9: When Whatever Has Hit the Fan Is Dealt With

Disclaimer: This frisky little farce is based on concepts and characters set forth in the "Harry Potter" novels by J.K. Rowling, who might very well freak out if she saw what we were doing with them. No one involved in this bold multinational venture makes any money off it, and at this point, we will consider ourselves lucky to escape a virtual stoning by the fandom at large. Unless they're all just so happy to read something intentionally funny that we're forgiven.

Chapter 9: When Whatever Has Hit the Fan Is Dealt With

The 'pop' heralding Shacklebolt's Apparition into the Ministry Atrium seemed amplified because it was so deserted. Which, considering the ungodly hour, wasn't that much of a surprise.

He knew someone needed to inform the Ministry, and seeing as it was his fault the Auror on duty was now an ewe...though he'd have to have a serious chat with her later as to why she was pissed out of her skull on duty...he supposed he ought to be the one to do it.

He made his way past the Floo fireplaces, all closed off for the moment, and past the security stand where Eric usually sat. Letting himself in...after all, he was an Auror...he stood near the lifts in the small hall and pondered.

"Right, if I were an overeager, overcompensating employee that felt the overriding urge to be at work at this time in the morning, who, and where would I be?" he mused aloud.

"You'll be wanting the Weasley boy," a voice muttered in the silence.

"...Hello? Who's there?"

A loud sigh came from the corner and he moved to inspect its origin.

"Over here," the voice spoke, louder than before. It was a painting. Figures really, no one else is about right now.

"I said, you'll be wanting the young Weasley boy. He's the only one ever here at this hour. Well, him and his silly little assistant."

"Oh, cheers. Thanks for that," Kingsley replied and got into a lift.

Once on the right level and having ascertained the right corridor, he set off at a brisk pace. As he neared the door to the outer office of Percy Weasley, he saw it was open.

Being an Auror, it was a talent to be able to sneak up on people, and Kingsley wasn't one to waste a chance trying to do it...all in the name of practice, of course.

"Why... yes, Minister... thank you, Minister. It's an honour." Kingsley could hear Percy Weasley, muttering to himself in his office.

"Oh no, Minister, of course I appreciate the thought, but honestly this promotion is all I ever dreamed of. You don't need to give me that, too... Well if you insist... Thank you ever so much, Minister."

By now Kingsley was standing in front of Percy Weasley's desk, waiting to see when the man realised he was being watched. He was also trying not to laugh at the little scenario it seemed the man had running in his head.

"Yes, Minister, I..." Percy's eyes opened for a brief second, closing before his brain realised he was not alone. "Arghhh! Holy mother of pearl! You scared me," he yelled, jumping out of his seat.

Oh, how I love doing that to people, Kingsley thought to himself. I'm good. Kingsley suppressed the urge to grin, simply looking as if he hadn't meant to do that at all and uttered a small, "I'm sorry about that."

It seemed to work, as Percy quickly composed himself and coughed as if to hide his embarrassment. "Well, good morning, Mr....?" Percy began.

"Oh, hello, I'm Auror Shacklebolt," Kingsley replied.

"Sorry, Mr. Weasley," came a voice from right behind Kingsley.

"Hells bells!" Kingsley exclaimed. She'd snuck up on him! He blamed it on tiredness... Yes, that was it, sheer exhaustion. She walked around him, bit of a grin on her face and addressed Mr. Weasley.

"I only just got back. Here's your juice and fruit. Anything else you need?"

"No, no, that's fine, thank you," he replied. She left, closing the door behind her.

"How can I help you, Auror Shacklebolt?" Percy Weasley asked from his chair behind a desk almost as wide as the office itself.

"I have news about You-Know-Who, and as you're currently the highest ranking person in the Ministry at the moment I came to you," Kingsley said.

"Yes?"

"Well, it appears that he's dead." Kingsley said. No other way about it, really.

"Do you have any proof," Percy began, pouring out some juice into his glass. "I mean, I can hardly take your word alone, can I?"

"Of course not, I have here You-Know-Who's wand," Kingsley said, taking it out of his robes. "I confiscated it from a Squib up at Hogwarts. He is one of the people who confirmed the death."

Percy looked at the wand sceptically. "And how, exactly, can you be sure that this is his wand?"

Kingsley had been prepared for this part. "All Aurors have to know what certain wands look like. This one has been on top of that list for a long time now."

"Really?"

"Yes, it's so that people can be identified. Polyjuice and glamours can change your appearance, but people still tend to use the same wand."

"Oh, well, I suppose that makes sense," Percy replied. "Well, I ought to start sorting things out. Ministry official business, you know." He stood and began ushering Kingsley out of his office, not a mean feat for someone possessing marginally less height and substantially less physical presence than the Auror. "I'm sure you've heard about my organisational abilities, yes? We need to get the Minister informed, of course. That's the most important thing. Then we need to sort out press arrangements and photos. Oh, yes, the photos. Miss Chang! Miss Chang, come here," he practically shouted, making Kingsley wince. He was still unsure whether half of what had just been said was actually aimed at him.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Her voice sounded a little strained.

"Right," he began, when she appeared in the doorway, "I need you to do a few things for me."

She looked at him, then back to the pastries and coffee on her desk longingly. Food was off the list of priorities, obviously. "What do you need, Mr. Weasley?"

"I need you to get in touch with Peter, sorry, Mr. Parker," he replied. "Tell him it's urgent and an opportunity not to be missed. Yes, I believe he will be the best photographer to use; he's very discreet. Send an owl straight away and ask him to meet me at Hogwarts' gates in about an hour...sooner, if he can."

Percy turned back to Kingsley, who could just see the ideas running through the man's mind. Oh, dear Merlin... what have I done?

"Well, Auror Shacklebolt, I do believe I have an important missive to write to Minister Scrimgeour, so if you'll please excuse me," he said, ushering Kingsley the rest of the way out of his office.

"Well, actually I..." Kingsley began.

"No, no, you've done your part. Go have fun, celebrate and all that. I'll sort it all out," Percy interrupted. "After all, you did come all the way here, and you must be tired."

The door shut in Kingsley's face. How did he manage to get me out of his office? he wondered. Turning to address Weasley's assistant, Miss Chang, he found her absent, having run off to do as she was bid.

He was just wondering if he should stay and then go up to Hogwarts with Percy and Miss Chang...who knew whether all of the Death Eaters had been dealt with after all (it wouldn't do to have even an annoying bureaucrat injured, or worse), when...

"Chang, Chang... MISS CHANG!" Percy's voice came from the other side of the office door.

"She's not here," Kingsley yelled back.

The door opened and a now red-faced Weasley came out, looking about. "Where has that silly girl gone to now?"

"Well, you did just tell her to send a note to the photographer."

"Oh, yes, I suppose I did." He sighed. "Are you still here for a reason?"

"Yes, actually. I've decided to escort you and your assistant to Hogwarts, seeing as we're heading in the same direction. For safety reasons of course; don't want to risk anything what with Death Eaters possibly still about."

Percy looked at him for a moment. "Yes, yes, I suppose that would be best. Just try not to get in the way, yes?"

Shaking his head in amusement, he followed Percy into his office. He was shocked that Percy's first thoughts had been of publicity, of all things.

"Right, now I've written the letter to the Minister, explaining what's happened and my idea for heading up to Hogwarts for a photo shoot and press conference of sorts. That needs sending off. Oh, I'll just add that I've sent for a photographer so he doesn't need another. That way the news for You-Know-Who's death can be announced at the right time and make the photo shoot seem more 'spontaneous' and all that..."

Whether Percy was addressing him or talking to himself, Kingsley wasn't quite sure, but it was amusing to try and decipher what he was saying at top speed and without pausing for breath. Come to think of it, he reminded him a little of Molly when she was in 'arranging' mode.

"...It's a shame the Floo network isn't running right now, it would make things so much easier. Oh, I do wish she would hurry up. The girl is always off in another world." He went to his desk and began sealing the missive addressed to the Minister.

"Mr. Weasley, the letter you've written to the Minister...it is under a Privacy charm, isn't it? We wouldn't want it to be intercepted by the wrong people, after all."

"Good idea, I'll do that now. No that wouldn't do at all, Occulo, there we go."

Miss Chang then returned, slightly out of breath. "Mr. Weasley, the letter is on its way. Was there anything else you wanted me to do?"

"Yes, could you get my things ready to go to Hogwarts please, the usual: parchment, self-inking quill and so forth. You'll need to get both of our cloaks also." He replied without looking up from what he was doing. She sighed lightly; taking one last glance at her breakfast, she disappeared again.

"Right, we'll get this sent off then arrange press coverage and leave for Hogwarts. Oh, I must say this will be brilliant for my career. I never imagined I'd be the one able to arrange this." He picked up the letter and then took off at a brisk pace towards the corridor. Kingsley just shook his head and followed on once more.

Having sent the letter off to the Minister on the 'best owl available,' Percy, followed by his assistant and Kingsley, headed to the Atrium on level eight.

"Right, now everyone got everything?" Percy asked. "Cloaks, my bag, and wand, yes, all in order. Well, to Hogwarts gate it is then."

Three short 'pops' could be heard in the empty Atrium as they Apparated away.

---

If there was anything left in his stomach, Harry didn't need to know about it. If there were any traces of last night on his skin after all the scrubbing he did in the shower (no baths...he blanched at brief flashes of memory), he didn't need to know about those, either. What he did need were his glasses, which were obligingly transported to the edge of the sink from wherever they'd been tossed the night before, and the soft, thick towel that appeared on the wall in response to his need to dry off. Good old Room of Requirement.

But there were some things he had to know, and the room wasn't supplying them. Neither was his brain, which felt a bit like a tossed salad at the moment. And there was nothing reassuring about the images it kept tossing at him.

He knocked desperately on the door Ginny had disappeared behind. "Ginny, come out of there! I'm not going to yell through the door!"

When no reply was forthcoming, he yelled.

"Damn it! Ginny, what happened last night?"

She peeked out, flinching at the sight of his wild expression. Her hair was plastered damply to her head, and the oversized terrycloth robe made her look tiny and forlorn. "Don't you know?"

"I keep seeing flashes. Bits and pieces, nothing beginning-to-end. It's all jumbled."

"Me, too. I remember the bath, and...Oh, God! Hermione!" Ginny went so pale, Harry was afraid she might faint. "What have I done?"

It couldn't be... but this triggered another cascade of memories, assuring Harry that it was. It also reminded him of someone else who had been present during everything that had happened last night. He channelled his confused frustration into pounding on the other door.

"Get out of there, Malfoy!" When no response was forthcoming, Harry Summoned his wand and blasted the door off its hinges. Mercilessly, he shut off the taps and wrenched a shivering, wet, sniffling Draco from behind the shower curtain, roughly shoving a towel at him as he forced him from the room. Draco pulled away and hid in the meagre sanctuary of the rumpled bedclothes, stifling his tears in a pillow.

"What did we drink?" Harry was still shouting, half angry, half frantic.

Ginny shivered violently despite the robe. "I'm th-thinking... H-Hermione s-said that F-fred and G-george p-put a potion of theirs in the p-punch. It's a-a variation on a C-calming Draught...relaxes p-people who are shy." She took a deep breath, sinking to a seat at the foot of the bed so she could speak without shivering so badly. "I remember them working on it, now that I think of it. None of the ingredients are aphrodisiacs. It must have been a lot... more relaxing... than they thought."

Harry stared down at the blankets. Muffled sniffling still provided the soundtrack for the scene. "So, everything we did last night...was something we would have been willing to do anyway, if we weren't worried about it?"

"That's how it's supposed to work."

"Does this mean that we need..." He couldn't articulate the thought, mainly because he wasn't sure which direction it was going. "I...honestly, I haven't seen myself as a sex maniac before." He sank to a seat not far from Ginny on the blanket, more bewildered than anything else. Harry was tragically accustomed to everything in his life going utterly pear-shaped in a matter of seconds, so he was getting good at moving past shock, bargaining, and denial into acceptance.

"I don't know! I still love you. But last night was really good." She reached for him and he allowed her to. Ginny still looked vulnerable with her hair slicked against her head. He charmed it dry, and things felt a bit more normal.

"And you're...you're okay with it?" Harry really wasn't ready to examine the fact that the only thing worrying him about last night was Ginny's feelings.

"Actually... yeah." Her voice got a little odd, and she glanced at the quivering outline under the covers.

Harry pulled her close, studying her eyes intently. They glanced over to Draco at the same moment before their eyes met again. Both Harry and Ginny shivered with shock and pleasure as they were assailed with flashbacks from last night. With none of the expectations, prejudices, fears, or inhibitions of half a lifetime in the way, it had just felt incredible...maybe even right.

"I still love you, too. Maybe... there's room for one more," he whispered. They crept to the head of the bed. Awkwardly, through the blankets, they patted and caressed their erstwhile partner, trying to comfort him.

---

Something seemed amiss about Hogwarts as they entered the gates, though Percy couldn't put his finger on it immediately. At first, he thought it was excessive stillness. But that didn't seem quite right, as there was this...

"What is that sound?"

Percy frowned briefly at his assistant for interrupting his train of thought. "That was precisely what I was about to ask Auror Shacklebolt," he said, deciding to affect a condescendingly approving tone as if he'd just been waiting for her to do her duty as an assistant and articulate the source of his discomfort.

They stopped and listened. By holding exceedingly still, he could perceive a sort of low-level polyphonic moan, lurking at the edge of human hearing.

Shacklebolt cast several spells before allowing them to proceed. "Whatever it is, it doesn't appear to be Dark in origin," he assured them.

"Perhaps it's coming from the hospital wing," Percy said, a speculative gleam coming into his eye. "The sounds of the wounded being tended to by Hogwarts' own Angel of Mercy, Madam Pomfrey."

Miss Chang quickly forestalled any incredulous interjections from Shacklebolt by whispering, "Preparing for the reporters."

"Quite," Percy said. "Mustn't be without a proper quote on these occasions."

"Of course," Shacklebolt said. Percy idly wondered why the words came out so strangled. "Perhaps the Minister will want to use that one."

Percy brightened. "Do you really think..."

He stopped in mid-sentence as they encountered the half-open door to the entrance hall. An empty robe lay on the steps, ominously half inside, half outside. "Did the battle reach the school itself?" Cho asked in a hushed voice.

Shacklebolt drew his wand and cautiously led the way into the hall. Percy permitted Miss Chang to nearly huddle close to him in her apparent nervousness. It wouldn't do for an engaged man to actually properly huddle with his female assistant, even in a completely platonic manner, but the poor girl did seem a bit twitchy.

Their forward progress was halted by a familiar voice speaking in a very ragged, unfamiliar tone of voice. "Keep your hair on, Mr. Zabini, I'm sure we can get them all sorted. But they'll have to settle for rest, fluids, and Pain Relief Potions, as we just don't stock that much for hangovers."

Percy pushed past Kingsley, ignoring the Auror's shout. With Chang and Shacklebolt hard on his heels, he pushed open the doors of the Great Hall...

...to a come upon a scene of utter anarchy.

Percy stood blinking for several vital moments, an act over which he would remonstrate himself sternly later. Time was of the essence in damage control scenarios, after all. He would be especially hard on himself with regards to the mostly irrelevant first words he blurted out, to whit:

"What is this sheep doing here?"

"BAA!"

Madam Pomfrey's impromptu assistant, his dark face slightly grayish above his dishevelled Slytherin tie, answered tiredly. "We're not exactly sure. In fact, we haven't figured out if it's a sheep, or... someone."

"WHAT?"

The sheep gave a frightened bleat and galloped off down the length of the Great Hall.

Neither the bleat nor the yell went over well with the fellow Percy decided must be Zabini. "Please don't yell! There was, um, some drinking, some dares, and no one can remember if..."

It took approximately one second for Percy to decide to sweep it all under the rug so it didn't reflect badly on HIM.

"Oh, no. No. Oh, NO YOU DON'T! This is going to be a DIGNIFIED and SOLEMN affair!" Percy's face grew redder and redder as he 'Evanesco'-ed food messes and Summoned robes to cover underclothed people. "THE MINISTER OF MAGIC IS GOING TO BE HERE IN HALF AN HOUR...SO YOU ALL BLOODY WELL NEED TO TAKE SOME POTIONS AND GET OVER IT!"

Some of the injured began groaning, capturing his attention. "You eight! You were injured in the battle, right?"

"Thestral Quidditch," one he recognized as Vaisey grunted from somewhere under a bandage.

"No one mentions Thestrals or Quidditch! Got that?" He buttonholed Madame Pomfrey, still very much the worse for wear despite having managed to keep down the contents of a vial of Hangover Relief Potion. "Patch them up as best you can, so they can at least sit up for the photo. Damn it, Ron, PUT ON A ROBE!" This last he directed frantically at his youngest brother, who had just stumbled into the room wearing nothing but boxers and a confused yet pleased expression.

"I NEED HOUSE-ELVES, FRONT AND CENTER!"

In a volley of 'pops' so simultaneous they mimicked the detonation of a significant explosive device, the entire house-elf population of Hogwarts appeared in the Great Hall.

"You lot! Fetch school robes for anyone not properly dressed! I want a dozen of you to search the corridors for anyone passed out or roaming about being unruly and bring them here. And the rest of you, clean up this mess!"

There were so many things present in the Hall that shouldn't have been there that Percy overlooked something that should have been there, but wasn't. Or rather, someone. Shacklebolt was a bit more alert.

"Where's Potter?"

Percy whirled on a harried and confused-looking Shacklebolt. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHERE'S POTTER?"

"Does Harry Potter need finding?" A house-elf, in clothes so multicoloured that they appeared to have been vomited by the Hogwarts Achievement of Arms popped up in front of Percy. The creature's huge ears were quivering with excitement.

"Yes, he bloody well needs finding! We need a bloody damned Saviour of the Wizarding World in the foreground of the photograph, or the Minister is going to..."

"Dobby is finding him right away!"

One more 'pop' of house-elf Disapparation was added to the din.

Percy clenched his fist around his wand and set his jaw. "Miss Chang," he said stiffly, "follow that sheep."

---

The warmth of soothing hands gradually penetrated the cold ball of misery (and the residue of being hungover) surrounding Draco. Four hands, distributing their caresses over his back, arms, and through his hair. Flashbacks to more intimate caresses shocked his system. Someone charmed his hair dry, so it was no longer dripping coldly down his neck. Soft words threaded their way into his ears, counterbalancing the bittersweet musk of sex that permeated the bedding.

"Don't cry, pet."

"Shh, baby. We'll work something out. We'll make it better."

When he felt the soft touch of lips on his ear...not kissing, but whispering, which was still remarkable and wonderful...he dared to lift his hot, tear-stained face from the pillow. Harry slipped a handkerchief into his hand, and Ginny Summoned a damp cloth to wipe away the tears. It almost made his sniffling worse; up until this moment, he'd thought that only Vince and Greg were able to handle his emotional morning-after-a-bender state.

"I didn't know about the punch... That wasn't supposed to... I mean, I just... wanted..."

Ginny closed her hand around his. "It's okay. I guess we all did."

Draco took a deep breath, trying to speak around the painful knot in his throat. "I couldn't even admit it to myself... I had to become really, really good at Occlumency... My father will kill me when he finds out..." he trailed off in a fearful whimper. Ginny leaned in closer, not relinquishing her hold on Draco's hand.

Harry wrapped one arm around each of them. "He's never getting out of Azkaban. And if he did, he would never get past me."

"Ooh, he's going all heroic." Much to Draco's chagrin, it came out simpering rather than sarcastic. He couldn't help himself. He'd been wanting to snuggle into Harry's protective embrace for longer than he was willing to admit, and was dead tired of pretending otherwise. After a brief, half-hearted effort, he also gave up resenting Ginny's cuddly, warm, presence, which actually enhanced the experience.

Especially when she glanced slyly between Harry and Draco and giggled. "It's a wonder I can walk this morning."

Draco shifted carefully. The potions provided by the Room of Requirement hadn't been able to completely erase his discomfort. "Mmm, I know the feeling."

Draco and Ginny exchanged a sort of 'we have a secret, don't we?' look, each suddenly feeling much more sanguine about the other's presence in the same bed as Harry. The Harry everyone was familiar with showed up just then, blushing brilliantly.

With a glance from under his eyelashes that was a cute, shy echo of last night's seductive looks, Draco studied Harry's glowing cheeks. "I love it when he blushes like that." He followed it up with a stifled giggle.

Harry tried to squirm away, but they held him fast. "I know," Ginny sighed, snuggling closer. "He's adorable."

Harry mumbled something unintelligible that might have been a permutation of 'Give over, you two' and squeezed his eyes shut in lieu of actually being able to hide his face.

"I think this will work out nicely. He's so absolutely edible that we'll have to take it in shifts to beat the obsessed fans away from him," Ginny whispered into Draco's ear. Absolute perfection. She not only felt nice, Draco liked the way she thought.

Really, there was only room for two obsessed fans in Harry's life.

He whispered back, "That sounds like a plan."

---

Ginny decided to pull Harry back into negotiations before he died of unnecessary modesty. "You know, being close like this is so nice. Could we try to do something... maybe like we did this morning, before we freaked out?"

"That's one thing I remember clearly," Harry asserted, nudging her in between them.

"I'm definitely not up for anything more involved yet," Draco said impishly, cuddling against her back.

Harry looked into her eyes as if pondering very seriously what to do, before bestowing a decisive kiss. They were both shaking by the time he pulled away and let her sink to her back. Draco was waiting for her, and only hesitated slightly before kissing her just as deliciously, if a little less forcefully. She could add breathless to trembling by the time they were through, and she looked expectantly between both men. It was all the encouragement they needed to enter into a kiss of their own, and God on a Cleansweep, it was so hot she almost forgot to breathe.

But it wasn't until they found the courage to actually kiss each other all three at once...a gentle brushing of three sets of lips that somehow met in the middle...that they actually dared hope it might be all right, after all.

As she drifted on a cloud of threesome-y bliss, the inconvenient part of Ginny's mind which had been silenced by the potion asserted itself. It sounded suspiciously like her mum.

What about marrying Harry?

What about it? We still have time to think about it. And if we do, nothing says Draco couldn't visit... on a more or less permanent basis...

Ginevra Molly Weasley! Are you seriously considering living in sin with two men?

Um... it's more like mutually agreed upon adultery with two men. Something like that.

She drowned out the resulting mental shriek with a pleasant meditation on Page 113.

POP!

Ginny had a feeling that if Dobby's eyes could get any bigger, they would.

"I hope this is important," Harry mumbled, sounding vaguely grumpy. Draco gave a petulant whine, and Ginny fully concurred with both of them. Just when they were getting comfy again...

"Dobby is terribly sorry to be interrupting, but Ministry people are asking for Harry Potter, and..."

Someone's stomach grumbled. Dobby paused, giving a discreet cough. "Is Harry Potter wanting breakfast for...for three...before going to the Great Hall?"

Harry sighed. "Maybe you could bring us a little something once we go downstairs. It sounds like the Aurors need confirmation that it's over, and better to give it to them sooner rather than later. Just clothes, for the moment."

The room summoned the requisite garments and Dobby handed them out. "These are for Harry Potter... these are Mizzweezy's... these are Mr. Malfoy's..."

"What? No, 'Draco Malfoy is a very bad boy'?" Ginny teased, buttoning herself up just enough for decency. Harry rolled his eyes and headed for the door, barefoot and with his shirt and tie hanging from his shoulders. Draco shot her a dirty look and made his own half-dressed exit.

Dobby aimed a crafty glance at Draco's neck; for the barest fraction of a second, the normally earnest house-elf looked a trifle Kreacher-like. "Dobby is still suspecting Draco Malfoy is a bad boy, but he is Harry Potter's bad boy now, so Dobby leaves it."

Ginny couldn't stop giggling all the way down the stairs. In no way did Harry and Draco discourage her from doing so by taking it in turns to grab and try to quiet her. Particularly when they opted to do so by covering her mouth with theirs.

---

Minerva was made of stern stuff. She had outdistanced Remus in her efforts to reach the castle...he'd waved her on, both too embarrassed to accept any help from her and too tired to keep up.

Yes, she may have awakened in bed with one of her employees, hungover, wearing nothing but that teddy (damnit, a witch needed to feel sexy if she was going to project efficient authority day in and day out), but that wasn't going to stop her from marching back into her school in proper Headmistress fashion. With only a few borrowed garments to cover said teddy.

She could march just as effectively though an obscure back entrance.

---

"What was in that punchbowl?" The Poltergeist addressed his question to the crumpled wad of fabric at his side. He vaguely recalled attempting a cannonball into the large bowl, but after that...

Slowly, the Sorting Hat uncurled itself from the armpit it'd been nestled in, then tilted its tip upward, as if to return Peeves' stare.

Peeves blinked a few times, then attempted a simple sentence. "What happened to all the fun?"

"What fun? One moment the Creevey boy grabs me, everyone demands to know who they belong with, then I'm forgotten again. Where's the fun in that?"

"I'm sorry." Peeves felt shocked at the realization that he truly meant it. He'd never apologised or felt sympathy toward anyone in his entire existence, yet tonight he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of compassion for the flimsy hat still sitting in his lap. The only explanation could be the punch and whatever potions resided within it, but for the moment Peeves found that he really didn't care about the whats or the whys.

"For close to a thousand years I've done my duty, judged the unjudgable, labelled the young and the innocent. My warnings all go unheeded. All that anyone cares is that my annual song is new and witty and that I don't place too many of the Slytherins' children in Gryffindor, or the reverse. No one ever thanks me."

"It's been almost a thousand years for me as well; keeping things interesting, not letting the students or staff forget that magic is unpredictable. They'd grow soft without some challenges, they would. I can't think of anyone who appreciates my work though, except perhaps the Weasley twins. No, poor Peevesy, always shunned, just like Godric's poor hat oft sits forgot."

As he spoke Peeves started to stroke the Sorting Hat around the brim, surprised at how soft the old, patched leather felt under his fingers. The hat seemed to respond to his attention, cuddling deeper against his chest and humming faintly. Peeves thought it felt somewhat like a kitten, purring and snuggling into a body's warmth, though it had been centuries since he'd last held a kitten.

"Do you think, perchance, that the castle could function for a few hours, or even days, without our efforts and vigilance? As none seem to truly care for us, would we even be missed?" The Sorting Hat sighed, then resumed its humming, apparently enjoying the gentle play of Peeves' fingers over its brim and tip.

"No respect, the lot of them. Makes Old Peevesy cranky, it does."

Nimble fingers tenderly caressed the inside of the frayed brim as the hat's tip slowly swayed against Peeves' stubbled chin. Soon the contented humming of both intermingled with the creaks and groans from the ancient castle, as two of its most misunderstood residents slipped into a much deserved rest, under the benevolent gaze of the purple bearded marble Dumbledore.

---

If Minerva hadn't been indisposed, she would have yelled. Something. The sight of that obnoxious statue of Albus (newly redecorated in colours that would have been truly eye-hurting, even to perfectly sober eyes) was yell-worthy. The two crumpled figures at the base of it, at least, in that combination, were equally disturbing. And their conversation, conducted in an apparent failure to notice her presence, was even more so.

Albus would have liked the colours, she thought dazedly as she wandered towards her quarters.

"If this is what happens when I nip out for a quick one, I'll never touch so much as a dram again," she muttered, once a safe distance from the unlikely duo.

If this is what happens when you leave Severus and your Head Boy and Girl in charge, you may as well ask the Weasley twins to mind the school while you're out, a snide internal voice replied. It sounded suspiciously like the voice with which she'd addressed Peeves when he was having trouble with a chandelier during the Reign of Umbridge.

Peeves. Sorting Hat. Right. No time for a quick trip to her rooms for fresh clothes. Who knew what state the rest of the school was in, considering those two. She Transfigured her borrowed cloak into a reasonable approximation of her usual garb and set off to find out what had become of the students' party. With the proper amount of determination, she could likewise Transfigure her grimace of pain into a suitably stern expression of reprimand.

---

It was then that Percy caught sight of his baby sister... and Harry... and...

Holy crap.

"Ginny! What the BLOODY HELL are you doing with those two?"

Ginny glared tiredly at her irate sibling. "Percy, sod off. We just got Draco put back together again. We don't need you upsetting him again." The threesome settled onto a bench...Malfoy sitting in a noticeably cautious fashion.

"'We'? WE? Wasn't it bad enough, you being Harry's girlfriend? The publicity alone is heinous. But Malfoy? You can't be serious! You know damn well not everyone accepts 'spying' as an adequate excuse for..." He cut off, noticing that the aforementioned Malfoy's face had crumpled unflatteringly, and he was now clutching at Harry and looking miserable. Both Harry and Ginny looked daggers at Percy as they tried to comfort the sniffling Slytherin, cuddling him like some sort of shared teddy bear.

"I've spent the last eight goddamned years living up to everybody's stupid expectations, and that's OVER now. So anyone who has a problem with whatever...or whoever...I want to do to be happy at this point can just fuck themselves," Harry snarled.

"They'll have to do it themselves, because you're spoken for," Draco said quite nastily, sounding utterly like himself except for the residual sniff. Ginny seemed to find this funny, and Harry's cheeks went pink, though his expression remained defiant.

"Oh, to hell with it! I don't have time to argue. Harry, just stop Draco from snivelling into your shoulder, or else put him in the infirmary and tell everyone he got injured...doing... something vaguely heroic, okay?" With that, Percy stalked off in search of his beleaguered assistant, who was still (to his knowledge) chasing the sheep.

Only to make several wrong turns and find...

"Fred... George?!"

"Percy, you wanker, untie us!"

"YOU TWO! I should have KNOWN!"

"Give us a break, Percy! We've been like this most of the night!"

"Fucking Snape was too blitzed to untie us..."

"And Bulstrode and Parkinson tied us back up after that bathroom break!"

"Yeah, we can hardly feel our hands anymore."

Percy grew very still. His eyes slowly shifted from startled to determined. And with a flick of his wand, he relocated them to the nearest broom closet. As he walked away, they could hear his voice, clear and very cool.

"There WILL be order here."

---

Remus finally arrived back at the castle, glad enough to let Minerva walk ahead. He dropped the clothes from the Three Broomsticks in a spare classroom, deciding that they could be sorted out later.

As he left the room, he heard a shout. Looking down the corridor he saw a girl (he thought he recognised her vaguely as someone he'd once taught) chasing a sheep.

What in the devil's name? He watched as they approached. The young woman, who he finally recalled being named Cho Chang, looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion.

As the sheep, now far ahead of Cho, approached Remus, it slowed then came to a stop, after half falling over its own legs to do so.

He looked down at it. The sheep looked back at him. Then, it turned a bright bubblegum pink.

Ah, I was wondering where she'd got to, he thought.

"Hello, 'Dora," he said aloud.

"Baa," the sheep-Tonks said.

"Well, let's sort you out, shall we?" he said, drawing his wand.

As he did, Cho finally caught up with them, and sheep-Tonks backed away a little.

"Sorry..." she breathed in and out heavily. "Professor, I... was told to... chase it...." She stopped, trying to catch her breath properly.

"That's OK,I know who it is. I'll sort it out." Remus smiled at Cho and opened the door he'd just closed moments before. "After you, Nymphadora," he said gesturing with his arm.

Sheep-Tonks looked at both of them, then walked into the classroom, her fluffy tail bouncing as she went.

"Erm, sir, who is it?" Cho asked.

"A friend, Miss Chang, no need to worry." He closed the door, turning to look at Tonks. "Well, I'm sure you've got quite the story to tell," he laughed. Readying his wand, he cast the reversal charm for what he assumed had occurred...

'POOF!'

Tonks returned to her normal self, sat on her bum, legs askew, looking up at Remus with a goofy grin on her face.

Leaning down to help her up, Remus asked, "Do I even want to know what happened? And why you're wearing next to nothing?"

"Baa." She paused, and coughed once, a blush staining her cheeks. "Probably not. I'll tell you later." She hugged him, tight. "Urgh, I feel like crap. Got any hangover potion handy?"

"Ha! I wish. Join the club," he said, hugging her back. "It's hangover central here this morning."

"Oh, that's my skirt!" Tonks said, releasing Remus, looking towards the pile of clothes he'd brought in before. "And my top too."

She quickly got dressed, and together they headed towards the Great Hall to assess the damage wreaked by the unsupervised students overnight.

---

"Still don't see why we had to leave the girls," Goyle complained as they made their way through the chaos in the Great Hall.

"Don't be a pillock...we need to make sure Draco didn't get himself hexed into the middle of next week trying to snog Potter," Crabbe admonished. Truth be told, he was beginning to feel more than a little guilty for having left their boss to his own devices all night, particularly in an emotional and drunken state. "If nothing else, we'll see them in Hogsmeade next weekend, yeah?"

Greg muttered something in reply, words which were cut off with a sound something between a cough and 'Eeep!' It was clearly audible in a room suddenly gone quiet, except for the sound of house-elves charming away messes. It was understandable, really, seeing as how Potter had just made his entrance...half dressed and wrapped in a very affectionate bundle of Draco and the Weaslette.

Vince and Greg stared. From the corner of his eye, Vince noted that Granger and a nearly-apoplectic girl for whom his brain helpfully supplied the name 'Chang,' stared.

"I think that's perverted," the girls gasped.

"I thought you were gay," the boys blurted.

"I'm NOT perverted, I'm... energetic," the Weasley girl said defiantly.

"I'm not gay, I'm bi," Draco said primly.

"I'm... sort of confused at the moment, but I can live with it," Harry said, looking back and forth between Ginny and Draco and smiling a little dizzily.

Vince noticed as the Chang girl's gaze drifted to Potter's half-buttoned shirt. Draco and Ginny...I expect we're through calling her the Weaslette, Vince thought...apparently noticed as well, because they suddenly wrapped themselves around Potter and glared icily at the girl through narrowed eyes.

"Back off, you cow," Draco hissed.

"Show's over." Ginny hastily fastened Harry's buttons. Chang turned splotchy and cleared out. Vince thought she really did look a trifle cow-like. Must have put on a few pounds since school.

"I expect our job is done," Greg sighed, gesturing vaguely at Ginny and Harry. As usual, Vince caught on at once. They exchanged a look that said, clear as day, 'We'll turn over the complete instructions for the care and handling of Draco later.'

---

Percy was on the warpath, tearing through the school like a spin-doctor version of Molly, making everyone look marginally presentable (or at least, not quite so shagged senseless). He knew from clothing straightening, bruise clearing, and hair tidying charms...he wasn't Molly's son for nothing, and one didn't work under Cornelius Fudge's dissolute administration without gaining some experience in removing evidence of hangovers. Almost anyone who managed to acquire a significant other before their sixth year at Hogwarts knew how to cover up hickeys.

"At the very least, hide those in your sleeves, Hermione! THERE WILL BE NO GREEN VELVET HANDCUFFS IN THIS PHOTO!" He wondered if it would be possible to tame her hair with some sort of Charm. It was either that or she'd have to kneel so as not to obscure whomever was obliged to stand behind her. "Doesn't anyone know the spell to open these bloody things? Or at least, a way to Banish them?"

Snape mumbled something incoherently in the background.

Percy whirled about. "What did you say, Snape?"

Snape cleared his throat, still not looking at anyone. "'Kinky schoolgirl' is the password."

"Oh, NOW you remember?" Hermione was absolutely seething.

Percy had another worry. Actually, it was three of his previous worries who were, for lack of a better term, at it again. "I don't suppose you three could do that WITHOUT snogging?"

Harry, Ginny and Draco ignored him completely, in favour of continuing to dust little kisses all over each other's faces as they straightened their ties and collars and whatnot. Though Draco could be heard to mutter, 'bitch,' in a quiet but decidedly catty voice as soon as Percy's back was turned.

Which didn't stop Percy from hearing him. "Starch your wrists before the photographer gets here, Malfoy," he shot back over his shoulder and set about triaging the hangover victims so that the worst of them could be shuffled to the back of the photo.

They were fairly close to being in some sort of order when Pansy Parkinson suddenly stopped fidgeting and began marching determinedly out of the room.

Millicent grabbed at her arm, stopping her progress. "We're going to be part of history here, Pansy! Where do you think you're going?" she hissed.

"To hell with history...I'm going to look for George," Pansy said, setting her jaw. It had the unfortunate effect of making her look more pug-like than ever.

Whatever argument Bulstrode may have intended was cut off by a shrill, Creevey-ish cry from the Entrance Hall.

"Crap on a stick...The Minister is at the gates!"

From the consternation in the room, he may as well have been announcing Voldemort.

---

Shacklebolt's close encounter of the bureaucratic kind and Remus' close encounter of the livestock...erm, Tonks...kind, courtesy of lux_astraea. (And she takes full responsibility for naming the photographer as well.)

The momentous Harry/Ginny/Draco accord, some connective tissue (ie., Pansy's dismissive attitude toward history and Vince and Greg's last hurrah) courtesy of dracontia.

Drunk/Hungover Peeves and Sorting Hat commiserating with each other courtesy of Wolfmoonshadow.

All the rest ingeniously devised by the Mad Chatters, et. al. You do realize that we're evil, don't you? Funny, but evil.