Episode Two: Cleaning Is A Drag
"I think I'm getting fond of them," Hermione said cheerfully as the window repairmen's truck pulled away from the front curb.
Since they had been in the house, they'd been forced to call them almost daily for the amount of windows that were constantly being broken. At first, it had been easy to say that they were just new owners and they had no idea how a human sized hole came to be in the large picture window. By the tenth day, they'd progressed from that to shoddy framing straight into motioning toward Ginny and mumbling about a history of violent mental illness.
Their morning visits made Hermione's day, seeing as though the repair man was young and cute. She was grinning as she brought her glass of orange juice and her bagel to the table with her. Snape sat in his customary seat looking disagreeably down at an open record book. Every now and then, his frown would deepen and he would make a precise mark in the book. Hermione stifled a laugh at the thought that the morning conversation with Rico the repair man didn't have the same effect on him as it did with her.
"What does that bring the total on glass to?"
Draining his coffee mug, Snape narrowed his eyes at her. "As you well know, it doesn't matter about the total, seeing as expenses are being allotted per person. As it stands, however Weasley and company should skip the middleman and just start blowing glass as a hobby. Either that or that blasted window should be boarded up and I could be done with it."
Hermione ripped apart her bagel idly. "That wouldn't be the right solution."
"I could mistake that sentiment for Gryffindor stoutheartedness," Snape drawled. "Except I happen to know that your motives come less from a desire for Potter and Weasley to have a window and more from your desire for more visits from Juan your fantasy man."
Ignoring his last comment Hermione smiled at Ron as he entered the kitchen, looking around suspiciously. "Good morning, Ron."
"Hermione," he said, walking further into the kitchen then changing his mind and turning back. Running his fingers through his damp hair, he looked pleadingly at his friend. "Any idea where I can hide in here?"
The question of why, never got to be asked as a thud proclaimed that the bathroom door had been thrown open upstairs and the unmistakable sound of Quildemort shouting began. "WEASLEY!"
Seeing Hermione's look, Ron shrugged. "Took the last towel. No place to hide in here?"
Closing the record book with a loud snap, Snape looked at the frantic boy with one eyebrow inclined. "Go into the basement, you stupid boy. I don't want to have to call the repairmen out again."
Nodding in thanks Ron ran out of the room and to the basement door, which he promptly wrenched, open and then eased shut behind him. In the kitchen, Hermione bit her lip, as Quildemort's shouting became more frantic. Footsteps on the stairs and then Harry's horrified gasp from the living room pointed toward the fact that Quildemort had left the shower without the aid of a towel. For Ron's sake, she hoped he wasn't caught.
***
Only when the house was completely silent did Ron emerge from the basement. Shaking and with a haunted look in his eyes he edged into the living room and sat on the couch stiffly. Draco looked up from the episode of Milkshake he was engrossed in, to stare at the pale boy. "What's wrong with you?"
Ron didn't answer.
"Quildemort is in the backyard telling Hagrid about an evil topiary he dreamed up, you don't have to look so worried. Are you alright?"
"Nothing is going to be alright again," he muttered as he stared past the television set. "God is dead."
Draco scooted away from him on the couch; one insane Weasley in close proximity to him was enough. "What was down there? Crying big-eyed puppies or something else equally sad to Gryffindors?"
Lunging at the other boy, Ron held Draco's throat in his hands. Shaking him into the couch cushions, he tried to warn him. "You don't want to know, Malfoy. It's horrible down there. Horrible."
"Oh yeah?" He taunted, pushing the redhead away. "We'll see about that."
Marching toward the door Draco smirked back at the horrified look on Ron's face. He smiled one more time just to twist the knife as he started down the steps and then closed the door firmly behind him. The seconds ticked past and Ron watched the door with narrowed eyes for a moment before turning back to the television. Slowly his nausea began to abate.
Some time later he heard the door open and close again followed by Malfoy's slow footsteps. As Draco sat down, Ron took note of his even paler complexion before looking back at the screen. For a long time, neither spoke. Getting up the nerve to break the silence Ron said in a low tone, "Horrible isn't it?"
Drawing his knees up to his chest, Draco began to rock back and forth refusing to look at Ron. "We never speak of this again."
***
By the time the boys had recovered a little, it was nearly time for lunch. The house was in its usual state of chaos and disorder when Hermione made her way downstairs to set the table.
"Beating the bludger," said Harry.
"Grabbing the golden snitch," Ron countered.
"Holding out your hand and saying 'up'."
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, wandering into the kitchen, where Harry and Ron were deep in conversation.
"Ginny's hiding in a cupboard again, so we're having a competition. The one who loses has to talk her out."
"Oh. What's the game?"
"Seeing who can think of the most Quidditch related metaphors for masturbation," Ron told her. "Stooging the keeper."
Hermione rolled her eyes at the boys and was about to walk out in disgust, when a voice from the next room suggested "Polishing the broomstick." Hermione was nearly trampled in the chaos that occurred when Harry and Ron realised Dumbledore had joined in the masturbation conversation and both made a run for the protective safety of Ginny's cupboard.
Taking a seat at the kitchen table Hermione arranged the napkins and the salt and pepper shakers evenly and picked up the newspaper for further reading. A moment later Snape entered the room, cauldron in hand and a slight bounce in his step. It was his night for cooking again, something that put him in an amazingly good mood and sent the rest of the house for cover. It seemed that Snape didn't see much difference between potions and cooking. After the first empty economy sized jar of 'Pickled Eye of Newt' had shown up on the counter they had all begun looking much more carefully at their food.
"I wouldn't open any of those cupboards if I were you," Hermione advised through her paper. "One of them contains Ron, Harry and Ginny."
With his trademark sneer he set the cauldron on the custom burners on the counter and started throwing ingredients into it. After a few minutes of puttering around he stepped back with a look of triumph as a smell that wasn't repulsive in the least started to rise from his creation. Hermione watched his progress with amazement; perhaps they were going to break the running record of emergency take out orders.
Sirius Black entering the kitchen snapped her back to attention. Nodding absently to her, he headed straight for the refrigerator and promptly bent over into it so only the ass of his well-worn jeans were visible. Exchanging a puzzled look with Snape, Hermione realised that she'd half forgotten he and Remus lived with them. Somebody evidently hadn't, though. Strange whimpering noises were coming from the cupboard, which sounded more like Ron than Ginny. Sirius emerged from his searching with left over pizza, a half-empty bottle of 7UP, four tins of Pedigree Chum and a jar of Spanish olives. Without saying a word he walked back out of the kitchen and a moment later, they heard the basement door bang shut.
Narrowing her eyes slightly, Hermione shrugged and settled her sights on the bubbling cauldron. "What are you making, it smells… good."
Snape turned on the oven to preheat before taking his seat across from Hermione and taking up his parts of the paper. "Minestrone soup, but I've run out of eye of newt. I don't know if the consistency will be correct but I think I found a good substitute."
"I honestly don't want to know." Hermione turned the page of the newspaper. "Desert?"
Nodding, Snape looked back toward the cauldron. "Chocolate cake."
"Snake?" The shrieking form of Ginny Weasley tore out of the broom closet, sending dustpans and push brooms flying across the kitchen floor. Through the open door they could see Harry and Ron crouching in horror at the sudden light and behind them three huge jars of a slimy substance from the wholesale club.
With a dark look, Snape made his way over to the cupboard as Harry and Ron scrambled free. "I knew I had bought more of that. No meal is complete without eye of newt!"
Trying to keep the tears from welling up Hermione watched in resignation as he fished out the jars and added an amount of their content into the cauldron. Instantly the smell in the room became vile. Despite having spent the past year championing the cause of the house-elves, she had to admit there was something to be said for having decent cooks around who didn't have to be forced out of the basement with a dog whistle and heavily bribed to prepare food for everybody.
***
"It's sad what's happening to Ginny," Draco told the cameras in the diary room later that evening. After she'd been sent screaming from the cupboard, Ginny had gone upstairs and proceeded to trash their room. There had been mention of evil, giant, basilisk-newts, but Draco had chosen not to ask. "Ever since Quildemort arrived, she's become more and more unhinged. Last night I woke up and she wasn't in her bed. I eventually found her under my bed, hiding from a magic snake that only she could see. It's all very Freudian if you ask me. It's pretty pathetic when a person represses their sexuality to the point where it only gets expressed in subconsciously, like that." He shook his head seriously, then a thought occurred to him. "Hey, I'm her roommate. If she dies, do I automatically get her make-up? Wait. I mean skirts. Wait no, CDs. Yeah, that's it, CDs."
***
Hermione tripped as she was coming down the last step into the living room later that day. Catching herself on the banister, she picked up the thing that had caught her, a trampled sketchbook. Flipping through the pages she noted that since all the pictures were of large snakes eating members of the household, it was probably Ginny's. Carrying the book with her she stepped through the clutter of junk that covered the living room floor, nearly turning her ankle before she even got to the couch.
Dumbledore wasn't in his hammock, though how he'd gotten out was beyond her. The pile of sweets and junk that had accumulated beneath it, had spread until the elderly wizard would have to have jumped to land on a clean space. Dropping the sketchpad on the couch Hermione placed her hands on her hips and bellowed, "EVERYONE GET YOUR LAZY ASSES DOWN HERE NOW!"
A moment of shocked silence filled the house before being replaced by a stampede of feet coming down the stairs. Quildemort arrived first, having come from under the stairs in fear of the rush of feet from above, followed by Dumbledore from the kitchen who held a tub of ice cream in one hand. Crossing her arms over her chest Hermione waited as Ginny hopped down the stairs followed by a wary looking Snape who kept at a safe distance from the girl. They never knew when she was going to slip into one of her episodes.
Harry, Ron and Draco arrived last from the backyard where they had apparently been trying to play Quidditch; the remains of a green tomato plant were still evident on Ron's shirtfront. Keeping her glare steady as she surveyed the ranks, Hermione motioned wildly at the mess all around her with wide eyes. The blank looks she got in return did nothing to stop the tantrum they sensed coming on.
"This place is a complete pit, I have never seen this kind of filth before."
Draco smirked.
"Haven't you ever been to Weasley's house before?"
Ignoring Draco's grunt of pain as Ron kneed him in the groin, Hermione tried to pace but was limited to a space on the floor of about two feet by two feet. "No more Quidditch, no more television, no more psychotic delusions, no more anything until this place is shaped up. Now get going."
Watching as Hermione stomped off in a huff to check on the state of the kitchen, Harry turned to Ron and shrugged. "Cleaning won't be that bad, do you think someone should go tell Sirius and Professor Lupin that they have to clean up as well."
Ron's face took on a haunted look and he glanced nervously at the door to the basement. "I think that what's down there is better left alone. Yes, leave it alone."
At that he turned and walked up the stairs looking thoroughly green.
***
"It's disgusting," said Hermione inside the privacy of the diary room. "The whole house looks like it's been pulled apart by a herd of nifflers! There's broken glass in almost every room, because Ron keeps antagonising You-Know-Who and Professor Quirrell and the less said about the mess in the kitchen the better. I'm never letting Dumbledore help with dinner again. I don't care if he defeated the dark wizard Grindlewald, he's incapable of following a simple recipe without adding three bags of sugar and tipping most of the rest of the ingredients over the floor. Not to mention the state of the floor under his hammock. I'm sure I saw something moving under there, but I suppose it could have just been Ginny. Anyway, they'd better have the place spick and span by this evening or there'll be trouble!"
***
"I don't see why I have to help you clean your room," Voldemort complained as he and Quirrell glanced around the state of Harry and Ron's room. "It's not as if we're ever in here."
Shaking out his comforter and smoothing it on his bed, Harry looked at the glass and junk that littered the floor. "That's not true, all that glass is from you throwing things at me when you think I'm not looking. Of course, some of it's from Ron falling through it, but otherwise. And see all that laundry there, it had to be taken out of my drawers because I had to lock all those sharp objects you kept trying to stab me with."
Quirrell rolled his eyes as he felt Voldemort pouting on the back of his head. Though he knew better than to voice the opinion he was rather sick of having his lord and master in his body, there was no reprieve from his eternal whining. Leaning down he took hold of Harry's Firebolt and his shoulder-bag. Frowning at the mental coercion Voldemort was using, he gave into the demands of his master and tossed both things out the open window.
"Hey, what's that about?" Ron glared at him as Quildemort started picking things up at random and throwing them out the window one after another. "That's not being helpful in the least."
Harry barely glanced up from making his bed in time to see Quirrell take hold of Ron and toss him unceremoniously out the window along with the rest of the refuse from the floor. Feeling the anger build up in him, he wiped his hands across his forehead and his ever-burning scar and glared at his arch-nemesis.
"I have had enough."
Placing his hands on his hips, Harry walked to the window and shouted at the smirking man in front of him. "It's bad enough that you killed my mum and dad and forced me to live with my rotten aunt and uncle. But do you really need to keep throwing my best friend out of windows?"
***
There was a muffled shout from the house and a moment later; Ron came sailing through an upstairs window. For a moment, the only sounds were of Ron muttering in a vain attempt to cast Wingardium Leviosa on himself before he hit the ground. Three interested faces watched from the bedroom window. In the end, Ron's attempts at wandles magic failed miserably. Luckily, his fall was broken by Hagrid's Slow Flowering Neptune Lotus, which bore his weight for a second, then collapsed into a heap of broken petals.
"Cor, thanks Hagrid! Good job I landed where I did, eh?"
He beamed up at the tearful half-giant and ran back into the house with his arms full of the objects that had preceded him out the window. Hagrid just sighed and fished a seed catalogue out of his pocket. Back to the drawing board, again
***
Coming out of the bathroom Draco hazarded a glance into Harry and Ron's room to check on their cleaning progress. Harry lay on his newly made-up bed asleep with his arm supporting his head drooling onto his sleeve. Ron was on the floor with three large steel buckets full of broken glass. On his hands and knees, equipped with dragon-hide gloves he was sifting the carpet for more. The rest of the room was impeccably neat aside from the glass and it made Draco grit his teeth knowing he had to check the state of the room he and Ginny shared.
Crossing the hall, he braced himself to open the door but it was flung open before he reached it. Ginny stormed out of the room dressed in green rain goulashes, bright pink ski pants, the pointy Hogwarts ceremonial hat and a too-big Weasley jumper with an B on it. She was dragging a large sack that towered over her and frowning. Not knowing whether to be horrified at her outfit or to ignore it because it was Ginny, Draco made his way into the room without a word.
To his amazement, the room was clean, dusted and vacuumed. Looking around he realised that even his bed had been made. Stifling a grin, he caught his reflection in the mirror of his full vanity and leaned in to inspect his flawless complexion. Pulling open the top draw with intentions of looking for lip gloss, he was knocked back by Pig and Hedwig screeching and swooping toward him. Crashing to the floor he covered his head and curled into a foetal position, which did nothing to deter the two owls.
After circling him several times and pecking at his head the two owls were content to swoop out through the open door but not before they both did their business on the back of Draco's shirt. Cursing, Draco crawled to the door and slammed it shut before pulling himself to his feet. His reflection told him that the owl nasty had run down to the seat of his pants as well as the fact that his hair was a wreck.
"I think I'm going to eat those bloody owls, one of these days," he muttered to himself as he pulled off his shirt and pants. "At the very least I have to adjust their dosage. They're a menace when they're this hyper!" Decked out in nothing but black socks and a pair of underpants covered in cartoon monkeys, he made his way to the closet. The very empty closet. Pulling open Ginny's closet he saw that it to was empty, save for one overly sparkly green ball gown. Thinking back to the departure of his demented roommate Draco gathered that she must have been braving the cellar with all the laundry in the room. That scenario explained her outfit rather well he mused, as his eyes fell back on the only stitch of clothing in the room.
"Oh fuck."
***
Dinner was never a dull affair in the house. Most of the meal was spent trying to identify what was on the plate without being pinned by Snape's glare and the rest was trying not to upset any of the housemates. Since Ginny's delusions could be set off by most things at this point, not just by words that sounded like snake, it made for some interesting conversation.
Harry had set the table under Hermione's drill sergeant like direction and Dumbledore and Quildemort sat at the far side of the table with a bag of sweets. Dumbledore was the only person in the house who had no complaints about Snape's cooking but Hermione rather suspected that he just dropped in whatever candy he had on hand to make it appeal. Ron had been assigned the job of serving the meal under Snape's scrutiny and was running back and forth from the table with his crash helmet on. He'd seen the effect of a concussion on his sister and now no task was safe enough.
Ginny skipped in at the last minute laughing hysterically as she sat next to Draco's empty seat. Seeing that no one even looked up at her laughter Ginny cleared her throat an announced, "Pretty Princess Draco will be down in a moment."
With a slight lift to her eyebrow, Hermione jabbed her fork into the goo on her plate.
"This looks… um... interesting. What is it?"
"Essence de l'Aine Suée, a speciality in my family," Snape said in a sombre, satisfied tone as he poured himself a glass of wine.
Ron tugged at his fork, which was embedded in the goo and wouldn't budge. "Is there cement in this stuff?"
Hermione winced. She could feel the anger that was radiating from the scowling man beside her. Fixing his glare on each person in turn, Snape slipped into the silky voice, he usually saved for Neville Longbottom on particularly nasty days. "I don't expect any of you to understand the subtle art that is cooking. It is a precise science and I don't see anyone else inclined to take up the gauntlet and try cooking on their own."
"Now, now Severus. I think it's good." Dropping a handful of Lemon Drops into the goo, Dumbledore stirred it up and took a bite. Chewing the mess up thoughtfully he swallowed and grinned, nodding with his pleasure. Sensing the tantrum that would follow if they all didn't begin eating and at least pretending to enjoy it Harry took up his fork and jammed some of the goo into his mouth. Taking his lead Hermione did the same, followed by Quirrell despite Voldemort proclaiming loudly that he didn't eat anything French.
Suddenly Harry started coughing, his fork falling to his plate and his face turning bright red. Shaking, his coughing continued until Ron rose to give him the Heimlich. It was about then that they all realised that the coughing was caused by hysterical laughter and not choking. Following his line of vision the entire table froze, forks halfway to their mouths, food half chewed as Harry managed to choke out, "Hey Draco."
Framed in the doorway the blonde Slytherin boy glowered at the table. With his arms crossed over the fitted bodice of the frilly ball-gown he wore, he dared any one of them to question him. Strapless and simple, the gown was a blue-green sheath with a belled bottom that covered his feet and accentuated his tiny waist. All together, he was quite the picture in the gown with his perfect porcelain skin. The image was marred only by the dark look he was shooting at his hysterical enemy.
"Something funny, Potter?"
Harry cleared his throat and smiled angelically despite his flushed face. "Oh no, just a bit of goo… I mean dinner stuck in my throat. Have some, it's delicious."
Frowning at Harry for a moment, Draco then glared at his giggling roommate who was still wearing her ski pants and sweater with no one questioning her appearance. With a huff Draco flounced into his chair and swirled the contents of
his plate with his fork. Across the table from him, Ron was staring at him with a bemused expression on his face.
"Do you have something to say to me, Weasley?"
Ron blinked at him.
"Yeah, nice dress."
"What did you say?" Draco growled in a dangerous voice.
"I said, pass the dressing." Motioning at the bottle of Thousand Island dressing to Draco's right, the redhead smiled brightly at him. "What did you think I said?"
Scowling Draco stared into his plate. At the far end of the table, Voldemort hissed at Quirrell to let him see the boy in the dress, causing Draco to clench his fork until his knuckles turned white. To his right Ginny Weasley had finished her plate and had gone to the stove to serve herself more much to Snape's delight. Dinner progressed in silence until Hermione finished her plate and rose, asking each person at the table if they'd care for some something to drink.
When the mention of Coke to Dumbledore made Ginny drop her fork, Hermione tactfully skipped asking her and set her sights on the fuming Slytherin. "Do you want a tiara, Malfoy?"
Slamming his palms down on the table, Draco jumped to his feet in anger. "Do you think you're funny, Granger? Take a good long look all of you, but I will have you know that it takes more than peasants like you to break a Malfoy!"
Stomping from the table, he left the dining room in shocked silence. Turning to Snape, Hermione narrowed her eyes in thought. "What was that about? All I asked was if he wanted a tea or a coffee."
"You see it in all the best Slytherin families," was all he said before excusing himself from the table.
Quirrell, bringing his attention back to his plate and away from the doorway which Draco had just exited through, turned to Dumbledore. "That is Lucius Malfoy's son? He's not much like his father, is he?"
From behind, he heard Voldemort laughing. Dumbledore merely popped some more sweets into his mouth with a forkful of the goo before answering with a smile. "I see that you don't know Lucius very well."
***
Ron was assigned the bitch job of doing the dishes while the rest of the household retired to the living room for evening television. The program of the evening was the biography of Susan Lucci, which even Dumbledore was barely paying attention to. He instead had taken up the household pastime of 'Peg Potter' though his handicap was much greater then previous players. Since Harry was asleep on the couch his angle on the hammock made him have to throw over the arm of the couch to get anywhere near his face, something he took into account while scoring.
Ginny sat on the floor with her legs extended under the coffee table. To all outward appearances, she seemed to be watching the television but in actuality, she was doodling the demise of her housemates in her sketchpad. From his seat on the couch Quirrell could see her drawings clearly and made a mental note to avoid the girl from now on. Voldemort in the other hand was oblivious to Ginny and her homicidal intentions. He was having a staring contest with Pig who was perched stiffly on the banister that ran up the stairway.
The evening progressed and the sounds from the kitchen went from running water to electric sander and then finally to plates being placed in cabinets. Ron emerged as the sounds stopped, his T-shirt soaked through with soapy water and a full garbage bag held at arms length. Catching sight of Voldemort staring at his owl, he stopped and looked between the evil face and the rigid bird.
"What are you looking at?"
Without blinking Voldemort answered, "Your owl doesn't look too well. This is the first time I've seen that thing, when it hasn't been moving and searching for blood."
"There's nothing wrong with my bird," the redhead said defensively, though when he gently poked it, it fell from the rail and landed on the floor undamaged but in the same pose it had been in previously.
"Bugger."
Picking the little statue-like bird up by the foot in his free hand, Ron walked out into the back garden. Hagrid had just finished setting up his little yellow tent for the night and was whistling shrilly for Fang and Fluffy to join him. Ron thought that whistling was a little unnecessary, since the dogs were never more than three feet from him at all times in the tiny garden. Though the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to question Hagrid at all, since he spent his days in the tiny yard, never joining them for meals or using the inside bathroom or anything. No, that definitely wasn't a line of thought he wanted to pursue.
"Hiya, Hagrid." Dropping the bag in the outdoor bin he settled himself on the concrete steps and looked up at the half-giant.
Hagrid beamed down at Ron. "Ullo, Ron. Nice to see you coming outside through a door for a change."
Ron coloured slightly. "Sorry about all that glass. And your plants… I really feel bad about the bonsai, the tomato plant… and all the rest."
"I know yer didn't mean to," Hagrid said as he sat down with his feet under his little tent. "What brings yer out 'ere in the dead of night other than the rubbish?"
Frowning, Ron held out the prone form of Pig by his foot. "Something's wrong with Pig. He looks just like Neville did when Hermione cast Petrificus Totalus on him. But that can't be the probem, since nobody has their wands."
Tossing the little owl to Hagrid, Ron watched while he examined it. Hagrid tapped it on the head, shook it a little, then tossed it back. "What yer've got there is the most stoned owl I've ever seen. Who's been feeding 'im?"
"St-stoned?" Ron's green eyes widened to huge proportions. "I thought he'd just been around Ginny too much… How do you get an owl stoned?"
Pushing the image of the little owl surrounded by bongs, pipes and hookahs out of his mind he looked down at his pet. "He sleeps in Ginny's room… Malfoy!"
Jumping up, Pig fell from his lap and landed with a bizarre clanging noise on the step. That barely stopped Ron who picked up the owl and ran into the house with a rushed, "Thanks, Hagrid!"
Tearing up the first flight of stairs, he ran past Hermione and Snape's room where they were lying on the top and bottom bunk respectively, reading in a tense silence. Panting by the time he got halfway up the second flight of stairs, he stopped dead at the door to Draco and Ginny's room, clutching the little owl in his fist. Throwing open the door, he froze in terror.
Standing in front of the mirror was Draco, still in his ball gown, but since dinner, he had added frosted pink lipstick and elbow length satin gloved to his attire. Shocked Ron merely stared at the sight, before easing the door closed and backing up slowly into his own room. When the door was shut firmly behind him he put Pig securely on his bedside table and slipped into his pyjamas and into his bed, still in shock.
With the covers pulled up to his chin, he smiled knowingly at the little statue. "It all makes sense now. Living with that, I'm lucky you haven't just killed yourself."
Jamming his face into his pillow, he tried to fall asleed, hoping against hope that his dreams wouldn't contain anything he had seen that day.
Want to see Ginny's sketchbook?
Why not visit the site?
http://www30.brinkster.com/bunkbeds/
