Disclaimer: I don't own HP, or any other related characters except for the dust bunnies...

A/N: Alrightly, folks! The last time you were unfortunate enough to read this sordid fanfcition, everyone had a Safety Buddy. Well, everyone had a 'buddy', but I don't think they were very "safe". WARNING: May be funny. Or may not.

Chapter 2: ...Stripper Poles and Curses

Safety Group # 1 (Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger):

Hermione Granger was feeling the beginnings of a severe migraine. This only happened when a) she had been studying for 23 hours without a break, b) she had been hit on the head with a two by four, and c) Malfoy was whining incessantly in her ear about the loss of his wimpy-ass pimp cane while she was trying to read a book on ancient Egyptian magic. Currently, option c) was her problem. After about an hour of putting up with the blonde idiot and his enless repititions, the poor girl snapped. She abruptly stood up, got in a batter's stance with the 60 pound hardback book as her bat, and THWACK. Malfoy was unconscious before his perfectly groomed head hit the grass. Smiling to herself triumphantly, Granger set down her book and rolled Malfoy down the hill. She then wondered where the hell the hill had come from. Shrugging it off as some weird ecstasy-snorting Dumbledore concincidence, she flipped open her book to the chapter on tomb curses.

Safety Group # 4 (Hagrid and Goyle):

Trying to strike up a friendly conversation with a half-wit cronie of a Pureblood pansy is tough. Hagrid was beginning to learn that the hard way.His attempts would go something like this:

"So, what do ye' like ter do in yer spare time? Are ye a lover o' creatures or summat?"

"...grunt and/or aggressive hand gesture..."

"...contemplative pause Al' right, then...Do ye like wizard's chess? I play'd a fair few games in my..."

At about the word 'in' during that last sentence, Hagrid would lose heart in conversation because of the menacing gestures coming from the gruff student. Goyle didn't really want to talk. He wanted to find a puny something and beat the living crap out of it. Or get some cupcakes.

Hagrid was saved from trying to come up with something to say next, when a body thumped into him from behind, toppling him forward into the springy turf. (Guess who is it, ladies and gents..)

"Bloody Blast-Ended Skrewts!", Hagrid yelled, spitting out clods of rich earth all over Goyle.

(Goyle was not happy about the dirt in his eyes. He started crying and trying to hit Hagrid at the same time. None of the punches actually hit their target, seeing as Goyle doesn't have 20-20 visoin and has bad hand-eye coordination under pressure.)

Hagrid stood up, causing a miniature earthquake in a nearby molehill, and turned to face his attacker only to find that the semi-conscious body of Draco Malfoy was lying on the ground at his feet.

"Ruddy git! Yer supposed to stay wi' yer buddy!". Hagrid then levitated Malfoy's now-fully-awake-and-complaining-body back up the hill to Hermione, who was highly disapointed to see him again and promptly Petrified him out of spite.

Safety Group # 14 (Harry and Snape):

Harry and Professor Snape were having a staring contest. Similar to the ones they usually have in class, but much more important. They weren't sure why they were doing this, but vague ideas about Harry's dead dad, homemade porn tapes, man thongs and questionable broom practices were hovering around their heads. Literally, hovering. Snape snatched the idea containg porn tapes out of the air and crushed it between his unwashed hands without blinking.

"Hey, that was totally my idea, Snape! And whyareyourhandsdirtythatsreallygross!", Harry burst out, trying to conceal the facts that his eyes were watering and he had blinked under the pretense of sweeping his untidy hair out of his eyes.

"I SAW THAT, POTTER! 450 TRILLION POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR, YOU CHEATING JAMES LOOK-ALIKE SCUMBAG! AND MY HANDS ARE CLEAN THANK-YOU-VERY-MUCH, THE AUTHOR IS JUST INTENT ON MAKING ME COME ACROSS AS SLIMY AND UNCOUTH AND HOMOSEUXUAL!" Snape was livid and pointing his wand at a dustbunny that was meandering through the grass, now looking quite frightened.

A long silence followed this pronouncement. Harry was feeling like he should be extremely and righteously angry for the sake of his father's honor or something. The dustbunny, who was Hubert's cousin, chewed on the tip of Snape's wand and began emitting green sparks from his bottom.

"...I never implied you were homosexual, Severus. I just meant you had a stripper pole in the dungeons.", the Author remarked quietly. She then slunk away, vowing that she would make Snape pay for disrupting the staring contest that could have made the story contain a sliver of plot.

Harry looked a little crestfallen. He thought he was the only one with a stripper pole at Hogwarts. He had a thought (WOAH) and suddenly perked up.

"Hey, Professor, your stripper pole doesn't light up, does it?", he asked, looking hopeful.

"Of course it does, you idiot. It also emits raunchy strip tunes and fireworks on occasion."

Harry, once again, looked dispirited. His stripper pole (a mere Tasteless Behavior 6868) couldn't compare to Snape's Take It Off 6969.

The poor dustbunny, whose name is irrelevant but it's Havier, exploded, sending marshmallow fluff into Snape's greasy hair. He cursed roundly, tried to curse Harry (but missed, hitting a hipogriff and making it trample Neville) and began shouting something unintelligible about Dumbledore's Enzyte perscription and taking a bath.

Somewhere close by, Dumbledore cackled evilly. His Plan of Unity was going horribly. And that made him strangely happy.

A/N: The end of Ch.2. This chapter is dedicated to my sole reviewer, Henrietta Black van der Snape. You deserve a Pygmy Puff. Or a niffler. I apologize for not updating sooner (I'm horrible) but I promise to update more frequently. Reviews and flames are appreiciated.

The odd author,

Canadian Vamp