3. Mating Call of the Black Hippogriff and the Veela Courtship Dance

Disclaimer: My costumes, my Tatiana. The rest is on unauthorized leave from The People with All the Money.

Notes: Have your passports ready, amigos. I do believe we've just crossed the border into crackfic.

Chapter 3: Mating Call of the Black Hippogriff and the Veela Courtship Dance

The first thing Harry noticed upon escaping to the friendly dimness of the bar area was the large blue dragon...clearly recognizable as Tatiana. Harry had somewhat mixed feelings about Luna's cousin. On the one hand, Tatiana Lovegood was the guardian of the dread Anastasia, alias 'The Lovegood who stole my favorite son.' On the other hand, she knew how to mix some seriously mood-enhancing drinks. Harry had a profound appreciation for that brand of Potions-making under uncomfortable social circumstances.

"I didn't realize there were any dark-blue dragons." Harry couldn't look away from the mesmerizing peacock iridescence of the scales and the wicked gleam of the metallic wings. He caught himself leaning over the bar to watch the charmed tail swirl gracefully just above the floor.

Luna sighed profoundly. The tendrils drooping from her Snorkack snout gave a doleful wave. "There aren't anymore. The Bourbon Blue has been extinct for over a century."

"That's never been confirmed, sugar. I maintain that one of these days, we will find the Lost Alsatian Colony," Tatiana piped in as if she'd been part of the conversation all along. "Once we have your Snorkacks squared away safely, I'm mounting an expedition."

"We can always hope. What have the tips been like so far?"

"Absolutely terrific! Or, 'brilliant,' as you like to say." Tatiana's American accent was probably the least objectionable Harry had ever heard, though her habit of adding 'as you like to say' when she used a Briticism wore on the nerves eventually. "So, what'll it be?"

"I'll have a gillywater, and H..."

"For heaven's sake, don't introduce your delicious friend! I want to guess who people are and check my guesses at midnight with everyone else." Turning to Harry, Tatiana asked cheerfully, "What's your poison, darlin'?"

Which brought Harry to Tatiana's other slightly grating habit: calling everyone some variation of 'darling,' 'honey,' or 'sugar.' "Um, whatever you suggest, as long as it's pretty strong. And on the sweet side."

"Can't imagine that I've got anything as strong or sweet as you, sugar, but I'll see what I can do." Harry gulped when he felt her eyes practically scorching his skin as she assembled splashes of several different kinds of alcohol, topped off with some sort of colorful juice.

Harry took the drink with some hesitation and nearly dropped it when Tatiana announced it as, "A Scorpion, for the hottie in feathers and leather." He mumbled embarrassed thanks, wondering how awkward it was going to be when Tatiana finally figured out who she was hitting on. She gave him a wink and went back to pouring.

Awkward for me, anyhow. I don't think Lovegoods have any capacity for embarrassment, damn them.

"You're really out of practice," Luna said placidly, sipping her gillywater.

"At what?"

"Flirting."

Choosing to ignore the possibility that Tatiana was actually flirting with him and not simply being her usual irrepressible self, Harry made a deep dent in his drink before answering. "I don't think I was ever in practice."

"A shame, that," Tatiana said, bustling back over. Her appraising look was beginning to make Harry jumpy.

"Look, I'm a grandfather, for Merlin's sake. I'm nearly bloody fifty."

"Hmm, congratulations, Grandpa. You certainly don't look it on first examination...and besides, fifty's not quite middle-age for a wizard." Tatiana made herself comfortable. Harry shot a 'Help me!' look at Luna, but she was either ignoring him or conducting business in her rich internal world.

"It's still a little late to learn how to flirt."

"It isn't that difficult. Just sit up so that squishy bit in the middle doesn't hang over your trousers, and don't choke or try to run off when people compliment you." Tatiana gave him a friendly pat on the cheek and went about her business, giving Harry hope that it was less flirting and more exuberance.

Harry straightened up and was promptly annoyed at himself for doing so. "What squishy bit?" he asked Luna. She stared critically at his midsection.

"You can build all the muscle you want...in fact, you've built enough muscle that everyone else seems to want it as well...but a Weasley-fed middle is still going to squish if you slouch."

If anyone but Luna had said it, it would have sounded insulting or patronizing. As it was, Harry simply knew it for the truth that it was. "Next thing you know, you'll be telling me to dye over my gray."

Tatiana caught the end of Harry's remark and shouted over to them. "Don't let him, Luna, honey! He looks fabulous with those little, white curls. And I don't want you to give anything away, but one question about your handsome Hippogriff... Is he single?"

"The feathers and leather aren't spoken for at the moment," Luna said, eliciting a delighted laugh from Tatiana and leaving Harry choking on a mouthful of high-octane, sweetened drink.

"Luna!" he gasped, grateful that a sudden influx of customers distracted Tatiana.

"You need to relax...or, as Tatiana likes to say, 'loosen up.' When was the last time you had a conversation with someone other than Ron? One that didn't start with, 'You have the right to owl an advocate before questioning?'"

"I talk to people! I see the kids all the time. And we...um..."

"I hate to break it to you, but the last time you and I really had a good talk was the engagement party."

"Oh, don't remind me." Merlin, the situation is dire. I need backup. Harry flagged down Tatiana. "Can I have another? A double?"

"Sure, honey. Just a sec." She floated another large Scorpion over and turned her attention to a guest who was trying to make change in the donation box.

"Is that wise?" Luna's mask looked worried; whether it reflected her expression, or if that was just how Snorkacks looked, Harry had no clue.

"The kids marrying so early? No. They should wait till they're twenty-five, at least. And until Scorpius has found someone other than my baby girl."

"Harry, you know that you like Scorpius well enough. He's a very nice young man. Besides, I was talking about the alcohol."

One Scorpion or another... both deceptively sweet and probably destined to cause me significant discomfort at some point. "I know when I've had enough."

"I seem to recall a little incident at the engagement party..."

"That was Malfoy, not me."

"Your children are getting married in less than two months and you're still calling Draco 'Malfoy?'"

"I... er... kind of want a little distance after that incident. I mean, I feel sorry for the bloke and all, with his wife up and walking out like that, but you didn't see what he did!"

"Then tell me." Luna's voice was altogether too innocent.

"Ma...Draco...is apparently a," Harry coughed, "cuddly drunk."

"Wow. From my angle it looked like a hug. He groped you as well?"

Harry spit a fair amount of alcohol across the bar and well into the area behind it. Tatiana brushed off his apologies for the damage to her tail.

"He didn't grope me," Harry whispered. He could feel his entire face about to catch fire. "He... er... apologized for fourth year."

Luna stared. Waiting.

"He may have... stuck his nose in my ear and said something like, 'I take it back. You don't stink, Harry. Smell-quite-nice-actually." Harry could almost feel the nose in his ear as he slurred the last bit together as quickly as possible, just like he could feel his blush spreading down his neck and across his chest. He could even almost pretend Malfoy's hands had been... somewhere other than where they'd been when Harry got him out of the room before he embarrassed himself or the kids further. "Well? Aren't you going to say something?"

"I think Draco could use a little help relearning how to flirt, too."

Harry's forehead hit the bar, beak clacking against it impressively. He was feeling rather tipsy and he didn't really want to end up back at a conversation about bisexuality with his critical thinking skills impaired. "I want to go home."

Luna sighed again. "We need to find something fun for you to do."

"Going home sounds fun," he mumbled against the cool, polished bartop.

"You're not cooperating, so I'll have to pick something."

"You sound like Hermione when you do that."

"Maybe. But at least you can trust me to pick something that's actually fun."

"Why, Luna?" Damn it, this just isn't fair. Harry had become somewhat deaf to Hermione's nagging and various Weasley forms of fussing. But Luna almost never asked anything of Harry, so he found it next to impossible to resist her when she did.

"Because I love you dearly and want you to be happy." Luna wrapped one of her paw/hoof-things firmly around his arm and steered him out of the room. "What do you know about Karaoke?"

"Enough to be pretty sure that it won't make me happy."

It took a few minutes for Draco to gather his resolve once Millie left.

Think, man! You can own any social event, even without revealing your identity. In fact... do something you enjoy that Astoria never would have cooperated with. With a new prop champagne glass in hand, Draco threw back his shoulders and marched into the ballroom. He could do this.

A Malfoy need not invoke the impressive powers of their name to command a room. Especially one who can dance as I can.

He swept the room with his gaze, letting one lip quirk in amused interest. Admittedly, it had been a while since he'd danced... or made small talk at a party... or used any non-business related social skills. Perhaps he would start out small and simply dance with the first young lady to catch his eye, just to warm up. Especially since his confidence took a hit about four steps into the room, at which point Draco realized that it was far more difficult to achieve an impressive stride when one's clothes lacked tailored shoulders and a full, billowing hem. One might go so far as to say they rather lack any resemblance to clothes, in fact.

Undeterred, but slightly off balance, Draco switched from Masterful Stride to Confident Pose. He leaned one hand against the wall and casually cradled his champagne...which he genuinely wasn't going to drink this time except for, just possibly, a sip for effect...in the other. He experimented with shaping his wings, attempting to get them into the most elegant arch possible since the bloody annoying things refused to fold up enough to let him lean a shoulder nonchalantly on the wall.

How does one make wings look elegantly nonchalant? Draco studied that thought and came to the conclusion that he would have to avenge himself on his son and future daughter-in-law for putting him in a position where his best hope of receiving practical fashion advice would be to consult an owl. He was deep in his contemplation when a high-pitched, slightly giggly voice caught his attention.

"Hello. I couldn't help noticing you, and...well, those wings, your costume." A marginally articulate young woman entirely coated in some shocking, blue substance...Draco hoped all of it was a very clingy fabric and feared that much of it was makeup...stood before him. "Are you supposed to be a Veela?"

Hmm... My thoughtful expression belongs to the Third Ring of Sexiness: Making Others Approach You. Good to know. Though, if it draws the intellectually challenged, I may want to reconsider it.

"Naturally. And you would be...?" He looked her up and down. Between the young lady's extreme scrawniness and her extraordinary blue-windmill-like headdress, the object she most resembled was a cocktail stirrer for a very flamboyant drink.

"A Billywig." She struck what he presumed was meant to be an alluring pose that involved a lot of elbows and jutting hipbones. "So, what do you think?"

Have you eaten at all in the last month? Draco thought promptly. But, slamming down his hard-won filters between brain and mouth with decisive force, he cleverly manipulated the situation into a lead-in to dance practice. "I think that your costume requires an in-depth analysis. If you would oblige me by letting me see it in action..." He Vanished the half-empty champagne glass and held his left hand up invitingly. She gave it a puzzled look.

Does no one learn the social graces anymore? Valiantly restraining himself from rolling his eyes (at least, not too blatantly), Draco put it in words of few syllables for her convenience. "I can offer more of an opinion if you would permit me to have this dance."

"Oh. Okay." Finally grasping the concept, and his hand, she let Draco steer her onto the dance floor.

"The fog begins to lift," he murmured.

"What should I lift?" she asked, glancing down at the presumed location of her bosoms.

"Your other hand." Miss Billywig ran her hand tentatively up his arm. Draco was sure she was wrinkling the silk. That blue shit had better not rub off on me.

"Look, your hands go here and here." Draco seated one of Insect Girl's hands on the top of his shoulder and gripped the other firmly in his left hand, flexing his fingers to leave the regulation, egg-sized space between their palms. "Keep your feet to the outside of mine!"

"This is hard," she whined, staring down at their feet. He would have insisted that she look up, but he frankly didn't trust her not to step on his vulnerable, sandaled toes if she did. "And is this how you're supposed to dance to this song?"

Bloody Merlin's Hat! It's an open box step, you insipid wench, not advanced Arithmancy! "This is a standard dance step that can be adapted to a variety of musical types." For the first time, Draco was beginning to seriously regret dancing for its own sake. And that was saying something, coming from a man who'd managed to pilot Pansy around a room without wrecking.

"So, about my costume..." She made a motion that could have been a shimmy, a seizure, or a very lewd lower body gesture. Whatever it was it did not belong in any dance being led by a Malfoy. Bollocks. If my idea of dancing involved vulgar gyrations, I'd ask Millie. At least I'd get a decent...strike that, witty...conversation out of the experience.

"You may stop thrusting your pelvis at me at any time, my dear. I already have an heir who is satisfactory in every regard."

"You... huh? An heir?"

"Well, using vocabulary that you can comprehend...a son. A likely lad poised to carry on the family name and guard the family fortune. I'm flattered that you don't appear to think me old enough for such things, but, there it is."

"Wait, wait. Yeah, okay, you're old enough to have a kid, I'm sure...but you mean you're not gay?"

Draco was almost offended enough to stop dancing, but he refused to look awkward on the dance floor. Even a dance floor populated by people who thought that 'Lawn Gnome' was a great costume idea. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I am not gay and I daresay I can't imagine why you think I am." And while I'm at it, screw you, bitch, for calling me 'old.'

"But you're dressed as a Veela. Aren't they girls?"

Do not, I repeat, do not demand that she submit blood for a paternity potion to determine if she is some heretofore unknown bastard descendant of Crabbe's. "Unless Veelas all spontaneously arise from beneath cabbage leaves on warm summer nights, there must be both male and female Veelas." Draco wondered for a chilling moment if she would fail to understand the reference he was making and begin looking for baby Veelas in some unfortunate neighbor's vegetable patch. "And I'm very curious as to why you wanted to dance with me if you thought I was not inclined towards women."

"Well, everyone knows that gay men know everything about how to dress, and I wanted the best opinion possible on my costume! I mean, I wanted a magical creature costume that could look sexy on me, and I wanted to know if I've actually got...you know...'the look.'"

The music paused, and Draco dropped her like an overripe bubotuber right in the middle of the dance floor. He managed to hold his outrage down to a faint tremor as he deliberately raised his voice to carry as far, at least, as the surrounding dancers.

"As to your costume, if a Billywig resembles a blue Murtlap growth perched on a hatpin, congratulations...you've nailed the look. I think your success chiefly stems from the fact that you also impersonate an eleven year old boy flawlessly, seeing as you've both the wits and the tits of one." With that, Draco left her gaping in the middle of the dance floor and headed off to the bar to find something incredibly heterosexual to drink.

He would have needed the drink a lot less if he believed for an instant that she was in shock because she actually understood his insults.

Harry did his best to study the book of available music. It was a little difficult to concentrate with a witch belting out a lusty rendition of 'Respect' not more than ten feet away, to the obvious delight of the spectators. It didn't help that he had tucked himself into the darkest corner of the room to avoid notice and could only just make out the print. "There's nothing in here that I know."

Luna ducked under his wing and cast 'Lumos' to get a better look at the list. "You just don't recognize the titles. I've heard you sing along with the Muggle wireless on this one and this one, for certain. And you sounded just fine."

This from a person who thinks that Thestral mating calls constitute mood music. "What if I forget the words?"

"The words show up in there." Luna pointed to a crystal ball off to the side of the stage.

"She's a tough act to follow." Harry jerked his shoulder in the direction of the witch in the brilliant feathers, who had recruited twin pixies from the audience for backup singers. Harry couldn't figure out why the karaoke diva (whose hair, disturbingly, appeared to be on fire) bothered, as she bulldozed their timid 'Oohs' with a lung-stretching:

"All I'm askin' (oo)

Is for a little respect when you come home!"

"I'll go first and soften the crowd up with something nice and easy."

"Um... can I have another drink while I'm waiting?" Harry had visions of sneaking out to the bar and forgetting the way back.

Luna found a convenient tray of champagne and handed him another glass. "One more drink, and then I get to hear the call of the Black Hippogriff. Promise you won't leave while I'm singing?" It was Luna's earnest voice that did him in.

"Oh, bollocks."

"It's settled, then."

"I need a good, stiff drink." Yes, that was the thing to say. The manly thing to say. And the bartender was a dragon. How much more testosterone-charged than that could you get?

The dragon nodded, probably impressed by the sheer masculinity of the demand. "Firewhisky all right?"

Okay, so she's a girl dragon. But girl dragons are really tough.

Draco paused. He preferred to have nothing to do with magical fire, if he could help it. Now, how to decline without sounding gay. "Well, I suppose if that's all you have. I prefer something smoother."

"I don't have a big selection, so I guess it's a Muggle drink for you, then...most magical alcohol is sugary and, well, fluffy."

"No sugary fluff," Draco said, and braced his stomach for whatever dreadful Muggle swill was about to be inflicted on him. Muggles are primitive creatures. Downing their crude alcohol and surviving is surely proof of extreme hardiness.

"Okay. You look like... Yeah, gin and tonic should do the trick."

Draco nodded despite the fact that he had no clue what she was talking about. But the drink had the word 'tonic' in it, so it probably tasted suitably horrid. "Sounds perfect."

After three gin and tonics, Draco was willing to concede that Muggles might, occasionally, have something useful to contribute to society. He also concluded that blue dragons made the best listeners.

"There I was, dancing with her...quite well, I might add...and the prissy tart had the cheek to tell me that she thought I was gay!"

"Bit presumptuous of her."

Very diplomatic, this bartender. Probably trying not to offend any of the guests...just in case it gets back to Miss Prissy Tart.

"I was married, you know. To a witch. For almost twenty years."

"Certainly." His dragon nodded. She might be enabling those career drinkers with their uncouth Firewhisky addictions and reckless tips, but it was Draco she was listening to and sympathizing with.

"She abandoned me; I didn't leave her." Draco wasn't sniffling. Obviously he'd swallowed a bit wrong, and the alcohol was burning his sensitive nose.

"You poor thing! Here, let's have you try something different." She looked at him with great sympathy as she did something complicated with ice and lime. "You'll like this; it's called a Mojito."

"Oooh... Pretty green." Draco took one sip and was in heaven. He decided that he could get on well with this scaly woman behind the bar. Sure, she was a little on the... mature side, but with a wizard life span, she was probably still pretty energetic, and she obviously fancied him. He favored her with his Utterly Charming Malfoy Smile. "I knew you'd understand."

She smiled back, eyes big and brown and sincere under her fangs. "Anything else I can get for you, sugar?" Ah, the smile works its special brand of magic.

"Since you don't seem to have any trouble figuring out that I'm straight, tell me...how do I convince those Neanderthals who seem to have so much trouble with the concept?"

She poured some shots and slid them down the bar to their intended targets with a pensive expression. Then she placed one warm, claw-backed hand over his and said, with great solemnity, "Well, hon... you might want to go easy on the eye makeup."

Luna stepped off the stage to a round of applause. Harry thought that she did a much better job with that song than Astraea Cauldronbottom or whichever WWN warbler-of-the-hour had covered it most recently, and he told her so.

"I'll let you in on a little secret. When Ana and Al did the charms work needed to get the karaoke to work with magic, they added a little something that smoothed over rough spots in a singer's voice."

Bonnie and Clyde strike again. I wonder if I can kill those kids and use my authority to cover it up.

Harry was so lost in ideas of how he would repay his offspring for the night's inconveniences that Luna had to repeat herself several times before he heard her. "Have you made a decision on a song?"

"This one." Harry steadied his hand to make sure he was pointing to the right title. His contact lenses were beginning to blur slightly. He was pretty sure it was the lenses. I can hold my liquor. It was just a little champagne. And a little Scorpius. Er, scorpions. Nothing too poisonous. Alcoholically speaking.

The fact that he was actually agreeing to karaoke was highly suspect, but still only circumstantial evidence.

Luna cocked her Snorkack head quizzically. "Is there something about your divorce you need to talk about? Any... unresolved issues?"

"No. Why?"

Luna stared at the song title again. "Oh... no reason."

Draco was not at all happy about having his conversation interrupted. But neither was he sober enough to find his wand and hex Millicent. "Let me go! The blue dragon behind the bar fancied me." This made no impression on Millie, who continued to strong-arm him down the corridor, away from the dance music (and worse, away from the bar).

"The blue dragon was probably old enough to be your mum."

"Maybe in societies that allow child brides."

"We're going to do something before you give yourself alcohol poisoning flirting with someone's grandmother. And now that I've discovered it, I'm not letting you leave without experiencing the wonders of Karaoke."

"What the bloody hell is that? Some sort of hallucinogen?"

"I'm amazed you can still say 'hallucinogen.' And it's a Muggle entertainment. It's incredible!"

"Not likely."

"It's right through here."

Draco balked outside the curtain.

"Come on... I know you can sing. I'll bet we can get you a turn at it soon."

Draco cocked his head to one side and immediately quelled his intended retort. "Oooh... I like this one." He swayed softly in time to the music.

"Every breath you take

I'll be watching you."

Millicent listened with a decidedly less entranced expression. "It's creepy."

"It's not! It's about someone who can't keep their eyes off you. Hush, this is my favorite part!" Draco crooned along softly with the singer,

"Oh, can't you see

You belong to me..."

Millie rudely broke his reverie. "It's about a stalker."

She claims to be concerned, but when my favorite song comes along and sounds like it's being sung directly to me... "Their heart is breaking without their beloved!" Draco admonished her, seriously annoyed.

"Do you even realize there's a difference between love and obsession?"

Since no sensible words were coming from the person in front of him, Draco focused on the singer on the other side of the wall. "I want to be the center of someone's universe like that."

"When you're sober, we really need to have a serious talk about what constitutes a healthy relationship."

"Like you'd know, Miss Get-on-and-get-off-with-no-strings-attached."

"Do as I say, not as I do." She glanced over at the curtain. "Creepy song or not, his voice is kind of sexy. I'm going to take a peek."

"Well, okay, but don't leave me all alone again."

"Fucksocks, it's the hippogriff," Millie breathed.

"It's a guy?" Draco said forlornly.

"With that voice? If you could mistake it, you're more pissed than I thought." She tore her eyes away from the vision behind the curtain to look at Draco for a second, but her lust won out. "That's it, he's mine." Millie stormed the room to plant her flag on Hippogriff Island.

Draco leaned against the wall, pouting and not caring who knew it. I bet that there's nothing all that wonderful about this hippogriff of hers, anyway. To prove it to himself, he peeked through the curtain. It took him a moment to find the black shape that flickered in and out of focus with the dim, colored lights rotating around the room.

Leather trousers. Muscular chest. A hint of an unshaven jaw in silhouette, peeking out from beneath the curve of a glossy, black wing. One glance was all it took. Draco reeled back from the doorway, hyperventilating.

He's... he's totally buff. Those trousers are so tight I think I can see his balls from here. I can't even see his face properly, for fuck's sake, but the glimpse of that stubble is... is...

"But... but I don't want to be gay," he whimpered. Distraught, Draco headed back to his new best friend at the bar for comfort.

Millie lurked by the stage...inasmuch as a nearly six foot tall phoenix with flaming nipples can lurk...ready to pounce as soon as her quarry stepped down.

Leather and stubble... Bollocks. If it turns out he's gay, I'll send him to Draco, just so I get a chance to ogle him on a double date. She studied him a little more critically above the waist, noting patches of gray hair and signs of middle-aged spread. Granted, up close, he's a bit older than I thought. But if that body doesn't convince Draco to give seeking for the other team a go, then I'll have no choice but to believe he really is straight, after all.

Her plan was foiled when the hippogriff practically fled the stage to a Snorkack's side and appeared to be wholly engrossed in conversation with it. Millie scowled and fingered her wand. Budge up, Fuzzy. You're not woman enough to take that ride.

Her lustful thoughts seemed to send the animate dust bunny packing, leaving her hippogriff alone. Once again, she zeroed in on that succulent backside.

Ripe for the picking.

Harry felt slightly dizzy as he left the little stage. It was simply because of the overwhelming niceness of having people applaud him despite having no clue who he was. He wasn't drunk at all. Though Luna's steadying arm was quite welcome.

"How was I, really?"

"You certainly put your heart into it. Are you sure you're all right?" Luna patted him on the back, and Harry wrapped one wing around her. Balance must be off because of these damn wings.

"Um, pretty sure. I think I had a bit of a flashback partway through the song, though."

Luna pushed her costume head out of the way and fixed him with her own enormous gray eyes directly. Harry found himself rather stuck in the cloudy depths.

"A flashback to the war?" she asked solemnly.

He blinked, trying to break the spell of the gray and to remember what, exactly, he'd seen out of the corner of his eye. The contacts were beginning to bother him, and he simply couldn't concentrate on the fleeting impression. "No... sixth year, I think."

Luna squinted at him with an uncharacteristic frown that niggled at his memory. "Wait here. I'll get you a little something to eat, to dilute all that alcohol. And maybe a small dose of Calming Draught."

"Okay," Harry said placidly because he'd always responded rather well to anyone who offered to feed him. He allowed her to position him a little to one side of the stage with a nice wall to lean on in case those wings got out of balance again.

Harry closed his eyes. He must have had them closed longer than he thought, because the next thing he knew, he could sense the warmth of a human body moving up behind him. He thought it was Luna until all of a sudden he realized that the warmth seemed just too tall, somehow. His eyes popped open.

"Who...?"

He never finished articulating the question before his bum was quite thoroughly grabbed and a mouth took up a hot, breathy position behind his ear.

What would have come out of said mouth was forever lost to history because Harry's reflexes asserted themselves and he whirled, drawing his wand and casting 'Protego' so close to his assailant that she actually bounced off the shield. Harry recognized the singer from earlier and snarled, "Respect this!" He raised his wand threateningly but managed to stop himself from casting anything else before he caused a scene...or worse, paperwork. Fortunately, the erstwhile Aretha whirled in a flurry of singed feathers and ran for it before Harry had to think of another plan of action.

Harry fished around in the puddle of alcohol in which his brain was submerged and found a handful of angry resolve.

Lily and Albus are completely grounded for having anything to do with this. Wait... they're of age. I'll forbid them from marrying their accomplices...fiancés...those sneaky little things. There must be some musty old law I can invoke. Maybe Kinglsey will do me a favor.

He stormed towards the ballroom with no clear idea of what he meant to do there.

Recognition hit Millicent like a charging Erumpent; and since no sensible person stares down a charging Erumpent, she took evasive action. Even Slytherin's Witch With the Solid Brass Balls had her limits.

In the safety of the shadows, Millie leaned heavily against the wall, frantically trying to recover her breath. "Holy fucking Merlin's incontinent old cock! Harry-fucking-Potter is... is the Hippogriff-Who-Lived! The boy who grew up to be the man with the gorgeous arse!" She finally roused herself enough to snag a glass of champagne from a passing tray. She chugged her way to the bottom of it and found her decision therein.

Those eyes... that commanding, pissed-off posture... Bloody hell, no wonder Draco did everything he could to get that man to jump on him while we were in school.

"I've got to find Draco."

Notes:

The Scorpion that Tatiana whips up is not the sugary, fruity, rum and brandy mix you may have seen in drink recipe books, but a more butt-kicking concoction involving generous portions of gin, vodka, light, dark, and 151-proof rum, and triple sec instead of orange juice (with a splash of pineapple juice and grenadine for color and to keep it from instantly dissolving the drinker's liver.)

Incidentally, I've had all the mixed drinks aforementioned and they ROCK. (Champagne, however, I find to be nasty.) I did not, however, have all of them in one night, and would not advocate anyone attempting to do so.

Lyrics swiped from Respect by Aretha Franklin (yes, I am bouncing up and down in my seat and applauding at the image of Millie belting it out.) I'll Be Watching You by Sting, and, holy crap, if that isn't the H/D dysfunctional relationship theme song, please tell me what is. (Okay, I'll admit that 'Tainted Love'...I'll go with Wow-that's-gay-Soft Cell version for $200, Alex...would also work pretty well. Come to think of it, 'Use Me' by Bill Withers is eerily apt...)

*turns off radio *

Thank you, SeverusLovesUs, for patching the Crack. :D