IN THE GRYFFINDOR TOWER

Hermione sat in the common room, staring at Harry, who was throwing sharp pointy objects at a picture of Draco Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew, Lord Voldemort, and Snape. To the side of him was Ron, still bleeding profusely from his nose, which looked broken, but he refused to go the hospital wing. She herself had gone because of her back, which he'd almost cracked when he'd thrown her across the room.

Ron was trying to talk to Harry. She could hear it. "Harry, honestly all I said was that Snape is annoying. Why did you attack me?"

"You meant much more than that Weasley." He shouted, pointing the sharp object in his direction. Ron shrank back.

"Sorry. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I think that potion Snape was making messed you up."

THREE DAYS LATER

Draco had enjoyed his last three days with the more intelligent, cunning and EVIL Crabbe and Goyle. As he looked at the incantation he noted that it lasted three days. "DAMMIT!" He shouted, nearly scaring Pansy out of her skin. "It doesn't last till vacation!" There were four more days left until vacation. If he'd casted it three days later, it would have. He smacked his forehead again, and sighed. "Just have to cast it again I suppose." He looked down at the paper. "Only works once?! Then what the hell is it good for? Who makes up these rules?!" (Looks at authors again. Authors whistle innocently again, laughing somewhat at the ferret's torture.)

He walked down to the Great Hall for lunch, and accidentally knocked into Potter. "Watch where you're going Potter." He was about to say, but the words were said by a stranger voice. Harry's.

"Watch where you're going stupid ferret." He said, and pushed Draco back, knocking him to the ground. He laughed maliciously and kicked him once for good measure, then trotted off to lunch.

"Why didn't it wear off of Potter?" He asked. Looking at the paper for the fiftieth time, he saw the words Do not perform in large groups of people. Do not perform when making a potion including the three year old gizzard of a blue bellied booby. Do not perform when the moon is waxing. Do not perform when it is the third Monday of the fourth month of the 2003rd year. Do not perform when you have a cold. Do not perform when receiver (s) has (have) a cold. If all warnings ignored, effects will be prolonged. "How did I break all these rules?"

Draco looked down at his calendar. He had cast the spell on Potter three days ago… "Holy shit. It was the third Monday of the fourth month of the 2003rd year." He looked over at Pansy. "What was that special ingredient Professor Snape said we were using? You know, the one that he let Granger help Longbottom on?"

"A three year old gizzard of a blue bellied booby. Why?"

"Wow. Okay, that's three down," he looked at his calendar again. "Huh. The moon was waxing. Okay, four. How many days ago did I have a cold?" He asked no one in particular, trying to figure it out in his head.

"Three days ago, and you didn't even let me blow your nose for you." Pansy huffed.

"Okay…er…five." He looked sideways at Pansy, a little creeped out. "Did Potter have a cold?"

"Yes, he's the rat who gave it to you!" Pansy snapped. "I have to remember to pummel him for that!"

"Holy shit. That's all six. I should really start paying attention to these directions." (Ostrich-Well duh! Pengwinn cackling)

Later on…

After lunch there was a Quidditch match between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. Great, he was against the physco-maniac form of Potter. Just peachy. "Stay out of his way Malfoy, he's in a bad way today." Flint muttered, passing him the broom.

"I can't! I'm the seeker you MORON!" Draco shouted, slapping the seventh year upside the head. "We go ONE on ONE!"

They walked out onto the arena, where the Gryffindors were flying around, notedly avoiding Harry. Shit. The physco-maniac had a broom. A weapon. Triple shit. Draco mounted his broom and took off, waiting for Madame Hooch to blow the whistle. Once she did, the game began.

First, the Weasleys threw the quaffle to Lee Jordan, their new keeper. He in turn threw it to Angelina, or was it Alicia ? He couldn't tell the difference. Harry was trailing behind him, looking with newly cleaned and fixed glasses for the Snitch. He heard Alicia or Angelina, well, one of the girls smack to the ground, and then saw Harry speeding off towards Flint, the one who'd knocked them down with his beater club. This wasn't going to be good.

Harry took the club from Flint, threw it to the ground, and then whistled. One of the bludgers came veering away from the Weasleys in the direction of him, and he dodged letting it hit Flint in the face. Smart. He couldn't get blamed and there wouldn't be a penalty. That incantation was working wonders on him. He just wished he had cast the spell on Crabbe and Goyle a few days before vacation. They were very decent evil side kicks when they were under it.

As Harry took his position tailing Draco again, he suddenly realized that he had a death wish. If he got the snitch before Harry, he'd die. No doubt about it. Sighing, he pretended to see the snitch and took a very deep dive.

Harry followed intently, his eyes fixed not on the field and air surrounding him, but on Draco. Draco noted this and pulled out of the dive. Harry tailed him all around the field. Another penalty was made, on Lee Jordan. Harry used another interesting tactic.

It was yet again Flint that had made the penalty. Harry flew in a few circles below him, like a bird surveying it's prey. Flint tried to get out of Harry's line of fire, but he kept following him. When Flint flew down into a dive to get around him, Harry moved into the direction, making Flint swerve. Harry then flew into another direction, as though looking for the Snitch, and Flint was then hit in the face with a bludger. Draco could tell that Flint would reassign the beaters soon.

Harry did see the Snitch, and so did Draco. Draco dived for it, and he was inches away from having it in his hands when suddenly he heard a swoosh of air behind him. There was Harry, next to him, standing upright on his broom. He smiled and waved, not at him, but at something behind him. As Draco was knocked off his broom, falling to the ground in a heap, he heard the shouts of the crowd. Harry'd caught the snitch.

Slytherin lost. Again. Then he heard another sound, one he didn't like to hear. A whistle erupted from Potter's mouth, and as he looked up, the blackness coming in around his eyes, he saw his Nimbus2001 being cracked to pieces by a bludger while Potter laughed and caught the bludger, taking it down to put away.

(Heh heh...the crap that is my fanfiction...but it's cute! REVIEW!!!!!

Signed

Your faithful fanfiction slave monkey

Pengwin)