Chapter 30:

The Horrors of Being Considerate

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Hermione twitched as Ron poked her side rather forcefully.

"Oi- what the hell's the matter with you?"

Of course, the scrambled eggs spilling out of his mouth hampered the comment just slightly ("Oiff- whaffte da 'elf's da maddu wiff yous?") Nevertheless, the meaning got across.

"Bad dreams," she grunted with a half-hearted disparaging look at his table etiquette, "Haven't gotten much sleep."

"I trust however, this development will not stop you from being a general know-it-all in my class?"

Hermione's twitch grew even more violent.

Snape tutted at her, "Pity."

Snarling at him, she eyed his form with distaste…well, at least it was fully clothed.

"Ever so sorry to disappoint you Miss Granger."

The twitch paused and then began again in earnest- "Ah, pardon Professor?"

Lips curling into a half-grimace half-smirk, Snape tapped her nose patronizingly, "Little darling," he began in a nasal voice, "I'm afraid we can't all have your stunning taste in fashion."

The smirk grew as he viewed her untucked blouse, crinkled skirt and stained jumper- "I know how hard it is to keep tidy and civilized Miss Granger- but please think of the poor easily corrupted children-" He motioned toward Ron and then swept past the group to the Head table, leaving a quaking Terry Boot in his wake.

Sniff.

…

Sniff. Sniff.

…

Sniff. Sniff. Sniff!

Pansy pouted at the most un-polite silence and delicately dabbed a tissue at her pink nose- "Didn't you know Millie? When one encounters one whom has caught a cold it is common courtesy for one to offer a remedy or hope for improved health to the one whom is ill."

Millicent glanced up from her brightly colored book ('Spellbinding!' says Witch Weekly, 'Marbeim has outdone himself…again!') and blinked rather haughtily at the sniffling girl.

"A remedy, Pansy? Ah, how about not staying out all hours watching Higgs fly like a drugged up bat?" She sighed, knowing that Pansy wasn't listening, if the other girl's squirming while trying to twist underneath Millie's book and take a peek at the 'Romance Novel for the Ages! (says Gilderoy Lockhart, 'A Masterpiece Nearly as Good As My Own Writings!'.

"Bugger off, Pansy." With that said, Millie swatted at the blonde's grabbing fingers and closed the emerald curtains on her four-poster with a decisive 'swish'.

"Miiiiiillie!"

"No."

Pansy pouted and slunk over onto her own bed. Hmmm…well no matter what the other Slytherin said, it had been worth it to stay outside, no matter the cold. Pansy had discovered that Higgs did indeed not wear knickers underneath his robes- bloke probably didn't expect people to stare up his clothes- public modesty or some rubbish or that sort. She snorted and proceeded to drool over the memory.

Draco sighed wearily and aimed a half-hearted kick at the comatose form in front of the dead fireplace.

"Eh- uh…" he paused mid-kick and attempted to remember the name of the simpleton- "Um, erm- T-Timothy?" His nose wrinkled up at the name- No that wasn't it…oh well, who bloody cared?

'Timothy' grunted and latched onto the proffered foot, "Mum, I've got the toad here. Its shoe…mumble mumble-"

Frowning, Draco shook his foot- these were new shoes! Finally resigning himself to captivity, he sat on the rug and prodded the smaller boy with his foot (again…) for good measure.

'Timothy' sniffed and released the foot with a disappointed groan, yawning at the 6th year.

Draco smirked, "Mornin' Sunshine."

The boy's eyes widened as he carefully wiped drool from his face and licked dry lips.

"Eh?"

"Yeah, whatever-your-name-is, I need-" Draco eyed the slobber that had been unwittingly rubbed onto his trousers, "-a favor."

"Um. Sorry-"he blinked, gulping at the drool. "W-what kind of favor?"

"Simply tail someone for me." At the other's blank look, he continued: "You know, see where they go, who they meet, what they say, how they're planning on matching up a horrid mudblood with my best mate- just general rubbish."

'Timothy' shuddered at the obsessive smile the other had donned- "Erm…it's Malcolm."

"Hmm?"

"Ah, my name- it's Malcolm."

"…"

"Malcolm Baddock."

"…"

"Third year?"

"…And you say this why?"

"Oh- just a thought." He regained his composure, "Who do I stalk for you?"

Draco winced, "Ah, 'stalked' is such a vulgar word…I prefer 'feign ignorance of the existence of privacy laws'- Ah, what the hell- I want you to stalk Ernie MacMillan."

Ernie shuddered as a chill ran through his body. Answering the knee-jerk reaction with a sneeze, he sniffled wiping his nose and gazed dazedly at the wall of the Hufflepuff common room.

The room was just lovely- well perhaps if you were his Great Aunt Muriel. Flower-patterned couches clashed horribly with honey-colored curtains and long-ago-had-been-white worn rugs. Ernie winced as a particularly bad sneeze caught him- on a willow-patterned lamp sitting next to Susan Bones ("Ah…handkerchief?"). Accepting the token with a cross between a shrug and a lunge- his own creation that served to make him appear both aloof and desperate (quite the accomplishment if he did say so himself) he wiped his nose and offered Susan a weary nod of thanks.

"Sus- ah…choo!-need- cough cough- drugs or- sniff sniffle- die – mm-choo!- Later-"

With his stunning monologue out of the way, Ernie tuned on his heel, presumably to seek out Madame Pomfrey. Or at least Susan hoped- she had heard some rather disturbing rumors…

Nearly running into the corridor wall, made of course of spongy soft stone, Ernie managed to drag himself to the Medical Ward. After 'convincing' ("Madame? I've got some lovely pictures of you and Professor Snape at the Christmas Feast- fancy a look?"), Madame Pomfrey to cough up some Sleeping Potion, he downed the bitter liquid in one gulp, while stumbling out into the hall and promptly crashed headfirst into a conveniently placed wall…erm- Slytherin. Hah- fate's a bitch.

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