Greg often began to pant at inopportune moments, scaring away many a potential suitor. Fortunately, Nick was as crazy as him and usually didn't mind.
Blaise, however, was a little freaked out.
"Who—who are you?" Greg panted. "You're hot!"
"It's Blaise. Blaise Zabini."
"Keep your hands off my man, Blaise Zabini!" Nick shrieked.
Greg inored them both, captivated by Blaise's exceptional form. It was unclear whether or not he was black or Italian, but to Greg, it didn't matter. He was beautiful, with his smooth black/white skin and melodious harmonious arguably non-existent Italian accent.
Luckily for him, Greg's panting attack lasted only moments, and he quickly composed himself. "Quick, say something witty!" he thought.
"Turn on the air conditioning, because it's getting hot in here!"
Blaise just stared at him. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard such a lame pickup line. Actually, he couldn't remember the last timer he had heard any pickup line. Romance was a little dry in this tunnel.
Nick's fit of unwarranted jealousy had passed, and he was suddenly lucid. "Hey, Blaise, what's up with your clothes?"
Blaise looked down at his tiny, tattered, extremely out-of-date clothing. "Oh, I've just been down here for a while."
Greg snickered. "Nice bloomers."
"Thanks."
"Zabini," Nick said. "Is that Italian?"
"No one knows," Blaise said, shrugging.
"Well, what are you doing down here, wearing eighteenth century hot-pants?"
"Erm, Draco brought me down here one day, blindfolded me, broke my wand and both my legs, and stole all my food and water."
"Why?"
"Shits and giggles, I suppose."
"Draco's hot," Greg said intelligently.
"Don't I know it," Blaise said, grinning.
"You still like the guy after he trapped you down here?"
Blaise shrugged. "What can I say? He's hawt."
"So are you," Greg said, exhibiting his brilliance once more.
"Where does this tunnel lead, anyway?" Nick asked.
"Well…" Blaise began, "I don't know if I should show you…Draco doesn't want people knowing…"
Nick and Greg looked at each other, then jumped on Blaise, yelling, "SECRETS SECRETS SECRETS!" They bounced up and down on the scantily dressed teenager, their excitement over Super Special Secrets outweighing their attraction to the cutie beneath them.
Blaise coughed weakly as he felt yet another rib break. Although Nick and Greg were the hottest men he'd seen in a long time (actually, they were the only men he'd seen in a long time), he wasn't a big fan of pain. Well, only in the right context…
"All right!" wheezed Blaise. "I'll show you! But we're going to have to walk extremely slow."
"Why?"
"Uh, because the authors asked us to."
"Oh. Well then."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Chaos ensued.
The CSIs were not unused to chaos. However, Warrick and Grissom were not quite prepared for the hideous sight that met their eyes.
Dumbledore, who had unfortunately been in the way of the wand when Warrick had waved it, was gone.
In his place sat a gelatinous mess in the shape of a walrus, wearing a pair of pleather leiderhosen.
They could have sat there and stared all day if the walrus hadn't charged them, spitting globs of acidic slop.
Grissom screamed and jumped on Warrick, who sent forth a strangled cry and frantically waved the wand again while screwing his eyes tightly shut.
Chaos ensued.
Grissom sighed. "All this chaos is getting a little annoying."
"Don't I know it," Dumbledore's head agreed mournfully, while his body ran off in the opposite direction, waving its arms frantically.
"Can we, like, fix this?" Warrick asked. "I'm getting a little freaked out."
"Give me the wand," said Dumbledore. Warrick placed it neatly in the disembodied head's mouth.
Dumbledore prepared to shake his head and speak the incantation, but as the chapter isn't even close to over, naturally this was doomed to fail.
For, at that very moment, Freddie reared his ugly head.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Sara stood up and shook herself off, rubbing her head. "That's the last time I try to fling myself into a never-ending abyss," she grumbled. "They always end up…ending."
She looked around. "Is anybody here?" she shouted.
There was suddenly a large crack, and then a bang, and then some sort of crash, and then an oof, and then Sara got bored. "Who is it, already?" she screeched.
Draco stood up and brushed himself off. "Yo, sweet-thang," he said casually.
"Where did you come from?"
"I apparated from the Lab in the Sky."
"You remind me of Grissom," Sara said dreamily, and sidled (no pun intended) up to him. "Date me?"
"Sure," Draco said. "As long as you like to share. As you may know, I'm am one g-chilled playa."
"Fine by me. I'll take whatever I can get."
Draco began to walk. "There are a few ground rules I'd like to set down."
"Like what?" Sara asked, tripping after him clumsily.
"First of all, never call me by name in public. You will refer to me as, "Ehmagawd, it's the Draco Malfoy!" Second, you will never touch my person directly, unless you explicity obtain permission in writing. Third, you will vow to tend to my every need—"
"Wait a minute," Sara interjected, "What's in this for me?"
Draco grinned and dug in his pocket. He drew out a small pin and handed it to Sara. "That's the best part."
Sara stared at the button. It was green with purple psychedelic squiggles, and depicted the Draco Malfoy, cheekily winking and giving her a thumbs-up. The button read: "The Draco Malfoy condescended to make eye contact with me!"
"Holy shit!" Sara shrieked. "I'm FAMOUS!"
"Damn right, sweet thang."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
After Freddie had destroyed the Lab in the Sky, cleaned out Warrick after four and a quarter games of poker, eaten Grissom's head (then refused to restore it by magic for over three hours), and won a screaming contest with Dumbledore, he finally fell asleep.
"Warrick," Grissom whispered urgently. "Here's our chance. You're trained in exorcisms, aren't you?"
"I haven't done one since Linda Blair!" Warrick exclaimed nervously.
"Just do it, and I won't chop your head off!" Grissom snarled.
"Yes! I love it when you don't chop my head off!" Warrick jumped into action. "Okay, I'm gonna need a skeletal candle, seven yards of black velvet, the blood of a newborn lamb, eye of newt, hair of dog, and the gunshot wound of a popular rapper."
Grissom pullled the pile out of his pocket. "Whatever. I carry this stuff around with me all the time. Give me a challenge!"
Warrick quickly made a shrine and placed Freddie on his knees in front of it. "Okay, now pour the lamb's blood on your shoes and dance in a circle around Freddie," he told Grissom.
As Grissom did so, Warrick began to chant. "Flooree rah roo----mah groooooooop!" he screamed. "Demons—Demons—begone!"
Abruptly, Dumbledore fell over and began to sob in the fetal position. "Why, why, why?" he bawled.
Warrick stared at the pattern made by Grissom's bloody shoes on the floor. "Hey, Grissom, does that look familiar to you?"
Grissom stepped back. "No. Way."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Draco rushed ahead, leaving Sara panting and wheezing behind him. "Wait up!" she called.
"No! We have to get to my secret lair before Blaise gets there."
"Who? Is he hot?"
"He's my bitch," Draco growled. "Hands off."
"Why do we have to get there before him?"
"Because he's going to show Nick and Greg my secret. And that must not happen."
"I know your secret," Sara said coyly, and pinched his butt.
"Hey, hey! What did I say about physical contact without written permission?"
Sara sighed. "You really are just like Grissom."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Take a picture!" Warrick exclaimed. "Take it!"
Grissom did. "I can't believe it! We like totally solved the case, dude!"
"Like yeah!" Warrick agreed. "Except we still don't know who did it. Or how. Or why. Or when."
"Minor details," said Grissom. "C'mon, we've got to show this to the guys back in the tunnel."
After they had given Dumbledore a lollipop to assuage his crying fit, he willingly apparated them back to the tunnel.
Warrick looked around. "Where is everyone?"
"Dunno. Hey, we lost Draco," Dumbledore said.
Grissom burst into tears. "Why?" he screamed. "Alas, Malfoy, I had loved you so!"
Warrick was busy spinning around, watching his skirt puff out around him. "I'm a little tulip!" he giggled. "Wait, what?"
"Whyyyyyyyyyyy!" Grissom shrieked in his ear.
"Let's follow this tunnel wherever it may lead!" exclaimed Warrick.
"To life!" said Dumbledore.
"To liberty!" said Warrick.
"To Draco!" said Grissom.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
A storm was a-brewing in the bowels of Hogwarts. Three forces careened towards each other at high speed, and the castle held its breath for their meeting.
Catherine, however, was making out in a corner with Ronniekins.
Suddenly, she felt the ground shudder, and pulled away. "Ronniekins, darling, what was that?"
"Probably just Seamus and his counterfeit machine again. It's been having problems, he's supposed to have a mechanic all up in this hizzouse today."
"Oh." Catherine leaned in to make out again.
There was another shudder. "What is that?" Catherine said, annoyed.
"It's probably just—"
Ronniekins never got to finish his sentence, because at that moment the floor gave and they fell through, still making out.
"Damn," Catherine said when she came up for air, "The floors in this school are crap."
"You're tellin' me," said Draco, upon whom Catherine had landed. "I am getting so sick of this."
Sara looked chastened. "I'm sorry."
Draoc turned on her. "I told you that hitting the celing with that broomstick was a bad idea!"
"It made a funny sound," Sara explained softly to Catherine and Ron.
Draco sighed. "Well, now that Hottie and the Weasel (whom I also find quite hot) are here, we might as well all go to the lair. Here are your buttons," he told Ron and Catherine, distributing the buttons. "From now on, you will both be my bitches as well. You are only to refer to me as—"
"Hey hey hey!" Ronniekins protested, "I am NOBODY'S bitch!"
"Shut up, bitch," said Catherine sharply. Ron shut up.
"Can we get going? Remember, we're trying to beat Blaise, Nick, and Greg," Sara interrupted.
"Fine," huffed Draco. "You two just read this short informational pamphlet."
Ron and Catherine accepted the pamphlets and stared. The cover said, "All You Need to Know About Being Draco's Bitch and Kissing Draco's Ass," and showed Draco, winking as he brandished a leash and collar.
"That's hot," Ron said.
"We should go," Sarah repeated. "We don't want them to get there before—"
She was cut short, however, as the four of them were bowled over by the people in question. They lifted their heads up to see Nick and Greg pulling a chariot, which Blaise was driving with a long whip in hand. He cracked it, and yelled "Onward! Victory is within our grasp! Do not lose heart!"
The three bitches looked to their leader, who grinned. "What, you don't think I'm prepared for this kind of thing?" He pulled what looked like a pen out of his pocket, and clicked the button. There was a loud buzzing as the ceiling above them opened, and a totally tricked-out chariod with sick dubs dropped down in front of them. Draco pulled a whip out of his pocket, and winked at them.
Oh yeah. This was going to be good.
