Yolla, G-chilllzzzzz! Sorry we've been so long writing this chapter, but we've had a busy week. Or several weeks. So, hope no one's forgotten about the story, and hope we haven't lost our touch! See ya, g's. I'm outie. Audi. Whatever.

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Draco squirmed under Warrick's massive bulk. While at first he hadn't minded being trapped beneath the muscular, six-foot-tall, beautiful CSI, it had been five hours, and his extremities had began to turn blue. He wiggled, freeing his head from Warrick's armpit, and surveyed the room. It seemed that everyone else had fallen asleep as well. The CSIs had dropped where they were standing. Dumbledore was muttering something about gravy and windsocks. The house elves had climbed into a pile, and were snoring loudly, in harmony.

Draco blinked, and assessed his options. He could, a) fall asleep himself, but if he did he couldn't guarantee that gangrene wouldn't have set in by the time he woke up, b) scream for help, but from what he had seen so far of the CSIs, waking them suddenly could lead to some unfortunate consequences, or c) continue to struggle to get free, even though he wasn't sure he could dislodge the gigantic man on top of him.

He chose c, because he really needed to get back to his…work. Yeah, that was it, work.

Draco kicked the back of Warrick's knee experimentally. Warrick made a sound akin to this: "Hyusgthkk!" and, surprisingly, kicked back. The force of this made the floor crumble under his incredible strength. With a resounding crack, Draco and Warrick fell through the floor.

"Spin that money wheel!" screamed Warrick as he was awakened quite rudely. Draco flumped harmlessly on the floor next to him. "Where are we?" he whispered in a hushed tone.

Warrick looked around, blinking in the darkness. He had expected to wake to the bright lights and loud sounds of his favorite Vegas casino (which one was his favorite, you ask? All of them), but instead he was in the dark, with a small blond boy who was most definitely not a slot machine. Or a roulette wheel, for that matter.

Warrick grunted. "We're in some kind of underground room."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Brilliant observation," he said dryly, "I'm sure that's why you're a CSI."

Warrick grinned. "Of course, I'm the best. I can get air off a print…" He paused, and wrinkled his forehead. "Wait, I think I got that wrong."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm glad we have such a capable force to depend on in our time of trouble."

Warrick grinned and clapped Draco on the shoulder. "You're welcome!"

Draco shifted his gaze to their surroundings. "I think this is a secret tunnel."

"I dug one of those from the crime lab to the nearest casino, so I could commute easily without Grissom knowing," Warrick reminisced.

"Damn," Draco said, "To think I used to trust the police."

"Do you know where this tunnel goes?"

"No. The only other tunnel I know of is the one that connects my room to all the girls' rooms in the castle. And most of the boys'."

Warrick growled. "As long as you keep your filthy paws off my one and only love (besides gambling), Neville Longbottom."

"Longbottom!" Draco snorted. "I wouldn't have a secret tryst with him if he paid me! Which he actually tried to do once."

Warrick's eyes grew wide. "My darling is a…a…TART?!"

"He's quite good in bed, too," Draco remarked.

"I thought you said—"

"Never mind," Draco said hastily.

"Holy mother of Foxwoods," Warrick muttered. "Well, now we're lost. What do we do?"

"I have a good idea! Let's panic and run blindly ahead, possibly into the clutches of some evil villain, with absolutely no control of our bodily functions!"

"I did that last Tuesday," Warrick said disappointedly. "Can't we think of something new?"

Draco cocked his head and looked at the ceiling, then back to Warrick. "Want to make out?"

Warrick grinned. "When in doubt, make out, right?"

"You got it, stud."

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The crash that resulted from the crumbling floor set into motion the rare series of events with enough magnitude to wake Grissom and the rest of the Las Vegas team.

First, the vibrations disloged a small house elf named Bloopy from her assigned place in the pile (the sleeping pile was a meticulously planned affair). She popped out and rolled across the floor, leaving a Bloopy-sized hole in the middle of the pile. The pile began to tremble, and exploded. House elves flew everywhere, and several landed in the fireplace. This resulted in flaming house elves running around the kitchen, searching for the fire extinquisher that someone bought on a whim at a yard sale.

Flaming house elves are a pretty intense occurance, but not enough on their own to wake Grissom, even when one began to search his hair for the elusive extinguisher. It was enough to wake Greg though, who promptly began giggling hysterically. He found flaming house elves hilarious.

His maniacal laughter woke Nick, who immediately jumped to see who was making Greg laugh more than he ever could. Nick was trapped beneath Catherine, who was thrown to the side, which woke her up. Her resulting cry of "RAPE!" had Sara instantly on her feet, wielding the rape kit she kept in her pocket.

The combined chaos of angry feminists, crazy Greg, insanely jealous Nick, and flaming house elves, was just enough to make Grissom stir an eyelash.

The single eyelash, however, stirred so violently that Grissom was thrown into the wall. "Aaaagh," he groaned, rubbing his head, before he promptly tripped and fell right into the hole in the floor.

The other CSIs looked at each other. "Um, I didn't see anything!" Greg exclaimed.

"Me neither!" Catherine laughed nervously. "Want to—go for ice cream?"

"You bet!"

The CSIs left in a tight huddle, cheered by the thought of ice cream to come.

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Grissom had a brief crying fit over this new turn of events. With Hawthorne Heights playing in the background, he had just taken out his exacto knife when fortune came a-calling in the form to two guys making out.

"Warrick! Making out on the job?"

Warrick looked up, his eyes unfocused. "Who are you? Who? Who?"

"I respect your judgement!" Grissom praised him. "I'd like to join you, but I need a partner."

"What about Sweetums?"

Grissom grimaced. "She's got a slight head cold." He patted the spider sympathetically.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Let's just follow the tunnel and see if there's some drug dealer lying about who will make out with you for a nominal fee."

"Good idea!" Grissom exclaimed. "Drugs make people cool and less socially inhibited!"

"Like gambling!" Warrick agreed enthusiastically. They began to walk.

Draco looked around at the walls of the tunnel nervously. "Something about this seems so familiar."

"Hey, look!" Warrick exclaimed. "Someone carved your intials on the wall!"

Sure enough, the letters DM+ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ were carved into the wall, surrounded by a giant, slightly lopsided heart.

"Gee, I wonder what that means," Draco laughed nervously.

Grissom and Warrick looked at each other and grinned. "INVESTIGATE!" They shouted in unison, throwing their fists in the air. Warrick whipped out his camera and started snapping pictures, and Grissom opened a jar of fingerprint powder and tossed it all onto the wall. Both he and Warrick attacked the wall with brushes, while Draco huddled against the wall, blinded by Warrick's flash.

Suddenly, Warrick stopped. "PRINT!" He got down on all fours, barked, and pointed at the print.

Grissom smiled and patted his head. "Good boy, Warrick." He pulled a piece of tape out of his pocket and collected the print. "Now, how do I process this…"

There was a dull thud behind them. The three men turned to see Dumbledore pushing himself up off the ground. "That's the last time I dive into the first hole I see when I wake up," he croaked. "Of course, I say that every time I do it…I just can't seem to stop…"

He was interrupted by Grissom shoving a print into his face. "Lab sky!" Grissom screamed incomprehensibly. "Yayayayayayayaya!"

Once Dumbledore had apparated them to the Lab in the Sky, and the print had been run through AFIS, Grissom read the results out loud.

He sighed sadly. "That print belongs to one Draco Malfoy, caucasian male, seventeen years old." He shook his head. "God damnit, I was actually starting to like you," he told Draco, who looked at him guiltily.

"You?" Warrick screeched. "You bastard! You were the killer this whole time! Oh my God, to think that I made out with you!" He spat repeatedly on the floor.

Grissom's face crumpled, and he began to cry. "I loved you!" he sobbed, smacking Draco across the face.

"But—but—" Draco stuttered.

"Just because you have a good butt doesn't mean you're getting out of this, mister!"

"But that print has nothing to do with the killer! You just got it off a random wall."

Grissom and Warrick abruptly stopped their ranting.

"Damn," Grissom said, snapping his fingers.

"But then, how did your print get on the wall?" Warrick asked.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't—oh."

"What?"

"Um, I think I may have accidentally built that tunnel."

"…Accidentally?"

"Yeah, I was trying to build a tunnel back to my room, but I went the wrong way for about 500 yards. So I abandoned it."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him. "Isn't it against school rules to build secret tunnels?"

Draco wiggled his eyebrows. "You didn't seem to remember that when I asked you if I could."

"You asked me…OH." Dumbledore blushed and turned away while Draco smirked in a satisfied manner. Like the cat who caught the canary. Or the Draco that caught the Dumbledore. Or the blue whale that caught the krill. Or the monkey that caught the banana. Or the…well, you get the idea.

"Let's go back to the tunnel and expose secrets!" whooped Warrick. He grabbed Dumbledore's wand, and waved it at them.

Chaos ensued.

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After going for ice cream, Nick, Greg, Catherine and Sara returned to the kitchen, where the house elves had given up trying to find the fire extinguisher and were sitting around playing backgammon, still on fire. Greg almost began giggling, but an angry look from Nick silenced him. Nick could be very commanding at times, even though usually he was completely and utterly whipped.

Instead of giggling, Greg stuffed his fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, his lack of self-control caused him to punch the back of his mouth so hard that he was bowled over and straight down into the tunnel.

"That was impossibly hot," Nick said, shocked. He leaned over the hole. "I'm coming, sweetie!"

"Counting the moments!" came the faint reply as Nick flung himself headfirst into the pit.

Being the last holdouts, Catherine and Sara stared at each other. "Wanna talk about how much we hate men?" Sara said finally.

"No," Catherine said, and walked away, texting her hottie.

Sara curled up on the ground and cried.

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Nick, by some happy accident, fell directly next to Greg, whose fist had become lodged once more in his mouth.

"Uhh-aa-oo!" said Greg earnestly.

"I love you too!" screamed Nick, jumping into Greg's arms. Unfortunately, Greg was still lying on the floor, so Nick landed directly on his chest.

"Aaaahhhhh!" Greg screamed, finally dislodging his fist from his mouth.

Nick, blissfully unaware, cooed happily. "Marry me, G."

"Uhhh-uuhh," Greg said painfully. Nick mistook this as agreement. "Oh honey!" he exclaimed. "We'll have to get flowers! And a band! I'll buy a dress! We'll serve undercooked chicken!"

Greg tried unsuccessfully to bat Nick off his chest.

"Oooh, Greg, don't get randy on school property!"

"Can't—breathe," Greg managed to wheeze.

"Aw, honey. You take my breath away too!"

Greg was beginning to black out, and turned to his last resort. He prodded Nick sharply between his 45th and 28th ribs, and the older man promptly launched off Greg's body, landing 15 feet away and curling into a ball, whimpering sadly. Greg sat up, catching his breath. He turned to Nick, and sighed in pity. "Sorry, toots, but I'm not ready for that kind of commitment. I'm a tiger, I need to roam!"

"My life is over," Nick said conversationally.

Greg looked past him. "Oh my God," he said, "Who is that fine hunk of man candy?"

"Hello everyone," said Blaise. "I hope I haven't missed much."

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Hey guys, sorry this took so long. I didn't feel like writing, and then I did but Charlotte didn't. So it isn't entirely my fault. G-chillzzzz.

Anyway, I'm not sure that this chapter is really up to snuff. It's pretty good, I guess…hey how about YOU tell us what you think? Plz?

Kthxby. Love you guys 