Disclaimer: As always, one must bow to the majesty of JK Rowling.

Rating: High-ishy.

Snape drummed his long black fingernails rhythmically along the edge of his desk and gave a light sigh. It was Tuesday. It was 43 and a half minutes past 10. It was time for Potions class. His current crop of students however, did not seem to concur. He turned to face the front and was met with a barren ocean of empty chairs, naked desks, and dirty cauldrons. The Gryffindors absence didn't surprise him; it was probably a whole House plot to discredit him. With a light flick of his wrist he murmured "100 points from Gryffindor". Now, Slytherin was more of a shock, he was sure there must be some reasonable explanation and he would naturally waive punishment until his House students were given a chance to redeem themselves. Til then, it seemed he had a bit of free time on his hands. With a smirk, he pulled his cloak tight over his shoulders and, donning his tiara, began to make his way down to the lake, tripping slightly in his 6 inch pink stilettos.

As for the mysterious missing students…

Lavender Brown had taken up residence in the girls' bathroom and was regaling Moaning Myrtle with a catalogue of her Ron related woes. "I mean, he doesn't even look at me. Once at breakfast though he did ask me to pass the jam and so I did and he said 'Thank you!' But then another time I passed him the toast rack and he didn't even smile. I wish boys wouldn't give such mixed signals."

The inseparable Crabbe and Goyle, having dubious human intelligence and rather lost without the presence of their master were in the Slytherin Common room having a very unusual food fight. Crabbe smeared whipped cream across Goyle's naked stomach and Goyle thrust a handful of custard into his adversary's underwear. Strawberries were pushed into various crevices and the empty milk bottles were utilised in a most imaginative way. What became of the shepherds pie and lime jelly is perhaps too much for weak stomachs to hear.

Ron was in a drug induced stupor and thus confined to bed. He was currently having a very disturbing dream involving Dumbledore and a troupe of Mexican goats. Behind the screens drawn around his bed stood Hermione, delicately dabbing her eyes and wondering whether choosing between Ron and Draco on average number of "eeney meeny miny mo" wins was a reliable judgement of her innermost desires. Perhaps "id dip sky blue" would be more sensible?

Pansy Parkinson, the poor jilted non-girlfriend was bemoaning her abandonment at the dastardly Draco's hands with a box of chocolates, many tears, and a rather raunchy novel involving several extremely well-endowed sailors.

The third member of the class, one Parvati Patil, was lounging in the sun on a small private island off the coast of Indonesia. "Another cocktail, please Armand", she drawled, and the small pink parrot, which one could originally have taken to be part of her astonishingly ugly and ornate hat, flew off in search of the penguin butlers.

The oft very misunderstood Blaise Zabini had gotten caught up in a very long phone call to the local sexual health clinic. He had thought one simple call, maybe even a quick visit, and all would be resolved. Unfortunately the counsellor at the other end of the phone did not seem to believe that he simply wasn't sure whether he was a boy or a girl, and they were currently running through his preferred breast implant cup size.

As for Neville Longbottom, oh alas the day, for no one had listened to his mole related protestations and now it was too late. He sat shivering in an underground cavern, little eyes glinting at him from all sides. Little claws sensuously stroked his thighs and he gave a small yelp as he felt the furry creatures crawling down his trousers. But it was only when he was made unavoidably aware of their small wet mouths that he began to scream…

And what of our beloved protagonists? Well at this time Harry and Draco were swooping over Stoke on Trent and having a rather heated argument over the superiority of Cornish over Elvish pasties.

"You wouldn't know a decent flavour combination if it leapt up and gave you a haircut"

"At least I am vaguely acquainted with the principles of a haircut, Potter."

"And by principles you mean calling shampoo retailers Auntie and Uncle"

"You're just jealous."

"Codswallop"

"I'll wallop your cod if you're not careful" Muttered Draco

Harry blinked. "What did you say?"

"I said that scallops from Beachy-Head are wonderful"

"That's what I thought you said."

"Good. Mint humbug?"

And so the saga continues…

Jude

(Scam – Sorry it took so long but much of my time is taken up with running the shop. There was a great mix up the other week with the steel barbed whips and you don't even want to hear about the difficulties I've had with the chocolate and peanut body paint. But don't worry, I've still got that crotchless leather underwear you wanted set aside for you.)