Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed.
I make no money, I mean no harm.

A/N: I had to put it in utterly another universe, since the mood doesn't fall into times after HBP and it certainly didn't happen before. I hope you'll enjoy, though.

Harry's Hands

It was only two weeks since Dumbledore left Draco Malfoy at Number 12 Grimauld Place, and the brat was already grating on everyone's nerves. He started his day at six o'clock with complaining about cold tiles in the bathroom, which, of course, could be heard all over the house, especially in Sirius' room, thus waking the animagus up. Malfoy continued complaining about the breakfast, which annoyed Mrs. Weasley to no end, especially because she always made sure to prepare a small feast for them. Throughout the day, Malfoy's whining coloured everything they tried to do. Hermione spent hours stocking books Malfoy had perused back where they belonged, irritated. Ron was constantly fuming. Ginny released her inner presure by pulling a prank a day at Malfoy - it was funny, but unfortunately it only lead to Malfoy being even worse. Snape, who hadn't spent in Malfoy's presence more than three hours altogheter, showed his displeasure with the young Slytherin's behaviour. Sirius never stopped snarling anywhere near Malfoy... and he couldn't escape him at all. Even Lupin became moody and he was caught relieving his stress by shouting at one of the unpleasant portraits... twice.

Words like upset or irritated couldn't describe Buckbeak's mood at all.

Harry was watching the set up with growing impatience. One morning (only six weeks 'till we go back to Hogwarts, Hermione muttered under her breath), Harry snapped.

"... but of course I wouldn't expect any better from..." Malfoy was saying, when Harry stood up, throwing his chair back carelessly. Malfoy stopped talking, looked at the chair on the floor, then back at Harry, who was slowly but steadily nearing him.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked warily. Everyone looked up at Harry. His face wore determined expression.

"What your parents obviously neglected to do years ago," Harry retorted evenly, stopping right next to the still sitting Slytherin. Then, without warning, he hauled Malfoy from the chair, and setting his own foot on it, bent him over his knee. Malfoy's feet didn't reach to the floor and he had to grip at the chair so that not to lose balance. Harry's hand, however, held him fast right behind his neck, preventing him from any stunts he might have wanted to pull.

"Potter, what the hell..." Malfoy cried out, ending in a squeak, as Harry's other hand collided with his bottom. "POTTER!"

"You will not wake up everyone at six o'clock in the morning just because you need to have a shower," Harry said calmly, punctuating his statement here and then with a good slap. "You will never again complain about the food you get for nothing." Harry had to raise his voice to overcome Malfoy's swearing but noone seemed to mind it. Ron forgot his toast and it got eaten by Crookshanks, who was the only one in the room not paying attention to the show.

"You will apologize when you run into someone in the corridor. You will put books you have read back on the shelf. You will thank the people who pass you salt or bread at the table. You will not call Hermione mudblood and you will stop insulting everyone in this house." Malfoy's bottom must have turned red under his clothing as Harry's hand never ceased spanking it soundly. Harry's leg, however, became trembling under the strain of keeping Malfoy up in the air. Harry didn't let it affect his voice, though, and Malfoy wasn't bound to notice - he himself was beginning to shiver with pain and probably shock.

"You will act civilly to everybody else. You will help with the housework just as we all do. Otherwise you're back over my knee in no time, undestood?" At this Harry lowered his hand and waited expectantly.

There was a strangled sob, but no other response came from Malfoy, and Harry raised his hand again. Malfoy must have seen the movement, for he choked out a "yes" hastily.

Harry hauled Malfoy to his feet and returned to his own place, looking calm, mature and pleased with himself. Malfoy had hard time trying to contain tears, as he rubbed his sore bottom.

"It is such a pity the school year has not yet begun," a cold, silky voice startled them all. Fascinated by Harry's perfomance, nobody noticed Snape had arrived, and the Head of Slytherin House was presently standing at the door, unreadable expression on his face. "Otherwise," he continued, "I would feel obliged to award Gryffindor some points for this example of... disciplination." Malfoy sniffed.

"I can visit the dungeon at September, if you wish," Harry said, toying with a glass of pumpkin juice. "I believe there are more Slytherins who could use it."

"That won't be necessary," Snape replied. "I do not, in fact, wish to give you the points." Malfoy slowly and very carefully sat back at his place, eyeing everyone almost shyly.

"Wea... um, Ronald, could you, ahem, please pass me the juice?" he asked in a timid voice. Ron complied and received a murmured "thank you".

"Don't choke on that."

"Ron!" Hermione yelped. She inhaled for a long tirade, but changed her mind. "You don't want to be the next one, do you?" she asked sweetly.

"Oh, Harry wouldn't..." Ron trailed of at the sight of Harry's face, once again determined and calm. "Erm, of course not, sorry." Harry smiled contently. One of Snape's eyebrows quirked a bit.

A quiet and pleasant talk started not long after that and it stayed that way until they cleared the table after breakfast. And despite Voldemort wanting to kill them all and them being forced to stay together until September, it was a nice, friendly summer. Noone, after all, wanted to be the next one in Harry's hands.