The Perfect Date

There was a somber mood about the castle grounds on this particular, rainy night, for all but two members of the residents within. For them, it was an incredibly important evening, and everything had to be perfect.

Deep within the castle walls, Harry was getting ready for a date; but not just any date, oh no, this was the date he had secretly been looking forward to ever since he first stepped aboard the Hogwarts Express and this person entered his cabin requesting the return of a frog. Now, five-and-a-half years later, it was finally going to happen. Ah, yes, the entire evening would be perfect. To think, an entire love bred from the search of some horny toad (with full innuendo intended).
Now, pondered Harry, what shade of lipstick shall I wear? Everything rides on the lips. How am I to snog if my lips aren't drawing attention to themselves? He dug around in his little sparkly-pink caboodle, looking for his vintage red. Flustered at not being able to find it, he slammed closed the box and locked it, in such a forceful way, it bordered on manly. Suddenly, he remembered that he could have possibly placed it with his lip glosses, he pulled out his little pencil box and began the search again. Sure enough, it was there, and it complimented the sparkly purple eye shadow adorning his lids (which, naturally, brought out the green in his eyes).
All he had left to do was smooth the wrinkles out of his plaid school-girl skirt and put the wig on his head. Quickly finishing that, he grabbed his invisibility cloak and made a run for the room of Requirement.
The perfect date-spot, the perfect date-spot, he thought to himself as he briskly crossed three times in front of the vacant wall. A lavender door appeared with deep-purple velvet curtains drawn to either side of it. He pushed open the door and found his date sitting on a pillow inside, dressed in a green evening gown and a small brown hat. The poor dear was, in fact, poor, and could only afford so much, but Harry thought the image before him was beautiful, regardless of the second-hand clothes.
"Hi, Harry."
"Hey, Neville," Harry said nervously.
Neville got up from his sitting spot and crossed the room to take Harry by the hands. "Don't be scared," he cooed, endearingly.
Harry was captivated by the sound of his voice.
"I...er...love your dress, Neville." He said.
"It was my grandmother's." He replied. "She didn't want it anymore after the thought of Snape coming out of the closet wearing it," he said, laughing. Harry laughed too. He could remember all too clearly when Lupin instructed Neville to think of Snape in his Grandmother's dress; and he could remember that it was, in fact, the real Snape that came out of the closet. Well, thought Harry, at least he's out now.
Neville snuggled in close to Harry, and they stood, holding each other for a few moments. The mood was so serene, and for the first time, both men felt absolutely wonderful in their pretty dresses.
It was a transvestite match made in heaven.

The end.