Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Repeat: I do NOT own Harry Potter. Nor do I own any songs that may or may not end up in this fic.

A/N: So I'm not going to be writing anymore for a little while. Something important is happening next Monday, and I'm either going to be too preoccupied or too devastated to do much of anything. I'm not sure which one yet, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Anyways, if nothing else I should have another chapter out by the end of the month. In theory. And if not, I apologize in advance.

Also, there's no song in this chapter. With the exception of the chapter title, of course. And yes, there's a reason for that.

Song: Lustbug - Sonny Moore - Album: Bells (I think)

Chapter 10 - In Lust We Play

Harry watched his friends leave with a sad sort of contentment. They were all going to Hogsmeade, and he wasn't. Which was totally unfair, but he was Harry Bloody Potter, so what wasn't?

This was all because of that stupid Filch and his stupid detention for something completely and utterly stupid. Apparently it didn't matter how many times you saved the wizarding world, if you glued someone's ass to a drunken house elf, you got in trouble.

But how was Harry supposed to know that that was against school rules? It wasn't in the book. He was sure because he'd asked Hermione.

Silly McGonagall and her 'making up school rules'.

"What are you still doing here, Potter?" A voice drawled behind Harry, making him jump a bit in surprise.

"Malfoy?" He asked, spinning around and feeling a mite confused. "Where did you come from?"

Draco gave Harry a slow smirk. "Well you see, when a pureblood loves another pureblood-"

"That's not what I meant!" Harry squealed in a very manly way, his eyes going wide with horror.

"-The erect penis is inserted into-"

Harry clapped a hand over Draco's mouth, effectively cutting him off. "Please stop. I really don't want to know."

Draco mumbled something incomprehensible in response. "What?" Harry asked, cocking his head to the side. Draco sighed and removed Harry's hand from his mouth.

"Surely you know where babies come from, Potter."

"Of course I do!" Harry exclaimed - still manly - crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not stupid, Malfoy."

"That's up for debate..."

"Will you just shut up!" Harry snapped, feeling quite annoyed and out of sorts. Normally they didn't bicker out in the open like this. People seemed to get the wrong idea.

Not that anyone else was around of course, seeing as everyone was in Hogsmeade.

Draco's mouth snapped closed, making Harry feel a bit victorious. It all lasted about ten seconds. "I want some tacos."

Harry groaned in exasperation, stalking away from Draco and the courtyard with the hope that maybe he'd get a bit of peace and quiet before everyone came back.

"You can't leave me, Potter!" Draco yelled after him. "I'm bored!"

"Go to the kitchens and get some bloody tacos, then," Harry yelled back.

Harry hadn't planned on sneaking out of the castle, but if Draco was bored, then it would be better for everyone's mental health if he wasn't around.

"Where are you going?" Draco whined, hurrying after him.

"I'm running away," Harry told him, deciding it was useless to beat around the bush. "Because you're a madman. Leave me alone."

"Am not!" Draco argued immediately, keeping Harry's pace easily as they made their way up to the Eighth year common room. "I was just wanted to know why you're not going to Hogsmeade. Is that such a crime?"
"Because I'm not allowed," Harry told him shortly. "Why aren't you at Hogsmeade?"

"Because I'm penniless," Draco explained with a long-suffering sigh, "and going to Hogsmeade will only make me miss money even more."

Harry stopped, staring at him in surprise. "You're broke?"

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I got disowned, remember?"

Oh yeah.

"Er...right," Harry said, feeling a bit awkward.

"So," Draco continued as if nothing was wrong. "About this morning...I have to ask." All awkwardness was gone as Harry grinned wickedly. Oh, that had been so fun! "Was that song planned or was it the product of the musical curse?"

Harry sniggered at the memory of Hermione's face when Ron had begun singing to her. "Definitely planned. Hell, I helped write it. Heehee."

Draco stared at him. "You actually allowed Weasley to make a fool of himself? What kind of friend are you?"

"The kind that enjoys a bit of revenge," Harry replied, unaffected by Draco's disproval. "They both had it coming to them. Especially after what they said about..." He shuddered a bit at the memory. He still couldn't quite understand why his two best friends would think he'd snogged Draco. Madness.

"Yes, well - Crumple-Horned Snorkack -" the portrait hole opened to allow them into the common room, " - despite that...I must admit that it was clever. Good job, Pottter."

Harry sighed and sat down heavily on the nearest couch. "Do we really have to keep doing that?" He asked before he could stop himself. Harry knew, somewhere deep down inside of him, that he really needed to learn how to think before he spoke.

"Do what?" Draco asked, taking a seat across from him.

Harry could feel himself blush a bit. "It's just that we've known each other for eight years, and we're not even really enemies anymore...do we really have to keep calling each other by our surnames?"

Draco shrugged emphatically. "You started it."

"I did not!" Harry exclaimed defensively. "You did. I'd never called someone by their last name before you turned up!"

"So sorry to influence you negatively," Draco replied sarcastically. "I'll try to curb it in the future."
"Too late," Harry muttered as he glowered a bit.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're positively ridiculous, Harry."

Harry took that as a good sign.

"What time is it?" Draco asked Harry through a yawn, which Harry immediately mirrored.

Harry checked his watch through bleary eyes, groaning as soon as he saw it. "We've still got hours before dinner," he told Draco unhappily. "I want a bloody nap."

"Nap," Draco agreed, getting to his feet and stretching. Harry got up as well.

They'd been sitting in the common room and bickering all morning, with the occasional bout of doing homework thrust in. It was quickly becoming Harry's favorite past time, bickering with Draco. Because so many people were treating him different since he'd defeated Voldemort, and he was pleased to find out that Draco wasn't one of them.

He could always count on Draco to be a bastard. It was really nice to know.

"I think we're becoming old," Draco muttered as they made their way up to the boys dorms. "Taking a nap in the middle of the day is very unbecoming. Really, it's no wonder I was disowned - I make a terrible heir to the Malfoy line. Sleeping in the middle of the day. My father would be furious."

Oddly enough, he didn't sound upset by this at all. In fact, if Harry hadn't known better, he would of thought that Draco sounded quite happy with his statement.

"Only you would ever see that as a good thing, Draco," Harry replied, opening the door and walking to his bed just long enough for him to crash down on top of it. Oh, sweet relief.

"Yes," Draco replied sweetly, "I'm special. Scoot over, you fat bastard."

Harry didn't even hesitate. He'd become so used to getting drunk and passing out curled up with Draco that now he was almost dependant on it. Sleeping was so much better when there was someone else in your bed.

Draco laid down and immediately grabbed onto Harry, clutching on to him like a teddybear and murmuring, "so tired," against Harry's chest. Harry only nodded, yawning. "Pull up the bed curtains, would you?" Draco added, and Harry immediately complied, the two of them falling asleep almost immediately.

Neville had to try very hard not to laugh as he and Blaise made their way away from Hogwarts. It wasn't as though the trip itself was particularly funny - it was Blaise's reactions to everything.

He hadn't realized it would do so much when he'd read about it in one of those evil bloody books they'd both looked through the other night. All it said was that if someone was asleep, you could change their dreams with a bit of muggle hypnotism and a little spell.

So, Neville had gotten curious (naturally) and decided to try it out on the one person who would never expect anything. His new Slytherin friend.

At first, Neville hadn't been sure what to do. You were supposed to have a trigger word to start the dream, and another to end it, and while Neville had become particular to the word 'fuck', he'd decided that 'lunch' and 'love' would work just as well.

And oh goodness when Blaise had woken up...it had taken everything Neville had to keep from laughing at the horrified expression on the poor boy's face.

An expression that had yet to cease.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Neville asked Blaise for the tenth time (they'd both been secretly counting) since they'd left the castle.

"Fine," Blaise replied stiffly, staring straight ahead and looking quite pained.

"Really?" Neville asked, sounding skeptic. "Because we're almost in Hogsmeade right now, and we could've apparated, like, ten meters back."

If he hadn't known better, Neville might've thought that he'd seen Blaise blush. "R-Right. Er...do you want me to do it, or would you rather...?"

Neville couldn't help but grin a bit. "I think it might be safer if I apparate, today, Blaise. You're mind seems to be somewhere else this morning, and I would prefer it if mine stayed exactly where it is...if you catch my drift."

Blaise nodded and grabbed Neville's hand, and in a moment they were soaring quite uncomfortably to Diagon Alley.

They poppped into the Leaky Cauldron, both alive a thoroughly whole (Neville still wasn't quite confident with his apparating skills yet, so he checked himself over every time), and Blaise still managing to look completely out of it.

Neville wondered that maybe if he told Blaise the truth, the Slytherin would stop thinking about it. Because really, this was becoming ridiculous.

"Hey, Tom," Neville greeted the aged barkeeper brightly, who smiled toothlessly in return.

"And just what are two Hogwarts students doing away from Hogwarts grounds?" Tom asked them.

"Dark and evil things," Blaise told him before Neville could even open his mouth. He was sneering at Tom, which Neville was pretty sure no one had ever done before. "C'mon, Neville," Blaise added, grabbing the apologetic Gryffindor by the arm and hauling him out.

"Why don't you like Tom?" I asked as the door closed behind us and Blaise began tapping the third brick from the left of the trashbin.

"He creeps me out," Blaise replied shortly, not looking at Neville but instead the way the bricks moved to form an archway. "His head looks like a walnut. He doesn't have any teeth. The man is the epitome of old age, and I don't like it."

Neville couldn't help but snort in amusement. That answer was so Blaise. "Oh, what am I going to do with you?" He asked fondly, ruffling Blaise's dark silky hair and dodging the returning swat of annoyance.

"Murder me on my fortieth birthday," Blaise suggested in response. "Now can we hurry up with this? I didn't have breakfast, and I'm starving."

"Forty isn't old," Nevile exclaimed as he let them towards Flourish & Blotts. "How about Sixty? I'll kill you on your sixtieth birthday, will that work? Can you last twenty more years?"

Blaise gave him a small smile - the first all day, making Neville feel quite proud of himself. "I suppose if I must."

Neville nodded resolutely. "Good. That gives me an extra twenty years to talk you out of it."

"You think we'll still talk to each other when we're sixty?" Blaise asked as they ambled slowly down the almost empty street. He didn't sound skeptical, simply surprised.

Neville shrugged. To be honest, in the one month they'd spent together (and they'd spent a lot of time together in that month, thanks to McGonagall), Blaise had become one of Neville's best friends. After they found the countercurse to the musical thing on the school, Neville had planned to continue the friendship. "Yeah."

And from the look on Blaise's face, he was planning on it too.

"Oh good, boys, you're here!" Mr. Blotts greeted as soon as they opened the door the book shop.

Neville was pretty sure that no one had ever been that happy to see him before.

"Er...hello, Mr. Blotts," he greeted, feeling a bit unsure. Blaise only nodded boredly.

"I've been thinking since you told me the nature of the curse, and I think I found something that will help." Mr. Blotts grabbed a three books from the nearest shelf and handed them to Neville, who was obviously the nicer of the two.

Neville glanced at the top book's cover skeptically. 'Understanding the Unforgivables'. "What does-"

"That makes sense, actually," Blaise said thoughtfully, cutting Neville off with the smoothness that only a Zabini could have. "It is somewhat like the Impirius Curse. We can't stop singing once we start, as if someone else is controlling our mouths..."
"And Veritiserum as well," Neville agreed, continuing on the train of thought with zeal. "Because we're alway singing about something we're feeling, whether we want to or not."

"If you wait a moment, I can find you a few books on that, as well," Mr. Blotts spoke up with a smile, and Blaise nodded.

"Yes, I think that would be best."
"Thanks a bunch, sir," Neville added with an excited smile. Maybe, just maybe, they could find the countercurse after all.

"Goodie-two-shoes," Blaise muttered to him after Mr. Blott's had walked away.

"Douche bag," Neville replied, nudging him playfully in the side. The two of them shared a grin.

"Here you are, boys," Mr. Blotts exclaimed as he walked back to them with two more books in tow. "And if you need anything else, just send me an owl and I'll order it for you."

Neville took the two new tomes with the three others, thanked Mr. Blotts, and the two boys left with an air of excitement.

"Can we stop by Weasley Wizard Weezes while we're here?" Neville asked as Blaise shrunk the books and stuck them in Pansy's coinpurse.

"I doubt the Weasley is going to be there," Blaise pointed out as he shrunk one particularly large and heavy book with his wand. "He's probably at the store in Hogsmeade, stealing money from all the first years."

Because with George, anything was possible.

"I know," Neville said, shrugging, "but Harry wanted me to pick up a batch of Hangover potion for him and Malfoy, and this shop probably won't be as crowded." Which, to Neville, was just logical.

"If you want," Blaise murmured his assent, finally shrinking the last book and sticking the coinpurse in back in his pocket. He looked up at Neville and smiled.

Neville blushed, and he didn't know why. "Er, yeah, then...is everything good? I'm getting hungry."

"Because you didn't have breakfast either," Blaise pointed out reprovingly as the two began walking towards the largest shop in Diagon Alley. "Really, Neville, this lack of food is bad for my physique. Your's too, at that." Blaise poked Neville in the side. "You're positively peaky."

"You sound like Ron's mum," Neville told him quietly, his face going from pink to red. Really, this blushing thing was just becoming absurd!

"How insulting," Blaise said with a frown. "I've seen Weasley's mother. She shrieks like a banshee at the train station. Every. Single. Time."

"Mrs. Weasley is awesome, don't go putting her down," Neville said warningly as they entered Weasley Wizard Weezes.

"I agree," a mysterious voice said from above them, making Blaise let out a little shriek of surprise that had both Neville and the mysterious occupant giggling like school girls.

Neville looked up to see George Weasley staring down at them from the banister on the second floor. "What are you two doing in Diagon Alley?" George asked them between laughing fits. "Shouldn't you be in Hogsmeade with all of the other ickle students?"

"We're doing dark and evil things," Neville told George with a snigger, because Blaise seemed too shaken up to say it himself.

"Well then you've come to the right place!" George gave them both a toothy grin and slid down the banister on his bum, stopping just short of falling into them. "What can I do for you, kiddo?"

"We need hangover potion," Neville explained bashfully.

"Oho!" George exclaimed, "taking your adulthood to the fullest, are we, Mr. Longbottom? You realize that, eighteen or not, alcohol is still not allowed on Hogwarts Grounds, don't you?"
"It's not for us," Blaise finally spoke up, moving a bit closer to Neville as if expecting the Gryffindor to protect him from the creepy Weasley twin. "It's for Draco and Potter."

George looked between the two, obviously surprised. "You're joking? Is Malfoy trying to prank him or something?"

"No," Neville sighed, leaning against the wall with a small shake of his head. "The two of them have been getting plastered together since the school year started."

"Oh really?" George asked, his surprise becoming even more evident. "Well, I suppose it makes sense. I don't think I'd be able to handle Malfoy if I was sober, too."

"They're getting it on behind our backs," Blaise sighed, crossing his arms and looking quite put-out. "Michael Corner saw them snogging the other day."

"George..." Neville began, hoping against hope that they could leave that particular conversation behind. Thinking of Harry and Draco Malfoy snogging did not bring up good mental images. In fact, he was beginning to feel a bit sick. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Hogsmeade...err...stealing money from First Years?"

"No," George replied flatly, his good humor disappearing almost immediately. Neville wondered if George was still avoiding everyone in his family, or if he'd somehow managed to offend the redhead. "Now really, you two couldn't have come down here only for Hangover Potion. For one thing, we sell it shop #2, and for another, McGonagall would never agree to that."
"Oh," Neville muttered, shrugging slightly, "we're on a secret detective mission." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaise wince.

"Full of dark and evil things?" George asked skeptically. Neville grinned.

"Maybe. Someone's cursed Hogwarts."

He watched as George paused and blinked rapidly in confusion. "Come again?"

"That's what she said..." Blaise murmured under his breath, making Neville let out a snort of amusement.

"There's a musical curse on Hogwarts. Which obviously wasn't there before," Neville explained, still smiling. "People will randomly begin singing and dancing and whatever else comes about. We think it has something to do with the Imperius curse. And perhaps Veritaserum is involved. We came to Diagon Alley to get some books from Mr. Blotts."

"Well..." George trailed off, still looking quite surprised, and perhaps even a little shaken. "Wait a second...that's a great idea!" He brightened considerably. "I wish me and..." he cleared his throat awkwardly, "I wish I'd thought of that," he finished a bit lamely, staring hard at the linoleum floor.

"Right," Neville agreed, feeling quite awkward himself. No one really talked about Fred since the final battle. Especially not in front of a Weasley. Most especially not in front of George. And George most especially seemed to avoid any mention of Fred. "Well...hangover potion."

"Yeah," George agreed quickly, motioning for them to follow him. "It's shitty, by the way, that the only customer I've had this morning isn't even going to be paying. I guess it's a good thing for Hogsmeade, huh?"

"Oh, Harry gave me some money for you," Neville told him, pulling out the little pouch of gold and silver that Harry had handed to him before they'd left.

"Harry doesn't pay here, and he knows it," George muttered darkly, glaring forward as if Harry might pop up at any minute. "I don't know why he even tries anymore."

"Potter doesn't have to pay your ridiculous prices for things?" Blaise exclaimed, looking quite offended. "Does he get away with everything?"

"If it wasn't for Harry, this shop wouldn't even exist," George explained with a shrug. "So yes, I suppose so."

"No wonder Draco despised him for so long," Blaise mumbled under his breath, making Neville smile a bit. It was a cold day in hell when Blaise was jealous of anyone. Apparently the dead Death Eaters were getting a day off, then.

"Here you are," George said, grabbing a large potions bottle full of slushy blue liquid that Neville knew both smelled and tasted minty fresh. Not from experience of course. But he had an uncle who was a drunk. Actually, he had a few drunken uncles. And a couple of drunken aunts.

"Thanks a bunch, George," Neville smiled at him. "I'm getting tired of hearing the two of them moan about how they're dying were every morning."

"We all feel that way," Blaise added, rolling his eyes and sneering slightly. "We're also tired of them pretending to be surprised and uncomfortable every morning they wake up in the same bed. And how the two of them bicker constantly and yet always have to be around each other. And-"

"Yes," George cut him off, "we get it."

Blaise cleared his throat and glowered a bit.

"Anyways, we really should be going, mate," Neville said, clearing up even more awkwardness. "I'll tell Ron and Ginny you said 'hi'."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't actually," George replied pleasantly. "If you do, I'll have to deal with my mother."

"Right," Neville nodded resolutely. "We never saw you."

"Thanks, Nev," George said gratefully. "See you 'round."

"See you."

"OWMOTHERFUCKINGSHIT!" Neville shouted as he tripped on the way out of George's shop and stubbed his toe. George didn't say anything, just closed the door behind them.

Which left Blaise to visibly wince.

"Oh will you just stop it!" Neville snapped, hopping one foot and sniffling a bit in pain. "The bloody dream wasn't even real! And I don't remember anything in it that should freak you out! We walked a bit, I said fuck a few times, it didn't even last that long! So what is it that has you going mad all day?"

"How did you -"

"Because I made the dream, you idiot," Neville groaned, sniffling a bit more and leaning against the side of Weasley Wizard Weezes so that he wouldn't have to put pressure on his poor, abused toe. "It hurts so bad..."
"What do you mean you made the dream?" Blaise asked, staring hard at him and completely ignoring Neville's pain. "How do you make a dream?"

"I mean that I saw this thing in one of the books in the library that could make someone have a dream that I created, and I tried it on you. You realize that it's your fault I'm hurt, right? An apology wouldn't be amiss."

Blaise opened his mouth...and promptly shut it again. This went on a for a few minutes before words came out. "You mean you pranked me? You? Neville Longbottom? Pranked me? Blaise Zabini?"

Neville shrugged irritably. "Sure, whatever. I think I broke my big toe. Maybe I should sit down."

"That is..." Blaise was staring at Neville like he'd never quite seen him before. "The most ballsy thing I think I've ever heard."

"Seriously," Neville said flatly, "can we please go sit down somewhere? Or maybe we should go to St. Mungo's? Because I think it's broken, and I don't want to have to walk all the way back up to the castle from Hogsmeade to see Madam Pomfrey, and-"

Neville was promptly cut off by something warm and pleasant pressing against his lips.

It took him a moment to realize that he was being kissed.

And it took another moment for him to realize that Blaise was kissing him.

And it took a few more moments for him to process that Blaise Zabini - a male, a Slytherin male - was kissing him.

And it took even longer for him to figure out what he was going to do about it. Did he kiss back? Or did he shove Blaise off of him and make them both endure a very awkward moment - possibly a very awkward rest-of-the-year.

On the one hand Blaise kissing him was actually quite nice, and would probably be even better if he stopped standing there like an idiot and actually participated. But on the other hand he'd never kissed another guy before. He'd never even considered it, actually. And he wasn't completely sure that he thought of Blaise like that.

And he didn't want to hurt Blaise's feelings, of course.

Hmm...this was becoming quite the predicament.

And why was Blaise even kissing him in the first place? It made absolutely no sense! Was he getting back at Neville for the whole 'pranking' (or whatever you wanted to call it) thing? Because if that's what it was, then it was working.

Neville was very confused.

Before he could come to a decision, however, Blaise pulled back a bit. Just enough to where Neville couldn't feel his lips anymore, but could still feel the warm breath that was actually a bit erotic. "I'm thinking Fortescue's."

"What?" Still confused. And slightly dazed.

"Going to Fortescue's for lunch. And if your toe's still bothering you after we eat, I'll help you up to the hospital wing."

Toe? What was a toe?

"Um..."

"Sound good to you?"

How any bloke could go from kissing another bloke to talking about lunch was beyond Neville, but was (he felt) incredibly awesome.

Oh, fuck it.

Neville grabbed Blaise by the front of his robes and pulled him forward. He could be confused and awkward later.

A/N: Yes, that's right. Finally something exciting happened. Good on me. If you have any Christmas songs, please add them in your review =)