Morning Feast Club

Summary

Why are five teenagers locked in an empty classroom on a Saturday? They are all serving detention; the reasons vary as much as their personalities. 'R' for language, drug use, sexual references. I promise there will be absolutely no slash, because its really annoying when something gets labeled as a comedy then has nothing but gay sex. No offense meant to those of you who enjoy that sort of thing.

Disclaimer

I obviously don't own Harry Potter. Honestly, why is this even necessary? If I had any part in that, I'd be publishing whatever the hell I wanted and automatically making loads of money.

CHAPTER 1

Draco glanced lazily out the window next to his bunk. Far below, a group of quidditch players organized an early morning game, their breath visible in the crisp air. Instantly he longed to join them, and normally would have. After all, it was a Saturday. But today Draco had other plans, ones which he definitely wasn't looking forward to.

He had detention. And since the administration recently started a policy of stricter punishments, he'd been told to serve eight whole hours. On the bright side, it would be under the eye of Snape, and the greasy potions master highly favored Draco, so perhaps there was hope yet.

Unlike his usual manner, Draco sulked into the common room, hoping to escape unnoticed. He would have succeeded, had Pansy Parkinson not been waiting for him.

"Morning Draco," she cooed.

"Hello love. I'd like to stay and chat, but you know...." he tapped the expensive watch which hung from his pale wrist.

"I know you must be busy. A quidditch star like you probably has dates booked straight through next year." She shifted in her chair, trying to look sexy in her green bathrobe.

Oh god, he thought. There's nothing under that bathrobe.

"I just thought I should congratulate you after last night's game. Seekers have such amazingly gentle hands, don't they?" Pansy made a move to stand up, but Draco put up his hand

"Pansy, I can't stay. I'd really like to," he said, glancing at her robe, "but there's someplace I have to be."

She whined in protest.

"What could be so bloody important that you have to go right this minute?" She pulled at his cloak, causing him to stumble a bit.

"Don't be such a twat," he was suddenly angry with her. "Crabbe and Goyle should be down soon; you can shag them instead."

Pansy's face registered shock before contorting in rage. Without another word she stormed off, wrapping herself tightly in the thin piece of cloth.

Draco simply shrugged and moved on. Pansy would be back, and if not, there were twenty other girls who could easily take her place. She hadn't been lying when she complimented him on being an amazing seeker – he'd single-handedly claimed six victories in a row for Slytherin with more surely on the way.

Life is good, he thought, continuing towards the Great Hall.

Harry buckled each individual strap on his boots, taking up as much time as possible. After donning a black cloak and giving his long unruly hair a careless toss, he slumped out. Heads turned when he passed, but he'd long ago learned to ignore them.

Most people could hardly tell anymore that Harry was the same boy who'd been constantly pestered by Voldemort in earlier years. His hair covered the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, and the friends he hung out with now hardly considered him exceptional.

Unlike his first five years at Hogwarts, Harry excelled at dealing with struggle, both emotional and physical. His body had also changed, growing muscular and making him very popular with the ladies.

In fact, it was this change that had caused a rift in his strongest friendships. At the end of fifth year he and Hermione began dating secretly, since he'd always found her geekiness to be a turn- on.

They were a great couple and everything, but a jealous Ron found out eventually, ending both the friendship and the sex. Harry still spoke to them, but only in passing.

Upon finally reaching the Great Hall, Harry hardly paused before throwing open the massive doors. Looking slowly around his eyes fell first on Lavender sitting with Draco, chattering happily about who had the cuter cape.

"Conformist dumb shits," he muttered, staring at Draco's sports patch and Lavender's glittering jewelry.

Harry nearly fell over when he saw Hermione sitting quietly at a separate table. What the hell was she doing in detention? Since first year she had been the established brain and goody two shoes, at least until she got mixed up with him.

But instead of joining her, Harry moved to yet another table. With eight hours ahead, he figured it would be best not to start up some old discussion about old problems. God, he thought, remembering how all she did was bitch and moan about everything. At first it had been the usual nagging subjects – homework, sneaking off – but when she'd started picking on his "messy hair," it was the last straw. Harry's wayward mane was his favorite thing about himself, not to mention that it was totally sexy.

Hermione stared over at Harry, hoping he could feeling her eyes boring into his skull. That bastard had the nerve to breeze right by her like he was something special. With his goddamn hair falling all over the place. She only hated it because of how he'd allowed it to grow over the lighting bolt scar. If it hadn't been for that little detail, she would have been turned on by it.

Seeing him agin forced her to think of them and their last night together. They'd been doing....things that couples do, when Ron came into the dorm. The situation was awkward at best, and all Harry did was laugh hysterically.

Ron not only lost his vision for a few hours, but was forever scarred and disheartened. He'd loved Hermione from the beginning and although seeing her naked wasn't so bad, the presence of Harry kind of spoiled the moment.

Thus their infamous threesome broke apart. Harry turned punk, Hermione buried herself deeper still in her studies, and Ron fried his bloody brains with hash.

Speaking of which, hadn't she seen Ron earlier? Most days he spent with the other stoners, sitting in dark corners doing God knows what.

She spotted a pair of pale legs outstretched on a far bench and froze. They looked stiff enough to be dead. Her fears were dispelled a moment later when Harry, oblivious to the corpse, sat down.

"Wadafuck!" Ron yelped in surprise and sat up, dumping Harry onto the floor. "Who the hell...what's going on? Where am I?"

Harry dusted himself off and backed away cautiously. Ron's eyes were bloodshot and stared dangerously in every direction.

"Its okay," Harry said, "its me Ron. Me, Harry."

"'Course it is. I'm stoned, not fucking blind."

"Right," Harry said defensively. "You looked like you might kill me, is all."

"And who says I won't?" Ron stood up, intending to be frightening. Instead he somehow managed to trip over himself and stumble around stupidly.

"Oh how I'd love to see you try...." They raised their fists at the exact moment that Professor McGonagall glided in. Both boys backed down immediately.

"Good morning, students. Please get comfortable in your seats, since they will be your place of residence for the remainder of today."