Draco had been traveling the halls sans clothing for a good four hours upon finding his third flask of Bailey's. With Dumbledore dead, entropy rampaged through Hogwarts, and plus, any student–girls and boys alike–would be barking mad to tattle on the sexiest seventh-year since Cedric Diggory to roam the halls in his birthday suit.

In an instant, he found himself staring into darkness. With an "mmph," he raised his silver eyes to stare directly into those of the raven-haired beauty. "Mmmmmmghh," he groaned before resting all of his weight on the mysterious figure's clothing and laughing hysterically.

"Come to me," the low, sensual voice cooed. Draco obliged.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Draco Malfoy awoke with quite a sore behind. He groaned, rubbed his arse, and opened his eyes. He couldn't remember going to any classes yesterday. Hell, he couldn't even remember where in the bloody hell he was. He rubbed his eyes with two bare arms.

"Oh, Draco." The low, manly voice startled the Slytherin head boy.

"What the–" Draco was suddenly awake, clutching a quilt around his still naked body. "No. No. Please, Merlin, No. Not again."

"Mr. Malfoy, there's nothing of which to be ashamed," the man with long, greasy, black hair affirmed. "It's okay now, we don't have to hide anymore."

"No, please, no. Tell me this is just some ghastly dream."

"Oh, but what a pleasant, ghastly dream."

"Not again! Snape, you manky bastard!"

"It's Severus. Honestly, Draco. How long have we known each other?"

"Evidently, far too long. And far too well, at least for my tastes! I may not have McGonagall's job, but I'll most certainly have yours, you mad git!"

"Draco," Snape began, "you're forgetting a precious fact of life. Blackmail is a very... quaint idea. Do you want the entire school to know about your allegiance to the Dark Lord, that time last year with Parvati and Luna, simultaneously, might I add," Draco's gulp interrupted him. "Your firebolt, er... incident... the galleons you stole from Dumbledore's grave, those looks you've been shooting at the filthy mudblood, the midgets you store in your basement to cockfight, so to speak, with your house elves, that time with Buckbeak–"

"Not you, too! You know what, I don't even want to know how you knew that."

"Legilimency, my boy," Snape confirmed.

"Oh, right. But of course."

Then it hit him. Draco opened his mouth to scream but only emitted carbon dioxide.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny sighed. "If only I could be just as studious as you."

"Pick up a bloody book, Gin!" Hermione laughed.

"Can't! I'm far too busy."

"Maybe giddy, but surely not busy." The gryffindors were holding their annual girl-talk session.

"Oh, I wish I were giddy. Harry hasn't snogged me once this month! He's been acting so odd lately. Especially around that mangy boyfriend of yours. I swear sometimes that I just don't get boys."

"Well, of course not; that's silly! We're girls. Of course we don't understand guys." Hermione stretched out on her bed in the most sexual of positions. "But we understand each other," she breathed, licking her lips.

"Oh, Mione," Ginny exhaled before pouncing on her friend, and they had a grand ol' magical time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ron tripped over a stone in the dark, plummeting to his potential death. "Oww," he subsequently whined. "Harry!"

"Ron! Don't be so noisy, will you?"

"Oh, Harry, it's too dark. I'm terribly frightened. Couldn't we just summon him to our room?"

"Shush, don't be foolish. It's not like we can just holler out, 'Accio Diggory!' That's utterly ridiculous. Don't be silly."

But at that very moment, a rotting corpse came scudding down the lane. Even after three years spent six feet under, it looked far better than the two living friends did. And it certainly smelled far better than Harry and Ron–combined–despite the fungi growing out of rotting eye sockets and under flaked toenails. He did look quite dashing in his burial clothes–his father had chosen the quidditch jersey his son wore upon defeating Harry. Harry'd nearly forgotten that trivial matter. His jaw dropped upon seeing his first love for the first time in, quite sadly, a very long time.

"I think he's trying to say something, Harry!"

"Oh, Ron, of course he is. He said, 'Ron! Harry! How nice to see you two again, old chaps! How's Hogwarts been? How's Cho? What's happened since I died?'"

"Oh, sorry, I've got a bit of a plug in my ears. Musn't've heard it."

Harry seemed to be ignoring his friend as he continued his conversation with the late Cedric Diggory. "Nothing much has happened. Except Voldemort came back, the Order of the Phoenix was restored, Sirius died, I started dating Ginny, Ron started dating Hermione, and Snape killed Dumbledore. Not much to fuss over, don't worry, Ced. May I call you Ced? Good. Ron lets me call him pookie now."

Ron's cheeks flushed and turned the bright red colour of his robes. "Harry! I thought that was between you and me," he uttered through clenched teeth. But Harry still seemed engrossed in conversation with Cedric.

"Mauve? Oh, yes, what a brilliant colour. I like it best, as well."

When the two brought the body back into Hogwarts, every student nearly stopped in his or her tracks. Every student, that is, except for Draco Malfoy.

"Mmmyessssedric, how are ya, ol' pal? Wheredja go? That was an awfuuuulllylooong lavatory break," he noted, still in the nude, and still pissed as hell. The blonde heartthrob staggered away without waiting for a response after some sort of shiny object caught his eye.

First year girls swooned at the sight so beautiful to behold–that of Cedric Diggory, of course. Not even the living Draco matched him in his handsomeness. Most had forgotten how much more handsome he looked alive. Of course, only a select few left at the school had seen him whilst still breathed.

The euphoria was quickly broken by the familiar footsteps, no, stomps, of their favorite know-it-all. Hermione held her wand firmly in her right hand, pointing it straight at Harry. Her other hand was clenched tightly in a fist, matching her ground teeth. She nearly knocked over a cluster of second-years in her rage, which seemed to emanate from those brown eyes Ron found so beautiful before he had his, er, epiphany.

"Alright!" she screamed, shaking her wand in the air, switching between Harry and Ron. "Which one of you did it? Which one of you two brutes brought that filthy corpse into Hogwarts?"

"Oh, no, Hermione. You are sorely mistaken. This is Cedric! Cedric Diggory! You knew 'im!" Ron answered, obliviously.

Her teeth clenched more firmly. "Yes, dear, I can tell. But, if you do recall, he died quite a few years ago."

"Yes," Harry interrupted his best friend's goggling, "but he's alive once more! I swear it! He's spoken to me with his very own tongue." Harry's eyes widened. "I did absolutely nothing to him! One moment, Ron and I were in the woods, and the next, here ol' Cedric stood, looking smashing as ever, if I do say so myself!"

Hermione shot her oldest friend a rotten glare. "I'm afraid I have no choice but to pretend as if I believe you, even though I have yet to hear Mr. Diggory say a word. Don't mistake me, of course I don't actually believe you, but I'd rather not know what you two scallywags plan to do with him."

"Are you positive, Hermione? Because you're invited as–"

"Ron! Remember our promise!"

"Oh yes, sorry, no girls allowed."

And with that, Hermione stormed off, not noticing the attractive naked boy cackling in the corner.