The Late Night Adventure

"What was that?" asked Pansy Parkinson, pausing in her unbuttoning of Dean Thomas' white collared shirt. She shifted on his lap, and looked around the abandoned classroom. Dean shrugged, staring at her with breathless adoration.

"I don't know," he said, quite obviously not caring what she was talking about at all. He just wanted to get back to snogging her again. To distract her, he leaned close and nipped playfully at her earlobe. Pansy's eyes fluttered shut after a few moments, but before Dean knew it, she had suddenly jerked away from him again. "What is it?"

"I heard it again," replied Pansy.

"Heard what?" said Dean, a bit impatiently, knowing that Pansy was not going to allow herself to be deterred from whatever she was on about. He scratched his head, disappointed that their snogging time was probably over. With a small sigh, he placed his hands on her hips to move her off of his lap. She had all ready been thinking along those lines, however, and had removed herself without his help.

"What are you doing?" He was curious, as Pansy made her way to the door of the classroom and closed her fingers around the knob.

"Shut up, Thomas," she said with exasperation. "I'm checking to see if there's anyone in the corridor."

"Why would there be anyone up now? It's almost ten o clock."

"Exactly," said Pansy. "If I see anyone coming this way, I will deduct so many points. No one is allowed to be up at this hour - "

"Pansy," he started with a small chuckle, "we're up at this hour."

"Bloody hell, Dean, I really can't afford to be seen with you, can I? You're too thick for me. I might as well snog Crabbe."

Dean scrunched up his eyebrows as those unlikely, but still disturbing images floated into his mind. "Just how am I too thick for you?"

"I am a prefect," said Pansy, in a tone that suggested this answered all of the questions in the universe.

"So what?"

"I can roam the castle any time I want to!" She sounded slightly frustrated.

Dean seriously doubted that even prefects were allowed to just roam about whenever they fancied, but he didn't say anything, for that moment Pansy opened the door and stuck her head out into the hallway. He could practically see her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she checked the corridors for any sign of movement.

Dean let out another sigh. She was seriously cutting into the make out time that he had been looking forward to all day long. Dean always looked forward to their make out time. Pansy gave his life more excitement, for one. It seemed all he ever did was follow a schedule. A schedule that consisted of eating, sleeping, and schoolwork. It was beginning to get boring after six years. He was tired of seeing the same people day after day.

The fact that today was Christmas made everything worse. Dean had never been fond of Christmas. His biological father had walked out on him and his mother on Christmas. He had never been able to see the joy in Christmas. Walking down a corridor decorated with flashing green and red lights and with garland, tinsel, and mistletoe hanging from the ceiling had only made his insides churn.

Snogging Pansy Parkinson was healthy for him, he reasoned. And he had been in higher spirits since joining her here in their usual classroom at nine o' clock, when her prefect duties were finished for the evening.

They had been meeting secretly in this classroom for about two months. It had all started the night Dean broke up with Ginny Weasley. After sensing that the redhead had developed feelings for someone else - or perhaps she had had those feelings all along? - he had wished her luck and said that he still hoped they could be friends.

Dean hadn't been exactly heartbroken over their break up, but he still felt the need to reflect. Pansy had stumbled upon him walking the corridors after hours and had immediately threatened to take points away from him, but she was far too drunk to string the words together. He still didn't know how she had become drunk as a matter of fact or for what reason. But nevertheless, Pansy had come on to him and Dean gave in to her advances. Normally, he wouldn't fall under the spell of a Slytherin's charms, but bloody hell she had been a good kisser.

Dean had only been kissed by four women in his lifetime. His mother didn't count, so that brought the count down to three. Parvati Patil's kisses had been hard and sweet, much like the girl herself. Ginny Weasley's had been passionate, but playful.

Pansy Parkinson's kisses were full of emotion and experience. She kissed with such technique that either she had kissed a lot of boys or she practiced on objects quite a lot. Starting out very gently, her lips would barely touch his. She'd run her hands steadily up and down his sides. Her tongue would dart out and tease the skin around his lips, before she pressed her lips hard against his, taking him by surprise. Then she would allow Dean to take over briefly, knowing she was still in control.

Pansy was always in control when it came to kissing, Dean thought. His cheeks warmed up at the thought of her teeth nipping playfully at the end of his tongue. At the thought of her tongue touching his deftly, then tracing over his own teeth.

She would make sure Dean was focusing only on their mouths before she began to touch him all over his body, especially in places he wasn't normally touched. She didn't go straight for the groin - Pansy enjoyed running her fingers along his collarbone and took delight in just barely touching his knees, causing shivers of pleasure to engulf him. Pansy poured all of herself into her kisses, he had learned. Whatever she was feeling was shown in an exhibition of tangled tongues, slowly moving fingers, and hot whispers.

Some people, like Dean, expressed themselves through art. Pansy expressed herself through snogging. And it did her well, because she was most likely the best snog in Hogwarts.

Which was why Dean was growing more and more impatient as time ticked by, and the brunette continued to ignore his presence and center her attention on a hallway that was most likely empty. He couldn't take it anymore. His stamina was dangerously suffering.

Before he knew what he was doing, Dean had taken two steps toward Pansy, pulled her away from the door, and then slammed it. "What is your problem?" she demanded furiously, placing her hands firmly on her hips.

"You are," he said in a low timbre, gripping her shoulders and backing her into the door. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as her scowl remained in place. "Come on, Parkinson," he said lightly, lifting her chin, "lighten up."

She rolled her eyes, but Dean could see she was quickly becoming flustered by him. He did have her pinned against the door after all, body pressed against hers so that she couldn't escape. "Fuck you," she said, a slight quiver in her voice. He had broken through.

His lips were barely a centimeter away from hers. He could feel her hot breath on his when suddenly she shoved him away from her. "What?"

"I don't like this classroom. It's dull."

"What?" said an exasperated Dean, thrown off guard.

"Well, it is! We've been in here every night, don't you think it's time we broadened our horizons?" She raised a plucked eyebrow, her expression questioning.

Dean could only gape. "What's wrong with this place?"

Pansy scoffed. "All you Gryffindors are the same - you're so bloody boring."

"What other Gryffindors have you been with?" he retorted.

Pansy was stuck after that comment so she chose to pretend as if he hadn't made it. "Do you want to continue snogging or not?" she snapped.

Dean glared down at her 5'4 form. "Fine, whatever you say," he replied grumpily.

The two of them were halfway down the corridor when they heard noises. "I knew I heard something," Pansy muttered.

Dean made to continue walking, when Pansy closed her fingers around his wrist - in a surprisingly tender way, he thought - and pulled him back into a part of the corridor that kept them out of sight. "The two of us cannot be seen together, understand Thomas?" Dean had forgotten about that part of their agreement. It must have shown in his eyes because Pansy's eyes widened. "Dean, that was part of the contract."

"I know," he said. "Relax. Now, as the prefect here, could you please go see what the hell is going on down the hall? Our time together is wasting away."

Pansy smirked. "Aww, is the little Dean upset that he's not getting any love?"

"Shut up, Pansy, just go see - "

"Harry, please calm down!" a hysterical voice rang throughout the corridor. "He didn't mean it!"

"Didn't mean it, eh? Just like all the other times?" an angry voice yelled.

"Harry Potter?" said Pansy. "Ooh, I am definitely taking points away from him!" She excitedly jumped up, smoothed out her robes, and patted her hair in a manner that made Dean rest his head against the wall and roll his eyes. She then walked down the corridor.

Dean shifted and withdrew his wand from his pocket, lighting the tip so he could see what was going on down the corridor. They were located near Snape's dungeons, he realized with a flicker of horror. Harry, and a figure that could be no one else but Draco Malfoy stood facing each other, their bodies a foot apart. Harry was seething. Malfoy's eyes glittered maliciously, and a smirk that was much uglier than Pansy's was on his face. Dean could logically come to the assumption that Malfoy had insulted Harry's parents or some other foul thing.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor!" said Pansy in a triumphant voice when she had reached them. Dean was able to make out a third figure now. It was Ginny Weasley, standing next to Malfoy, looking irritated and worried. Pansy looked her up and down disdainfully, eyes lingering on the frayed robes that Weasleys were famous for wearing. She then turned to Harry. "Potter, I suggest you take your little girlfriend back to your House, before I take away more."

Dean was surprised when Ginny said quietly, "He's not my boyfriend" at the same time Malfoy said, "She wouldn't lower herself to the likes of Potter."

Pansy looked at Malfoy, undoubtedly curious about his statement. "What?"

"Nothing," he and Ginny said simultaneously. Pansy stamped her foot in frustration. Harry took the opportunity to frown even deeper. "Ginny," he said, eyes trained on her, "Parkinson's right. Let's head back."

"Why don't you let her make up her own mind?" said Malfoy in an irritatingly calm voice.

"Come on, Gin," said Harry. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, looking tired. Dean could feel the tension. Harry was staring at Ginny. So was Malfoy, for that matter, with a look so intense fire could have been coming out of his eyes.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ginny turned her gaze on Malfoy. "It is getting kind of late," she admitted. Malfoy looked wounded. He watched the backs of Harry and Ginny walking away with jealousy etched on his pale, pointed face. Pansy looked confused as hell and walked over to Malfoy's side.

What happened next seemed to go by in slow motion. Malfoy shoved Pansy out of the way, and she stumbled. Dean raced from his hiding spot to go to her. Malfoy yelled a curse at Harry's back - at the same time, Ginny turned around and sidestepped in front of Harry. The yellow light of the curse hit her instead. She clutched her stomach in pain and doubled over. Harry lunged at Malfoy, tackling him to the ground. Pansy screamed.

Dean rolled his eyes at her and crawled over to Ginny, who was convulsing. "Ginny?" he yelled over all the commotion. "Are you all right?" It was when he got closer that he realized that she wasn't convulsing - the girl was laughing. Laughing uncontrollably at that!

The dumb ass had hit her with a giggling curse. "Pansy?" he called weakly, wondering if she knew the countercurse. But his snog partner was too busy shrieking "Potter, get off of him! Ten points from Gryffindor! You're hurting him!" as Harry and Malfoy hit every inch of the other that they could reach.

Dean turned back to Ginny and let out a strangled yell. She was waving around her wand drunkenly. Dean knew that she was a powerful with a wand on a regular basis. He was also smart enough to deduct that even if she was powerful, using a wand while one was overcome with giggles would only produce disastrous results.

He reached out to grab the wand from her, but it was too late. It was all ready pointed at the rumbling forms of Harry and Malfoy. She yelled something Dean couldn't make out and then Harry and Malfoy sprung apart, as though Stunned.

The rest of them reacted at once. Pansy clapped her hands over her mouth in utter horror. Ginny giggled relentlessly. Dean goggled. He could hardly believe his eyes.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and Draco Malfoy, The Boy Who Lived To Be His Arch Enemy, were wearing red, sparkly tutus. He was dumbfounded.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were wearing tutus. Red. Sparkly. Tutus. He closed his eyes and opened them, but when he opened them the nightmare was still horribly real.

Harry heaved a sigh and nodded at the giggling Ginny Weasley, his suspicions confirmed. "This is all your fault, Malfoy."

"Shut up, Potty." He clutched his eye, which was badly bruised.

Pansy squealed. "Draco, are you okay?!? Ten more points from Gryffindor!"

Harry rid himself of his red tutu. Pansy noticed this and waved her wand at Draco, and his tutu disappeared as well. "You shouldn't have done that, Parkinson. He looked better with that thing on."

"Potty, I don't swing that way. So don't you ever look at me again. I know I'm hard to resist, but I'd prefer Goyle look at me like I'm a juicy piece of meat than you."

Harry looked utterly disgusted. "Shut up, Malfoy!"

"I think everyone should just shut up so we can cast the countercurse," said Dean loudly. Harry and Malfoy peered at him as if they had only noticed he was there.

"Who are you?"

"Fuck, Draco, what does it matter?" interjected Pansy coolly. "He's right. We need to shut her up."

"Too much for your dog ears to handle, Parkinson?" Harry said spitefully.

"Hey, shut up! Don't say that about her," Dean remarked angrily. This sent Ginny into another fit of giggles.

"Why not?" he said grumpily. "Just a week ago, you told me she was a dog eared, pug faced slut."

"What?" gasped Pansy. Dean opened his mouth to explain, but Pansy slapped him hard across the face. It stung unlike anything he had ever felt. Why, he didn't exactly know.

"Pansy, please!" he pleaded, as she walked stiffly away, tears in her eyes. "I didn't mean it, of course! It was a bloody cover-up!" But she had disappeared from sight. Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Thanks a lot for that, Harry," he snapped.

Harry looked utterly confused. "What did I do?" he said. His scowl deepened. Obviously everyone was out to get him.

Malfoy let out a tut. "You were born, Potter."

Ginny giggled. "Now, now, Draco - don't say things like that to Harry..." She burst out laughing. Malfoy looked at the redhead a bit fondly. "Oh, Ginevra, you are in a right state, aren't you?" He pointed his wand at her and said the countercurse.

"Thanks," she said, a bit breathlessly. She finally looked at Dean who was fuming. "Did I miss something?"

"Harry completely ruined my relationship with Parkinson!" Dean yelled angrily.

Ginny stepped back. "Relationship?" she asked.

"YES!" he roared. "IT CONSTITUTED OF SNOGGING!"

"I wouldn't steal Potty's caps lock if I was you," said Malfoy. "He doesn't like that much."

"Choke on dung," Harry aimed at the blonde. He looked at Dean. "Snogging?" he repeated, taking on the expression of a little boy lost in a lingerie section.

"Yes, Potter, snogging," said Malfoy. "That thing everyone else but you engages in."

"Draco," said Ginny, her eyes narrowed.

"Pansy is a wicked kisser, isn't she?" he continued, a reminiscent smirk on his face. "Don't know why she'd choose you to snog, though."

Dean stiffened. Ginny became defensive on his behalf. "For your information, Dean is a brilliant kisser!"

Malfoy's eyes flashed. "You've snogged this wanker?" He glared at Ginny with betrayal.

Ginny's own eyes flashed. "Don't even start yelling at me! You snogged a cow!"

Dean interjected, "If you're talking about Pansy - "

"SHUT UP!" yelled Harry.

The three others turned to look at him. "What the bleeding hell is your problem, Potter? Can't you allow others to hold civil conversation without feeling neglected?"

"Someone's coming this way, Ferret," retorted Harry, "but by all means, do us all a favor and get caught. You won't be missed."

Malfoy's cheeks went a light shade of pink. "I am a prefect, Potty."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Jolly for you, Malfoy! When you caught, you can take points away from the Professor!" Malfoy flushed. "Come on Harry." She and Harry ran down the corridor.

"This is the end of our relationship, Ginevra, I hope you're aware of that!" Malfoy called after them, looking ready to lash out at something.

"Relationship?" Dean said bewilderedly.

"YES!" yelled the blonde. "IT CONSTITUTED OF SNOGGING!"

"Might not want to steal Harry's caps lock," Dean suggested.

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps stopped him. In two seconds, he had run away from Dean in the opposite direction that Ginny and Harry had gone down.

Wonderful, thought Dean. I'm going to get caught. He started walking, trying to find a place to hide, when all of a sudden he tripped and landed on his back. Hard. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, dimly noting that he was picking up Pansy's speech patterns.

He tried to sit up, but two hands had clasped around his ankle. Before he could do anything, he was being dragged. Dean began to kick his legs around and heard a surprised squeal. "Fine!" screamed a voice that Dean quickly registered as being Pansy's, "stay out and here and get caught!" She stormed away from him and into the classroom she had dragged him in front of.

Dean scrambled to stand up. "Parkinson, wait! Are we in the dungeons?" Looking around the Potions classroom, Dean felt properly sick to his stomach. Why the hell had she brought him into Snape's classroom, of all places? He followed Pansy down a line of shelves that had odd, slippery substances living in jars and into Snape's office.

"Pansy," squeaked Dean, "you've gone mental! We can't hide in here! He's probably going to come in here!"

"Therefore he won't expect us to be in here," Pansy reasoned. "I see intellect doesn't go hand in hand with bravery."

Dean was hurt by the remark. "Pansy - "

"I'm hiding in the here," she said abruptly, indicating Snape's wardrobe. "You find another spot." She shoved past him, nose high in the air, and opened the door to the wardrobe.

"Come on, Parkinson," he said, but she merely climbed inside the wardrobe, gave him a haughty eyebrow raised look, and slammed the door.

Dean let out a strangled yell when he realized that there weren't any other hiding spots. His frustration mounted - frustration at Harry for making that stupid comment, frustration at Snape for putting him in his current position, and frustration at Pansy for being so stubborn.

He was also pissed off at himself. Why had he allowed himself to be so affected by Pansy? He was always counting down the minutes to their snog time, not caring about anything else. When had he started letting her control his emotions? This wasn't fair - he shouldn't be feeling sad and angry and frustrated because of her. She shouldn't be able to dictate his emotions as if he was some puppet on a string. That, he thought angrily, was probably exactly what she wanted out this relationship in the first place. He was just some wanker she could control. He was putty in her hands.

Well, no more. Dean was fed up. He was bleeding sick of it. He wrenched open the door to the wardrobe almost violently and stepped inside. Pansy beat against his chest with her fists, trying to keep him out. The sight of her angry face brought him a tiny bit of pleasure. Dean let her struggle against him for a while. "Get out!" she squealed over and over.

"No," he said coldly, "you get out. This wardrobe isn't big enough for the both of us." He grabbed her balled fists and opened the door, pushing her out of it. He grinned satisfactorily as he shut the door and turned the lock, leaving Pansy with nowhere to hide and no way to get back in.

She pounded the door in a panicked fury. "I hate you!" she cried angrily. "Open this door right now, Dean, or you'll regret it!"

"Is that a threat?" he said, amused despite it all. "And from Slytherin's own princess."

"Open the door, Thomas," she said dangerously through gritted teeth.

"I don't think I will. Why should I, after all? There isn't anything in it for me."

"If you do not let me in by the time I count to three, when Snape catches me, which he undoubtedly will, I am so bringing you down with me. Got it?"

Dean was silent. He hadn't thought of that at all. "One..."

"Oh, fuck," he said. Grudgingly, he opened the door. Pansy's arms were crossed and a smirk adorned her mouth, lighting her brown eyes up with complacency. "There, there, Dean, no need to resort to foul language. It doesn't suit you."

She stepped into the wardrobe, and he closed the door. Dean briefly wondered if he was claustrophobic, because Pansy was so close to him he could hardly breathe. Her body was pressed up against his. "Move over," she hissed, her breath tickling his ear. He wished he had the means to scratch his ear, for it was now tingling all over.

"You move over," he shot back. "There isn't any room over here for me to move over."

"Well, there isn't any room over here either!" Pansy said testily.

There was a long pause. The sounds of their heavy breathing bounced of the confined walls of the wardrobe. Dean was starting to get hot. "Is that your hand?" Pansy demanded.

"It's my leg," he said. "You're practically sitting in my lap."

"Fuck you."

"Sorry, love, but no thanks. I'm breaking up with you."

Pansy's body tensed against his. "You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I am breaking up with you."

Dean chuckled. "You can't do that."

"Watch me." Her voice was tight.

"I would, but in case you hadn't noticed for yourself, it's a bit dark."

Pansy pinched him in a part of his body that made him squeal in pain. "That's for calling me a slut, you wanker."

"It was a cover-up," Dean wheezed. "You're the one who made me sign that bloody contract! You're the one who so bloody worried about what the others would think about us! You didn't want anyone to know, Parkinson, so what else was I supposed to do?" Pansy's response was a loud huff. "Oh, come on, Pansy, don't even pretend as if you've never called me a bad name! Does Mudblood ring a bell by any chance?"

"Calling someone a slut is far worse than calling someone a Mudblood!" snapped Pansy.

"Saying 'Mudblood' is prejudice!"

"So what?"

"It's mean!"

"So is being called a slut!"

After another long silence, Dean whispered, "I don't think you're a slut if it's any consolation."

"I don't think you're a Mudblood," she responded awkwardly. Dean chuckled. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because I am...well, a Mudblood."

Pansy shrugged. "Maybe it can be a pet name."

A pet name? That sounded good to him. Perhaps they could revise it a little...? Dean's eyes widened slightly. If there had been light in the wardrobe, Pansy would have seen the wide grin spread across his face as he was hit over the head with a sudden realization.

He was falling for Pansy Parkinson. He was falling in love with Pansy Parkinson. No, he was in love with her all ready. He had fallen a long time ago.

Dean bent down his head and kissed her. It was a rather sloppy kiss, of course, because he couldn't see her, but he was pleased all the time. Pansy broke the kiss a moment later. "We're fighting, or did you forget?"

"I don't care. I love you, Parkinson."

She was absolutely silent after this declaration, but he didn't care. He actually preferred that she was quiet. Dean reached out his hand to touch her face, feeling the smooth skin along his palm. He moved his fingers across the length of her face, over her nose and finally running them gently along her lips.

"What the fuck are you doing?" said Pansy, her voice cracking with passion. Dean cupped her face with his hands.

"Shhh," whispered Dean. A second later something wet fell onto the tips of his fingers. He reached his hands up to gently caress her eyelids before wiping away her tears. He dearly hoped he wouldn't accidentally poke a finger into her eye. Nothing good could result from that. Besides, she was scared. Not of him poking her in the eye, but of his confession. It was a lot for one person to handle. Poking her in the eye would only add more problems.

"Dean..." she said shakily, bringing him out of his reverie. She clasped his fingers in hers and leaned closer to him. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you your Christmas present," was his muffled reply before he crushed his lips down to hers. Heat sprang through his body like wildfire as Pansy responded back, tangling her tongue furiously with his, giving all of herself to him. He curled an arm around her waist and tried to bring her closer to him, though she was all ready about as close as she could possibly get.

Pansy abruptly threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers moving tenderly about the nape of his neck. Her legs went around his waist as she did so. The force of this movement threw open the door of the wardrobe - quite viciously, as a matter of fact - and the two of them tumbled to the ground. Dean landed rather hard on his back, but he didn't care because all he was focusing on was the feel of Pansy's lips on his skin.

This was how Professor Severus Snape found them not a minute later. "FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!" he roared.

Dean and Pansy sprang apart at once, and stood up, robes askew on their bodies and their skin flushed. "Er...what about Slytherin, sir?" inquired Pansy, a bit slyly.

Snape glared at her. "AND SLYTHERIN! NOT TO MENTION A MONTH'S WORTH OF DETENTIONS FROM THE BOTH OF YOU!" he spat.

Pansy smirked. "Looking forward to it."

Dean gazed at her curiously when she took his hand in hers. Her smirk blossomed into a smile. He had never seen her smile before.

"OFF TO YOUR DORMITORIES!" yelled Snape.

Dean grinned at the Professor, because he had stolen Harry's caps lock. Then he grinned at Pansy, his very own Slytherin princess. She gave him a sly wink.

"Happy Christmas!" they called on the way out of the dungeons, hands still locked together.

Dean's last thought before falling asleep that night was that maybe Christmas wasn't so bad after all.