Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and thanks for being patient for this update.

I'll be posting the first chapter of a new humor story soon, about the Marauders, so keep your eyes peeled!

Let me know if you think this story is getting too goofy, and I'll try to rein it in a bit!

-And The Dreamers Dreamed On-

The Mad Madame

Draco winced at the unpleasant wailing noise that grated on his aching head like bubble rap and bowling shoes on persons of nervous constitution.

"Oh ToM tHe TOAD!" sang Madame Pomfery caterwauled. "Oh TOOOOOOOOOM the TOOOOOOOOAAAD!"

Come on, come on, he thought as the cast around his arm began to heal the complex fracture he'd received courtesy of Weasley the Elder.

"Why did you CHOOOOOOOOOOOSE to cross the road?" the mad Madame sniffed with deep feeling then continued to murder the tune.

Draco wondered whether the hospital wing was worth the risk: did the benefit of physical health really out way the terrible psychological damage he was probably suffering?

"Yoooooooou used to beeeeeeee --"

Please no, he thought.

"So biiiiiiiiiiiggg and fat--"

The door creaked open.

"And now you--"

The shadow of a tall figure was cast on the opposite wall.

"ARE--"

This was the moment of truth.

"So--"

Would it be a rescuer?

"VeRy--"

. . . Or a duet partner for the banshee?

"FLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!"

"Madame Pomfery," said Blaise, "I've got a note from Professor Snape saying Draco needs to report the his office of his sentence-- I mean, to hear what his detention is."

Five minutes later, Draco and Blaise were jogging through the castle in search the dungeons, a mournfully masicared tune drifted on behind them.

"Oh Tom the Toad,
Oh Tom the Toad,
Why did you choose to cross the ro-ho-ho-DAH?!"

Plot By Agents 'Black Bat' And 'Red Hot'

Gleefully, Snape reflected that this was his second batch of detentions to take care of in as many days. A knock made the door tremble slightly on its hinges.

"Password?" Snape inquired suspiciously, leaping to his feet and pressing his eye to the spyhole in his door to see the diminutive little first year outside. The word felt so delicious that he said it again, drawing it out. "Paah-swaah-rrrrd, you lowly student? You knave?" He chuckled to himself. Really, he'd become quite cheerful since this seduction business began.

"P-please, Sir, the password is --"

The student broke off at the pointed cough Snape delivers, then recollected himself and said haltingly, "Oh great and glorious Master of the Dungeons, Prince of Potions, Lord of the Lament, King of the Storage Cupboards--"

"That will do."

"Er, yes, your lordship.I come bearing tidings from His Secretiveness, called Red Hot, to you, Oh Deity of Dampness and Smelly Cells, the Black Bat of Doom."

"Go on. The password." said Snape.

"The password to your most sacred abode is--"

A pause.

"Is--"

A longer pause

"I've forgotten it. Professor Snape, can't I just come in and tell you what Blaise told me to say?"

Snape sighed. "Oh, very well. But be quick about it!" He slid back the bolt and the three foot-something firstie toddled in.

"He says that he's had an idea about you know what. Here it is . . ."

Harry the Hapless

"You're doing what for your detention, Ginny?"

"Honestly, Harry, its not like he's going to teach me how to brew a poison then force it down my throat."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really.

Hermy the Wise

"So what are you doing for your detention, Gin?"

"I'm being given an extra Potions lesson . . ."

"That's not so bad, really."

" . . .Taught by Draco Malfoy."

"You poor dear. Can I get you anything? You don't feel sick to your stomach or anything, do you?"

"For the love of heaven, I haven't got Malfoy-itice or anything!"

"I wasn't thinking about Malfoy."

"Oh?"

"I was thinking about what you're going to do when Ron asks."

"God help me."

"You'll need him."

"Actually . . . "

"I don't like the look in your eye, Ginny."

"I don't think I need God right now."

"Why would that be?"

"I have you!"

"God help me . . ."

Reflections On Insanity

Ron sat slumped dejectedly in the common room, as far as possible from the cheery fire. He might physically be in a warm, comfortable armchair in Gryffindor Tower, but he was in the Mental Doghouse of Hermione, and it was the worst place he knew of.

Besides that, his sister had snogged that dirty rotten bastard Malfoy. In public, too! In front to everyone! In front of him.

He had tried to explain it to himself a thousand times. what could have caused this burst of insanity. It did run in the family, but Ginny had shown none of the other signs (hysterical giggling, excessive fondness for Great Auntie Muriel, etc.). So in the end, he was left with one solution. Ginny fancied Harry, and was trying to get him to notice her.

Poor thing. Harry would never --

Would he?

Where was he?

A sudden mental image or Ginny and Harry in a broom closet, snogging over Filch's spare mop collection overcame Ron and he leapt from his chair as if electrocuted, screeching, "HARRY HOW COULD YOU? I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY BEST MATE YOU TRAITOR!!"

"Sorry, what?" said Harry from the chair next to Ron's.

"Oh! Oh, nothing. Nothing. " Ron subsided back into his battered armchair and picked morosely at a bit of stuffing leaking from one of the arms.

Somewhere In An Astronomy Tower Far Far Away

"Oh, there it is! See! We do so know our way around this freaky castle!"

The Bearer of Bad Tidings

"Ron, dear," Hermione said very sweetly, and his head swiveled to face her as if jerked by an invisible string.

"Hermione!"

"Dear, there's something I need to tell you . . ."

Ron, not listening, seized her hand and cried aloud, "Hermione, I swear to God you don't smell like --"

"Thank you Ron," she interrupted repressively, "I'm quite away of the fact."

Cowed, Ron nodded meekly. "Yes, dear."

Hermione reverted to the sweet, loving tone in which she'd begun, perching on the much abused arm of Ron's chair, "Like I was saying, darling, there's something I need to tell you.

She slid a little closer and kissed his cheek.

Ron wrapped an arm round her and sighed contentedly. "Lovyoumione . . . "

"You see, Ginny has detention, for what happened in Hogsmeade."

"And I don't?"

"Yes." a slight frown creased Hermione's forehead. "It seems that its a great offense for a Gryffindor to kiss a Slytherin, but entirely acceptableness for a Gryffindor to clobber a Slytherin."

Ron nodded. That made sense.

Hermione, seeming to recollect herself, twined her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, very quickly. "The thing is, she's been given an extra Potions lesson, and -- love you, Ron -- you see -- you're the dearest person in the world -- her teacher is -- I hope we get married someday, Ron, Really I do -- Draco Malfoy."

That was the trigger for one of the greatest mental struggles in history. Which would win out in the end? His love for Hermione? Or his hatred for Malfoy? Long moment he sat perfectly still, brain a whirl of activity, and then, all of a sudden, he reached an acceptable compromise, and his head didn't explode after all.

Hastily, Ron stood, pulling Hermione up with him, then he leaned over and gave her an enthusiastic, highly theatrical kiss. Wolf whistles accompanied by laughter and giggling cheered his assay. Without looking, Ron knew that Harry would be smirking. When finally he ran out of air, Ron pulled reluctantly away, gasped, and declared feelingly, "I love you, Hermione."

Then, seemingly with the same breath, he bellowed, "I'M GOING TO KILL THE BLOODY BASTARD!!" and with that he dashed from the room.

Hermione stood there, dazed, until she recovered herself enough to shoot Harry a scornful glance and tall him to stop snorting.