Slash Actually

Chapter 2 – Pole Dancing Party (Part(y) 1)

A few days passed in quiet, unmentionably boring nothingness. Harry was busy working and training and studying and doing other things that people do when they want to stop themselves thinking. He decided that not thinking was best right now.

Having just finished all the school work he would ever have to do ever (A.N. do you like how I get all the boring things out of the way so smoothly?), Harry began to panic. He would have to start thinking now!

Conveniently, Dumbles chose that exact moment to come in for his 293rd apology attempt that afternoon. In a desperate attempt to stop himself thinking, Harry decided to listen to him…

Dumbly looked a mess. Ever since Harry had started hating him, he had let himself go completely to pot. His hair hadn't been washed at all, and had frizzed so it stuck out like an enormous white afro. He had taken to doing nothing but try to apologise between eating vast amounts of chocolate spread toasted sandwiches (A.N. try them they are SOOO good). This vast quantity of calories had meant that the headmaster's usually ripped, buff physique had ballooned to something resembling a small whale. He rolled up to Harry and began burbling an incoherent apology…

"Harbly, in the interests of the good of the thingy of the umiverse, I really can't aplologise enough. I really can't because I am so very very very very sorry and…"

Harbly held up a hand to cut him off.

"Accepted." He said curtly.

"WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" cried Dumblewumbles joyously, instantly returning to his old self. Clapping his hands together, he pulled a bag of floo powder out of one of Hagrid's pockets (A.N. am I the only one who still remembers Hagrid's pockets?), poured some out and snorted a line off the desk Harbly was sat at. Straightening up, he clapped his hands together again, turned to Hagrid (who had been steering the rolling headmaster on his way to his apology) and said…

"Hagrid, tell the whole school Harry's forgiven me! This is such a joyous occasion it calls for the revival of one of the schools least well known traditions…"

"You carn mean…Pr'ff's'r D'm'b'l'd'r, s'rly n'…"

"Yes, Hagrid. POLE DANCING PARTY IN THE GREAT HALL!"

Later that evening, everyone filed into the great hall, which had been enchanted to look like a sleazy back-alley working men's club. The benches and tables had disappeared, and podiums had been erected at various intervals, with silver poles stretching to the ceiling. The students had all come in costumes befitting the setting; all of them dressed as sleazy back-alley working men with '70s porn-star moustaches and flat caps. The teachers were nowhere to be seen…

When the entire student body was assembled, an ancient PA system groaned and whirred into life and a loud snorting was heard, followed by a sigh.

"What was that?" professional nosey-parker Hermione nosey-parked.

"Dumblemumblewumble is hooked on floo powder."

"Woof." Replied Ron.

"Ladies and gentlemen, madames et monsieurs, students and…male students, your host for the evening…Professor Albusina Fumblewhore!"

A Perspex platform stiletto stuck itself out from behind a red velvet curtain. It was soon joined by Dumbledore, dressed in a hot pink salsa dress, the other Perspex platform stiletto and a rather natty Carmen Miranda hat.

"Did he just introduce himself in drag?" Harry mused.

"Yes."

Ron, who hadn't realised it was the headmaster in drag, but had had a momentary intelligence boost, turned to his two friends and whispered…

"Now THAT is hot!"

'Mione shuffled off to vomit in a corner, and dragged Ron with her (he was still tied to her waist), leaving Harry alone. He sensed someone standing behind him, and turned around. There, in a Burberry-style Mac, a tweed flat cap and a bushy moustache, stood Seamus. Harry just had time to flash a quick smile before Fumblewhore started to speak.

"Meine Damen und Herren, welcome to this most historic of occasions. This event is one of the least well known of all Hogwarts' traditions. I'll leave it up to Professor Binns to inform you on some of the history of the event…" At which everyone switched off.

Harry took the ever-convenient opportunity to quiz Seamus.

"So why does everyone hate you?"

Seamus woke up, turned to Harry and looked imploringly into his eyes. "I told you I wouldn't tell you, and I won't. Please, let it go…" He broke off to stare at someone who was walking behind Harry.

Curious, Harry followed the direction of Seamus' eyes. He saw that it was Draco who had walked past. He was the only one not in costume, as he thought that dressing as a muggle was generally not the done thing for one of his standing in society. Pouf.

"Seamus, why did you stop looking at me to stare at Draco? And why are you drooling?"

Seamus' head fell forward. Silent tears began to fall into his lap. "Great, now you're going to work it out and hate me too…" He stood up suddenly and ran out of the hall. No-one except Harry noticed, as nearly everyone was asleep, all except Harry and Hermione, who was still vomiting herself voraciously into a sea of puke in the corner. Binns was oblivious as ever.

Work what out? Harry thought.

"'Mione! What would make Seamus stare at Draco and drool?"

Hermione looked up, wiped a smear of vomit from her chin, thought for a moment, then replied in her jolly-hockey-sticks accent…

"God, Harry, sometimes you're about as smart as Ron!" She insulted lamely. "Do you not hear ANY gossip? Seamus is a big fat flaming pouf and everyone hates him because of it!"

Harry turned back to the headmaster in a dress, enormous fake breasts and high heels, who had started speaking again. After spotting the obvious irony, he wondered why that would make everyone hate Seamus…homophobes.