Summary: What would you do on your last night on Earth? What happens when it turns out not to be your last night?

Author's Notes: I don't feel I could post this without some explanation. This was written as my entry for Brushstrokes and Broomsticks, the fine art and fan fiction challenge. My assignment was "The Battle of Carnival and Lent" by Pieter Brueghel.

The "Battle Between Carnival and Lent" is a depiction of a three day festival of indulgent eating, heavy drinking, and licentious carousing that preceded the forty days of Lent. It was a popular celebration allowed by the Church and made official as part of the pre-Lenten ritual. Carnival was a time of institutionalized disorder and offered the opportunity for a rich display of man at his most outrageous extremes of behavior.

There was a lot of controversy surrounding the practice of Carnival as it was in direct contrast to the event it was supposed to precede. In the forefront of the portrait the corpulent figure of Carnival and the gaunt figure of Lent are about to do battle in a caricature of a joust. The entire city square is crowded with a bewildering assortment of objects, costumes, vibrant colors and dizzying activity that seem to have little to do with a religious celebration.

I had a difficult time with this challenge as I kept trying to make the story a thought provoking one about the consequences of a night of wantonness and debauchery. Then I thought, 'Well, what's so bad about a little debauchery?' In the end I went with humor and a bit of mischief because I felt we could all use a little bit more depravity in our lives. Then things went horribly, horribly wrong.

I apologize in advance.

The Battle of Wisdom and Reason

"How did I get picked for this assignment? Who'd I piss off?" Madam Hooch was less than enthused about her current task.

"It's not a punishment, Rolanda. We've all a duty to this school." Professor McGonagall was less than enthused about Madam Hooch helping her, but the only other assignment open was cataloging the potions supplies with Severus Snape. The last time Snape and Hooch were alone in a room together it took Hagrid, Filch, and two Weasleys to free Severus from the headlock. All parties were safer with the two professors on the opposite sides of the school.

"If we've all a duty to the school," Madam Hooch began in protest, "why isn't Dumbledore going through his own things instead of having us sort it out?"

"You know perfectly well he is taking a long, much needed break," she replied.

"Why won't anyone just say he gone loony?"

"He most certainly has not," Minerva snapped, her eyes narrowed. "He's as sharp as he ever was."

"For Heaven's sake Minerva, he's three brain cells short of drooling in the pudding. You forget I was the one who found him starkers, singing 'Oh, Britannia' atop the astronomy tower."

McGonagall waved her off. "He was celebrating a hard fought victory over Voldemort."

"He was swinging his privates like a baboon in heat. I wanted to pluck my eyes out after that. I still wake up screaming."

McGonagall refused to dignify that with a response. Albus Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of the last fifty generations. He was instrumental in the defeat of not one, but two, Dark Lords. He was well within his right to take a leave of his senses for a bit if he chose to. He'd earned that much. In the meantime she would take up the post of interim headmistress and her first order of business was making some sense out of the compost pile Albus called an office. Really, did the man throw anything out!?!

Dumbledore's office was representative of the man who occupied it: full of the most magical of devices that few knew how to operate; brimming with misplaced books and misfiled paperwork that only he knew the relevance of; and crammed with the most nauseating of sweets that only his digestive system could tolerate. As he would be indisposed for an indefinite period of time -- or at least until they could figure out why he insisted on wearing nothing more than a loin cloth -- this office now belonged to McGonagall, and she needed to bring some sort of order to the chaos.

It was bad enough that Fawkes had developed some sort of romantic interest in her hat and she was forced to leave them alone in the corner else the phoenix try to peck her eyes out. But now she had the added bonus of keeping Rolanda Hooch entertained enough so that they were able to get something accomplished. It was easier dealing with an overly amorous pigeon than a flying instructor with the attention span of a sugar-saturated toddler.

"Oh, what's this?" Madam Hooch asked, her eyes wide as she held the small device in her hand.

Professor McGonagall looked up from her sorting of what looked to be twenty years' worth of beard wax requisition forms. "It's an aurasphere. It changes color to match a person's mood. Dumbledore used to gauge a visitor's temperance so he knew how to best handle them. Didn't you ever wonder how he always knew just what to say?"

"Clever," Madame Hooch said with a glittering wink. "Oh, what's this?"

McGonagall sighed loudly. "A lunascope. It keeps track of the phases of the moon. He got a new one when Remus Lupin came back to teach."

"I see," she replied knowingly. "Oh, what are those?"

"Look, I can't keep stopping because you get easily distracted by shiny things," McGonagall said in a huff.

"Keep your robes on, Minnie. These look important."

She looked over to find a row of small orange globes. "Well," she said thoughtfully. "I haven't seen those in a while."

"What are they?"

"Forgeteralls," she replied. "Like Rememberalls, but instead of reminding you you've forgotten something, they are made to hold things you'd like to forget."

"So these are full of things Albus never wanted to remember?"

"I suppose."

"Why didn't he just use Pensieves to store the memories?"

"Pensieves hold things you want to remember or have access to. Forgeteralls are for long term storage; things you don't want to keep handy but that you don't necessarily want to discard. It isn't wise to ever discard any memory permanently."

"Why would Dumbledore have these out then?"

"They must be fairly recent." She picked one up. "Oh dear."


"They are dated June the fourteenth."

"Last June?"


"That would explain it, wouldn't it?"

Months of preparation and strategic planning culminated in what would be written in history texts as "The Final Confrontation". Everyone in Hogwarts and in the Order knew that June fifteenth would be the day when a thousand wizards would battle for the world. It was only natural that many considered June fourteenth to be their day last on Earth. No one knew who would survive, so everyone decided to make the most out of what could be their last few moments of life. The result was a night of debauchery, depravity, and degeneracy the likes of which the world had never known. Everything that was previously considered taboo was fair game. Short of casting Unforgiveables, Dumbledore gave the go ahead to his staff and students to do what they felt they must that night. No one would be held accountable as long as everything was consensual.

"I would imagine these little items became quite popular after that night," Madame Hooch said with an evil glint in her eye. "But why would Dumbledore have so many?"

"I doubt these are his personal memories. He patrolled the whole school that night; going into every room and corridor making sure everyone was keeping safe."

"Spying, you mean."

"He was making sure people were all acting responsibly."

"He was a Peeping Tom getting his rocks off on everyone's lack of morality."

"Would you just put those down and get back to work?"

"Are you insane?" Madame Hooch gasped, clasping a Forgeterall tight to her chest. "These little balls hold a record of what everybody in this castle was doing the night before an assumed Armageddon, and you think I'm going back to cleaning this office? I'm grabbing bit of popcorn and having a seat. The show's about to start."

"Those are private you can't--"

"Hold on, Minnie. Don't you dare tell me you aren't the least bit curious what went on this castle that night. You saw all the uncomfortable looks and the sideways glances when we all realized we were going to survive."

"It's unethical. I'll have no part of it."

"No one would know."

"It's immoral."

"Minnie, chances are you're in there somewhere."

"Oh, hell! Move over."

Ron Weasley was walking down the dark corridor of the East Wing lost in thought. His hands were in his pockets as he wandered the normally abandoned passageway. He never saw the hand that reached out, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him into the empty classroom.

"What gives?" he began to protest when he found himself pushed up against the wall, then a soft and curvy body pressed up against his. He allowed himself to be engulfed by the fiery kiss, allowed the soft tongue to invade his mouth and did not object to the rushed hands to cover his body. It was only when he felt his shirt being ripped apart that he bothered to open his eyes and see his assailant. "Pansy!"

"Don't talk, Weasley. I'm begging you, don't say a word." She reached down to unbuckle his trousers.

"What in blazes are you doing? Get your hands off that." He swatted at her hands, but she merely swatted back.

"Pansy!" He finally grabbed her hands by the wrists and jerked her to attention. "What are you doing?"

"Checking for doxies. What does it look like?"

"It looks like you've lost your mind."

"I have, actually. Are you satisfied? Can we shag now?"


Pansy's shoulders slumped. "Oh Merlin. Please don't tell me you're a virgin?" she said with heavy despair in her voice.

Ron went red. "I am not. I've had quite a few….wait, that's not the point. Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want to shag. What part of that statement don't you understand? Do you need a diagram or something?"

"You can't be serious?" he asked with a crack in his voice. "Is this a joke?"

"Trust me, Weasley, my sense of humor is much better than this. I'm just looking for one last romp before it all goes to hell tomorrow. Is it too much to ask for a little cooperation or do you need to make everything difficult?"

Ron pulled her just a little bit closer. "Why me?" he said hoarsely.

"Why not?" Pansy answered with a shrug and tried to pull away.

Ron let go of her wrists. "Not good enough." He walked past her and made for the door, which he never reached because Pansy tackled him, knocking him down. He fell to the ground on his hands and knees. Pansy pushed him over until he was flat on his back and proceeded to straddle his hips.

"Not so fast, Weasley."

"Dear God, you are insane." He went to sit up and Pansy pushed him back down. "And apparently, a lot stronger that you look."

She tore open her own blouse, buttons scattering across the room, to reveal her bare breasts. "How much convincing do you need?" she asked breathlessly.

Ron's mouth dropped open. "But…but…but you're a Slytherin girl."

Pansy closed her eyes and began to rub small circles in her temple. "Listen carefully, Weasley, as this next bit is very important. Which part actually bothers you - The Slytherin part or the girl part?"

Ron sat up abruptly leaning on his elbows. "I have no problems with girl parts!"

"Good to know, now can we get on with this?"

"Pansy, I don't accept that you just suddenly felt like you needed to foster inter-house relations so unless you've got something else to say to me, I am leaving. No amount of convincing will change that."

Pansy took a deep breath, seeming to understand that Ron wanted the truth. "Because you might die, all right," she said more softly than was probably intended.

Ron's brow creased. "Pansy, we all might die."

She pulled the remains of her blouse together, wrapping her arms around her torso. "The odds are more against you, aren't they?"

"I suppose," he said slowly, still not understanding whatever it was Pansy was trying to tell him. "So I might die…go on."

She sighed again. "You seemed like a decent guy, all right, and I realized that I didn't necessarily want you to die." She paused to look away. "This might...this might be our only chance."

Ron stared at her for a long while as she looked at the far wall with glistening eyes. A bit of moonlight fell over her shoulder, illuminating her profile and that pug nose and strong chin that usually made her look proud and pompous. Tonight, however, she looked more humble than proud, more reticent than pompous. She seemed almost scared. He looked confused, and not a little stunned, to find himself on the floor with this strange girl astride his hips. But mostly he looked scared, too. He opened and closed his mouth several times before actually being able to mutter a single word. "You know," he began, "you really waited too long. We could have started this months ago."

She turned and smiled. Ron sat up fully and Pansy wrapped her legs around his body. He reached up and placed his hand on the back of her neck pulling her close for a kiss. Their torn shirts fell open and their bare chests touched. At first contact, he moaned softly into her mouth. At this encouragement, Pansy draped her arms over his shoulders and began to slowly rub her body against his.

"What happened?" Rolanda Hooch shrieked.

"What do you mean 'what happened?'" Minerva McGonagall replied, her face flushed and several wayward hairs sticking out of her bun. "We can't watch that."

"Why the bloody hell not? What exactly were you expecting to see – troll wrestling?"

"Do you really want to see them…doing that?" McGonagall said with a shiver.

"Why not? It was rather sweet."

"Sweet! She assaulted him."

Hooch waved her off. "Oh, she was just enthusiastic."

"Enthusiastic! It was nearly a felony."

"She had one night to convince him. She was being efficient."

"Okay, fine. You can look but I want no part of it."

"Get out of the way then." Hooch picked up the Forgeterall and opened the orb. The story picked up where it left off.

McGonagall sat stoically with her arms tightly crossed over her chest. She huffed when Hooch gasped, "Nice maneuver, Parkinson," and closed her eyes when she yelled, "Good show, Weasley." But McGonagall nearly fell off her seat when Madame Hooch began applauding wildly.

"Are you through?" McGonagall shouted.

The flying instructor wiped a tear from her eye. "I am, but they seem to go for quite a bit longer. That Forgeterall has a lot of time left on it. You really should have a word with Weasley at the next Gryffindor Quidditch practice if he complains about being tired. That boy has some staying power."

"Can we get back to work now?"

"Minnie, there are dozens of these things. Come on, let's have a bit of fun. Don't we deserve that much? Isn't there anyone you're curious about? Any questions you'd like answered?" She leered wickedly. "Anyone, Minnie, that you like a bit of information on?

"Well…" she replied with a slight shrug.

"That's it, Minnie. Welcome to the dark side."

"Let me see if I've got this straight," Remus Lupin said, his glazed eyes blinking rapidly. "Severus, you've realized that a few decades worth of loathing and revulsion was really masking some deep rooted attraction. One so well hidden, in fact, that you've only been able to identify it now that you presumably have one last night in this -- and please make sure I'm quoting you properly now –'God forsaken, demon-filled, vermin-infested world.' As such, you've decided that you'd like to spend this last night with me."

"Yes," said Snape stiffly. "That is mostly correct."


"In actuality I said, 'Foul, God forsaken, demon-filled, vermin-infested world'."

"Right. Silly of me," he said with a small smile. "And you, Harry. You've decided that since presumably it is also your last night on this planet that you'd like to spend it with me. I do appreciate you providing this list of activities you'd like us to complete this evening. Very comprehensive."

"That was Hermione's idea," Harry said eagerly. "She didn't want me to miss anything."

"Of course. The color coding should have tipped me off. Might I say both you and Hermione are very optimistic regarding my stamina."

Harry blushed prettily.

"And to complicate matters just a touch, because it seems that nothing in my life can run smoothly, you've both decided to tell me this at the exact same time."

"We ran into other each other in the passageway," Harry began. "We both could tell we were here for the same thing. We thought it best to let you decide rather than hex each other unconscious. At least this way one of us would have an enjoyable evening as opposed to both of us being in the infirmary."

"And you agreed to this, Severus?"

"Eventually," he admitted reluctantly. My first choice was to hex Potter into oblivion as it has been on my To-Do list for seven years, and it would seem a wondrous way to end my tenure on this plane. However, as he will be necessary for the events scheduled to take place tomorrow, I thought it unwise and therefore agreed to his suggestion."

"I see. Well, isn't that just the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

"This isn't about romance," Snape snarled.

"It can be," Harry insisted.

"Potter, for once in your life, do try not to be a twit. This is about the end of time. This is about last chances. It's about need."

"I suppose it is," Remus said softly. "This is going to be a tough decision." His grin widened.

"You're enjoying this far too much, Lupin."

"I am actually, this is loads of fun. But in truth I haven't the foggiest idea whom I should choose. I'm afraid you're both going to have to try to convince me." He sat back and brought his arms up over his head, entwining his fingers behind his neck.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

It was Snape who answered: "He means he expects us to debase ourselves and flaunt our wares like a pair of desperate prostitutes in order to win his shabby favors."

"Tut, tut, Severus," Remus reprimanded teasingly. "Throwing words around like 'shabby' is no way to win my heart. Five points from Slytherin."

"I've no interest in your heart," he said silkily.

Remus seemed to like that and gave a crooked smile. "Ten points for honesty."

Harry jumped up. "Hang on. I didn't know we were starting. I'm interested in both your heart and your…your…"

"If you can't say it, Potter, you certainly don't know what to do with it."

Harry looked Snape square in the face. "Cock," he said firmly.

"Ten points to Gryffindor for saying the word and five more for looking at Snape while doing it. Good show, Harry."

Snape growled. "This is ludicrous. I will not match my prowess with a child."

"I'm not a child."

"Have you ever had sex? Do even you know where things go?"

"I'm a teenager with a fan club. I know where everything goes." Harry turned to Remus. "I'm working with rampaging hormones here, Remus, I can go all night."

Remus smiled. "Twenty points for Gryffindor."

"Lupin, I have decades more experience than this whelp. I know twenty different erogenous zones and three spots on the body that cause spontaneous orgasm. Must we continue with these ridiculous formalities?"

Remus swallowed. "Did you say twenty?"

"I will actually call you by your first name," Harry said triumphantly.

Snape twitched.

Remus laughed aloud. "Enough. Stop, both of you. I am flattered. Really. But I am also well aware that there is a lot more going on here than just your feelings for me. You two hate each other so much that having me choose your rival might drive you over the edge so losing isn't really an option for either of you. This has more to do with your feeling for each other than it has to do with me."

"I have no feelings-"

"That goes without saying, Severus," Remus taunted. "But let's stick to our current predicament. I think there really is only one way to settle this. To truly see where everyone stands. Harry. Severus. Kiss."

"What?!?" they screamed in perfect unison.

"You heard me. You two have needed to get your hands on each other for years now. I was certain the Occumlency lessons would do it, but you are both too stubborn to admit it."

The screaming started before Remus got the last word out.

"There's no way in hell I'm going to kiss him."

"You've lost your mind, if you think for one moment-"

Remus held his hands up to halt them both. "You both say you want me. That you want to spend this night with me. Well, I am more than eager to begin. I wouldn't mind doing unmentionable things to you both. I am particularly interested in numbers 5, 9 and 14 as listed on Hermione's lovely chart. But before anything can happen, you two need to get this out of your system. It's been building up for years and one or both of you will spontaneously combust if you don't."

"But after we kiss who stays and who goes?" Harry asked.

"There's only one way to find out."

"Lupin, that is the most-"

His words were cut off when Harry Potter walked in front of him, grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him up, firmly planting his lips on the Potion master's. The kiss was awkward and graceless, a smashing of lips and teeth. But soon the harshness gave way to longing. Someone moaned and Harry loosened his grip on the black robes.

Snape sank back down into his chair but his lips refused to end the kiss. Harry quickly situated himself on Snape's lap and wrapped his arms around the slender shoulders. Snape's hands worked their way under Harry's shirt, his fingers gliding up and down Harry's ribcage. Harry began to grind down on Snape's hips. Snape, seemingly in favor of the idea, reached around and placed his hands on Harry's backside, grabbing it firmly. Someone moaned again.

Remus sat across from them. His gloating smile soon slackened into a lustful sneer. He remained mesmerized as Harry began to undo the long row of buttons that hid Snape away from the world. It was impossible for him to stifle his own moan when Harry exposed the smooth expanse of pale skin and reached down to bite Snape's neck. Remus licked his lips as he watched the two melt into each other, and of its own volition, his hand reached down to his tightening trousers and began to rub in long, slow strokes.

It was then he realized that they had completely forgotten about him.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice thick. "Severus? Harry?" He started to grow impatient and he spoke a bit more loudly. "Hello? Remember me? The one you both were competing over?"

Somehow both men where now shirtless and Remus nearly came undone watching Snape claw his fingernails down the soft skin of Harry's back.

"Gentlemen," Remus nearly shouted as he stood up. Harry and Severus disengaged and looked at each other through a half-lidded haze.

"Gentlemen," Remus continued more quietly. "I think that I am thoroughly convinced and unless you two have other plans I suggest transfiguring this desk to a bed. A rather large one."

"Decided to join us have you, Lupin?"

"Do either of you object?"

In answer, Severus took out his wand and pointed it at the desk.

"What are you doing, stopping there?" Professor McGonagall's glasses were slightly fogged.

"What? This one you want to see?"

"What's wrong with this one?"

"No breasts for starters," she replied. "Here." Madam Hooch tossed the sphere to her friend. "Take it back to your quarters and knock yourself out."

McGonagall managed to look appalled for ten solid seconds before tucking the Forgeterall into the pocket of her robes.

Hooch smiled. "All rightly then. Next Victim…"

"Out of my way," Draco Malfoy growled as he nearly pushed a third year Hufflepuff down a flight of stairs. Strands of white blond hair were falling into his face as he rushed down the corridor. He stood cautiously beside a statue and made sure the hall was deserted before he opened the door to owlery with a slam. His ire was only tweaked further by the sight of Luna Lovegood sitting on the floor.

"Get out," he ordered.

"Out of what?" she asked, not looking up from the book on her lap.

Draco's pale face reddened. "What do you mean, out of what? Out of here. Out of this room."


"Because I said so?"

She looked up, her forehead creased and her lips pursed tightly. "I'm sorry. People are always telling me I miss the point of things. Was that supposed to be a reason?" she asked.

Draco was stunned silent as the blond bug-eyed girl on the floor stared back blankly with the audacity not to cower under his scowl. "You do know who I am, right?"

"Why? Don't you?" she asked, alarmed. "Have you lost your memory? You've been attacked by a Three Horned Spitting Gecko, haven't you?"

Draco continued to look at Luna as if he expected another head to sprout out of her shoulders that would explain what the hell she was talking about. As it became painfully apparent that this wasn't going to happen, he tried to reason with her.

"You know about tomorrow, right?"

"Yes," she said solemnly which seemed to confuse Draco further.

"Yes…well tomorrow makes tonight special. And I need this room."

"You're meeting someone here?"

"Exactly," he said relieved.

"That sounds lovely. I'd love to meet him."

"Meet who?"

"Your friend."

"What? No. You aren't going to meet him because you are going to be very far away from here."

"Where am I going?"

"Istanbul." Fight crazy with crazy.

"What's in Istanbul?

"You'll see when you get there, won't you?"

"Is it a mission?"

"Yes," he said nodding slowly. "I'm in the Order of the Phoenix and we have a meeting here to discuss…bird things. And you have to go."

"To Istanbul?"


Despite seeming to understand Draco's need have her vacate the owlery immediately, she made not move to leave. "So who's coming here? Harry?"

"Harry? Are you insane?"


"Ronald? Weasley? Not in my lifetime."

"Who then?"

"Oh, for the love of… Blaise."

"For the love of Blaise? Is that secret code?"

"Let's try this again. From the top."

"Top of what?"

"Lovegood," he snapped, "I swear if you don't shut up long enough for me to say this I'm going to find a Three Horned Spitting Gecko and put it in your knickers."

Luna bit her lip and remained silent.

"Good. Tomorrow is the end of the world. I will probably not last the day. So tonight is probably the last night I will spend in this school. I plan to spend it with quite possibly the second best looking Slytherin who has the lovely attribute of having the fewest morals imaginable, ensuring tonight be a memorable one. Do you understand?"

"Who's the first best looking?"

Draco raised one eyebrow and twisted his lips in a 'Do you really need to ask?' smirk.

"Of course," Luna answered. "What will you be doing?"

"We're baking crumpets."

"Wouldn't you rather be having sex?"

Draco looked as if his head was about to implode. "You really are that dense, aren't you?"

"You're the one baking crumpets," Luna said haughtily.

"Are you going to leave now?"

"Why? I like crumpets."

"Dear Merlin, go away."

"You seem tense. You really need to relax. Crumpets are good and all, but I really think you should consider the sex. Look, if you'd like you can have sex with me."

Draco looked horrified. "Uh, no. That won't work?"


"You're insane, for starters."

"This is a problem?"

"Only in the sense that I'd rather not have my privates ripped off and used some bizarre tribal ritual concocted by the people who've taken up residence in your head."

"I still don't a problem."

He sighed. "I like cock."

"So do I. We have ever so much in common. That will make things so much nicer."

"I like a boy attached to the cock."

"Is there another kind?"

Draco's shoulders dropped and he brought both hands up to his temples and began to rub furiously. "My head hurts."

"Draco, if I might," Luna began, her voice unusually steady. "I'm incredibly flexible. I never gag. I can do marvelous things with a wand. And most importantly I'm here and Blaise is not. In the end, do you really care?"

He considered this. "No," he said after a moment. "I suppose I don't."

"What exactly just happened?" Madame Hooch asked.

"I have no idea," Professor McGonagall replied, looking up from the small globe in complete bewilderment.

"Do you want to see the rest of that one?"

"No. It frightens me."

"Moving on, then."

Neville Longbottom stood outside the Great Hall, flattening the creases of his robes. Long gone were the round cheeks of his youth. His hair was neatly combed and parted and a light pink sheen colored his face. There was little expression on his calm features as the meal let out and dozens of students filed passed him.

"Hannah," he called as the young blond Hufflepuff walked out. "Hannah, may I have a moment, please?"

Hannah Abbott smiled brightly as she walked over. "Hello, Neville," she said warmly.

"Hannah, might I speak to you alone? Please."

"Of course."

The young couple walked out of the castle and down to the lake where they sat along the bank.

"Hannah," Neville began, "we've known each other for a while now, years, in fact and I…well I've always found you to be a wonderful person. Friendly and smart. Someone who'd do anything for a person in need."

"Why thank you, Neville. That's so sweet."

Neville smiled shyly. "You may not think it's so sweet after I ask you what I'm about to ask you."

"Is everything all right, Neville?"

"No, actually, I guess it isn't. Tomorrow, Hannah, tomorrow is very uncertain."

"Yes, I know."

"That makes tonight….that makes tonight uncertain as well. There is a chance that neither of us comes back and I would hate for that to happen before I got a chance…before I got a chance to tell you how special I've always thought you were. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to tell you, and I'm sorry that we've never had a chance for the long courtship you deserve, but there is so little time left."

"Oh Neville." She bit her lip, stifling a smile. Her cheeks were flushed to a deep rose.

"Please, Hannah, I don't want to waste this night…this last night. I don't know what tomorrow will bring but I know if I can go with one memory, one memorable night with you, it will be enough to sustain me to see me through the worst."

"Oh, Neville," Hannah's voice had dropped several octaves and the normal high, sweet voice was low and silky. She sad nothing more before pulling Neville down for a searing kiss.

"Go, Neville!" Madam Hooch screamed, pumping her fist in the air.

McGonagall looked up from across the room where she was sorting through the remaining Forgeteralls. "Neville? Did you just say Neville?"

"Oh yes, the little marshmallow just proved himself a Gryffindor and followed his heart. I'd kiss him if I wasn't otherwise repulsed by the idea."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I just watched him court that Abbott girl."

"Well, that's odd."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a Forgeterall here with Neville and Padma Patil."

"You don't say? Give it here."

Neville Longbottom stood outside the library cleaning pieces of grass off his robes. His hair was slightly ruffled but he was otherwise calm and composed.

"Padma," he called as the young Ravenclaw walked out. "Padma, can I have a moment, please?"

Padma Patil smiled brightly as she walked over. "Hello, Neville," she said cordially.

"Padma, might I have a word alone? Please."

"Of course."

The young couple walking in to a nearby empty classroom.

"Padma," Neville began, "we've known each other for a while now, years, in fact and I…well I've always found you to be a wonderful person. Friendly and smart. Someone who'd do anything for a person in need."

"Why thank you, Neville. That's so sweet."

Neville smiled shyly. "You may not think it's so sweet after I ask you what I'm about to ask you."

"Is everything all right, Neville?"

"No, actually, I guess it isn't. Tomorrow, Padma, tomorrow is very uncertain."

"Yes, I know," she said gravely.

"That makes tonight….that makes tonight uncertain as well. There is a chance that neither of us comes back and I would hate for that to happen before I got a chance…before I got a chance to tell you how special I've always thought you were. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to tell you, and I'm sorry that we've never had a chance for the long courtship you deserve, but there is so little time left."

"Neville." She was smiling broadly, a hand touching her blushing cheek.

"Please Padma, I don't want to waste this night…this last night. I don't know what tomorrow will bring but I know if I can go with one memory, one memorable night with you, it will be enough to sustain me to see me through the worst."

"Oh, Neville," Padma grabbed Neville by the ears and crushed her lips onto his.

"He used the same lines. He used the same bloody lines. He only changed her name! Bloody brilliant!"

"It doesn't stop there," McGonagall said, her voice trembling slightly, her eyes bulging. "Look at all these." She held up several other Forgeterall. "Mandy Brocklehurst. Marietta Edgecomb. Orla Quirk."

Madam Hooch began looking through the remaining spheres as well. "Looks like Neville experimented a bit. Justin Finch-Fletchly. Ernie Macmillan."

"Madam Pomfrey!" Professor McGonagall nearly fainted.

"No!" Madam Hooch shrieked as she grabbed the sphere out of McGonagall's ashen hands. "Well," she said after checking the contents, "I suppose the hat's been wrong before. Looks like that one belonged in Slytherin." She looked up to see McGonagall smiling.

"You're smiling?" she asked, confused. "You're proud, aren't you? You're proud of him."

"You're damn right I am," she proclaimed, sitting up and straightening her glasses. "Neville, who's been the butt of jokes and pranks since he first stepped off the train. Neville, who's been bullied and browbeaten by teachers and peers alike. Neville coming in to his own, on his own terms. I couldn't be prouder."

"I told you this would be fun," Madam Hooch said giggling. "Let's see if Mr. Longbottom got in anyone else's pants. Oh dear. What do we have here? Minerva McGonagall."

"I was not with Neville Longbottom!" she shrieked, grabbing the orb out of Hooch's hand.

"No. Then who?"

"None of your business."

"Look. I know I'm in here somewhere too so let's just get this out of the way now. I'll tell you mine. You tell me yours. We destroy the evidence and no one is the wiser."

McGonagall only needed to contemplate that for a moment before seeing the advantages of the deal. "Fine, but you tell first."


"Do you really need to as?"

"Okay, fine. I was with Hagrid."

"Hagrid!" She nearly sent the orb flying through the air as her arms flailed after hearing the confession.

"It's funny story actually-"

"Hagrid!" She stopped to sit down. "But…but I thought you fancied women."

"I do, but it was my last chance to see what the fuss was about. All you straight shooters, always talking about it. And I thought as long as I was going to try a wand I might as well make it the biggest one out there. If you're going to do a thing, you should do it right."

"Are you serious?"

"Well, why not?"

McGonagall seemed to be compiling a mental list detailing exactly why not. "I didn't think that was even possible? I mean, how did it fit?"

"It took a bit of work. Had to keep stopping because of the crying."

"You cried?"

"No, he did. Apparently, I was a bit rough. It was all right in the end. He seemed to have a good time. Thanked me repeatedly. Only problem is now he keeps sending me gifts that keep destroying my quarters. Enough about me. Your turn."

"Oh fine," she relented. "I was with Argus Filch."



Hooch visibly shuddered. "I'm disturbed by that, and considering what I've seen tonight, that's saying a lot."

"It was nice, actually." McGonagall shrugged.

"Nice? Have you been dipping into the firewhiskey?"

"No, really. There's a lot to be said about a man that works with his hands all day."

Madam Hooch thought about that for a moment before she nodded slowly. "All right, I can see that. But what about the cat?"

McGonagall got very quiet.

"Minnie. What about the cat?"

"What about her?"

"She very possessive about him. I can't think she just sat around and watched."

"No," she said cautiously, "She didn't watch."

"Oh, Minnie. You didn't."

"I am an Animagus. It isn't like we did anything unnatural."

"You had lesbian cat sex?"

"Well, not exactly. You see Crookshanks-"

"Good Lord! You had a feline ménage a trios?"

"I suppose I did if you want to be vulgar about it."

"If I want to be vulgar about it? How is it that you had a kitty orgy but somehow I'm the vulgar one?"

"Are you seriously going to compare my one romp with a lifetime of decadence? Do you really think I've forgotten the locker room incident of 1987?"

"Point taken," she said plainly. She began to rub her hands together, "Okay, who's next?

Hermione Granger was sitting in the Gryffindor common room when Ginny Weasley stomped in.

"Where the hell is everyone?" the redhead snapped.

"Who are you looking for?"



"Oh, come on Hermione tomorrow is the day which makes tonight the night. If you ever wanted to do something, this is the night to do it."

"And what, exactly, are you looking to do?"

"Harry. But the bastard has gone all poofter on me, so I'm open to suggestions."

Hermione just smiled sadly and Ginny seemed to notice for the first time that her friend was alone. "Where's Ron?"

Hermione shrugged. "Harry said Ron will be indisposed for the evening which leads me to believe he's shagging some tart in an empty classroom."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Ginny said awkwardly.

"For what?"

"Well, I thought….everyone thought. What I mean is…I assumed you'd be spending this night with him."

"Oh," Hermione said understanding. "No. We tried that for a while but it didn't work out. We ended up fighting too much."

"You and Ron!" Ginny gasped. "How did he manage to keep that secret?"

Hermione gave a twisted smile. "I told him as long as he didn't tell anyone he could keep coming up to my room. Even after we realized the relationship wasn't going to work. It's amazing what he can accomplish with the right motivation."

"Hermione!" Ginny laughed.

"Well, he was rather good at it and I am partial to redheads. Speaking of which, where's Bill?"

Ginny smiled broadly. "Having a last romp with Fleur. Where's Dean?"

"With Seamus."


"I'm afraid so."

"Is everyone in this school a damn poof?"

"Well, Lavender and Pavarti are there too."

"The four of them! How did they ever get Lavender to agree to that? She always seemed to me to be a bit of prude."

"No one's a prude tonight," Hermione said with a giggle.

Ginny nodded in understanding. "There seemed to be no rules tonight."

"Where's Charlie?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"With Tonks. Neville? "

"You really don't want to know."

"He's hooked up with someone too?"

"Let's just say Neville's not as harmless as he might appear. Percy?"

"Another poofter. He's with Oliver. How about Terry Boot? He's cute enough."

"Millicent Bulstrode."


"Yes," Hermione said sympathetically. "Don't think on it too much. It will hurt your brain after a while. Fred and George?"

"Oh, there's some mad Quidditch orgy going on at their place. Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinet, Katie Bell, Cho Chang, Roger Davies, a bunch of them. You want no part of it. It's a shameless mass of entwined limbs. They've got about six bludgers flying around the room for an added thrill. It's twisted, even for them."

Hermione and Ginny both fell back onto the couch. "Well," said Ginny thoughtfully, "that really only leaves one alternative."

"House elves?"





"Are you serious?"

"I'm just thinking out loud. What did you have in mind?"

"Hermione, there is one Weasley you didn't ask about."

"Ginny, I'm surprised at you. Your father and mother are probably spending tonight together."

"For the love of-" was all Ginny was able to get out before she grabbed her friend by the collar of her robes and pulled her in for a kiss slipping her tongue into Hermione's shocked mouth. It didn't take long for Hermione to warm up to the idea and soon her hand reached up and cupped Ginny's face.

Needing no more of a prompt, Ginny hand reached down and parted Hermione's robes. She slowly began to unbutton Hermione's shirt sliding a hand underneath Hermione's breast and rubbing a thumb over a hardening nipple. At Hermione's moaning approval Ginny kissed her neck, and placed enthusiastic bites down to her shoulders.

Hermione began to tear at Ginny's clothing, ripping her blouse open as well, and grasping at the smooth skin of Ginny's waist. She slipped her hand up Ginny's skirt and fumbled for a bit before Ginny cried out in surprise, throwing her head back.

"That didn't take nearly as much convincing as I thought," Ginny said breathlessly.

"I didn't need convincing," Hermione replied. "I was waiting for you to come around."


"I told you. I have a thing for redheads."

"That's it! I've had enough. I know far more about this place than is truly necessary. We're stopping right now."

Madam Hooch laughed. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, darling. I've had my fill, too."

"What do we do with these?" McGonagall asked indicting the rows of sphere.

"I would keep them on hand," Hooch replied with a sneer. "Being the new headmistress I think these beauties will go along way to keeping your staff on their best behavior."

"That's blackmail."

"Your point?"

"No point, really, just making an observation."

"Oh Minnie, you make me so proud," she said getting a bit choked up. "Well dearie," she continued with a sigh, "the sun has set long ago and I've had quite enough of this place. I'm heading out. I've got to go have a word with the Weasley twins."

"Whatever for?"

"For having a Quidditch orgy and not inviting me. I mean, really. The nerve."