Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters, they all belong to JK Rowling.

WARNING: Contains two males kissing, if you're offended by this, do not read.

One drink too many can lead to regret...

Slughorn sat in his office eating some crystallised pineapple and marking some end of year potions papers. It was the second-last day of school, everybody would be going home for the summer the next day and it was his first chance to just relax and do some important marking. He wanted to get the papers out of the way so he could relax during the holidays. He scribbled down a grade, grabbed another chunk of pineapple and placed it into his mouth, chewing it slowly to savour the taste.

Argus Filch had spent the afternoon drinking fire-whiskey. He had found a group of seventh year Slytherins acting suspicious, so he'd decided to follow them. The boys had led him to a secret discarded passageway behind a portrait, that they'd stored their bottles of fire-whiskey in. It was against the rules for students to drink fire-whiskey, so naturally he'd confiscated the bottles but there was nothing in the rules that said that he couldn't drink it. So Filch had got himself absolutely steaming drunk and now he was feeling...mischievous.

He decided to go for a stroll...

Slughorn finished marking another paper and sighed loudly, it was hard work and incredibly boring. Absent-mindedly, he reached out and placed another cube of crystallised pineapple into his mouth, relishing the sweetness. Oh how he did love crystallised pineapple!

Filch prowled along the corridors of Hogwarts, looking for innocent students to torture. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you looked at it), they were all in their dorms relaxing, getting into the holiday mood. He turned the corner and saw that the door to Slughorn's office was slightly ajar, he decided to take a closer look.

Slughorn sensed someone standing in the doorway. He looked up to see Filch standing there, a strange glint in his eyes.

'Can I...help you?' Slughorn asked, trying to look interested in whatever the caretaker had to say.

'Erm...' Filch didn't know what to say, he didn't even know why he was there in the first place.

'I am rather busy you know, if it's non-important could you come back later? I want to finish marking these...'

Filch stared at Slughorn...he'd never really noticed him before. He'd never noticed the way his moustache shined in the light...the way his eyes gleamed...the glinting of the highly-polished silver buttons on his jacket. He moved closer...

Slughorn eyed Filch warily as he slowly made his way towards him. Suddenly Filch was in touching distance and without any warning whatsoever, Slughorn found himself being hauled out of his chair and slammed against the wall, Filch's face only inches away from his own.

Slughorn's eyes widened as Filch's lips crashed against his, pulling him into a kiss. Slughorn placed his hands onto Filch's chest, trying to push him away but Filch just pressed against him harder, trapping him. Slughorn struggled on for a few more minutes before giving up and losing himself in the kiss.

Filch broke away, kissed Slughorn on the forehead and left the office. Slughorn stared at the door from which Filch had just left in shock. After a few minutes, he shook his head and went back to his papers.

Filch awoke the next morning with the mother of all hangovers. He groaned and rolled over, why did it feel like he was dying?

Memories came back to him off his afternoon of drinking. Well, he thought, that explains the hangover.

More memories came back to him. Memories of walking towards a door, memories of going inside the door. Memories of Slughorn...memories of kissing Slughorn.

Filch leapt up, ran to the nearest bathroom and was promptly sick down the toilet.

What had he done?