A/N: This chapter was hard to figure out too, so sorry it took this long. And Draco is so horrible XD just kidding but I love him. Hope this makes you laugh. Read, laugh and review!

Again: 15 reviews and I'll type up a prequel-type-story-thing about the Marauders. Put the rules you'd like me to write next in your reviews and I'll write them! Also, if you'd like me to put up another 60 or so rules, say so!

As requested by Phoenix Song: #63: I must not dye the Death Eaters' robes pink.

-PJatOgirl

How the hell did I get access to the Death Eater's robes? Stroke of genius, that's what, I think, tipping a small vial into the soapy water. The house elves come in a minute later, carrying the dirty robes of various Death Eaters, and they throw their loads into the washing vat.

I suppose I should explain. I've got a job at Malfoy Manor for the hols. My Muggles are visiting my boring old great-aunt, and I elected to avoid the misfortune of being stuck in Cardiff for two weeks. Instead, I asked around for any Wizarding families that could take me- but the Weasleys and Jordans weren't going home, and all the Hufflepuffs are mad at me still, and Ravenclaw is still burning furious over my last prank, so I didn't have many options. Then I heard that git Draco bragging about all the visitors that would be spending the hols with his family. Then he noticed me, and by way of flirting (though he'd never admit it, as I'm a Mudblood), he asked me if I needed a job. And I said sure.

So here I am, working in the Malfoys' dungeons. I hastily hide the vial in my robes, shoving it down the neck hole before the elves can see it. They'd be horrified. They eye me suspiciously then look at the ground. I just grin and take the big stick next to the tub and start stirring. I stir 'clockwise, not too slow, and for no less than 20 minutes!' just like I was told by the sniveling blonde boy. Draco seems to enjoy coming down to supervise, and he walks in a few moments later.

"Ello, prat." I call to him where he stands at the top of the stairs.

"Mudblood." He bites back.

"And proud of it." I reply sweetly. He scowls. "What's the matter? Don't like it when people are snots about their bloodlines?"

"I'm not going to grace that with an answer."

"Phew, thanks. I didn't want to hear you talk anyway."

"Watch your tongue."

"Or your father will hear about this, I know."

"You just make me insane sometimes!" He growls, rushing down the steps.

"I know; you're mad for me." I tease him, working him up because it's hilarious.

"Keep working!" he orders, trying to show superiority.

"Yes sir." I say, curtseying. He's infuriated, and he remains downstairs to watch me work until I've finished. I lay the pole back down and wipe the thin layer of sweat off my face and neck with my sleeve. "Done."

He's quiet and leaves quickly. I go to the kitchens and start my tasks there for preparing supper. A few hours later, when I take out the garbage, I throw the vial out with the vegetable peelings and trash. I whisper "Mischief managed" and grin to myself. Then I wash my hands and go upstairs to enjoy the chaos I mean, serve the meal.

In the dining hall, a table full of angry witches and wizards, all rumored to be Death Eaters, sit waiting for me in robes various colors of pink. One man in a particularly horrid shade of fuchsia stands up suddenly. I realize it's Lucius Malfoy and have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Draco, in a pale shade of rose, sits next to his father, fuming.

"Oh, sir, I'm sorry, did I miss a notice? Should I have worn pink also?" I ask innocently, trying my best not to giggle.

"No time for your games, Mudblood." He spits. "Draco warned me you were a prankster but I never- how dare you dye our robes pink?"

"Oh but I didn't sir. Draco watched me wash the robes this morning, he saw that they were still black when they came out of the water. I couldn't have done anything to them after that because I was helping with supper. Draco saw me."

"Draco!"

"I- I did see her, father. Mudblood's right, they were black."

"See? It wasn't me, couldn'tve been me."

"Silence! If it wasn't you, it was the elves. They're all fired! I'll hand out pink robes to them all myself!" He looks like he couldn't possibly get angrier.

"Oh dear. If you're firing the elves, I quit."

"You what?" Apparently, I was wrong. He's angrier.

"I said, if you're firing the elves, I QUIT!" I repeat, louder. "I guess that means you'll have to do the laundry and make the food and clean the house yourselves."

"I'LL KILL 'ER! I'LL KILL 'ER!" screams a crazy haired witch. She looks familiar.

"Bellatrix, no!" yells another witch. Oh, that's why she seems familiar.

"Ooh, yeah, best not kill me." I say, hoping I can talk my way out of this. "Killing an innocent Mudblood would sure seem like Death Eater activity, and none of you want those rumors flying about, do you?"

There is an angry murmur. "Go get the food, you filthy Mudblood." Lucius snarls. "Or I will let Bellatrix kill you."

"Yes, sir," I reply sweetly, with a curtsey. "Right away, sir."