Pounding head. Sign of a good night.

Memory blackouts. Expected.

Feeling sick. Explainable.

Taste of potions in his throat. Dangerous.

...

Draco opened his eyes.

...

Wearing a dress. Not a good night.

Granger asleep on his chest. Horror.

Lying on a kitchen counter. Why?

Chained to a sink tap. Very, very dangerous.

...

Panic surged through Draco. As quietly as possible, he tried navigating the handcuffs around the knobs and handles of the sink, but it was no use – he was stuck. He needed other ideas. As he sighed and looked around the rest of the kitchen, his heart stopped. Potter was staring at him with wide eyes.

...

Harry happily snuggled Ginny, who was lying in his arms. He could feel her warmth though her satin dress. Her hair was soft against his face. Soft like the sheets the bed. His bed.

Grimmauld Place. He hasn't yet bothered to open his eyes but he was almost sure that's where they were. He remembered the entire party coming back there after The Funky Buddha nightclub. Drunken group apparition – a fun and very dangerous game.

That had been at about one thirty in the morning. Past that things got sketchy. There had been a lot of strangers – the strays as George had called them.

Harry tried to collect his memories.

War and trials over, the golden trio and friends righteously decided it was time to celebrate. It had started off fairly tame; they'd gone to the Leaky Cauldron, had a few Butterbeers and a couple of Firewhiskeys, laughed, danced a little. After a while it started to seem like half the wizarding world was flocking into the Leaky Cauldron, until the place was bursting to the brim. Unfortunately for Harry, most of that brim wanted to thank, hug, kiss and generally harass him. A kind (and very drunk) Hufflepuff had diligently announced she was stealing 'Potter and crew', rescuing them and taking them all back to her place. An hour and a bit too much alcohol later, they'd come up with a party theme – Deatheaters. They'd all transfigured themselves a mask and then a fervent competition had started to see who could make theirs look the most ridiculous. Neville was winning until a blonde in a very short dress arrived and insisted on snogging the living daylight out of him – Harry thought he had looked pretty happy to start losing.

Luna had arrived with the blonde girl, Lion hat in tow, as well as many other people, some who Harry recognised, some who Harry didn't, and most who were hidden behind their kooky masks. One of the latter, a dark-skinned boy, had taken off his mask and come smiling towards Harry.

"Hey, Potter! Good to see you looking well and intoxicated!" he had said, patting Harry on the back. Harry had thought he looked a lot like Blaise Zabini, but was too drunk to care. It hadn't got better after that point, as the boy had given Harry a vial of something florescent blue. When questioned on the matter, he simply winked and replied, "Just a little something to pep you up for the rest of the night!"

Ever the brave Gryffindor, Harry had downed it. It sure had pepped him up, but it was most certainly not pepper-up potion. There had been radiant stars and beautiful colours, and it had made Harry run around in circles, do a crazy dance with Lovegood, and then cry about how wonderful it all was.

Of course, everyone else had found it beyond hysterical. There would be photos and reminders around every corner – Harry was sure. But what he had done did not compare to Ron and Hermione. Oh no. They were in a league of their own. Ron had drank one vial, and very gingerly, but Hermione, intoxicated and completely wild, had downed 3 blue ones and 6 pink ones, all one after the other. After that, she had began flirting with inanimate objects, but after spotting Ron, grabbed him, and announced, with the most determination Harry had ever seen, that they were going to make a baby. Ron had looked horrified and had done his best to escape, only saved by the fact that he had attempted to fly without a broom. Needless to say, he had failed and the end result was him breaking his nose off the floor.

Luna, nose fixer extraordinaire, had swiftly repaired Ron's unfortunate nose, accompanied by a dreamy "There, all gone!" But Ron, misunderstanding, had writhed around on the floor, screaming: "No! No! I cannot live without my nose! Without it, I shall be like Voldemort, and I hate snakes!"

If they could have stopped laughing for long enough, perhaps someone would have informed Ron that he and his nose were still at one with one another.

After that, Hermione insisted they immediately go to a muggle nightclub for dances and yet more drinks, and while most of the Hufflepuffs stayed behind, a large coalition of the group had happily went in the search of London nightlife and continued intoxication. They'd apparated successfully, and it was nothing short of a miracle that nobody got splinched.

After finding their way to the Funky Buddha, they had been granted VIP access thanks to the connections of an unknown masked member of the party – although Luna and her lion hat did get some really cautious looks from the bouncers. Whoever got them in must have had some serious leverage.

They didn't stay for long, however. Their strange vials and wild antics were not going unnoticed, and someone very wisely suggested they be moving on, also suggesting they not bring so many people this time. Harry couldn't remember who it was, but Harry did remember their voice was familiar as the sun and so had followed their orders. He picked his Gryffindors, a few puffs and eagles, and part of the group of masked people Luna had brought. They seemed cool and partied harder than anyone Harry had ever met; plus a couple of them had showed Harry how to dance in a way that didn't make him look like he was impersonating Filch or a chicken. Hermione sulked at the prospect of leaving but at the promise of even quirkier potions she perked up.

If lightening could strike twice then so could miracles, and all 20 or so of them had managed to retain their body parts after apparating to an alley near Grimmauld Place. That being said, lightening must be able to strike 5 times at least, because Harry made 4 trips in order to get everyone there. He threw up at least twice.

Once inside, there was music, more alcohol, and to Hermione's delight, more colourful potions; although Harry had no idea where any of those things came from. It was a Merlin-send the place was sound-proof, because the neighbours would have probably called the police else. His memory was disturbingly blank after that. There was only one more thing that Harry remembered.

He was stumbling around a dark corridor, and tripped – but someone caught him. Harry had ended up clutching onto the person for dear life, his face buried in their black silk shirt.

"Careful Potter, just because Lord No-Nose didn't manage it, doesn't mean you have to kill yourself off," the person had said, "And if I'm honest, some of us like having you around."

It was the familiar voice again. Harry smiled, and mumbled into the shirt, "Everyone likes having me around. It's kinda annoying actually."

The familiar voice ruffled his hair, and after that, everything was blank.

...

Ginny moved slightly in Harry's arms, making him snapped back to the present. She made a small noise like a cute little animal, and Harry found her lips, kissing her quickly.

"Mmmmm, 'Mione..." came Ginny's voice. Except it was not Ginny's at all. Harry's eyes snapped open. Ron was laying in front of him, in Ginny's dress no less.

How? What? Why? Where was Ginny anyway? Not to mention he'd just given Ron a quick snog!

Horrified, Harry slowly crawled out of the bed, being careful not to wake Ron. He looked down at himself. Oh Merlin. He was wearing nothing but hot pink sparkly panties, which were definitely not his own. He creeped over to his wardrobe and opened his underwear draw. Empty. Where were all his boxers? He checked the rest of his wardrobe but to no avail: all his clothes were gone. He found a single black silk shirt on the floor and put it on. He was sure it belonged to the familiar voice, but his main concern was hoping that it was long enough to conceal at least some of his dignity.

After that he made for the bathroom: he had the foul taste of potions in his mouth and needed to wash it out. But on his way there his eyes stumbled upon the contents of the neighbouring room – the door wide open.

Neville was lying in the middle of the bed like a king, stark naked. There was a girl in boxers lying on top of him, covering his dignity and protecting Harry's eyes from some things he really did not want to see. There were at least 6 other girls scattered on the bed – all in Harry's underwear. That explained a lot. But what Harry could not explain is why Gregory Goyle appeared to be curled up to Neville in the most girly way possible. Not to mention the bright pink skirt he was wearing.

Patterns were staring to form in Harry's head. Patterns involving Slytherins and cross-dressing games. This couldn't be good. He sighed and closed the door. Onward to the bathroom he went.

He approached the door gingerly – who knew what kind of surprises could be waiting for him in there? He opened it very slowly and peaked inside. Toilet roll everywhere and a dark, high-heeled foot poking out from the bathtub, but it looked safe to enter on the whole.

He tip-toed toward the sink and quietly rinsed his mouth. Potions taste nearly gone, he gently slithered over to the bathtub to inspect its occupants, who were largely concealed by a blanket. Harry pulled the blanket down a little. It was the dark-skinned boy from last night. And it was most definitely Blaise Zabini. What was Zabini doing in his bathtub? Pulling the blanket down further, Harry discovered he was wearing Hermione's Gryffindor red dress (to match the shoes, no doubt). Harry also found Ginny. The last time he had checked, Ginny was his girlfriend. Why was she curled up next to Zabini in her underwear? What in Merlin's name had happened last night? Why the hell had Harry let a hoard of Slytherins into his house? The house was unplottable, so there was no way they could have got in themselves; Harry must have brought them with him. Harry realised he was too confused to be angry, or even really care, about the whole Ginny/Zabini/bathtub situation, and left.

At the bottom of the stairs he found Pansy Parkinson, who appeared to be wearing the entirety of Harry's wardrobe as well as Luna's Lion hat. George was snuggled up to her, wearing only girly underwear and suspenders. That was almost as much of a disturbing sight as Neville and Goyle. Harry was seriously wondering if they had all drank a potion that made you want to cuddle up to your enemies. He stepped over them carefully.

He walked to the kitchen, thinking that he really needed to find Luna. She brought the masked people... the Slytherins. Had she not known who they were? She couldn't have known, there was no way Luna and the Slytherins could ever-

Harry's heart stopped.

Malfoy.