How to explain this? A joke about what might have happened with Harry on Felix Felicis turned into endless innuendo.

Warnings: innuendo, references to sex, guy on guy, guy on guy on girl, references to pornography, beginning dialogue taken right from the 6th movie due to not having my book nearby.

Getting Lucky

"Well? How do you feel?" asked Hermione anxiously.

"Excellent. Really excellent." Harry seemed distracted, fidgeting on the couch.

"Remember, Slughorn usually eats early, takes a walk, and then returns to his office," Hermione repeated the instructions he'd heard a dozen times now. He sighed, interrupting her as he stood abruptly from his seat.

"Right, I'm going down to Hagrid's."

"What? Harry, no, you've got to go down and speak to Slughorn!" Hermione said, following him to the portrait door.

"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, which we ascribe to heaven." Harry said sternly. At Hermione's shocked look, he attributed, "All 's Well that Ends Well. You know, Shakespeare."

"I know," she breathed, licking her lips once as Harry continued on his way out the door.

"What was that?" Ron asked, scratching the back of his head.

Hermione sighed, one hand raising unconsciously to press to her flushed cheek. "Don't worry, Ron. You wouldn't understand." As they returned to the sofa, he heard her mutter, "I didn't even know he'd read Shakespeare."

The instant he stepped outside the portrait hole and the Fat Lady swung closed, he could hear voices raised in an argument. They sounded as if they were coming up the staircase down the corridor. Normally Harry would have done his best to avoid such an encounter, but Felix left him feeling oddly light, and so he drifted his way down to see what all the ruckus was about.

Dean and Ginny were fighting as they walked up the stairs, their argument growing louder and seemingly more vicious the closer they got to Gryffindor Tower. Knowing that it was somehow not only all right for him to take that staircase despite their presence, but necessary, Harry strolled calmly to the top and waited for the two to notice him.

"Oh, evening Harry," Ginny said as she drew near, shoulders tensed and eyes red.

"Evening, Ginny," Harry greeted. "You know, you don't need him," he told her matter-of-factly as she passed him, patting her gently on the shoulder, "But he needs me." There was a choking sound behind him, he turned to face Dean. The other boy's face was rapidly turning red. "I'll be back for you later," Harry promised him, Felix telling him that he didn't have to stick around or coax them out, this one was in the bag.

His footsteps took him to the library, where for once Madam Pince smiled favorably upon him. With a wink and a smile towards her, he headed toward the study tables, already knowing the path he would travel.

Ducking behind a bookshelf he came face to face with Neville, who startled, dropping the heavy text he was holding. "Oh, sorry Harry," Neville said. "Didn't see you there."

"That's all right," Harry replied, grabbing onto Neville's wrist. "Actually, I need your help with something."

As Harry towed the boy deeper into the stacks, Neville asked quietly, "Is it something to do with You-Know-Who?"

"Yes," Harry agreed, not knowing why he said that. "There's something I'm looking for. Some information. I thought you might be able to help."

"Well, just say the word and I'm your man," Neville said. They came to a stop close to the Restricted Section. He looked around. "This area, huh? What exactly are we looking for? I'm not exactly an expert on History or Wizard Artifacts."

"The word," Harry said quite seriously, staring at Neville's confused face.

"What?"

As abruptly as he'd seized the boy in the first place, Harry pulled Neville to him. It suddenly seemed like a great and fantastic idea to press his lips against the other Gryffindor's, as if Felix were telling him this was the path to getting everything he wanted. Feeling lightheaded, Harry went with the urges, wrapping his other arm around the stockier boy and bending him over a desk.

"What?" Neville asked when they finally broke for air, face flamed red. "What are you doing, Harry?"

"Well, it's obvious he's had too much Pelohunbug juice. They cause people to do rather strange things, you know?" Luna Lovegood observed casually from where Harry had bent Neville over her desk. "In the Muggle World they blame alcohol, but really, it's the secretions of Pelohunbugs in empty glasses. Only physical contact can cure it," she added helpfully. "The more the better. That's why bar fights are so popular in Muggle culture."

"I'm sure Hermione would have a few things to say about that," Harry remarked, considering his options. Then, with all the grave dignity a person can muster while bending another person over a desk, he reached out, grasped Luna's blue tie, and slowly drew her in to his and Neville's embrace.

"I-I've never done this sort of thing before," Neville admitted, though he didn't resist much as Luna wound her fingers in his slightly curled hair.

"Well, there's a first time for everything!" Luna said cheerfully.

Harry could not have agreed more.

By the time they finally stumbled down for dinner, most of the Great Hall had finished eating and had emptied out. Only a few students from each house remained, and Harry was surprised to see that Draco Malfoy was one of them. He hadn't been looking well, not since Slughorn's party.

Before he realized what was happening, he was already standing at the Slytherin table staring into the very blue eyes of the Malfoy heir.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy sounded more tired than anything else, barely looking up from his food.

"You know what I want, Malfoy," Harry said, and modulated his voice to sound low and angry, knowing this would provoke him. "We have a score to settle."

"Please, Potty," Malfoy said, reverting to childish nicknames, "You couldn't duel your way out of the Sorting Hat. As much fun as it would be to wipe the floor with you, I've got better things to do." Pushing away his plate, he stood to leave.

What was with Harry and grabbing people by the wrist tonight? Well, it'd worked so far. "I demand satisfaction," he growled, practically dragging Malfoy from the hall, wand already out. Malfoy hissed curses behind him and loud whispers followed their exit.

Back at the Gryffindor table, Luna turned to Neville and dreamily asked, "I wonder if Harry's going to let Malfoy touch his wand."

Neville promptly spat out his pumpkin juice.

By the time he and Draco made it out of the closet, curfew had already fallen. Draco was safe because he was a prefect, well, that's what he told Harry anyway, whispering in his ear before gently biting the lobe. Harry was going to have to do some swift talking if he ran into any other prefects or professors.

Swift talking was what he had been doing all night.

Instinct urged him to continue along the ground floor, heading towards the classrooms. Turning a corner, he ran into a hard form and bounced back, quickly recovering from the shock.

Severus Snape loomed over him, expression sinister as the sneer spread across his face. "Ah, I see you've once again flagrantly broken the rules of curfew, Mr. Potter. I believe that's worth, oh, fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention should suffice to remind you that just because you're famous, does not mean you can disregard the guidelines set by your elders and betters."

"Well," Harry mused, feeling oddly calm despite the antagonistic tone Snape always took with him, "I suppose that's fair, given that I am a repeat offender."

Was it just him, or did Snape goggle at him for a moment before quickly resuming a menacing look. "Don't try to suck up to me, Potter. And you will call me sir."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, emphasizing the word with a purr. Snape took an involuntary step back as Harry advanced. "I'm not sucking up, I'm merely agreeing, though one might wish your punishments were a little more...forceful."

Snape was definitely confused, eyes flickering from side to side as if seeking escape, his retreat halted as he hit a door. "Your mind is an open book to me, Potter," he hissed, suddenly drawing his wand. "Don't presume to think you can lie to me."

"Then take a look," Harry offered, arms spread wide as if submitting himself for approval. As Snape narrowed his eyes, Harry focused as hard as he could on the most pornographic images of himself and Professor Snape locked in various positions and locations within Hogwarts as he could imagine.

Perhaps he'd been going about Occlumency all wrong, for the moment Snape tried to attack, the professor himself was sent reeling back, sinking weak-kneed to the stone floor.

"I had no idea," Snape whispered.

"Neither did I," Harry said quite honestly.

At last his adventures took him to the end of a long corridor on the second floor. Something was significant about this area, he could feel it. Running his hands over the stone walls, and even up over a few of the portraits. Taking out his wand, he began to tap at the bricks.

"This part might require a bit of teamwork," he muttered, and just like that, he was in.

And oh, was he in. All eyes were on him as he stood, the only clothed person in the entire Hufflepuff common room. At least, he assumed he'd landed in the Hufflepuff common room, judging by the black and yellow wall hangings, the cushy buttercup colored sofas, the roaring fire, and the Hufflepuff crest on the wall. However, he hadn't expected the scattered yellow ties, quills, and parchments, and the fact that a very naked Ernie McMillan had stood up to greet him.

"Harry!" he called out jovially, completely oblivious to the fact that he was exposed in all his glory and that Harry was very obviously staring. "How'd you get in?"

"Guess I got lucky," Harry said after perusing the scene for a moment. Moans and whimpers filled the air as did the scent of sweat and sex.

"That you did, that you did," Ernie crossed the room, stepping gingerly over the interlocked limbs, writhing bodies, and piles of clothing to clap Harry genially on the shoulder. "Well, looks like you've realized the best way to do things is through teamwork."

"That I have," Harry said distractedly, for once allowing someone to grab him by the wrist and lead him into the room. "Oh, Merlin, that I have."

A week later he approached Slughorn's office, grin and confidence firmly in place despite the lack of Felix in his bloodstream. In his hand he held a set of moving pictures, pictures of people that leered, winked, blew kisses, and performed stunningly flexible feats of contortionism around each other.

In other words, he held something as valuable as Felix Felicis, in the right circles.

Slughorn did not seem happy to see him. He glanced from left to right, much as Snape had done, before finally letting Harry into his office. "Well, Harry?" the portly wizard asked at last, face defiantly set. Oh, he had no idea what was coming.

Harry laid the photos out one by one on his desk, watching Slughorn's face go from confused to stunned to horrified as he went. "Recognize anyone, sir?" he asked. At Slughorn's gulp, Harry smiled sweetly. "Of course you do. And Professor Dumbledore would as well. So why don't you tell me all about that memory you've been hiding, and we'll see about making sure these photos never find their way into your desk or portfolio or life again."