felt that the younger Malfoy should know, it would be dreadfully awful to leave him in the dark about such things. Harry, being the nice guy that he is, decided to break it gently to him.

"Draco," Harry said, "Your dad is SERIOUSLY gay. I thought you should find out now then be shocked later."

Draco stopped and just looked at him. "No, you're kidding.... No shit he's gay! You'd have to be a retard to not figure that one dumbass."

".... oh..."

"Anyway, I'm going to-"

"If he's gay, then where did you come from?"

"I... I don't know actually..." Draco stood there and pondered the thought for a moment. "Well, I know my mom's my mom, but my dad, I'm not too certain."

"Oh Draco, you're such a tease!" A ladies voice sounded from behind them. There stood a middle aged blonde woman, dressed like a scantily clad whore. Of course, Harry not being used to such things in general, immediately got a stiffy, and wished that he could get rid of those terribly tight tights.

"Hello mother," Draco said as if he were talking to your average bimbo, "This is Harry. He's the new lawn mower person."

"Mmm, oh I see," she began to finger Harry's chest, "That's too bad. We get so many of those, but they all seem to disappear. I wonder where they went..." She seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, but then returned to what she was saying, her voice as ho-like as you can imagine. "I have to say, you're rather cute and would make an excellent... companion... but I'm afraid Draco is much more...." She began to laugh quietly, as if laughing at what she was about to say.

"Um, ma'am," Harry said hesitantly, "You and you're son, er, aren't doing bad things, are you?"

"Oh no," she reassured him, "We have a perfectly healthy mother son relationship. You know, talking about problems, going to my son's quidditch games, having dirty sex, everything any average wizarding family does."

"Mom, it's so funny," Draco said with an amused tone in his voice, "Where Harry's from, they think that sleeping around like cats in heat is bad."

"A bit of a good boy, aren't we?" Her hands were back on Harry and traveling in a downward fashion, "I think it's time to give you some terrible thrills. It's too bad I was about meet up with Mrs. Goyle. We're planning to have some awful fun with raping her son and all. Well, Draco, remember, don't take it slow. Rip him, baby! Rip him good!" She then sauntered off, laughing to herself about whatever it was she was thinking. Harry sure that, whatever it was, he was certain it wasn't good. And what had she been referring to Draco about at the end of what she was saying with taking things slow and ripping? Speaking of Draco, him and his momma?! No, it had to be a joke; just some dirty joke. They wouldn't be really knocking boots... would they?

Harry shook the thought from his mind. That was just sick, and he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to picture Draco doing that in their minds. *alternate sentence* That was just sick, he couldn't imagine Draco fucking anyone crazy other than his own bad self. *end alternate sentence* He decided to put the whole situation behind him and started to focus on wherever it was Draco was leading him.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked as he looked at many paintings on the walls. By golly, would he know his anatomy when he got out of there!

"We're almost there now." Draco led him through a few more corridors and hallways until they reached a door, which led to a room. Nope, it wasn't one of them doors that's just there for scenery, no sirry, it actually WENT someplace! Harry looked at the door in awe, more or less so that the paragraph could be elongated.

Draco led Harry through the spiffy door and into the room it connected to. There was a large bed with black satin sheets, an oak desk at the opposite wall, a huge cushy shair in the right hand corner, and a bookshelf with many books that were very dusty, but looked as if they had never been opened.

"Well then," Draco said, closing the door behind them, "I'm in the mood so let's get it on!"

"NNNNOOOOO!!!!" *alternate* "WELL IT'S ABOUT TIME!!!!"*end alternate*

-*-

It was somewhere in the middle of the afternoon, and Ron had mowed more than he had ever mowed before The trailer was definatley out of site now, and the mansion looked ever so tiny. He wasn't sure if he could go on. No, he would prevail! He would make it to the end of the stretch... sure, the end was yet to come into site, but that was besides the point! It couldn'tgo on forever you know... could it? Ron pondered these thoughts as he kept up his pace, but with the hot sun beating down on his black dress and frilly pink apron, the conditions seemed to be getting unbearable. Finally, after overheating, over exhaustion, over dehydration, over mowingness, and over overness, Ron fell to the ground unconscious.

When he woke up, he found himself in a comfy bed, in a room that closely resembled a large gardening shed. There were rakes and hos hung up on the walls, a desk made out of shovels, and pictures of mowers all over the place. Where the hell was he?!

"Oh you're finally awake," a man's voice said from the other side of the room. Ron turned quickly to see none other than the familiar figure of ex Professor Lupin.

"Professor Lupin?! What are you doing here?!"

Lupin looked down at his feet, looking almost ashamed to address the issue. But, feeling that he owed Ron an explanation and knowing that if it isn't explained, it'll produce many huffy readers, he answered the question.

"Well, you see, after I did that whole werewolf thing in book three and ran off, I thought, 'crap, I don't have a job, hence no money to buy food,' so I kinda took up a job here as a mower, got lost on the lawn, found a new civilization on it, and have been living here ever since."

"But..." Ron looked puzzled, "How's that possible if you showed up again in book five?"

"...Rowlings was lying."

"How can she be lying? She's the one writing the books!"

"She is because... er... I say so, so shut up."

Ron just shrugged. "Anyway, why are you wearing overalls? Aren't they muggle clothing?"

"It just so happens that they are the native outfit of the Malfinia people."

"Okay, let me get this strait. The Malfoy's have a lawn, and on this big ass lawn they have other villages?!"

Lupin shook his head. "No no no no no. It's more like there are several warring nations on the Malfoy's lawn... for some strange reason, though, I don't think that the Malfoys even know about it, even though I can't blame them. After all, no one here has ever seen the end to the grass, so for all we know there could be a totally different species living at the end of it."

"How far are we from the Malfoy house anyway?"

"A good seventy miles or so, why?"

"SEVENTY MILES??!!!"

"Yeah, it just so happened that the navigation crew was out on their tractor-mobiles, and they found you fifty miles away from here, so they brought you back with them."

Ron sat back in his bed. He never knew the Malfoys had such an interesting backyard. He just hoped Harry wouldn't worry or anything when he went back to the trailer and found him missing.

-*-

Draco looked at Harry curiously. What was wrong with him? Not that it really mattered. He then walked over to his magical boom box (original, I know), planning to turn on some music for the occasion.

Harry huddled in a corner, not really wanting the music to be turned on, knowing usually what happened afterwards. Why was this happening to him? What had he done to deserve this? Any second now, Daido would be playing and the Malfoy boy would be on him in seconds. There had to be a way out of this mess.

(yes, what you've all been waiting for)*alternate paragraph*

Harry looked indignantly at Draco as he headed for the magical boom box. Screw the music, he wanted to get laid now! It isn't exactly rocket science, ya know. He had only dreamed and masturbated about this ever since he was ten, and the only props necessary was a whip, pair of handcuff, and the occasional accompaniment of whip cream and sprinkles.

*end alternate paragraph*

Suddenly, a horrible, terrible noise entered Harry's ears. He had never heard such awful music in his life. Yes, if it isn't obvious, Draco had turned on the cursed country channel!!!

"Isn't this stuff great?" Draco said while trying to dance very badly to the satanic refrain of Garth Brooks. "Oh yes! Love this shit!"

Harry's eyes widened out of fright. This was just too friggin scary dude! What's worse was that Draco couldn't dance for shit, so he looked like some nerdy white boy attempting to 'get in the beat' with... country... Need I say more?

"Um, Draco," Harry edged towards the door, "I think I'm gonna go help Ron mow or something, okay?"

"Oh come on! Dance with me!"

"NO!"

"It'll be fun!"

"I'd rather be stuck in bed with your mother!" Harry then thought it over a bit and realized that such a thing really wouldn't be all that bad, but then focused back on the present situation.

"Fine then," Draco looked at him maliciously while a loud 'WHOOIE' sounded in the background, "it's time for me to get out... the banjo!"

"NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"