Harry wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten a girlfriend in his first year of Hogwarts, but he certainly wasn't going to take it for granted. Nor was he going to question what Hermione told her parents for their second summer holiday. Somehow, she'd shown up on a street corner on a late July evening, when the sun was well overhead.

She'd told him it was an early birthday present for both of them. She'd amazingly planned out every facet of her stay there, right down to the nonperishable food, invisibility cloak, escape routes from the house and enough muggle money to stay at an inn if all else failed.

They immediately went to the park and sat on a bench under the shade of a very large oak tree. It was rather hot, but she didn't seem bothered as they sat close together and she leaned her head against his cheek.

"So, what have I done to deserve this treatment?" He asked as he looked at her. Hermione turned to look at him in the eyes and blinked.

"Well, very simple. I don't believe you deserve the treatment you've been getting. So, I devised a way to come here. In a few days, I went to Paris for the beginning of the holiday. It was a birthday gift because I was…" Hermione looked at him, going pink in her cheeks.

"Head of the class for two years in a row?" Harry asked and she tilted her head the other way. "That's all well and good, but did that give you the bug to come and see me?"

"Of course it did." Hermione admitted as she pulled out a little bag that looked like a normal green cloth sack, but then she reached her entire arm into it to pull out a comparatively large box of fancy chocolates, she pulled out what looked like a sealed container, featuring the French flag and some of the language with a pale looking cheese and separate package of crackers. "I brought a few souvenirs along with a few French magical items."

"There are wizards in France?" Harry asked, perplexed as she raised an eyebrow toward him.

"Don't be silly, Harry. Of course there are French wizards. How very British of you." Hermione slapped his shoulder and then brought out a little vial, blushing. "This is supposed to make us glow in the dark the warmer we make each other." Hermione whispered to him and his eyes widened a bit as he looked at the little potion of violet liquid. "The French call it 'La chaleur du coeur' or 'the heart's warmth'." Hermione giggled at his bashful expression as he found it hard to look her in the eye all the sudden.

"What do we have here?!" A very loud, cockney voice shouted from across the park. Harry immediately recognized the voice of Piers Polkiss, one of Dudley's cronies from the neighborhood. Sure enough, Piers, Dudley, Dennis and Gordon were all across the park, heading toward them. Although, Dudley seemed to go much slower than the others. "It looks like Potter's got a bird of his own. Don't she know better?"

Hermione was already putting all of her things back into her bag. "Are they for real?" She asked him and he rolled his eyes, nodding.

"And who might this little bird be, Potter? You got another cousin?" Dennis asked, causing the rest of them to laugh. Though, again, Dudley seemed more hesitant.

"What's the matter? Run out of nine-year-olds to bully?" Harry asked, getting up from the bench along with Hermione. She seemed to be contemplating something.

"Oh, no, we're in fresh supply. We just thought we'd give your pretty little thing a few better options." Piers said, causing the rest of them to laugh and even go a little "woo woo".

"Harry, perhaps it's not worth it." She started to say before one of them began to reach out to touch her hair. Hermione's eye snapped straight toward him and he thought better of it as his mouth suddenly lost its grin. "Or perhaps you need to learn your manners."

There was a pause. Her eyes scowled toward them as her hand went to her back, where her wand was tucked away into her pants, underneath her shirt.

"Hermione, they don't know. There's no need to hurt them." Harry said as he went to her.

This drew a laugh from all of them and Harry turned a very worried look toward all of them. "Guys! You don't understand. She's from St. Brutus's!"

All of them went silent immediately and backed away at least one step. There was a long moment when Hermione looked at Harry, who looked back at her.

"That's impossible!" Dennis finally said, gaining back a fraction of his smugness from before. "That's a school for incurably criminal boys." He said, noticing that she was, not a boy and gaining back a bit of the group's lost momentum.

"Yeah, Potter," Dudley finally spoke up, his smug grin across his face. "There's no way she's from that school. I know that."

"Do you, Dudley?" Harry asked, looking him in the eye. He knew exactly where he was going.

The fact that Harry was at wizarding school was known only to the Dursleys. No one else in the muggle world was to know of this and Dudley already swore never to tell anyone. However, Harry was said to be attending St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, and he was to honor that story no matter what. That meant that the truth of the matter began to dawn on him very slowly. If she was not from the Centre, that could only mean one thing.

"Boys, maybe we should go have our fun by the petrol station." Dudley suddenly offered, and this took the rest of them by surprise.

"Something wrong, Big D?" Piers asked, drawing all of their attention.

"Big D?" Hermione asked, making Dudley flinch and take a step back as he looked at her. Dudley was absolutely massive. He outweighed her in the neighborhood of over two hundred pounds, but it looked like he could have crumpled at her gaze.

Hermione was very pretty and her wild hair from her youth was a lush brown color with traces of blonde highlights on the tips. To the untrained eye, she looked like any girl you would see down the street. However, she was among the deadliest witches of her age. Even if she couldn't use magic, Harry Potter would not be the one to cross her, boyfriend or not.

"Are you all going to stand there gawking at me like a bunch of quivering little babies, or what?" Hermione finally barked at all of them, causing them all to recoil and back away very quickly.

"We're sorry! Please, don't come after my family!" She heard one of the boys say.

"Come after his family? Is he having a laugh?" Hermione asked, looking over at Harry, who shrugged, relieved that nothing outrageous happened. "What sort of time does he think I have?"

"I don't know. You want to try the fish and chip shop?" Harry offered and she sighed.

"Yes, alright." Hermione said, feeling a bit peckish after a thought.

It went smoother for the next week and Harry had to admit, it was the happiest memories he could have ever hoped for in 4 Privet Drive. When the door opened and either Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia poked their noses into his room, she put on the invisibility cloak very quickly.

While it did work, it was not flawless in execution. There were times when her voice became a bit louder than she had meant it to be. More than once, there were questions as to whether someone was, in fact, in his room. Wishing they could do some kind of privacy charm or silence charm, they decided to drape a pillow over their heads to at least somewhat muffle the sound better with the blanket.

They got close. His lips against hers and her fingers running through his disheveled, hopeless black hair. The Dursleys left him alone for the most part, and that suited them just fine. His arms were around her and they stayed like that for very long periods of time.

There were times when they would lie on either end of the bed with books out, reading quietly to themselves. He took her to a small duck pond where they sat under a tree and fed them dry corn. "So, when are we going to run away?" Harry asked and she shrugged.

"Anytime, really. I suppose when we get our letters for Hogwarts. I've brought enough Galleons to last us until September 1st." Hermione reasoned as she tossed a bit more corn to a little mallard duckling.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. I think that's in a couple of days. Is Ron still in Egypt?" He asked, and Hermione nodded. She'd been receiving the Daily Prophet since she'd gotten there and found a very interesting article that she immediately showed to Harry on one of their quiet mornings, eating buttered french bread toast.

Ron was with his entire family in Egypt. His father had won seven hundred Galleons in a grand prize. Hermione questioned the wisdom of spending all of the gold on one trip with their large amount of children, but they seemed ever so happy on the picture in the Daily Prophet. Ron stood with his rat, Scabbers on his shoulder and a loose-fitting muggle tank top while Ginny stood beside him with a Hawaiian shirt on and sunglasses. They looked like they were having the time of their lives.

It didn't take long for the Hogwarts letters to come in. It was the beginning of August and they were very much looking forward to finishing out the holidays in Diagon Alley. They were well within their budget to stay at the Leaky Cauldron and they opened the letters with great enthusiasm. That was, there was great enthusiasm until Harry saw the extra page that came with the "welcome back" letter.

There didn't seem to be a great deal of text books this year by Gilderoy Lockhart. That had a little to do with the fact that he was found guilty of fraud of the highest degree. He'd gone very broke with legal fees and narrowly escaped Azkaban by sheer good will of the Ministry.

There was, however, an extra note that told both of them that third year students were allowed visits to Hogsmeade on designated weekends. Neither of them had been to Hogsmeade outside of the train station, but it was the only full wizarding village in all of Britain. It was a paradise of different food, lodging, wizarding joke shops, spa treatments and any other number of different activities they could do. They even heard Chocolate Frogs were at discounted prices in Honeydukes.

The big problem, however, was Harry would need to have his form signed by a parent or guardian. This seemed extremely unfair, as it singled out orphans with terrible muggle parents that would sooner see him die of hunger than sign a form allowing him any sort of leisure.

"Perhaps if you ask them nicely?" Hermione wasn't believing her words as they left her mouth and Harry knew it. This was going to be a real problem. Hermione could write hers to her parents' without any issue, but the Dursleys were going to be a very hard tough shell to crack. This could complicate their plans for Diagon Alley.

"If only we could Confund them or something." Harry said and Hermione rolled her eyes at the idea. Even if they could do magic outside of Hogwarts, that sort of business got wizards into a lot of trouble if the ministry ever caught wind of it.

"It's no good Harry, you're going to need to put on your best frown and tell them how miserable it would make you, or something." Hermione tried to reason with counter logic, as the Dursleys seemed to do.

The Dursleys had some of the most backwards intelligence Hermione had ever heard of. Having been raised by muggles herself, she knew how proper folk acted toward one another and the Dursleys seemed to take great pride in doing the exact opposite. They hated anything in the wizarding world, took great care to impress neighbors they didn't like, and always seemed to prefer being miserable over anything else.

Their largest blindspot, apart from Harry, was Dudley, who was packing on enough weight to compare to a young elephant. They fed him just about every minute of every day. Sometimes, he looked like he could use a third hand with how much he was shoving into his fat face. Hermione was the first to overlook such petty things as a few extra pounds but one glance toward him gorging on spaghetti was nearly enough to make her sick.

Hermione took a nap in his bedroom while Harry did some very hard talking at dinner that night. Not only had the question not gone well, she discovered as she woke, but Harry looked like he had just swallowed a capsule of poison that was due to burst at any moment. "What is it? What's wrong?" She asked, expecting the absolute worst.

"My Aunt Marge is coming tomorrow…" Harry declared, and looked at her.

There were tiny whispers of Aunt Marge in a few of their past conversations, but Hermione was very quick to find out that she was a very sore subject. Judging by his expression, he looked as if he would have preferred the poison.

"Then we should leave!" Hermione offered and Harry looked at her with a bewildered shaking of his head.

"Uncle Vernon gave me the ultimatum. Either I'm a good little boy from St. Brutus's for Marge or there will be no signing my permission form." As Harry said this, Hermione's face grew in terror.

"I'll shrink her and hold her for ransom!" Hermione growled through gritted teeth as she wielded her wand and Harry held her close to calm her. "That pompous bastard. How can he be so cruel? The nerve of all of them."

It took a long while for both of them to calm down. She was going to stay there for a week and Harry had to be there for every single day in order to receive the signature. The more she learned about Aunt Marge and her horrible dogs, the more Hermione joined Harry in misery. Their hands never left one another as she willed his mind to heal from the turmoil it had endured.

"I love you, Harry James Potter, and we've been through more horrible enemies than her." The two of them had Lord Voldemort in mind. Beyond that, the hags, the banshees, even the basilisk was looking rather misunderstood compared to Harry's description of the woman who covered his hair in toothpaste on his eighth birthday.

"Thank you for being here, Hermione. I know this hasn't been the easiest for you. Why don't you go to Diagon Alley without me?" He offered and she looked him in the eyes.

"I have fought off the worst dark wizards imaginable for you, Harry. I've come out worse for wear and with miniscule brain damage, but I do not intend to quit just because some pompous old gas bag barks with a few little pugs at me." Hermione looked reproachful as she looked off to the side with a fuming sigh.

"Yes, you have been there for me. You've been there this entire time." Harry smiled at her as he held her chin up to face him. "We'll be able to bathe tonight. They're going to the theaters to see that dinosaur film." He said and she nodded, very grateful to be able to shower every day she was there. Sometimes, they bathed at the same time, turning away from one another, and she may or may not have gotten a tiny look at his backside. For the life of her, she could not stop blushing the next morning.

"I haven't fancied any television or films since I started at Hogwarts. I keep finding myself reading textbooks or old wizard fiction. Have you read some of their interpretations of muggles in their literature?" She asked and Harry laughed, shaking his head. "One of them didn't know how to cook or wash clothes, and was incapable of learning, so they died of starvation."

"What?" Harry asked, looking at her with a scoff. "I've read some of Ron's Marty Miggs comics, but none of them were that bad."

Just as Hermione was about to say something else, both of them heard footsteps up the stairs. Hermione was quick to pull the cloak over her head, as she disappeared from view. Harry sat up against his pillows, reading in a nonchalant manner a book he forgot he had beside him. It was an encyclopedia. What was this doing here?

"Potter!" Vernon opened the door and scowled in at him with a growl. "I heard you talking! Who are you talking to?"

"Hedwig." He said, simply, pointing over at the snowy owl, who looked over at Vernon, angry that he had awoken her.

"Well, get downstairs in one hour. I'm picking up Marge at the station. Dress nice and fix that bloody hair!" He roared at Harry, who inwardly rolled his eyes. After twelve years of knowing him, he should have gathered that he had little control over his hair. "Remember, boy, one word of that you-know-what to Marge and the deal is off!" He slammed the door, once again causing Hedwig to screech in protest of such horrible manners.

"I can cause an automobile accident."

"No." Harry said before Hermione even finished. The two of them sighed. This was going to be a very, very long week, indeed.

Sure enough, as soon as Vernon returned to the house, there was the tallest, most disproportionate woman Hermione had ever laid eyes on. She always seemed to have a plastered on frown underneath crumpled, messy strands of hair. The way she looked at Harry as she entered could be considered an insult all its own. She looked as if he were toxic and breathing his air near him was that of irradiated fumes. Hermione nearly gagged just listening to the smothered, nasty kisses she gave Dudley as she entered the house.

"Oh! My little Dudders! Come give Aunty Marge kissies!" She said in her raspy, knotty voice that sounded like she'd long since roared herself hoarse at a young age.

"Are you feeling better, Marge?" Petunia asked as Marge accepted a large brandy as she sat down.

"Yes, Petunia, awfully nice of you to ask. Boy!" She suddenly shouted as she sat her large, misshapen bottom on the sofa and let out a very audible fart. "Get Ripper his meal! Bowl! Food in my bags! Get moving, you skinny lump!"

Harry was more than happy to exit the room. Even without her gas, she smelled as if green and white onions had formed a rancid, putrid onion stench mutation.

"Keeping well enough, Vern?" Marge went back to her normal, uneven tone.

"Yes, well, the drills don't sell quite like they used to. I heard they were talking about turning to lasers that can do the drilling in better time." Vernon said and Marge snorted out a terrible laugh.

"Yes, well, let the idiots burn terrible holes in their teeth with that nonsense. What a load of rubbish, Vernon. Stand fast, don't let those idiot progressive types tell you otherwise!" Marge shook her fist in the air before slurping and gulping loudly on her alcohol. "Put more in his bowl, you idiot!"

Harry watched as brandy sloshed down her front and tried his very hardest not to stare at her horrific, yellow-rooted teeth that seemed to go every which way as she snarled at him. She reminded him of a very ill walrus in need of hydration.

"What's being done about this little inconvenience?" Marge growled toward Harry, though made very sure that he knew she did not want to hear him speak in the slightest. Her british bulldog, gave a bark after Harry and she patted him on the head. "That a boy, Ripper!"

"St. Bruno's Centre is keeping him well disciplined. He is very well behaved and minds all of his manners. Don't you, little boy?" Vernon asked him pleasantly, causing the heat within Harry's chest to rise and his head began to bulge.

"Of course, Uncle Vernon, I know that I must not become ill-tempered or petulant ever again." Harry recited, though the very phrase made Hermione want to blast a hole through their ground floor ceiling and the front of their house in order to escape.

"Excellent. It seems you've managed to get something worth a quid out of him after all. Well done, Vern." She scowled at Harry as he sat on the other side of the couch. She made sure the dog got after Harry, and began to chew his pant leg as he struggled. "Now, Dudders! Tell me all about Smeltings!"

And that's how it went for three whole hours. By the end of it, Harry finally hit the mattress face first. He was absolutely exhausted both mentally and physically. Hermione whispered sweet nothings into his ear as her hand rubbed all up and down his back. She leaned the side of her head against his and began tucking him in for the night.

More than ever, he was so grateful to have Hermione with him. The coming days of the week were absolutely filled with snide remarks, rude dismissals and passive aggressive talking behind his back, while he was in the room. Keeping his anger level down was on par with a very experienced Tibetan monk. Allowing the words to wash over him like a stone in the river was very hard when she would poke him in the ribs with her walking stick when she wanted him to turn the volume up on the tele. The remote was on the arm rest right between her and Uncle Vernon.

Thus far, for four whole days, he had been able to remain Harry Potter, former petulant ne'er-do-well who was now reformed in St. Brutus's Centre. His blood pressure, tension in his teeth and throbbing headache were only getting worse with every passing day, though.

One time, when Harry was growing to his peak frustration, Hermione had gone downstairs without his knowledge to see this horrific slug of a woman for herself. She was just as repugnant as she had imagined, though the smell of stale brandy and dog dander only made it worse. She wondered when was the last time this woman bathed. With little passes and her hand sliding over his in the cloak, she was able to calm him. She even managed a small whisper, "I'm still here."

Then came the final night and Harry was absolutely at his wit's end. He had done every coping tactic he possibly could and Hermione was an absolute essential asset, but it still felt like he had run a 10k dash every single day that week. Saturday finally came and Marge was mercifully going to be on the Sunday morning train.

Football was on that night and Marge wore her Manchester sweater, even though Harry knew for a fact that she had not attended it. Thankfully, her attention was glued mostly to the tele and slapping Dudley on the back every time they made a goal. However, when Brazil scored, she threw an empty can against Harry's head, which still had a small splatter of ale that dampened his shirt.

There came a very loud knock at the door and all of them looked at it, puzzled. After a few moments, Marge prodded Harry in his knee, causing him to wince. "Go and get it, you worthless prat!"

Numb to the misery, Harry rose from his seat on the sofa and went to the door. His heart stopped and his breath went straight to his throat as he opened it. Hermione stood there in a simple t-shirt and baggy shorts that went to her knees. The shorts had large cargo pockets.

"Hey, Harry, how's my big strong man?" Hermione said, though her hair was now black and slicked straight back. It looked like she was well out of range of them remembering her from last year when her parents had fooled them into thinking they wanted to order large amounts of drills.

She waltzed into the house and held onto Harry, kissing his cheek. Every single face in the room went slack as her eyes turned to them.

"Oh, are these your folks?" She asked as she looked around the room. Then she looked at Dudley. "Oh, I remember this one."

Dudley didn't seem to know what to say as he sat, stunned in his chair.

"Who is this?" Aunt Petunia asked, clearly affronted.

"Pansy Parkinson, how do?" She said in a more cockney accent than she'd ever mustered. Harry's eyes went wide as she took his hand and dragged him into the living room. "Well, go on, Harry, introduce me to your kind folks!" She was positively delighted as she sat next to Harry on the sofa. Aunt Marge, who was clearly still speechless, sat there, gazing at this girl with dumbfoundedness across her face.

"Oh, this is Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Aunt Marge," as he came to her, she seemed to give a very slight nod, though still said nothing. "You've met Dudley." His cousin gave a little jump at being mentioned.

"And who are you? Nobody's mentioned Harry having a bird of his own." Aunt Marge said and it was clear that there was some testing of the waters being done. Harry wasn't so sure about this plan, whatever it was Hermione was doing.

"Harry's a sweetheart from down the street! He helps me with my homework." Hermione, who was temporarily Pansy, said cheerily.

"Haven't we…" Vernon eyed her closer, "met before?"

"Of course! We met at the market. My mum saw you too." She said in such a tone that Vernon had no choice but to have a sudden dawning of recognition as he did very much remember seeing her at the marketplace. Part of Harry told him that it was far better an explanation than the actual truth, as far as his uncle was concerned.

There was a very long, very awkward pause as all of them sat around the blaring television as Manchester was ahead 5 - 3. It went to commercial, but then very quickly went to a Special News Bulletin with an achor lady with large, thick framed glasses and equally largely proportioned hair that was up in something of a wide bun.

"This is Diana Farnsworth with a special news bulletin. Sources say that serial murderer, Sirius Black has escaped incarceration two days ago. The public is advised to keep a watch out for this man and inform authorities if you see him or hear that he is within your vicinity." Next to her was a picture of a man with sunken, tired eyes and long strands of unkempt, filthy hair. He had a big grin full of yellowed teeth.

Strangely enough, Harry seemed to have an odd look of recognition when he saw the picture on the screen. He seemed to be scouring his memory to remember where he could possibly know a serial killer who was reputed to have murdered thirteen people at once.

"You see, filth like that is what makes me think we need to keep a rifle. Have you got one, Vern?" Marge asked and Vernon grunted that he did. Harry knew he had purchased a second one after Hagrid had bent his last one into a pretzel. The memory still brought a faint smile to his face. "Boy, get me more brandy!"

"Oh, I'll get it. I like being helpful." Hermione said in her cockney accent once again as she gave Marge a big smile. Harry knew her fakest smile when he saw it and she had to hold it tight as she made her way to the kitchen. To his shock, Marge simply went back to watching the game, which was now nearing its end.

The dog, Ripper, got up from his place at Marge's feet and ran straight at Hermione in the kitchen as she got a big glass of brandy for Marge. The young witch rolled her eyes at the dog and put her hand on her lower back.

She pulled out a nougat and immediately dropped it into the dog's mouth as he began to come at her on his hind legs. He immediately dropped to the floor in great sawing snores as she walked out of the kitchen. She hummed a tune as she brought Aunt Marge her brandy.

"You're not getting into anything you're not supposed to are you, girl?" Marge asked, not remembering Hermione's fake name, obviously.

"Of course not! I never do things without permission." Hermione said in her same very fake cockney accent as she sat back down with Harry. This was going a little better than he could have hoped. He didn't dare to hope that he'd be freed from all of this in just over an hour.

"Yeah, permission," Marge chuckled and snorted as she looked at Vernon. "Like that permission form you're going to 'sign' eh, Vernon?"

There was a stunned silence from their wizarding portion of the sofa. Both of them turned their faces to look at both Aunt Marge and Uncle Vernon. She was laughing even harder as he saw their expressions.

"Did you really think you deserve Uncle Vernon to sign anything? Are you taking the piss or something?" Aunt Marge started in with shrieking laughter, although Uncle Vernon seemed a little more keen to not discuss this right this moment. It was clear that Harry was putting on a very angry face because Vernon was starting to lose his complexion as he looked at both of them.

"What?" Harry got up from the couch, turning on Vernon, who recoiled a bit. This was when Marge put on a sour look.

"Don't you dare show such disrespect to the people who took you in, you rotten little brat!" Marge said before Harry turned on her with the ugliest look yet.

"Oh, 'rotten little brat', am I? Well I've got plenty for you, you over-inflated tart!" Harry shouted at Marge, who was positively affronted and Harry felt a beautiful pang of liberation. "Oh, don't put on that surprised look, you pompous old hag. I've fought vampires that looked like Hollywood actors compared to you!"

There was a shocked, indignant silence in the room as Vernon shot up from his chair, growing violet in his face. "You rummy little rat! You can't talk to her–"

"Oh, shut it, you addlepated homunculus!" Hermione shot up right along with Vernon, glaring into his face. "You've said far too much as it is and it's about time someone told you to can it!"

"Oh, where did you learn that little number, the brothel?!" Marge shouted at Hermione and the implications caused both Harry and her to round on her. "What are you going to do, whine at me? Go peddle your naughty bits elsewhere, you dirty little sk–" Just then, as Harry's face turned scarlet and Vernon was about to tell Marge to stop, there came a sound like a gunshot.

All of them in the room, save for Harry, jumped in surprise. At first, Marge wasn't sure why she had felt herself flop up and down as if she were on a large rubber ball, but then she began to feel herself sink. She saw all of their expressions, and they all began to get higher up above her, though she was actually getting lower toward the ground. Her hands felt something warm and gushy and she looked down in utter horror!

The chair she was sitting in had turned into a glassy, blue slime in the form of a large slug. It had two eyes on two stems above its head and its body was now enveloping an ever sinking Marge. It stood, thick like a tree trunk but hunched over to be just as tall as Uncle Vernon, who looked at it in absolute terror.

"What… what is this!? What!" She shrieked, unable to comprehend what was going on or why she was unable to get out of the very large, slightly glowing blue slug. Petunia began to shriek as well and Dudley ran up the stairs as fast as he possibly good to hide under the bed sheets. Then, the slug started to inch its way toward the front of the house. "Vernon! Vernon! Help! What is this! Someone do something!"

"Marge! No!" Vernon shouted as the slug suddenly smashed its face against the wall and the window, plowing it all down. "My house! What are you doing, you blasted bug! Stop, right this instant!" He tried shouting at the slug, but it was clearly not listening.