Disclaimer: the songs in this chapter belong to the sad fools who sang them -er- we mean, their copyrighted owners. sadly, as much as we hope and pray and wish, we still do not own H-Dawg and his darling friends. SPINK is a product of Master Colin's mind, and "antici...pation" belongs to Frank-N-Furter.

Authors' Note: chapter 6 chapter 6! it's finally up! honestly, it was hovering over us in our dreams, screaming, "type me! type me!"

er, not really. but we had a meet all last weekend, and then we got sick :...

spe-a-shul thanks to our reviewers!

XOXOXO! Ciao, Bella! michi and elizarita

Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief

Chapter 6: Fates, Mates, and Hogsmeade Dates

Lucius Malfoy looked up from his delicious breakfast of simmering bacon, cheesy omelets, poached quail eggs, rich coffee imported from Columbia, and a jiggling, giggling green Jell-o smothered in whipped cream (he did not eat that particular breakfast item in public, though) as a house elf brought him the post. Same ol', same ol'. A letter from Draco, a letter from the Ministry about his "delightfully thoughtful donation", an issue of Quidditch Illustrated, and two Howlers from old co-workers were all Lucius took from the pile. He tossed the Howlers to the waiting house elf and made to throw away the rest of the mail when he stopped. He glanced down to see shiny, flourished, pink letters glinting up at him that read, "Lucius Malfoy, Malfoy Manor, Love Town, Romance City." He picked it up gingerly and examined the surface closely (when you are a prominent figure in society, like Mister Malfoy, you have to make sure that your mail will not threaten your life). He lifted the seal on the envelope carefully and removed the piece of parchment inside. Pink glitter and red sequin hearts fell from the letter onto his lap as he unfolded the scented paper. His eyes grew wide as he read the letter's contents.

Dearest Lucius,

I have written you for one purpose and one purpose only: I love you with all of my yearning heart and dearly desire to be your stud muffin, your love bucket, your sweetie pie, your schmoopsy-poo, and your hawt piece of ass. Your radiant beauty inspires me as I write this sacred letter containing my deepest desires. My heart beats with the pounding rhythm of a thousand waves and the flames of my all-consuming passion burn with the heat of the sun.

I love your hair, long and lustrous, shining like the Mediterranean after a golden sunset. I love your eyes, silver and gray and blue all at once, like fermented troll bogeys. They glow like the full moon, bringing calm, cool light into my dreams, setting my lust aflame. I love your perfect face, seemingly carved by the gods themselves, and your immaculately proportioned figure. And I love your divine arse, finely toned and golden brown like two perfectly toasted Fluffy Puff Marshmallows (crisp on the outside, yet still gooey in the middle).

Here, Lucius paused to scrutinize a strange mark on the paper. Drool droplets? How…disgusting…yet, simultaneously intriguing. I wonder who this passionate young lady is. I give her points for originality, that's for sure. It's much more creative than the last one. He continued reading, utterly captivated.

I know I may not be the best-looking cow in the pasture, or the healthiest rat in the lab, but I pray you give me a chance with you. I want to be the apple of your eye, the lens on your monocle, the ribbon in your hair, and the nail on your left big toe. Or, something like that.

In closing, I would like to say that we go together like ramma lamma lamma ka dinga da dinga dong. And I've got chills, they're multiplyin', and I'm losing control, 'cause the power you're supplying, it's ELECTRIFYING.

Love always,

Lucius looked closely at the loopy, curly, messy signature, trying with all his might to decipher the hieroglyphic like writing. He eventually sighed, pulled out his reading monocle, and brought the paper up to his eye as close as he could. R…Ro…Riona? Ah, yes, I see it now; it says "Riona Wesley." Well, that certainly is an interesting name. I just hope she isn't a Mudblood, or I might have to use hand-sanitizer if I receive another letter from her. Lucius got out his portable bottle of hand-sanitizer and rubbed some on his hands, just in case. He then walked over to his desk, pulled out a sheet of his dark green, embossed, personal stationary and his special silver ink, and began writing a letter to his "beloved" son.

Darling Draco,

I'm glad to hear that you're faring well, and that you are Seeker on the team once again. And I dearly hope with all of my heart that you beat Gryffindor and that loathsome Potter boy this year; make Slytherin and the Malfoy name shine in glory on the Quidditch Cup once again.

I'll have your dear mother send you some more fudge next week. She'll be delighted to know that you enjoyed it.

Oh, and, by the way, I was wondering if you knew a young lady by the name of Riona Wesley. If so, perhaps you should invite her over to the Manor for dinner one evening. She seems quite intriguing and original.

Narcissa sends her love and kisses.

Take care, my son,

Your ever loving father

P.S. PLEASE try to refrain from calling our Lordship "Moldy Voldy." He doesn't appreciate it and, quite frankly, it hurts his feelings.

P.P.S. Is Mademoiselle Wesley attractive?

P.P.P.S. Don't tell your mother that I asked you that.

Lucius folded the letter, stamped it shut with a bit of candle wax and his personal shield, and handed it to a waiting house elf. "Mail this off at once," he commanded, with a lazy wave of his hand. The house elf bowed deeply and backed out of the room. Lucius settled into his favorite armchair, pulled out a well-loved copy of The Berenstain Bears, and had just opened to his place when he was "rudely" disturbed.

"Lucius! Oh Luci, dear!" called Narcissa, her beautiful, melodic voice floating into Lucius's ear and interrupting his reading. He sighed, clearly annoyed, and abandoned his reading to answer to his silly wife.

Harry awoke on this fine Saturday morning to something which sounded rather like a penguin choking on a stick. Ah, he thought, Dean's singing in the shower again. He crept downstairs sneakily to find Ron sitting by the window and staring of onto the grounds. He had not moved from this position since Tuesday. Hermione was in such disarray over this that she actually took it upon herself to do Ron's missed homework for him and turn it in. Harry found this rather odd. Yet, he also found females in general rather odd. He decided then and there not to mess with either.

While musing over his musings, he was startled when young Master Weasly jumped up and cried out in pure ecstasy, "YES! OH, YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!"

Harry promptly took this as his cue to scurry out the portrait hole. Harry, not being very imaginative, had no idea as to what to do on this fine morning. He flirted with the Fat Lady, tapped Snape on the shoulder several times and pretended it was not him, ran into Dumbledore (on purpose of course), recited entire scenes from Monty Python and The Holy Grail, taunted the Giant Squid with a bit of moldy old cheese, and finally decided to stalk Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was in no mood for stalkers at the moment, however. He was deep in thought of how to get the rest of the population in Hogwarts to eat his 'magical' muffins and 'magically' fall in luuuuuurve with his über sexy 'magical' self.

Draco was contemplating on how a mass Imperius Curse could be cast when he heard a muffled "tee-hee" coming from his left. He turned to see Potter, slinking along on the ground beside him like an overgrown inchworm and attempting to cover his face with an old magazine. Well…it seems that along with no subtlety whatsoever, the fool was also not blessed with the knowledge on how to properly follow someone. Draco sighed and stared straight into the imbecile's bright green eyes. He noted Potter's slowly spreading blush and saw the boy swallow in trepidation. Draco winked at him, and coyly said, "If you leave me be for now, I'll meet you at 11 in the room behind the portrait of Mildred the Manly." ((A/N E:rolls eyes at Harry's naivety:)) Draco smiled to himself as he saw Potter nod eagerly and scamper away. Good…that was easier than expected. Potter sucks at stalking…now, how would I get a pink tutu so that I could –

Draco's train of thought ran off the tracks and crashed in a huge, fiery explosion when he ran head-on into someone. ((A/N E: KABOOM!)) He looked up to see his violet-eyed, Italian friend.

"Drake-cake, you've been avoiding me!" Blaise cried poutily. ((A/N E: DRAKE-CAKE XD))

"Well, it might be because you keep coming on to me," Draco replied coldly.

"Well, you were the one who initiated it on Tuesday! Giving me a hug and then tempting me with a chase!" Blaise exclaimed indignantly.

"What? Tuesday? But I was…" Draco stopped as comprehension dawned over his aristocratic features. "Blaise," he said softly. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What?" Blaise said expectantly.

"That wasn't me on Tuesday."

"Huh?"

"Potter fouled up in Charms and we switched bodies. You probably mistook him for me, and with good reason. He was in my body, after all."

"Oh," Blaise said softly. "So, it was Potter all along? And my eyes weren't deceiving me in the bathroom when you suddenly changed into him?"

"Uh, I guess not."

"Oh…so, Potter was the one expressing those feelings?"

"Um, I suppose he was." Draco looked warily at his friend, but decided not to say anything.

"Oh," Blaise said simply. A mischievous grin spread over his dark face. "Um, well, I have somewhere to go. There's some – ah – business that I need to attend to." With that, Blaise turned sharply on his heel, and with a wave of his cloak marched determinedly upstairs.

Harry was busy rearranging portraits in the sixth floor corridor when he heard an unsettlingly familiar voice purr, "There you are." Harry looked to see Blaise Zabini standing several feet away from him, one hand on his hip and the other clutching a small, spink colored object. Blaise held up the object and cooed, "I got it shipped in early. Rush delivery. You know, family benefits can get you a long way."

"Oh! Um, Blaise…er… hi," Harry croaked through his cracking voice.

"You're wondering how I knew it was you on Tuesday," Blaise stated simply.

Whoa, Blaise can read minds! Awesome.

"Oh yes… well okay I suppose I was if that is what it was and not what it is," Harry responded oh-so-clearly.

Blaise quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. "Er, right. Anyway, let's cut to the chase. I – "

"Chase? What chase? Where's Chase?" Harry looked around expectantly, then grabbed a random third year. "Why, hullo there, Chase! How are you?" Harry asked in a high-pitched, nervous sort of way.

"Uh, dude…I'm Caleb…" the third year said. He extricated himself from Harry's grip and ran away.

"Anyway," Blaise continued, a hint of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "I came here to give you your new attractive, Expensive, SPINK man-bag," Blaise said seductively, then paused to hold it out towards Harry. When Harry reached for it greedily, Blaise drew it away and winked. "That is," he went on, "on one condition, of course. You must come and spend the day at Hogsmeade with me tomorrow."

"Y-y-you mean, like a d-date?" Harry gulped.

"No, no. Just a romantic, exclusive, possibly-committal-with-a-dash-of-snogging outing," Blaise reassured, with a flippant flick of his fingers.

"Er…"

"I'll buy mochaccinos later," Blaise teased.

"OKAY!" shouted Harry. He grabbed his handbag from Blaise and proudly swung it over his shoulder, then linked arms with the Italian and strutted off to the Great Hall for lunch ((A/N E:rolls eyes at Harry again:)).

At 10:45 that night, Harry surreptitiously crept up to his dorm room (he was quite proud of this feat, actually, as he had only knocked over two objects and run into Hermione less than three times). He fetched his invisibility cloak and scurried off towards the fourth floor.

Meanwhile, Draco was waiting in the room behind Ol' Mildred's portrait. He fixed up some comfy pillows, set out a tray of muffins, and lit a cheerful fire in the hearth. He settled into a stupor until he was brought back by a noise produced from a vibrating object coming his way that sounded a baby elephant on the warpath. He sighed. Ah, Harry has arrived. He looked up to see the portrait swing open, then close without anyone entering the room. Wait…where the devil is he? Did he change his mind halfway through opening the portrait, or did he do that as a joke? Draco pondered this strange occurrence thoughtfully for a moment until he saw one of his scrumptious muffins levitate. What the bloody hell? Draco reached out towards the muffin and grabbed it, then felt a hand and an arm under a silky fabric. He yanked at the fabric and the Invisibility Cloak slid off, exposing young Harry to Draco's vision. Harry blushed.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I forgot to take it off. It's happened before…no wonder you didn't say anything to me," Harry explained apologetically, thoughtfully chewing his muffin.

Draco sighed softly. "Okay, so, what would you like to do?" Draco asked coyly with a suggestive wink.

"Umm…uh…er…I'm not sure," Harry mumbled. Draco covered his face with his hand. "Ummm…what were you, er, thinking?"

Draco uncovered his face and placed his hand gently on Harry's arm. "Oh, I was thinking that perhaps you and I could play a game or two," he cooed softly, lifting a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"A game! What fun!" Harry cried.

"What fun, indeed," Draco whispered. He leaned in towards Harry, eyes closed. Harry, however, was oblivious to Draco's intentions. He leapt up quickly with excitement. Draco fell over.

"I have just the thing!" Harry cried, rummaging around in his trouser-front. He cried, "Aha!" and pulled out a flat box.

"Monopoly?" Draco read with disgust.

"Uh huh!" Harry cried delightedly. He looked as though his grin might split his face in half.

"You're absolutely hopeless," Draco sighed disgustedly. He sat back in his chair, crossed his arms, and pouted. Draco decided to use a little tip his father had shared with him a long, long time ago.

-Flashback time, yo-

"Father, I have a confession."

Yes, Drake-y?"

I'm… I'm… um… I thought you should know that my garden gate swings the other way, so to speak."

"Son! You have discovered the male Malfoy family secret at last! None of us are actually heterosexual males!"

"Oh, then that's a relief. I thought you would try to turn me upside down and shake the gay out of me or something like that."

"Well, Draco dearest, I have a tip that my father once told me a long time ago. 'Lucius,' he said, 'Men are like little woodland creatures. You must lure them to you with tiny breadcrumbs and soft words of encouragement. You cannot simply whip out a rock and conk them over the head with it!' Remember those words, son. Remember them."

-End flashback … peace out-

"Actually, I've been told that the hope of the whole Wizarding world rests upon my finely-toned-from-Quidditch shoulders," Harry replied matter-of-factly, bringing Draco out of his flashback.

"Oh, well, in that case, it's the end of the world as we know it," Draco muttered. "Although your shoulders are indeed finely toned…" He reached out his hand and rubbed a long finger across Harry's deltoids. Harry shivered (with antici…pation). Well, Potter is certainly an exception to the woodland creatures.

Harry threw down the box violently, sat on the floor beside it, dragged Draco down next to him, and began setting up the pieces. "Ok, so, the object of the game is to buy the most property and get the most money," Harry explained vaguely.

"Well, I already have more property and money than you, Potter. Does that mean I win?"

"No, I meant in the game, silly," Harry said, shaking his head quickly. His long bangs fanned softly across his smooth forehead and Draco found himself strangely mesmerized by the movement.

"Um, right. Okay," Draco finally blurted, waking from his trance. Luckily, Potter did not notice his distraction; he was busy passing out the money.

"All right, so, I'll be the banker-"

"You're already a wanker," Draco cut in, sniggering.

Harry blushed.

They played long into the night, giggling like prepubescent schoolgirls and chatting about the latest fashions. Draco was ecstatic about his victory over Harry in Monopoly. However, as he crept surreptitiously back to his dorm, he decided that he would have to help Harry work on his, er, "people skills."

Blaise woke up on Sunday to the soft pitter-patter of the tiny feet of his pet hedgehog ((A/N M: How did he hear that? It must be an Italian thing!)). He yawned widely and then suddenly sat up straight. This was his big date! He scurried around getting his beauty list in order. He started out by taking a shower and scrubbing himself thoroughly with zucchini-flavored, rejuvenating body wash. He then shampooed and conditioned his hair thrice. He slipped into some freshly ironed, fitting, black, pinstriped pants and halfway buttoned up a tight, black shirt. He loosely fastened a deep purple sequined tie around his neck and proceeded to dry his hair. He then took his styling gel and glued his hair in place for the "just-out-of-bed" look. He grabbed a pinch of deep purple glitter and sprinkled it in his hair. He closely shaved his face and applied a cleansing mud mask. He fed his hedgehog, Mr. Bloom, and gave them both a manicure, then removed his mask, and applied his bronzing powder (for that sun-kissed, just-off-the-beach look). He coated his eyelashes in mascara, put the tiniest hint of purple glitter on his eyelids, spritzed some French cologne on his wrists, applied a small amount of natural-looking (yet positively shine-tastic, not to mention strawberry-flavored) lip gloss, brushed his teeth, pulled on his finest black Italian shoes, and placed one purple and one small silver hoop earring in his right ear. He did a quick cross-check in the mirror and, deciding his level of beauty had reached its maximum, he started to exit the room. However, just as he crossed the threshold, he felt an odd twinge. Something's missing…ah, of course. Silly me. He walked over to his wardrobe, flung it open, and stared at his large collection of man-bags until finally selecting a sparkly purple specimen.

"Perfect," Blaise purred in self-satisfaction as he made his way upstairs. "There's no way he can resist my charms, or my breathtaking gorgeousness." He hummed a grooving beat as he strutted proudly into the entrance hall.

I hope Harry didn't dress too badly for our date... Blaise's thoughts were suddenly interrupted, however, when young Master Potter tripped into the entrance hall (Blaise found this very attractive, as he mistook Harry's klutziness for moon-walking). Harry Potter had somehow made himself not only stunning but modelicious. He wore a tight, bright emerald-green shirt (which corresponded with his eyes) with spink pinstripes (to match his man-bag), extremely well-fitting, tastefully sandblasted, black jeans, and a pair of spink and green Converse Chuck Taylor Hi-tops. His hair was artfully ruffled into a state of elegant messiness, and he had a touch of charcoal eyeliner above his lower lashes. After Blaise recovered from shock, he walked over to H-Dawg and pulled a pinch of green glitter from his man-bag and sprinkled it into his hair. Harry sneezed. Blaise whispered softly into his ear, "How divine it is to gaze upon your lovely, sumptuous, voluptuous being! You look so…absolutely, positively magnifico. Bello." Blaise kissed the tips of his fingers for emphasis.

Harry blushed and glanced shyly at Blaise. "Um…um…um…you look, um, gorgeous-o," Harry replied awkwardly.

"Come, my darling, Hogsmeade awaits us." And with that they linked arms and strolled out to the gates. Draco was not ignorant of this date, however. He saw them leave the castle together. And let us just say that his jealousy was turning saints into the sea, while swimming through sick lullabies that made him choke on his alibis. The happy couple was oblivious to Master Malfoy's glare and kept on keeping on. They reached the village and proceeded to mill around the shops (both of them keeping an eye out for a good looking man-bag). Unbeknownst to them, however, the Butterbeer Company was filming a commercial that very day to air on the 'magical' wizarding wireless about their 'magical' new product. This new product happened to be a portable butterbeer bottle that automatically played the drinker's favorite song when opened. Today, they were selecting random kids to come and test their new product for the commercial.

The producer spotted the fine looking Blaise-and-Harry matching set and beckoned them over to try. Blaise pulled off the cap and Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl" came blaring out of the top. Blaise grooved for a moment, shaking and gyrating his hips like a belly-dancer, until he realized that everyone was watching him incredulously. He promptly shoved the entire bottleneck into his mouth and chugged it, thinking that this would stop the noise. He was wrong, though, as he realized it was still playing away. He threw down the bottle, which shattered, and smirked triumphantly because he thought that he had terminated the noise. However, the bottle shards proved to be of a rather stubborn sort, and the song could still be heard faintly. By this time, several members of the camera crew were singing along but were quickly silenced by a glare from the producer. Blaise knelt down, tapped the shards with his wand, muttered, "Silencio," and put the fragments into his man-bag for later use.

Harry, who was waiting patiently for his turn, was shoved violently aside by none other than Professor McGonagall. She opened the bottle fearfully and "Dip It Low" by Christina Milan came blaring from inside the butterbeer. McGonagall grooved for a bit and then chugged the contents and smashed the bottle on the ground. Everyone stared at her fearfully for a second before she sprinted off, giggling madly.

Harry again reached out to take a butterbeer, but another person shoved him away yet again. This time, Hermione snatched the butterbeer away. Hermione's bottle sang, "I wanna li-li-li-lick you from yo' head to yo' toes an' I wanna move from the bed, down to the down to the to the flo' an' I wanna ah ah you make it so good I don' wanna leave but I gotta kn-kn-kn-know wh-wha's yo' fan-ta-SY!" Hermione began grinding enthusiastically. Surprisingly, she knew all of the words, and she sang along proudly with her butterbeer.

"Ms. Granger! This is inappropriate even by my standards!" Dumbledore cried out and snatched the bottle from her. The bottle stopped playing and then started to replay the same song over again. "Well…um…this is the remix!" Dumbledore spoke seemingly to no one in a tragic attempt to redeem himself. He handed the bottle back to Hermione and slunk away.

After being shoved aside by several more people, Harry finally got his butterbeer. He unscrewed the lid apprehensively, unsure of what would happen. Harry vaguely saw a large, dark shape come out of the bottle as he fell over and passed out.

OOOH! CLIFFHANGER:P