3: When Things Go Just a Bit Wrong

Disclaimer: We only make the mess. We'll give the castle, the town, and all the inhabitants thereof, back to their rightful owners to clean it up.

Warning: Unless you want your monitor to resemble the floor in the Great Hall, we suggest you save the snacks until after you read this.

Chapter 3: When Things Go Just a Bit Wrong

---

Madam Rosmerta felt a cool breeze coming from the entrance of the Three Broomsticks. The noise of the celebrators outside (not to be outmatched by those within her establishment) lasted only a few seconds as the door was opened and shut, but it caused her to glance at the people who entered.

Pomona and Rolanda too? Rosmerta thought with surprise. At this rate, who's going to be left minding the castle?

A flash of white at the corner of her eye confirmed that Rolanda headed for the booths at the back. Finally having a go at Poppy then, the bartender thought with a small smile. She charmed some drinks to a group sitting at the other end of the bar and greeted Pomona, who had arrived at the bar, with her usual grace and charm.

"Evening, Pomona."

"Hullo, Rosmerta. I'll have a... well, something strong that won't turn me green."

Rosmerta chuckled and poured Pomona a shot of something that tasted warm and fruity when she swallowed it. "What happened to Rolanda, anyway?"

Pomona blushed at the memory of Aberforth's hands. "The bartender at the Hog's Head served her a new concoction."

"That man," Rosmerta muttered. "Will he ever settle down?"

"He isn't all that bad, Aberforth."

"Who said I was talking about him?" Rosmerta winked.

Pomona flushed red and downed the rest of her drink.

Noting the professor's discomfort, Rosmerta changed the subject as she wiped some mugs clean after washing them, unlike some other bartenders she knew.

"Is there anyone still at the castle?"

"Sure, there are... the students are having a party in the Great Hall–"

Rosmerta shook her head. "I mean... are there any chaperones?"

"I'm sure there are chaps there," Pomona said with a happy slur of words upon having another shot of the fruity drink.

Rosmerta wasn't sure about that. Besides Poppy and Rolanda talking in the booth in the back (she made sure to keep the bottle of sherry ready for them), Professors Vector and Sinistra were in a room upstairs, Minerva had come in with Poppy, and she really did not want to know what Filch was up to, nursing his drink with a lusty eye.

She sighed as she refilled the glass in front of Pomona – the woman was intoxicating herself at a remarkable rate...and wondered if any more of Hogwarts' staff would be coming in.

---

When George noticed that the objects of his surveillance had disappeared...not long after he last observed them removing clothing...he swore loudly and liberally.

"What's gotten into you? Playing charades?"

"Hilarious, Fred. Where are Harry and Ginny?"

"You were supposed to be watching them."

"I couldn't focus on them and put off Hermione at the same time. I swear, she's worse than Mum. And the last I saw, our baby sister was short at least one undergarment."

For once that night, Fred looked less than amused. "Well, come on...let's look for them. The party can survive a few minutes without us."

---

"Pansy, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think we're suited and I think it's best if we not see each other any more," Draco said, doing a fair impression of his usual haughty self...so long as you ignored the tear-swollen eyes and the odd sniffle.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Merlin's arse, Draco, it's been over between us for months, assuming it ever really was. Just go already."

A heartfelt 'thank you,' and he did just that.

Millicent watched his retreat. "Camp as a row of tents, that one."

"No kidding."

"Why were you with him, again?"

Pansy gave Millicent a 'are you really that thick?' look and made an exaggerated finger gesture.

"Right. Money."

"Yeah, but not anymore, from what I've heard," she said dismissively. "I'm going to go fishing for something more profitable and less flaming. Care to join me?"

"Lead on. I hear Summersby's parents have a villa in Tuscany. He's as good a place to start as any."

---

"So this is where you all are!" Flitwick observed dryly.

The other teachers tried to look guilty for deserting their posts en masse, but the effect was marred by the fact that they were all in various stages of inebriation. Poppy even had a hiccup, causing her to bounce up and down dangerously in her seat.

"Remus, Tonks, Sybill, Snape and Hermione and Ernie are still there to keep order."

Just then Remus burst through the door, heading with a determined expression toward the bar, Tonks trailing after him in a sort of wavy line, smiling beatifically.

"Well, okay. Sybill, Snape, Hermione and Ernie, then. They are very responsible. And Snape... Well, at least he won't let anyone have too much fun in any case. You know what he's like."

"Hey, Remus! Tonks! Come over here!"

"What are you all doing here?" Remus asked when he reached their table.

"The same thing you are, celebrating! Join us for a drink," Hooch said to him cheerfully.

"I just wanted to buy some elf-made wine for later..."

"For later, huh? Well, you can still do that. Join for us for a drink. We'll only be here for another round anyway," Minerva said primly, the effect marred somewhat with her speech becoming a little slurred.

Hm, maybe I'll have some of that nice elf-made wine... Remus thought, his resolve weakening rapidly. "Right, we'll stay for one drink and then we'll leave."

"Of course!" Tonks said with a huge smile, plumping down in a chair.

Remus sat down much more slowly in a chair directly across from Minerva and beside Tonks.

Another one of the villagers came over to congratulate them and thumped Remus on the back.

"You lot defeated You-Know-Who? I wouldn't believe it if old Flimpfruit hadn't told me! Well done! Have a round on me!" and off he was again, embracing a particularly plump witch with a huffy pigeon on her shoulder.

Madam Rosmerta came over then to take the orders of the newly arrived.

"I'll take one of your colourful fabrications again, Rosmerta," Flitwick piped up, bouncing excitedly in his seat.

"With an umbrella of course," Rosmerta said with a wry smile.

He nodded vigorously, and she chuckled. "And you'll be having a glass of my elf-made wine for this special occasion, Lupin?" Rosmerta asked, when Remus opened his mouth to speak. He nodded happily and shook Tonks' shoulder (she had drifted into unknown spheres, it seemed).

"What? Oh, I'll have some mead, Rosie."

A few minutes later Rosmerta reappeared, levitating a full tray in front of her. She settled the drinks in front of the newest arrivals, and bustled away back to the bar.

Just when everyone was about to drink, Minerva coughed loudly to get their attention.

"Now that we are all here and have a drink, I want to make a toast. To all those who died so we could live," Minerva said in a sombre voice.

The others fell silent at once, and one after the other raised their glasses for the toast.

"Sirius," Remus said, holding hands with Nymphadora.

"Bones," said someone else, not of their party.

"Vance."

"Hagrid," said Poppy, sniffing a little. She'd been very fond of the Half-Giant.

"Dumbledore," Minerva finally said and the whole tavern was silent. Then all of them took a large gulp of Firewhisky, and the sound of glass hitting wood was heard throughout the pub.

Then someone started to chuckle softly. It was Pomona Sprout. She looked contrite as everyone whipped around to her at the unexpected sound, but couldn't contain her laughter. Hooch was smiling as well.

"What is so funny, Rolanda, Pomona?" Flitwick asked, very curious.

"Well, you see, we just visited Aberforth at the Hog's Head, and he finally cleared up the mystery of the goats, you see."

"It wasn't him at all, experimenting with those goats, it was Albus! Imagine that. Pretty harmless what he did with them as well. Sounded like he wanted to find out if he could make goats do magic as well. But 130 years ago, Wizarding society was not so forgiving about unauthorised experiments, so Aberforth spread the rumour that it had been him all the while, so Albus could become a teacher."

"To make goats do magic!" Flitwick chuckled now as well and quickly the rest of the table and the pub really joined in.

"Do you remember the time old Bones set those Quidditch robes on fire in an attempt to draw attention to the fact that the catching gloves were made from the Dragon-hide of those rare Dragons in Africa?" That raised another round of laughter, louder this time.

"That wasn't all she did if I remember correctly," Minerva threw in, chuckling now herself.

They all looked puzzled until Poppy started laughing loudly. "The... business... with the... referee!" A look of understanding dawned on the older staff members' faces and loud laughter broke out once again.

"Do you remember the time that Sirius and James broke into the... Well, never mind." Remus started, then finished with an embarrassed cough.

"No need to censor their misdeeds. I did see those four boxes of detention records Filch has on them alone," Minerva remarked with a wry smile.

"It was the trophy room, painting the Slytherin trophies green," Remus finished with a smirk, taking another sip of his Firewhisky.

"He... that was them? I've always wondered. Wished I could've awarded some points to them."

"Filius! That is..."

"Minerva, you can't tell me you didn't want to as well. The look on Slughorn's face!"

"Yes, well. Do you remember the time Potter and Weasley went after that troll in their first year?"

Now heavily lubricated, their tongues continued in this vein for quite a while, recounting one embarrassing story after another, were they of the fallen or not. Villagers coming and going, glad the fighting was over and generally buying the Order members more drinks than they should consume, but couldn't really bring themselves to refuse.

They had fought Voldemort for years, decades really if you counted his first rising, and now they all bloody well deserved a party of their own.

And if that meant they got so drunk they couldn't remember their own names, so be it.

---

One of the last to leave (but who passed by unnoticed as usual) was currently rubbing at an imagined spot of dirt with a soft cloth on one of her precious books.

"Hmph."

No one ever noticed her, and the other teachers certainly didn't know her. To them she was just Irma Pince, librarian and spinster, dry and uninteresting. Unworthy of their attention. They were always very polite, but she could tell what they thought of her. And her books.

She always had to remind everyone how to treat her little darlings. Well, aside from some Ravenclaws and that Granger girl. Miss Granger seemed to be one of the few who appreciated books, and she always spent a good amount of time daily here in the library. Even more when one of her friends was behaving oddly again.

"Book defilers!" she muttered under her breath, rubbing even harder at the spot. She hadn't forgotten that that odd boy had written in a book once. With a quill! Honestly. Books were too precious to be written into. A book desecrated like that! The boy should've been expelled!

She stopped thinking along that line immediately and began her breathing exercises, just like the nice man at St Mungo's had told her to. It worked.

She breathed in deeply, calming down again. She stopped rubbing at the spot and looked at it. She had rubbed a circle through the patina of ages on that particular book, no spot visible. She'd to have been rubbing for a while. She sighed, leaned back in her chair and put the book away, before she succumbed again to acting her frustration out on one of her poor books.

If she was perfectly honest with herself, she needed a drink. She had never been one much for drinking, but she supposed if there ever was a time it would be now. Not that there was any special occasion for it. Everyone was always busy, and all teachers had been absent for quite a long time.

Shocking, that. To just leave all at once! Then they had all returned a while ago with many of the students in tow. She had stayed at Hogwarts trying out a new cataloguing system.

The lot of them had been very tense, snapping at each other all the time. Especially Professor Snape, but then he was never one for polite conversation. Never wanted to hear about the latest archaeological discovery in the Hebrides. Unpleasant man, to be so derisive about her favourite subject!

"Hmph." She really needed that drink. She got up from her chair, placed the book she had been maltreating into a drawer (with a loving caress across its cover) so she could repair it later, and shut the drawer with a determined thud. She straightened her back and briskly walked out of the library, responsibly turning the 'library is open from ...to...' sign around to show 'library is closed'.

One had to keep up standards after all. Even if the rest of the world was being sloppy.

---

Hermione spied the twins ducking into the room at the back or the Great Hall. She had not been in there since the year of the Triwizard Tournament. It was dark and it took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust. The room seemed empty.

"Lumos."

The room was empty.

Where have they gone off to? she wondered. She walked around the room studying the paintings, all landscapes, and a few wall hangings. She tapped the paintings and a few stones with her wand. As she turned to leave, she noticed a small niche with another tapestry. As she drew closer, the pattern seemed familiar... So, that's where they are.

"Nox." She extinguished her wand and slipped behind the tapestry. When she peeked out the other side, she could see the Trophy Room, the awards shining in the soft moonlight through the window. She could hear murmuring.

"Well, they'll get married right out of school."

"I suppose... I'd rather not think about it, y'know?"

"Do you think I would?"

She edged her way around the perimeter until she saw two shadows crouched behind the largest trophy in the room (at least, until someone decided to make one for Harry).

When she thought she was close enough, she shot ropes out of her wand to bind the twins so that they couldn't get away from her again. But, the light and the shadows distorted her aim.

"Oi! Who's there?" shouted Fred.

Hermione turned in the direction of the voice. George came up behind her and grabbed her loosely by the shoulders.

"It's just Hermione, Fred."

"What's the idea, Hermione?" Fred asked.

"What are you two up to?" she answered his question with a question.

"Just enjoying the victory celebration," said George.

"No, you're both hiding in here for some reason. What have you done? Specifically, where are the professors?"

"We haven't done anything with them, 'Mione," said Fred.

Hermione was impressed with Fred's acting skills. He truly sounded surprised.

"Don't call me 'Mione."

"We have to lay low...we're supposed to be in the infirmary," said George.

"Well, then if you're supposed to be in the infirmary, what are you doing sneaking about...if not causing trouble?"

"We were just trying to liven up the party a bit..." George started.

"Yes, how much fun could you really have without us?" Fred added.

Hermione crossed her arms, glaring at them.

"George?" She tried to coax him to continue. He kept quiet, looking rather the way he did when Molly was lecturing. Hermione tried the binding spell again on Fred, feeling reckless and in no mood for diplomacy. One way or another, they would talk.

Fred blocked her spell and the ropes fell at their feet. George cast the binding spell at Hermione; she ducked, and it caught Fred around the legs. Fred shot wildly while trying to free his legs and caught George's right wrist. Hermione spun around and caught the rope tethered to George's wrist and pulled him away from Fred as Fred toppled, his legs still bound, and dropped his wand. Hermione managed to get in one last shot at George, binding his free hand before he could grab her.

"Enough!" she screamed, still holding George captive.

She tied the end of the rope to a wall sconce, feeling a sense of accomplishment at having prevailed two against one (though admittedly, they had done more damage to each other than she had done to them). Hermione gathered up some of the ropes from the floor and finished tying George up, stretching to wrest his wand from his bound hand. That she had to practically climb his body to do so was purely incidental.

"Oi! Hermione, watch it there with my wand."

Hermione wondered which wand he was talking about, but shook off the thought. She still had Fred to take care of.

Fred turned out to be harder to handle than George. He had managed to get himself standing, but Hermione couldn't get him near a wall to finish binding him; she pushed, she pulled, she tugged, and Fred just held his ground and held onto her.

"I had no idea you were into bondage, Hermione."

She looked up at Fred, shocked.

"If you'd just have let us know, we would have made it easier on you," George said flirtatiously.

Giving up on the wall, Hermione tied Fred to a trophy case. Without magic, it was no easy feat...his hands were mostly free, and with encouragement from George, Fred had more moves than the Giant Squid.

"Come on Hermione, give us a go."

Hermione paused, pressed up against Fred, and...reluctantly?...wrestling his hands away from her arse. What was she thinking...no! Although she didn't resist the temptation to press herself closer still as she finally got his hands secured.

"There," she said, stepping away.

"What are you going to do with us now?"

"Don't tease us, Hermione."

"I plan to keep you tied up until you tell me what you're up to."

"What's in it for us?" Fred asked, still acting as if he had the upper hand.

"What's in it for you? How about, I'll untie you?" The twins really are frustrating.

George was ready to get back to the party, so he was the first to speak. "All we did was put a bit of our latest invention in the punch."

"Completely harmless...just something to get everyone in the mood. Worked well enough on you, didn't it?" Fred asked, with a trace of a leer.

"What?" Hermione was unsure which emotion was taking over, but the twins were lucky not to get hexed then and there. But, in the end, logic won, and if she was to find out exactly what they had put in the punch, she had to keep her wand in check.

"Yes, interesting how much you seemed to enjoy a little rope play with the help of lowered inhibitions. I wonder if the alcohol helped? We hadn't considered if that would change the effects," George said, looking remarkably thoughtful for someone who appeared to be caught in mid-bondage scenario.

"Don't worry, 'Mione," said Fred, "it just relieves shyness, so everyone, even the Hufflepuffs, can have a little fun."

"I told you not to call me 'Mione," she said. "I'm going back to the Great Hall make sure everything is okay, and just for good measure, I'm leaving you two here."

"But, we told you what we put in the punch...you can't leave us here."

"Can't I?" she asked archly as she slipped back though the tapestry.

---

Snape rested at the door for a while, wondering at the sudden vertigo that assailed him. With a heroic pull, he managed to get the door open. He used the doorjamb to haul himself up again, and he looked around the corridor. The giggling stopped and he heard a Crumbs from somewhere. The giggling continued, which segued into a low moan. Someone was out there... invisible... and he was pretty damned sure it wasn't a ghost.

"I should have burnt that fucking cloak. Potter! Potter, where are you?" He flailed about, knowing that his archenemy was near. He stumbled to his knees, and the giggle erupted into laughter.

"I can hear you, Potter. I'll find you, and you'll have so much detention that I'll be mouldering in my grave before you get out of Hogwarts!"

Some part of Snape's brain which was not entirely impeded by alcohol consumption remarked, Severus... that would be completely counterproductive...

"Shut it," he muttered, wondering if it was too late to find his voice of logic and give it a good, stiff drink.

---

Ron Weasley concluded that it was a great deal more fun to try to share the Invisibility Cloak with the Patil twins than it was to do so with Harry and Hermione.

For one thing, Hermione never would have slipped her hand into the back pocket of Ron's trousers while they were walking (as both Padma and Parvati were both doing), even if Harry hadn't been around. The expression 'cock blocking' floated drunkenly to the top of Ron's mind, and he pushed it down with an audible and embarrassed chuckle. For some reason, this set the twins to giggling, and they had a noisy interlude of kissing and fumbling with the buttons on each other's shirts until they all recalled that not only were they not at their destination, but that the cloak didn't make the wearers inaudible.

The terms of the dare were to 'shag in front of Snape's office.' There were no specifics as to how this was to be carried out, a fact which Padma had picked up on immediately. It was she who had suggested borrowing Harry's Invisibility Cloak (a garment whose existence was apparently the worst-kept secret at Hogwarts). After all, she reasoned, it would be much safer to shag in front of Snape's office if Snape couldn't see the shaggers.

Gotta love those clever Ravenclaws.

Parvati, bolder than her twin, had already slipped off her skirt. Even in the dim light of the dungeons, further filtered by fabric, she made a pretty picture with her shapely legs bared to the hips. A hint of lace knickers was visible where her blouse split at the sides.

Padma started to take off her tie, but Ron caught her hand and whispered in her ear, "Leave it on. Sexier that way, you know?" The twins giggled again, which was a little worrisome considering they were so near Snape's lair. But Padma left her tie on. Ron was relieved. Strategist that he was, he knew this would end very badly if he forgot which twin was which.

Not that he wasn't fairly certain he could tell them apart...Padma was the more cautious of the two, and tended to blush and hide behind him, while Parvati had initiated the hands-in-back-pockets thing and made short work of his shirt. Impressive... her unbuttoning the whole thing so quickly (single-handed, no less). After sharing a series of increasingly deep kisses, Ron concluded hazily that he rather preferred Padma...smart, like Hermione, but less bossy. But, a dare's a dare, he thought cheerfully as he contemplated Parvati's gold lace demi-bra.

By the time they got to Snape's door, their clothing amounted to the Cloak, his boxers, the girls' knickers, and a school robe with three wands bundled into it. The moment of truth, so to speak, was there. Fuelled by a burst of alcoholic and hormonal bravado, Ron removed the red boxers that Hermione had found so cliché and stood proudly for their inspection (in more ways than one.) They were so close together under the cloak that the ladies had to tip their heads slightly to take in the whole picture.

Parvati broke the (apparently) impressed silence first. "You owe me five Galleons, Padma. It's not just a rumour that Weasley men are hung like Hippogriffs."

Padma was looking and blushing flatteringly until she met Ron's eyes and took in his cocky grin. She averted her gaze, coyly glancing behind him. "His bum's not bad either," she said, and both girls evidently took that as the signal to giggle...then pounce.

Ron forgot to worry about the giggling. Particularly not once Padma (who still showed traces of shyness) sidled around behind him. A wisp of something silky brushed past his legs, and a glance at the floor revealed the blue bra's matching knickers. She danced her delicate fingers around his ribcage and up to play with his nipples, and he wasn't sure whether it was that or the fact that he could feel her pert tits pressing against his back that made him moan into Parvati's mouth. He never heard the office door creak ominously

And he forgot about everything... including the cold and damp of the dungeons, the weird smell in this particular corridor (which the exciting muskiness of slightly perfumed girls confined under a cloak couldn't quite efface), and even bloody damned Snape, who was about and ranting, when Parvati left off snogging him and slid down to her knees at his feet, looking up slyly from under her eyelashes. She fished her wand out of the rolled-up cloak and Transfigured the discarded knickers into a nice blue pillow to protect her knees from the stone.

"If this doesn't count as shagging, you can make up for it, sister," she whispered in the general direction of Padma, just before delicately fastening her lips around one very impressive cock (if Ron, Padma, and Parvati did say so themselves).

Ron's last more or less coherent thought was, As long as they don't figure out why I really asked Padma to leave her tie on, this is going to be BRILLIANT.

---

With a triumphant, inarticulate cry, Severus managed to snag the corner of the cloak, ripping it off...

Not Potter!?

He looked at the tableau before him. Under the coffee-coloured flesh Latte, he thought inanely, he could just manage to see Ron Weasley and his mind slipped sideways. He heaved himself up to his full height, gathering his dignity around him. "Mr. Weasley..."

It's so unfair, a voice wailed, and he shuddered when he realised it was his.

A rather different voice (also his, but with the presence of mind to remain inside his skull where it belonged), reminded him, Two of those students are female, Severus... Either put the cloak back on them or stop looking.

He staggered up the stairs, shouting, "Inappropriate Attire! You are not supposed to have a girl as clothing! Theft of a magic item, to whit, one cloak of Invisibility! Giggling in the corridor! Rubbish in the Hall! Detention for life, you bastard!" As he stumbled up the stairs, he slipped and slid over the clothes strewn over his steps. "And clean up this mess," was his final rejoinder to the oblivious trio.

The more restrained voice, whom Snape had begun to think of fondly as 'not as drunk Severus', reminded him he had duties to attend to. You need to get started on your rounds, if students are getting so bold as to...frolic...in the corridor outside your office.

"Right you are," he answered aloud.

Snape knew he couldn't be terribly drunk. After all, it bothered him slightly that he was talking to himself. Though what bothered him most at the moment was that all his fine threats hadn't managed to so much as budge the grin from young Mr. Weasley's face.

---

Hermione's shell of togetherness instantly crumbled on the other side of the tapestry. Struggling with the twins had been a little too much fun, and she was thoroughly flustered. It's just that they're attractive, and you're a perfectly healthy female, her voice of reason insisted, though it was rising slightly with something like hysteria. You didn't drink nearly enough of their de-inhibitor, or whatever you want to call it, to do anything rash.

She was so distracted, she ran out into the corridor instead of into the Great Hall...and right into Ginny.

"Sorry..." she began, but Ginny cut her off with a musical laugh.

"Hermione! Now that I think of it, you're exactly the person I wanted to see!" Ginny threw her arms around Hermione's neck as if they hadn't seen each other in months.

Hermione extricated herself from the sticky embrace as tactfully as possible. "Ginny, we need to empty the punchbowl! Fred and George spiked it with an experimental potion!"

Ginny smiled indulgently at her. "Hermione, you really need to relax. How about a bath?"

"You don't understand! Relaxing is the problem...it lowers inhibitions. Who knows what sort of trouble..."

"Oh, is that all? That one's harmless. It just helps people be less shy." She patted Hermione on the back reassuringly, managing to leave a substantial amount of chocolate in her friend's hair. "You look a little messy. Let me wash your hair before you go back to the party, hmm?"

Hermione wanted to protest, but Ginny was her friend... a bit like a little sister, really, with all the bonding they'd done over the past year, trying to keep Harry in one piece... A nice hair-washing would be relaxing about now.

There's something I'm supposed to do, Hermione thought. But the reason she was upset wasn't terribly clear in her mind anymore, especially when the younger girl took her by the hand, offering her a winning smile.

"I guess I want to freshen up for the party, right?" she asked, still feeling vaguely uneasy. Ginny's smile brightened, and she nodded. With that, Hermione surrendered her worry and let Ginny lead her to the Prefects' Bath.

---

Kingsley finally arrived in London with the evacuees and non-combatants from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, escorting them to a spare safe hall in the wizarding area of London. He figured he ought to owl Tonks to inform her they'd arrived and ask how things were going up her way. Their intelligence regarding You-Know-Who's plan to attack suggested it would happen soon.

He looked around, for another of the Aurors who was helping escort the evacuees. He saw Dawlish just inside the hall and approached him.

"Dawlish, I'm going to go send an owl up to Tonks, telling her we got here and ask how things are on her end. You'll be okay for a few minutes, won't you?"

"Sure, no worries," he replied.

Kingsley nodded at him and turned to leave. Edging past the evacuees who were crowding into the hall through the narrow doorway, he headed for the owl post office near Diagon Alley.

---

"Hello, Sybill! What are you doing here?"

"The spirits told me to come here. Momentous revelations would await me here, they said," she replied in the dazed manner she tended to affect when she spoke of her communion with spirits. The others looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

Balderdash, the other professors thought, collectively. Then they thought of another matter entirely, which could put a damper on their celebrations.

"Well, Vector and Sinistra are still there to hold the fort, along with Snape and our Head Girl and Boy, right?" Hooch inquired nonchalantly and with an interested look at Sybill's bangles, which were clanging against the tabletop.

"Actually, I sent those two ahead to check up on things here even before the celebration started. They were supposed to be back a long while ago," McGonagall said with a frown.

"If they're here, where are they?"

"Missing anyone?" Rosmerta asked, arriving with the next round of drinks.

"Yes, we are. Professors Vector and Sinistra."

"Oh, you needn't worry about them. They're upstairs," Rosmerta replied with an indulgent smile, putting the empty glasses on her tray.

"Upstairs?"

"Yes. When they saw everything was all right, they took a room for the night," Rosmerta said.

Silence.

"Well, who would've thought? Certainly seems to be en vogue at the moment," Sprout commented, with a glance at Hooch and Poppy cuddled together at one end of the table.

"So who's at the castle right now, supervising that party?" Minerva asked, slightly concerned. But only slightly, because the Firewhisky had kicked in at last.

Silence reigned once again.

"Well, Snape, Hermione and Ernie. They're very responsible though. You know that."

A pause, then, "You're right, Filius. They'll be able to manage without us for a little while, and we won't be here long after all. Just one more drink and we'll head back."

The others looked at each other and grinned. She'd said that to begin the last two rounds.

Party time.

---

Ernie remained at his post in the Great Hall, though he wasn't certain why. He'd declined the Hat's offer to find him a match, since he already had a Ravenclaw in mind. Hmm... speaking of Ravenclaws, Justin's Muggle-born... I wonder if he knows the lyrics to that song called 'Mandy'?

He took a sip of his punch and gasped. 'Punch' definitely described its impact at this point. It seemed a forgone conclusion the stuff was spiked. But then, Ernie knew next to nothing about alcohol. Who did?

"Zabini! Hey, Zabini! C'mere!"

Blaise sauntered over. Normally, he couldn't care less about responding to a Hufflepuff, Head Boy or not... but really, who had anything to prove anymore? It was all fun and games from here on out! "What is it?"

"You know a thing or two about alcohol. Tell me, exactly how much in the way of spirits is in this punch? And should we still be drinking this stuff?"

Blaise leaned over the bowl to take the dipper, only to stagger back slightly from the fumes. Gingerly, he dipped a cup in and took a sip. His eyes widened. He picked up another cup, dipped it, and handed it to Ernie, who mirrored Blaise in raising the cup in a toast.

After they downed their doses, Blaise pronounced shakily, yet solemnly, "Offhand... I'd say there's enough booze in here to get a herd of centaurs totally shitfaced." And he helped himself again.

Ernie's head was swimming. It wasn't clear what was going on, but it seemed to be all right. "Oh. Well. Nothing to get excited about, then." And he wobbled off to find Mandy.

---

"Move it, Malfoy. I have a hot date with an even hotter witch in the Prefect's bath, and I'm already late." Harry brushed past and kept walking. If Malfoy wanted to apologize for any other random past misdeeds, it could wait until tomorrow.

Much to Harry's surprise and annoyance, this resulted in a sudden face full of irate blondness.

"Oh, no, you don't, Potter! You've been ignoring me for EIGHT YEARS...you aren't going to do so one minute more!"

"What the hell are you on about?" Harry was rather gobsmacked to note that the other man's eyes were red rimmed from crying and his lower lip was wobbling.

"You fucked up EVERYTHING by not being sorted into Slytherin! You're the most powerful wizard on earth, and you were supposed to be in Slytherin with your gorgeous green eyes and those luscious waves of magical energy that just roll off you, and you were supposed to be impressed with me that day in Madam Malkin's, and we would have sewn up all the Quidditch matches and gotten all the really hot people to bed us and cheated our way to the most NEWTs in history! But instead you fucking well REJECTED me and got sorted into stupid, fucking, red-doesn't-flatter-those-gorgeous-eyes-of-yours GRYFFINDOR! You aren't going to ignore me anymore, do you understand? YOU WILL PAY ATTENTION TO ME!"

Harry was feeling pretty mellow... and randy... and open minded. But it still came as a bit of a shock when Malfoy shoved him against the nearest wall and started snogging him, wobbly lip notwithstanding. Rather well, actually...that couldn't be easy with such a wobbly lip.

"Was that an audition or something?" Harry gasped once they came up for air. This was apparently the wrong thing to say. Draco's pout was threatening to spill over from his lips and take over his entire body. Interesting how having someone put their tongue in your mouth suddenly makes you think about them by their first name, Harry thought.

"I wish you'd take me seriously. We were meant to be near each other... physically... emotionally... alphabetically..."

Harry wanted to laugh at that, but he'd prefer not to be subjected to any snivelling. It seemed very possible at the moment. What was it with crying people kissing him?

"I guess that means Ron wins the bet. He always said you were as bent as a tin sickle." Harry saw why, now that he had a decent pair of glasses. Sweet Merlin...anyone as pretty as Draco had better be either female or queer. It was sort of wasted, otherwise.

"Oh, that's nice. For years I've been carrying a torch for you, playing the nice straight little pureblood scion just so I could keep my arse intact...for you...and you were betting against me being gay? Was the thought that I might fancy you too repugnant? I swear, if you reject me again, it won't be pretty!"

"Quite the drama queen, aren't you?" Harry softened the quip with a slight smile, though, and played with a strand of Draco's hair. Quite nice... silky, even. Ginny had wanted an audience for their games in the bath, and possibly someone to join their fun. As far as 'someone' went, they could do worse. Malfoy almost acted like a human being since becoming aligned with the Light and practically destitute.

And even a hard-core butch lesbian would have to admit Draco was one fine piece of arse.

Obviously Draco knew this as well as anyone who had eyes to see, because he pulled himself together and did a very seductive thing with his bottom lip and his teeth. Harry's fingers in Draco's hair probably encouraged it, but suddenly, that was just fine. It was even acceptable when Draco leaned the full length of his body against Harry's, subtly rubbing against his chocolate-stained thigh. "So... do you go my way, after all?" he asked in a sultry purr.

Harry seriously considered messing with Draco's mind, but ultimately opted for honesty. He'd never been a very good liar. "I can't promise you anything, lovely... especially since I've already made certain promises to Ginny. But come to the Prefects' Bath with me and we'll run it by her. If she says you're in...you can play. With us."

"I don't fancy girls." Draco pouted some more. It was rather cute, actually.

"Not even a little?" Harry was sure he'd felt a reaction from Draco's body against his when he'd mentioned Ginny...and it hadn't been disgust. "You couldn't make an exception for a curvy little redhead who looks really good in... bubbles?"

Yep. Definitely a twitch...maybe more than one. "Maybe a little." The pout was still there, but it was considerably sexier.

Harry laughed. "Ginevrrra," he purred, and Draco shivered tellingly.

Draco pulled away a little. He was bravely trying to hold on to his petulance, but it was drowning in signs of excitement. "Okay, you win... as usual. Are you going to take me to that bath, or not?"

"You walk ahead. I want to have a good look at this 'virgin arse' you're so proud of."

Before complying with that request, Draco gave him the coyest sideways smile Harry had ever seen from anyone, male or female, in his entire life. It was quite possibly the best example of such on the planet. And he wasn't sure if it was just something he's missed, what with the nature of school robes, or if it was something Malfoy was doing deliberately, but the man didn't walk. He...he sashayed.

This was going to be one interesting bath.

---

Severus staggered into the Great Hall and beheld... chaos. Some students had wrested control of the Charmed instruments from their supervising ghosts and were making a hideous racket for the handful of dancers clustered against the stage.

I know we came back with more students than that...where the hell are the rest of them? Still, like a mule on its towpath, Snape moved by sheer force of habit towards his domain...the punchbowl. He resolved to poison whomever was in charge of chaperoning this event, in light of the evidence of a food fight he was forced to sidestep on the way to his goal.

Beside the punchbowl, was an enormous terrine of chocolate mousse that appeared to be...moving... and singing.

Even for Hogwarts, singing mousse is a strange new wrinkle.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.'

He carefully negotiated the banana splits, the chicken drumsticks, the salmon mousse, and peered into the chocolate. His hand snaked into the bowl and drew out something familiar. The Hat peered blearily at him and burst into song... and very un-poetic song, at that...

"Knickers and Neckties and boobies and buttocks

Know-it all beauty and red-headed floozy

Two sets of Twins tied up in knots

These are a few of my favourite scenes..."

"Oh, hi, Sevvie, old pal. Ya'know I think I did the world a great disservice when I sorted you into Slytherin. Loyal to a fault, would do anything for a friend... and you did consider Albus a friend, didn't you? Courageous to almost blind stupidity. Sounds more and more like a Gryffindor to me... Oh well (hic) it all turned out in the end."

"You're... you're drunk?" Severus dug the hat out of the remains of a bowl of chocolate mousse. The chocolate mousse was liberally spread over the hall, as well as every other piece of food, as far as he could see.

He was distracted by tittering and moaning under the table. He stumbled to his knees and saw a couple of Ravenclaw girls liberally coating one of his Slytherins with the mousse and licking it off. The Ravenclaws glanced at him, but the Slytherin was too intent on her pleasure to notice. For Merlin's sake, Severus, stop looking... where they're licking, ordered his (mostly) not-drunk persona, noting that he was gazing owlishly at the students.

"My office, first thing tomorrow, ladies...you must be in proper uniform at all times," he said. The two Ravenclaws just giggled and nodded their heads as Severus got up from the tableau.

"Now isn't that nice," the Hat commented. "It's all over now and the Houses don't have to fight anymore (hic). I'm just helping the love along, Sevvie." If a hat could look smug, this one was definitely had Lucius' expression down pat.

Touching the Hat seemed to be as hazardous as donning it, at least in terms of the integrity of Snape's mental defences. The Hat wobbled drunkenly right into his memories.

Are you sure it's the Hat that's wobbling, Snape?

"I've decided I don't like you after all," he announced to 'not-so-drunk-Severus'.

"Now let's see, oh yessss (hic). How 'bout that Gryffindor girl?" the hat said, casually pulling up an image of Hermione in one of her Muggle outfits. She had dropped into Hogwarts for extra-curricular work over the summer, still in her Muggle clothes. It had been a stiflingly hot day, and she showed far more flesh than any witch should show. He was riveted on the expanse of flesh that went from her midriff to well down her waist and was forced to cover it with an acerbic comment...something to the effect of...

"Oh, let's have the whole thing, Sevvie," the Hat said, with disgusting cheerfulness.

"What a shame you won't be in my classes next year, Miss Granger."

Her look of confusion was priceless. "What... why do you say that, Professor?"

"Since you obviously cannot afford enough material to cover yourself, by inference, you cannot afford the fees to attend Hogwarts," he said, folding his arms over his chest in a long-practiced stance of disapproval.

She had coloured at that, but managed to maintain her dignity...as much as she could in what he deemed next to no clothing...and primly stalked off to find a robe. He hated to admit it, but she showed a certain admirable restraint in neither crying nor talking back.

"That's not all that you found admirable," the Hat said, sagely noting how Severus' eyes had strayed to the gently bobbing curve of her backside as she left.

Snape dropped the Hat in disgust and found somewhere else for his eyes to stray...namely, to a pile of clothes at the entrance of the hall. As he stalked towards them, (well, even he had to admit his gait was not steady enough to constitute a 'stalk' at this point), the Hat called out, "Hey, don't forget this." Severus tiptoed carefully back to the Hat...to stagger would have been undignified, after all...and noticed that the ancient piece of headgear seemed to have acquired a more modern adornment around its brim, all but obscured in mousse. He grabbed the chocolate-smeared material, which resolved itself into a bra, whose brilliant redness shone through the chocolate. "She'll be wanting it back, eventually," the Hat said with a snigger.

Snape ignored the hat, shouting general promises of 'detention for life' in the direction of the clumsy oafs pretending to dance on the other side of the Hall, and set off to cite Miss Granger for improper disposition of her undergarments.

---

Hooch and Sprout entering the Three Broomsticks courtesy of SS Lupin.

Hermione tying up the twins courtesy of Broomclosetravenclaw.

Pince leaving and the Professors starting their own party in Hogsmeade courtesy of shalimar1981.

Shacklebolt attempting to contact Tonks courtesy of lux_astraea.

The Snape scenes courtesy of JustDesmond.

The anxiety of the Weasley twins, Pansy moving on, punch-drunk Ernie and Blaise, Ron/Patil Twins romp, Ginny/Hermione and Draco/Harry all courtesy of dracontia.

The first nonsense poem of the Hat courtesy of Lewis Carroll's "The Jabberwocky".