I know I said there would be six chapters, but I just couldn't do it. There will be one more chapter after this one.

Beta love to SaintDionysus, my bro.

Neville and Draco Apparated into Diagon Alley, courtesy of Whimsy, to meet George Weasley. When they arrived on the stoop of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, Neville turned to Draco with a smug expression to mirror Draco's own favored countenance.

"Let me do the talking, eh, Malfoy?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "With pleasure." He loathed the part of his brain that was curious about Weasley's store, having never been inside one before. Knowing how exceptionally annoying George Weasley was, the store was bound to eclipse Zonkos. The mischievous little boy in Draco thrummed with excitement to be in the presence of so much rule-breaking potential.

They entered the store and Draco immediately fought every instinct he had to keep his jaw upright. The place reeked of absurd opulence; neon colors everywhere, impossibly high ceilings, noise and chaos leaking from every corner. Hot pink bubbles that stank of bubble gum floated past his head. Doll-sized, shrieking golems that suspiciously looked an awful lot like Peeves, tried to pickpocket the customers. The very air seemed to mock him, like the shop itself was a sort of practical joke. It all teetered on the edge of cloyingly immature and goddamned impressive, magically speaking.

"Well, well, well. As I live and breathe, Neville Longbottom." The lanky, fire-headed proprietor of the shop leaned against a nearby column, smirking like a fool, wearing a bright orange dragon-hide jacket. It was extra as fuck, but then, the same could be said about the shop and pretty much everything else to do with George Weasley.

Draco immediately erased any trace that he was impressed with the shop from his face.

Neville shook hands with George. "Alright, George?"

"Are you bunking off? I thought you were still at Hogwarts."

Draco might have been a dull, beige-colored furnishing for all the attention Weasley paid to him.

"Sorry for dropping in like this, George, but Malfoy and I need some help."

George's eyes flickered over to Draco. "Alright, Malfoy?"

"Alright, Weasley," Draco responded, his voice drier than a thousand deserts.

George looked so smug his smirk had a smirk. "How's your mum?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Oh, are we still doing this?"

George shrugged. "That depends. Is your mum still fit?"

Draco scoffed. "Well, seeing as she's still my mum, I'm going to say 'no.'"

"But she is actually really fit, your mum."

"Lovely. I think I'll just pop out here while you and Longbottom chat."

George grabbed Malfoy by the shoulder and scuffled his hair. Draco looked like he would have loved nothing more than to rip out his trachea. "Oh, come on, Malfoy. I've got to take a piss a bit. You can't tell me the Slytherin lads didn't want to fuck your mum. Unless they were all bent, which I wouldn't discount completely."

Draco snarled. If any of the blokes in Slytherin harbored any lust towards his mother, they knew better than to talk about it in front of Draco.

George turned to Neville for support. "Neville, I'm not wrong, am I? Malfoy's mum is fit."

Neville shrugged and shot Draco an apologetic look. "Sorry, mate. She is quite fit."

Since he and Hermione got together, Draco had been forced to spend long stretches of time around Gryffindors. But he could spend a lifetime around them and never understand how they socialized. "Unbelievable."

"I'd fuck her," George said nonchalantly.

"Cheers," Draco drawled.

Neville bit his lip apprehensively. "Yeah, I think I would too."

"Can we please stop talking about my mum? She's my mother. She gave birth to me. She cannot be fit."

"She is though," George said, squinting his eyes in an almost apologetic way. "Do you know if she's into younger men?"

"You know, oddly enough, it's really never come up in conversation," Draco said, sarcastically.

"Would you put in a good word for me?"

Draco appeared to think about it for a second. "Well, let's see. Hmmm…no. No, I fucking wouldn't."

Knowing George's precocity for argumentation and the likelihood that they could be here all day, Neville decided it was high time to intervene. "We're here, George because Malfoy and I have started a business. The thing is…it's kind of illegal."

George nodded. "Okay. I'm with you. How illegal are we talking? Against school regulations or Ministry-prohibited?"

"Ministry, Hogwarts, pretty sure it's illegal in the Muggle world too…you name it, really."

George broke into a broad grin. "I respect that. And I can easily relate."

"Exactly. Which is why we thought of you immediately."

Draco fought the urge not to scoff at Neville's generous use of the word 'we.'

Neville continued. "I've developed a strain of magical cannabis and Malfoy's been in charge of sales. We've done pretty well so far, but the administration is about to find out because our dickhole of a Head Boy knows."

Draco fought the urge to bring up the house elf treachery. It wasn't necessary to the pitch, and any superfluous communication between himself and Weasley might be erroneously construed as conversation.

George nodded. "And where do I come into this?"

"We're getting rid of the evidence by having the Hogwarts house elves bake it into sweets. But we need a buyer. Someone who could sell the goods to get them off our hands."

George grinned. "I'm honored." He turned to Malfoy. "How does your fiancée feel about you becoming a drug mogul?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "She doesn't know. I guess I've been too preoccupied with the worry that some Azkaban-hardened psychopath is going to turn me into his prison bitch to get around to telling her."

George chuckled. "Probably wise on your part to worry about that. I'd wager you'd get torn apart in Azkaban. I've fucked uglier girls than you, for sure."

"Charming. Are you going to help us or not?"

George sniggered and turned to face Neville, his thumb pointing in Draco's direction. "This fucking guy. All business, aren't you, Malfoy?" He moved his hand to scuffle Draco's hair again.

This time, Draco anticipated the move and grabbed Weasley's wrist before he was able to achieve his goal. "Touch my hair again, Weasley, and you'll never have to worry about fucking ugly girls ever again."

"Tetchy little sod, aren't you?"

Though he adored the Weasleys, Neville did understand how they could be, as a group, frustrating. Short attention spans and an inability to hold a linear conversation seemed to run in their genes. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "We really would appreciate your help, George. I realize it's maybe asking a lot, but I think it could end up being a good deal for you too. Surely you have customers who'd be interested?"

George nodded and waved his hand at Neville. "Yeah, of course, I'll do it. The Ministry doesn't have labeling laws, so I can market them as containing some sort of potion that…I don't know…calms you down or something. No one needs to know the truth."

Draco grinned, impressed with the former-Gryffindor's callous attitude towards ethics. He had always assumed Gryffindors were, across the board, a load of self-righteous pillocks.

Exhibit One, next to him, proved this point. "Are you sure, George? Isn't that a bit…I don't know…unethical? Don't people deserve to know what they're putting in their bodies?"

George snickered. "If the Ministry's so concerned with health and safety, they are more than welcome to pass a labeling law and create a department specifically designed to enforce it. I mean look around, lads. My products are full of potions. And most people have no idea what goes in them because they couldn't get the O.W.L. to take Snape's class. If anything, this is better, because there's just one unknown ingredient instead of an entire potion-full."

Draco felt a stab of hesitant respect for the Weasley's ability to spin something of questionable morality into a pill that Longbottom could swallow. He probably would have made a hell of a Slytherin.

Neville seemed pacified, and George seemed excited. In retrospect, Draco realized that they should never have questioned Weasley's eagerness to help them. They'd essentially offered him a deal he couldn't refuse—the prospect of breaking Hogwarts regulations and making some money at the same time.

"Have a house elf bring the product, and we can talk money once I get a look at everything."

"Sounds good," Draco said.

George shot him a smarmy grin. "Do say hello to your mum for me, will you, Malfoy?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're a massive dick, Weasley."

"Noooo. I have a massive dick. There's a difference. Just ask your mum."

"Weasley, leave my mum out of this, and I'll leave this," he rolled his hips suggestively, "out of your mum," Draco said, smirking with the satisfaction of turning the tables on him.

George sneered at the childish joke. "Malfoy, you are truly an enormous arsehole."

Draco bowed slightly. "And you, Weasley, are a wanker of epic proportions."

George barked in laughter. "Maybe, but I'm a wanker who's saving your poncey arse, Malfoy. And if I'm satisfied with the sweets, maybe we can do this again. I'm always on the lookout for new products."

Neville shot a questioning look at Draco. Do we dare?

A feckless glint appeared in Draco's eyes. We do.

Neville and Draco returned to Hogwarts just in time for dinner, feeling immensely impressed with themselves and eager for a well-earned meal. Unfortunately, upon setting foot in the Great Hall, they realized this was not to be unless they fancied fighting for crumbs.

On tonight's menu was Irish stew, cottage pie, and shakshuka with feta—all of which contained the oh so special ingredient…oregano.

It was pandemonium.

Draco and Neville watched in horror as every student and faculty member licked their bowls clean as they leapt for the next available dish of potatoes, gravy, rolls, or even a second (or third) helping of whatever "oregano"-filled dish they had just consumed. They all appeared to be rabid with the desire to consume, their eyes glassy and unfocused. It was like watching a field of zombies fight over a pile of fresh brains. Even the most well-mannered of the students and faculty abandoned all semblance of propriety as they tore into their feast. Even McGonagall had gravy dripping from her chin.

"…Whoa," Neville said as he watched Argus Filch smack Mrs. Norris in the face for trying to eat off his plate. He then proceeded to stack a mountain of mashed potatoes onto said plate, and shovel them into his mouth before muttering, "Genius," under his breath.

"Fuck," Draco said, immediately understanding what must have happened. "We can't be here."

"Agreed."

The two of them tore off in the direction of the kitchens. Draco glared out of the corner of his eye at Neville. "This is all your fault."

"Me? It was your idea to get the house elves in on doing edibles for us. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Draco laughed. "What you do not realize, Longbottom, is that without me, this project never would have even gotten off the ground. If you'd shown a little leadership from the beginning, I wouldn't have had to do all the legwork."

Neville fumed. "You did all the legwork, did you? What about back there at the shop? Where was your legwork then? I thought you were supposed to be the business-savvy one and I was supposed to be the charmless troll with dirt under my fingernails. But if it weren't for me, we'd still be stuck with a greenhouse full of weed and nowhere to put it."

"You got lucky back there, and face it, Longbottom. Without me, you would have nothing. You would have had, from the very beginning, a greenhouse full of weed and nowhere to put it. You are an appalling kingpin without me. You need my dubious morality because you are a twat who probably couldn't even score a deal inside of a brothel."

Neville opened his mouth to retort when a sound interrupted their argument. It was a sound which, per precedent, had never not announced a shit storm was on the horizon.

"Draco!"

Draco stopped in his tracks. "Bloody buggering fuck, Atkinson. What?" He turned to face him, and his face fell immediately.

A bound and furious Hermione was thrown over Atkinson's shoulder, thrashing and struggling and screaming her head off. Or at least she would have been if she hadn't been Silenced.

Draco's nails dug into his fist. "Atkinson, I am in no way exaggerating when I say that if you do not put her down this instant, I will tear your limbs from your body."

"Sorry, sir," the repentant boy said, setting the angry little witch down on the ground. "I 'ad no choice. MacMillan was on the prowl looking for you two an' 'e said somefin' about interrogatin' your girl. I knew you wouldn't like that, so I 'ad to 'ide 'er. She wouldn't come any other way!" He released Hermione from her bonds and lifted the Silencing Charm.

She immediately jumped up and punched Evan Atkinson in the stomach. "That's for abducting me, you zit-faced imbecile! How dare you?" She rounded on Draco. "And you!"

Draco's eyes rounded into frightened orbs. "Hermione, darling, don't you think we could discuss this somewhere private?"

"Nope! I'm going to yell at you right here, right now." She cleared her throat. "Why the fuck would MacMillan be under the impression that the two of you," she motioned between Draco and Neville, "are selling magical marijuana to the students?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at the two young men. "It wouldn't happen to be because you are, would it?"

Neville held a terrified breath while Draco adopted his most charming, panty-dropping grin and slowly attempted to approach her. "Hermione, baby, what you need to understand is—ouch," he said as she slapped his hand away when he attempted to touch her arm.

"You don't get to touch me right now," she said. Her gaze shifted to Neville. "Neville…you'll give me the No Bullshit version, won't you?"

He gulped and found himself nodding vehemently. "If I tell you, you've got to promise not to hate me."

"Why would I hate you?"

He took a deep breath before answering. "Well…it kind of all started when I listened to Malfoy shagging you against my greenhouse."

"So, let me get this straight," Hermione said, speaking finally. "You developed a magical strain of marijuana that can be either a relaxant or a party drug. Draco deduced this and used your accidental voyeurism to blackmail his way into a partnership with you. He used this git," she said, pointing to Atkinson, "and two others to sell to the students and protect your collective anonymity. And MacMillan found out because of a house elf, who hates me because I care about his well-being, ratted on you two when you tried to use the Hogwarts house elves' manual slave labor to create edibles. And now you're using Weasley Wizard Wheezes as a mass distributor to get rid of them before you two get caught." She sighed. "I'm confused."

"Really? Because you got it exactly right," Neville said.

"No. I'm confused because I don't understand why you two would keep this from me." She turned to Draco. "We're going to be married soon. Husbands and wives tell should each other everything."

Draco sighed. "Believe me, Hermione. I wanted to tell you. But I knew you'd feel conflicted about it because you're Head Girl and, per Hogwarts' rules, you'd be obligated to turn us in. And I would have accepted that, but you would have felt like shit because we'd have probably gotten expelled. I did everything I could to keep you out of this."

Hermione's eyes softened. "That's…oddly sweet. And you're right. I would have felt compelled to turn you in. But MacMillan is obviously belligerent on the power of being Head Boy. He's out of control. And he needs to be stopped." Her eyes narrowed as if she was formulating a plan.

Draco felt strangely aroused watching her go into Evil Genius mode.

"Oh, and another thing," Neville said. "We're about ninety-nine percent sure the house elves accidentally slipped some of the marijuana into tonight's food, thinking it was oregano. So, everyone is stoned out of their mind."

Somewhere in the background, a cricket chose the most comically accurate moment to begin singing.

"This is perfect," Hermione said.

"Interesting word choice," said Draco. "I would have replaced 'perfect' with something more like 'an unparalleled catastrophe,' but you're the genius, love."

"Think about it," she said, as if she hadn't heard him. "This is the perfect moment for you to conclude your transaction with George. Everyone's distracted, including MacMillan. A well-placed charm and we can probably make it seem like we were all in the Great Hall too. Neville, does your strain leave any residual effects?"

"No. If they didn't know they were taking drugs at the time, they probably won't realize it once it wears off. They might just think the food was especially tasty tonight."

"Excellent. Whimsy can talk to the rest of the house elves and make sure they don't talk. Do you think Professor Sprout will tell anyone?"

Both Neville and Draco tensed up at the mention of Professor Sprout. Draco shot Neville a significant look. "I am so not above using you as an inducement."

Neville's eyes rounded. "Not on your damn life, Malfoy. You are not pimping me out to Professor Sprout."

"You are certifiably insane if you think that I won't."

"Am I missing something?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I forgot to mention," Draco said. "That woman has been sniffing after my fine arse."

"Mine too," Neville said evenly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and waved off the information. "If she sexually harasses either of you, we can use that as blackmail to get her fired," Hermione said without batting an eyelash.

"You'd do that?" Draco asked, totally head over heels in awe of his fiancée.

"Yes. And I wouldn't lose a minute of sleep over it," she said, matter-of-factly.

Draco's eyes darkened, his mind turned to mush over how profoundly hot Hermione was when she protected that which was hers. "If we were alone right now, I would bend you over the nearest surface and fu—"

"Please don't finish that sentence," Neville pleaded.

"Let me worry about MacMillan," she said, a dark promise lingering in her voice. "You two just make certain the house elves finish the edibles so you can get them to George."

Draco smiled. "You're a marvel."

"And you're an idiot," she said fondly. "From now on, when you do something stupid or illegal, you will tell me about it so I can help."

He sighed. "I fucking love you."

"I love you, too. It's the only explanation I can think of as to why I put up with you."

Draco smiled and circled his arms around her waist. "You know, when you use your Head Girl voice and take charge like that, it really makes me want to—"

"Still here," Neville said. "Nothing good ever came from me watching the two of you go at it. I'm certainly not about to make a habit of it, so kindly keep it in your pants, Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes and reluctantly released Hermione from his arms. "Come on, Longbottom. Let's go babysit the house elves and make sure they haven't cocked up our business."

Yeah. It was a goddamned mess in the kitchens.

So voracious were the appetites of the human population of Hogwarts, the house elves couldn't seem to cook fast enough to satisfy them. As soon as a bowl or platter was emptied, it needed to be refilled. Sure, the Hogwarts house elf model of feeding the masses wasn't the most ethical from an environmental point of view, as it generally yielded an ungodly amount of food waste, but no one could ever say they went hungry at Hogwarts.

A fine layer of flour coated the majority of the kitchen's flat surfaces. Every so often a ladle or a root vegetable would fly across the room. The house elves panicked so fervently, they sounded like a choir of rabid field mice.

The house elf in the fuchsia tea towel approached them, her makeshift clothing filthy from the plethora of food residues coating the fabric. "Blond and Eyebrow Misters comes for their treats. We has them set asides for Distinctive-Faced Misters. But we is very busy now, so not to be rude to Misters, but we is not being able to talk."

Perhaps because they managed to bake prior to the disastrous dinner mix-up, the elves miraculously managed to concoct a flawless selection of brownies, cupcakes, bonbons, macarons, and tartlets that would have even Hermione's dentist parents salivating as well as sending them into a hazy, cannabis coma.

Whimsy bowed to the Hogwarts house elves as the Malfoy Manor staff Apparated to Diagon Alley with the treats. "Whimsy thanks you all for your helps. The ancient House of Malfoy is honored by your kindness. Except Gimpy," she said, casting a dark look at the house elf. "Gimpy is a bad elf."

"Yes. Gimpy is a bad elf," several of the house elves agreed, pausing long enough in their feverish cooking frenzies to chastise their colleague.

"Could somebody please help Gimpy down?" Gimpy was still dangling by his tea cozy from the chandelier.

The fuchsia-toweled elf took a moment to bow back to Whimsy. "The Hogwarts elves is honored to bake for the White-Haired Mister, even though he marries the Meanie Miss. We hopes that Meanie Miss will stop terrorizing house elves now that she becomes Whimsy's Mistress."

Whimsy bowed again. "Thank you. Whimsy hopes it too." With a plucky little pop, she too, Disapparated.

Neville sighed. "Well. We did it. We actually pulled it off."

"Yeah," Draco said. "I suppose we do actually work pretty well together, don't we?"

Neville chuckled. "I suppose we do." In that moment, he realized that in all his years of adventures with his Gryffindor friends, he had never felt the type of camaraderie he felt with Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore's Army, Department of Mysteries, even the Final Battle couldn't compare to the non-life-threatening thrill of running an illegal, semi-secret drug cartel with his childhood bully. Life truly was a funny thing. In a moment of clarity, he put his hand on Draco's shoulder, happy that he had found such an unlikely friend and business partner.

"Don't touch me."

"Yeah, alright," Neville said, sheepishly moving his hand away.