A/N: This is an idea that just popped into my head while reading three different 5th year fanfics in a row. Hope some of you get a kick out of it. Warning: language…lots and lots of language…and lots of language.

"MUDBLOODS! BLOOD TRAITORS! FILTHY HALF-BLOODS IN THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS! OUT WITH THE LOT OF YOU! OUT I SAY!"

Everyone in the sitting room stared over at Tonks as she apologized profusely for tripping over the umbrella stand, yet again.

An instant later everyone ran from the room with their hands over their ears, wincing in pain as they sought refuge as far away from the portrait as possible…

…that is, everyone except for Harry Potter.

Harry watched as everyone left the room, shaking his head in wonder.

Why were they all so afraid of a painting? It makes no sense!

As the screaming continued, Harry got up from the chair he'd been sitting in and made his way over to the curtained frame. With only a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the heavy velvet fabric and pulled the coverings aside.

"…HAVE YOUR HEADS ON A…!"

The screaming woman's voice came to an abrupt halt as Harry just stood there staring at her in confusion.

"What are you looking at, boy?"

"You."

"Get out of my house, and take your filthy little…"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

The portrait was brought up short, sputtering at his impertinence. "I beg your pardon! You will not…"

"Why do you just sit there and yell at people all day?"

"STOP INTERRUPTING ME!"

"Why? You always interrupt everyone else. Turnabout is fair play in my book."

"MUGGLE-LOVING HALF…!"

"QUIT YELLING! I'm right in front of your god-damned FACE, you word-vomitting DUMBSHIT!"

The woman in the portrait was struck silent, her eyes wide in surprise.

"That's right, you crazy old whore-bag, I called you a dumb-shit. And by the looks of it, I might have the honor of being the first to do so. But, I didn't come over here to fight with you. I actually came over here to let you in on a little secret…and do you wanna know what that secret is?

"I most certainly do n…!"

"THE SECRET! Is that there's not a damn thing you can do about it!"

"…"

"That's right, I can yell right back at your fugly face all day long if I wanted to and you wouldn't have any way of stopping me…you'd just have to sit there in your ugly-ass old maid robes, listening to every screaming word I have to say, while I insult your ugly face and every Voldemort-cock-sucking relative that has ever existed in the Black line…and do you wanna know why you wouldn't be able to do anything about it?"

"I will not have you…!"

"It's because you're a GOD-DAMNED PICTURE for fuck's sake! Oh, no! Everybody run! The scary, ugly, butter-faced hag is gonna yell at you, run for your lives! Look out! It's the canvas-and-paint monster, here to burn out your eye sockets with her hideous pig-like visage, and to blow out your ear drums with a voice only a mother could love!"

"How DARE…!"

"SHUT YOUR PIE HOLE YOU WRINKLY OLD, HALF-WITTED, SLACK-JAWED, DRIED-UP, PUG-NOSED CUNT BUCKET!"

"…."

"Oh, so now that you're getting a little taste of your own medicine you got nothin to say, is that it? You pale-faced, hook-nosed, beady-eyed, spawn-of-a-harpy, MOTHER-FUCKING TWAT WAFFLE!"

"…I…I never…!"

"Eat shit and die again, you ass-licking, queef-eating, inbred, psycho-bitch, sewer-chewing, REJECT FROM HELL!"

"... ... ..."

"That's what I thought! All talk and no action. But of course that very fact should have been obvious from the start seeing as how you're just a FREAKING PAINTING! I knew wizards sometimes lacked in the area of logic, but sometimes it's just plain ridiculous. Without magic your pureblood population would probably somehow find a way to hang themselves while trying to put a fucking condom on their tiny little inbred fuck-peckers!"

"..."

"..."

"... ... ..."

"Okay…now that that's over with…I'd like to propose a truce. Simply stated that if you leave us alone, then I'll leave you alone. Muggles have this nifty thing called paint thinner that I've always wanted to try on one of these wizarding portraits. But if that don't work, I'm sure I could come up with something equally Muggle-clever that would make your tenure here on the wall equal to, or worse, than being banished to the lowest depths of hell…though…I'd rather you just agreed to my previous proposal." Harry raised one questioning eyebrow, prompting the portrait to respond.

"... ... ..."

"That's the spirit! Do we have a deal, then?"

The woman in the portrait could only nod, a hint of fear showing in her eyes.

"Good. I'm glad we had this talk, you and I. I'm not particularly fond of these types of conversations, but I will say that I've enjoyed our time together immensely. You have yourself a pleasant afternoon, mmkay?"

Another nod.

"Maybe I'll stop by once in a while and we can hang out…get it…HANG out! Oh, I kill me!" Harry turned around with a laugh, catching a glimpse of a crowd of people gathered at the entrance to the sitting room. He smiled and waved at the gathering before turning to his right and hopping up the stairs to finish up his summer Transfiguration homework.

The crowd of friends, family and Order members gathered in the hallway, stood there in shock for what seemed like forever, with their wide eyes blinking and their jaws dropped to the floor.