A/N: This story was inspired by my friend Jeannie's plot bunny—though it really isn't much of a plot—only just a few events or so—so I decided to add a few things to the events she has so graciously volunteered to make up in that head of hers (which is actually full of compressed air). Lol, just kidding, Jeannie! Anyways . . . here I give you, Too Far Gone.

I have no idea where or how that title will make sense in this story, but hey! It's okay to be vague . . .

By the way, it's supposed to be D/G . . . at least it will be . . . eventually . . .

Disclaimer: Not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine . . . mine!!!

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She was stuck in Snape's dungeon for detention. Snape was a bit busy for a moment and was kindly able to provide for a supervisor, so who would he appoint but Draco Malfoy?

Draco was supposed to be having detention as well, though Snape had said his act of insubordination was completely provoked and had let him off easily. His only duty was to make sure Ginny, Alexa and Elizabeth didn't attempt to do anything stupid and escape detention while they scrubbed Snape's previously used cauldrons. Little Amber had been given the fine task of re-labeling the potion ingredients, receiving envious and reproachful glares from her three friends as she dipped her quill into an ink-well and scratched along the surfaces of fresh slips of parchment.

Draco Malfoy was not at all what he used to be. A few years ago, he had been a perfect bully, but now he had strangely grown apart from the crowds of Slytherins he used to proudly associate himself with. He had become quiet though still held his respect at high altitudes. His hair had grown long and perfectly straight, down past shoulders, which he kept tied at the nape of his neck. His features weren't as sharp, but he very much resembled his father: Lucius Malfoy. He still held a dark aura about him and his sharp grey eyes were always piercing. The cruelty he had built up for five years now sustained an eloquent air of reverence, and as I said before, respect.

Draco was very popular among conversation, and he had tried very hard to remain outside them, even his characterized "ugliness" could not keep himself and his actions out of the common speech topics.

While everyone spread rumours about him becoming a Death Eater and that had caused his dramatic change in character. Truth be told, a secret even grander than that had caused his sudden amendment in temperament.

Gryffindors, including Harry, Ron, and Hermione, had noticed his change in attitude and managed to deal with his out of the ordinary—which soon became normal—behaviour.

The Slytherins, with the exception of Blaise Zabini, had learned to steer clear away from him and to leave him be. His classmate Zabini, however, chose to do the exact opposite, and that's exactly how he had involuntarily decided to set fire to Ginny Weasley's—soon to be Potter, in Draco's opinion—hair.

He had missed. He really wanted to set alight Blaise's robes, but he had purposefully ducked and his spell had come into contact with the youngest Weasley's hair.

Ginny had, of course, immediately put it out with a quick spell her brother Charlie had taught her—from his experience with dragons and all.

Elizabeth had marched right up to him, prepared to give him a smack upside the head, but Alexa had restrained her and decided to take matters into her own hands.

Draco ended up with two bunny ears protruding from, funniest of places, his seat; one eye taking up the entity of his forehead, yellow with a slit of silver; pink hair; and a rather small mole sticking its nose in and out of his ear.

Ginny received a sort of weird counterattack when she was about to tackle him to the ground; her mouth kept muttering strange, incoherent phrases in Spanish; her arms grew to about the size of clubs; her hair now sported embers and would, every now and then, display a spray of ashes.

Alexa probably had the least in spells lashing at her; all that distorted her graceful figure were two huge feet, which had ripped her new boots in half.

Elizabeth and Little Amber were both bruised, burned, modeling pus-filled warts on their noses and hands. Draco had even managed to add in a little spell he found useful against Pansy Parkinson; he gave them poofy hair—they looked as if they had been electrocuted.

Everyone around had cheered them on, as if it were some entertainment they had paid for and wanted their good money to be worth it. Most everyone was rooting for Draco, who only got away with minor deformation; a wickedly large eye that made him look as if a large egg had been slapped on his face with a permanent sticking charm.

Then there was also the fact that it was a little ways from the dungeons, and so it took the Potions Master a few moments to realize the intolerable excuses for humans were forming a riot a few halls away. He stormed down the corridors, cloak billowing behind him, and finding the large-eyed student of his about to be cursed by four of his Sixth Years, demanded an explanation.

'Ms Weasley, what is the meaning of this?' he boomed.

Passerby had gone eerily quiet and had, for some reason, decided that exact moment of witnessing Snape, to leave the scene of the "crime."

'Ms Weasley! I am speaking to you,' he started again, once everyone had gone.

A sputter of rambling came from Ginny's mouth.

'Ms Weasley?!'

'Ya callate, por Dios, viejo zapote!' she muttered (in Spanish. **means "Oy, shut up, for God's sake, you old, smelly, man!" . . . er, something to that effect. **)

'Excuse me, Ms Weasley?' asked a baffled, infuriated professor.

'Pardon my interference, Professor,' Draco said, trying to rid of the mole in his ear.

'Yes, Draco,' said Snape in a bizarrely calmer voice.

'Thank you, sir. Weasley here cannot explain herself,' he began.

'I was not aware of the fact that she was that much of a dunderhead to become so very mute,' said Snape suspiciously.

'Trust me, sir, I would know; I cursed her to speak only in Spanish, and I apologise for my bold action of defense,' Draco stated.

'You are implying your actions were provoked, then?' Snape asked, smirking at the four Sixth Years.

'Yes, of course sir,' came Draco's steady reply. His face was impassive and he kept his composure proper enough that it was hard to recognize a lie coming from his mouth. But this was hard to display with pink hair and a huge eye. It was actually really lucky Snape hadn't seen the repulsive bunny ears protruding form his bum.

'Then I suggest you five get up to the Hospital Wing. Twenty points from Gryffindor for your serious lack of manner—'

'Que cojones,' Ginny muttered. (**means "God that kid has balls"—as in he's got guts . . . 'that kid' refers to Draco. **)

Snape ignored her comment and continued, '—and detention for a week. Mr. Malfoy, you will supervise their detentions as punishment. I will leave instruction ready when you arrive. Seven o'clock, not a minute late; my classroom. I trust you five to be prompt. Now don't keep Madam Pomfrey waiting; she can smell those embers and ashes from her side of the castle, I'm sure. And you'd want to get your languages fixed up as well, Ms Weasley,'

At Madam Pomfrey's, they had all been cured of their previous attacks. Draco was very thankful indeed to have his pink hair, large eyes, mole in ear, and bunny ears removed.

At seven o'clock, they had promptly met at Snape's dungeon for a detention session and Draco gave them clear instruction on their tasks. Snape had acquired a strange liking to Little Amber and so assigned her to re-label the potions ingredients. Their wands were taken away by Draco, and he had hidden them in Snape's office, so they could not complete anything with magic.

This is like doing calculus without a calculator, thought Alexa as she scrubbed the tremendous cauldron clean.

Ginny would've agreed as well, though this was a thought, and Ginny not knowing how to read minds, was sort of thinking along other lines; not complaining, but doing something to escape this horrid and unjust punishment. Ferret-face should be scrubbing this cauldron, not me! Argh! Leave it to Snape not to punish him. And that stupid kid had the freaking balls to make up that stupid story! It wasn't even a story! It was a stupid 'implication' that Snape caught. Grr, I am not gonna waste this perfectly good Friday night on him, the Malfoy dung ball. Escape; yeah . . . now where are our wands?

Little Amber couldn't have been any more content; she had the best handwriting of her year, and now she could show it off—well at least to Snape and anyone who had the nerve to ask him for some illegal potions ingredients.

Elizabeth was sneering at every crusted particle that clung to the gritty and grimy inside of the cauldron. This shouldn't be allowed! Someone could get lethal poisoning off of this repulsive . . . dirt. How dare Snape use this for detention? I could get intoxicated and end up with a rare case of skin rash; then Madam Pomfrey will have a ball using some bubotuber pus on me. Wait, isn't that for acne? Hmm, maybe I could use it for that . . . but still, Snape can't go out handing dirty, old cauldrons out to people for them to clean. Whatever happened to the nice old 'Evanesco!' spell? Stupid Amber; she got the easy job, and here I am with a dirty cauldron! Snape will pay!

Ginny glanced at Draco. He was smirking and his grey eyes were gleaming with victory. I'll wipe that stupid expression off his face, he'll see. She stole another glance at him. And that stupid hair of his! It shouldn't be allowed on the face of the earth; it's so ugly, so long, and so much like his father's. Yet still I wonder how he sustains his popularity; I can't go a day without hearing someone whisper about his life—he must make it a priority to go about and make sure he is as famous as Harry. Gosh, that boy has no life. I feel a bit sorry for him: trying so hard to keep his social status impeccable; no wonder he has no time for a fashion sense. She shuddered as she looked at his long hair again. That hair! It's soooooo ugly! I'll have to give him a trim one of these days.

'Weasley? Why've you stopped cleaning?' Ginny heard Draco's voice drawl.

'No reason, just felt like it, that's all,' she snapped at him. 'We have all night here, so what's the rush?'

'Well I am certainly not about to spend all night here with you, so you have better get a move on,' he said impishly.

'I never said you had to spend all night here with me or anyone else,' Ginny replied in a tone of sweet mischief.

'Then start scrubbing. I'm sure Professor Snape would love to take points off Gryffindor or keep you four in detention for a few more weeks if you just happen to rub me in the wrong way. Now get back to work Weasley; I am the supervisor here, and you'll do as I say,'

Elizabeth glared at her, as if telling her to get back to work and leave it be.

But Ginny didn't listen. She wasn't about to let this stupid hypocrite of a bastard walk all over her like that.

'But I don't think I will,' Ginny said nonchalantly. She threw her filth-covered sponge into the cauldron and stood up, as if challenging Malfoy. 'Since we obviously can't stand each other in the same room, I'm leaving,'

'Ginny!' Alexa whispered loudly in a demanding manner.

'Sorry, Lexi, but I am not about to let this slime ball of a git walk all over us like this,' Ginny answered.

Alexa was the sort you didn't want to mess with. But since Ginny never really paid anyone much mind, it was no wonder why Ginny and Alexa never could really get along. Ginny had decided to annoy her 'friend' even more by dubbing her 'Lexi,' a name that very much infuriated Alexa.

Little Amber had stopped writing now; she was looking up at Ginny with big, glistening eyes and a soft, pleading expression. Nuts, not now! Don't do this here, Gin! She thought.

Elizabeth, however, was willing Ginny to go kick that Slytherin's arse to Jamaica. She silently encouraged her with a sneer at Draco and watchful, attentive eyes at the catastrophe about to ensue.

'Watch it, Weasley,' Draco warned as she took a step near him.

She could have run up to him and slapped him, but she fought back the urge and said casually, 'Watch what?'

'You wouldn't want to tamper with your luck around a Malfoy,' he retorted.

'And you wouldn't want to tamper with your luck around a Weasley,' she said, grabbing her bag, 'Especially if that Weasley is a girl,'

Draco laughed at her pathetic attempts at outwitting him.

'C'mon, Liza, Little Amber, Lexi,' she said nodding at each of her friends in turn, 'we're leaving this place,'

'Says who?' Draco asked her.

Ginny smiled at him, 'Says me, I mean, you're not going to stop us, are you?'

That little—ooh! Draco was tired of her stupid, pointless rampage! And to think she thought he was just going let her walk out on her detention, without their wands . . . without their wands . . . Draco smirked.

'You didn't stop us from getting us landed here, so I don't think you're entitled at all to—'

'Oh, of course I won't stop you,' he said as if it were a ridiculous thought to have anyone stop Virginia Weasley.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and that made Ginny think a bit deeper into whatever it was that could be up the prat's sleeve.  Alexa gulped and realized what he was about to say.

'You—you won't be stopping us?' Ginny said, panic flooding through her. This was not Malfoy behaviour at all.

'No, there's more than just our surnames that contradict us. You see, it is at this very moment, you have forgotten one thing, Weasley: I have a wand, and you three don't,' Draco responded, a grin playing at his lips. 'And you can't get your wands back until you've finished up, so stop this foolish game and get back to cleaning that putrid thing!'

Ginny scowled at him in semi-defeat. She wasn't giving up this easily, oh no! By Merlin's beard, she wasn't about to let Malfoy get away with that! He had gotten them here in the first place, telling Snape his actions were provoked! By the Gods they were! He was the one who lit my head on fire. Then of course Alexa turned his hair pink; Little Amber put a baby mole in his ear—an actual mole, not a beauty mark, as we females accept to call them, mind you—Liza was going to give him a pounding, but decided against it and cursed his eye to expand and fade into a yellow iris with a silver slit as a pupil. Ginny didn't know the exact effects of eyesight, but she thought it increased his alertness and was able to dodge several curses and hexes. It took Ginny ages to get some bunny ears on him. Strange thing was, they ended up on his butt.

Little Amber's hair was still a bit poofy, and she had a large bruise blossoming on her right forearm. Though why Amber's classmates had decided to add 'Little' in front of her name, is certainly beyond everyone—including the author—at this point.

Elizabeth . . . she was almost identical to Ginny in personality. Vengeful, daring, and living life to its fullest worthwhile as a priority. In context, however, she was completely different. She was tan with pale green, almond-shaped eyes and straight black hair that ran past her shoulders, and quite tall—nearly two meters in height—while Ginny had cream-coloured skin, doe-sized, chocolate—almost mocha—brown eyes, and curly auburn hair down to her waist, and a bit shorter than Liza. 

But Liza certainly had looked a lot taller with her hair going out in all directions. Stupid son of a female-dog! (Liza's mind absolutely forbid her to curse, er, not literally curse—not the sort of cursing you'd do with a wand, but the oral cursing, although you do pronounce the curses by tongue, so that would be oral, too, but—well, you get my drift.) Elizabeth usually could've cared less about she looked, but it just so happened that Muggle Studies was in the same wing of the castle as was the hospital, and on her way there, (for she had to repair her burns and electrocuted hair) she had run into her crush: a Ravenclaw boy by the name of Tyler Grant.

They were only on their way to Potions, and the Malfoy boy had, ostensibly, decided to set Ginny's hair on fire. It wasn't provoked whatsoever, just random . . . it was that bloody Slytherin's fault that stupid battle had started—though Liza couldn't say she wasn't proud of the large eye she gave him—and he only had to watch them. I can bloody watch people, too! But, hey; I was a poofy-haired Gryffindor, so Snape didn't really care what I had to say! If only . . . we could get those wands.

Little Amber finished relabeling her pile of ingredients and went to replace them to their original sepulchers inside Snape's potions cupboard. She got up, Draco's eyes watching her every move, and made her way to the closet.

(What is calculus anyways? Wondered Alexa as she turned to cauldron over, to finish cleaning its other side.)

Once in the cupboard, Amber placed * Pedisulcher, Omniculvus, Tyrannus, Tequeha, Ervinsquich, Rewendis, * and Supple Turtle Toe, away. The cupboard was a small library—in the form of a winding hall—full of racks, supporting jars, holding various potions ingredients. As she made her way to the back of the room to collect bottles with moulding parchment labels, she noticed that between two liquid-filled vials was a small doorknob.

She glanced behind her; the door to the entrance of cupboard was obscured from view as she had turned a corner to reach this vast closet. Looking back at the doorknob, she analyzed it—brass and shiny, as if it were used often. Little Amber tried it and the bookshelf of beakers, jars, vials, tubes, and containers swung open inwardly.

There she was confronted with large quarters, a bedroom perhaps. Snape's bedroom . . . on her left there was another door, with a fuzzy window. In four lines in small letters at the bottom of the window were words which ran in this way:

Potions Master

 Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Severus Snape

Office

Snape's office! So this was where their wands were!

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* Potions ingredients enclosed: initials spell out POTTER, yeah just thought you might want to know. *

A/N: I just have to get this chapter up! Sorry . . . comments? Any sense to continue? Be nice and push that little 'Go' button down there in that box . . . go on—you know you want to . . .