There was a reason blokes like Neville Longbottom did not get invited to ragers.

Actually, there were several reasons, but the most prominent one right now, as Neville pushed past the various couples making out on the stairs, was that blokes like Neville Longbottom couldn't hold their liquor.

Surprisingly enough, Neville hadn't thrown up. Hadn't even felt the urge to, in fact. Then again, that may have had something to do with how he'd only drank one can of beer then chugged water for the next hour. Point was, Neville was about two seconds away from wetting his pants, and that was not something that needed to happen at Blaise Zabini's biggest blowout of the year. Luna Lovegood was here, and Neville desperately wanted to make a good impression.

Luna may have been quirky, but somehow Neville knew even she wouldn't qualify an exploding bladder as a good impression.

"Excuse me… uh, ex-excuse me… can you please…" Neville made a nervous sound in the back of his throat as Ginny Weasley raced down the stairs with none other than the party host's pants in hand. Blaise followed after her a moment later in nothing but his boxers, promising no one would find her body if she didn't—

Neville was suddenly pushed forward by some guys from the football team who uttered, "Watch it, nerd."

Why was he here again?

A flash of curly, pale-blonde hair caught his eye from the living room. Luna was pleasantly swaying back and forth next to Cho Chang and a couple of their other friends, that innocent smile eternally on her soft-looking lips.

Right, that was why. His good friend, Harry Potter, had noticed the way Neville stared at Luna in chemistry, and somehow (though Neville never could have guessed how) scored him an invitation for tonight. Harry said this would be a good, easy-going environment for Neville to approach Luna in. Neville didn't agree in the slightest, but he had resolved to try.

With renewed determination, Neville rushed up the rest of the stairs and made a beeline for the only hallway with a door that had a strip of light underneath. He didn't know what was going on in any of the darkened guest bedrooms in the Zabini household at this very moment, nor did he want to. All he wanted was to get to the bathroom, take a whiz, then make his way back to Luna and hopefully ask her to dance without passing out.

Neville reached for the bathroom door handle and twisted, pushing through at a hurried pace, when—

This was another reason blokes like Neville Longbottom did not get invited to ragers.

Only blokes like Neville Longbottom would walk into a bathroom to find none other than Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger making out.

Hermione was perched on the counter, legs wrapped around Draco's slim and toned torso. Her hands were switching between resting at his nape and clawing at his back while his hands were simultaneously tangling in her hair and cupping her small, heart-shaped face. But Neville could have sworn within a second of the door opening, the two had disentangled themselves from one another, Hermione was off the counter, and they were both charging his way.

The awkward boy's eyes widened. He turned around and ran, but he'd barely made it three feet down the hallway when two pairs of hands grabbed him roughly and forced him back.

"HARRY!" Neville yelled as loudly as he could. He knew it was futile what with how loud Blaise's professionally hired DJ was blaring the party music, but it was worth a shot. Harry had this way of always showing up to save the day. Draco and Hermione tugged on his arms and stomach harder. "HARRYYYY!"

He was inside the bathroom. Draco held him back while Hermione bothered to lock the door this time, which made him wonder, why the hell hadn't they locked it the first time? If they had, he would have been saved this sure-to-be scarring experience!

"HAR—"

Draco's pale, strong hand clamped itself over his mouth. "Would you shut up?!" the athlete shouted. Then he shook his head and said almost to himself, "Bloody Potter. You would be crying for Potty in a situation that has nothing to do with him…"

Hermione interrupted him with an irritated sigh. "See, this is why I said no last night."

The blond's eyes grew three sizes. "Wait, seriously?"

"Oh, dear…" Neville moaned. So this wasn't a drunken one-off. They were… seeing each other. He could have cried, this was so bad.

Draco apparently didn't appreciate him vocalizing his uneasiness because suddenly he was being flung forward. He knew better than to try running again; Hermione was guarding the door, and she was terrifying.

"Neville, why did you barge in here like that?" the bookworm demanded, eyebrows raised accusingly, arms crossed over her chest. She reminded him of their English teacher.

"I-I needed to pee!"

"Yeah?" Draco quipped. "Well I needed to fuck my girlfriend!"

"Draco!" Hermione hissed, heat rising to her cheeks.

"What?" her… why… boyfriend snapped. "The moron didn't even knock!"

"You didn't lock the door!" Neville looked back and forth between the two, though he wasn't comfortable looking either of them in the eye right now (not that he had ever been comfortable looking Draco Malfoy in the eye, but that wasn't the point). "Why were you guys…" He blushed and fumbled for the right words.

"About to shag each other senseless?"

"Oh, honestly, could you be any more crude—"

"Why were you about to do that in the bathroom without even locking the door?"

Neville wondered who was redder: himself from mortification, Draco from anger, or Hermione from embarrassment. Neville usually won at these things, but right now his money was on Hermione. Her face flushed an even deeper scarlet as she sheepishly answered, "It, erm, adds to the excitement of potentially getting caught?"

"HARRY!"

He hadn't even reached the door handle when Hermione pushed him away and he went stumbling back into Draco.

"Would you shut up?" the blond repeated, gripping Neville's shoulders much harder than necessary. "Saint Potter doesn't know about us. No one does, and we'd like to—"

"Well," Hermione piped up, "technically Blaise—"

"Doesn't count." And then the strangest thing happened, even stranger than two arch nemeses making out in the bathroom at a rager: Draco Malfoy smiled. Not smirked; actually smiled. The facial expression was directed toward his girlfriend, eyes softened and all. "He knew before we did."

Hermione gave him a private little smile back, sentimentally blinking up at him through her lashes.

Under other circumstances, Neville might have been touched. Right now, however, he was only traumatized.

Draco seemed to realize they were having this moment in front of Longbottom because he cleared his throat and went back to his usual asshole self. "And we'd like to keep it that way. So, either you keep your mouth shut, or I'll convince Blaise to quit fucking around with the Weaselette and seduce your little Loony bin. Understood?"

Neville suppressed the urge to growl because he wasn't actually stupid, just highly uncomfortable. But he'd always known Malfoy was a douche, and besides, his threat got the point across.

Apparently, Draco felt his shoulders stiffen, because the next thing he knew, the blond was patting him on the back and releasing him entirely. "Very good, Longbottom. Now, why don't you go enjoy the only party you'll ever be invited to and let Hermione and I resume our previous activities, yeah?"

As Hermione stepped away from the door and Neville stumbled toward it, the brown-haired boy objected, "But I still have to—"

"There's another bathroom downstairs; go use it. Idiot…"

The music may have sounded even louder once Neville stepped out into the hallway, but it wasn't too loud for him to hear Hermione reprimanding Draco for how he'd spoken to her friend and threatening to say no again tonight. He smiled inwardly as the door slammed shut behind him.

"Well, hello, Neville."

His stomach did a somersault. Slowly, he turned to his right.

Luna.

"Nice party, isn't it?" she asked in her usual dreamy voice.

He was going to wet his pants.

"Um, y-yeah, sure, Luna," he stuttered. "It's nice." Stuttering, always stuttering…

But Luna didn't make any indication she'd even noticed. She only smiled and said, "I'm glad you came tonight."

The boy's eyebrows shot up. "You are?"

"Harry said you wanted to dance with me."

Neville gaped at her, suddenly forgetting how to speak. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Harry standing at the top of the staircase, watching. The bespectacled boy gave him a wink and a thumbs up and mouthed, You can do it!

Gathering all his courage, Neville looked Luna straight in the eye and said, "Yes, actually, I would like very much to dance with you. Would you? I-I mean, would you like to dance with me?"

She smiled and swayed from side to side. "Sure."

"Great! But, if you don't mind, I have a quick errand to run first."

"I'll be here," Luna called after his retreating back, still swaying in place and beginning to hum to herself.

There's a reason blokes like Neville Longbottom get invited to ragers.

Blokes like Neville Longbottom waste no time in the bathroom.