Last Names

"God, what's that stupid git going to do now?" Ron asked bitterly, watching as a blond Slytherin seized the microphone with a devastatingly devilish smile. "I still say the other houses should have boycotted the party since the Slytherins were invited..."

The annual Hogwarts graduation party was currently well underway, and it was going as smoothly as possible for a drunken wizarding bash. Wands had been taken at the door, mainly because the Slytherins were there and Dumbledore wanted to avoid any "accidents." So far, the night had gone by event-free, and Harry was immensely grateful.

The faculty had spent the previous day conjuring up tables, chairs, and decorations down by the lake for the grand event. Now the party was on, and the weather was absolutely perfect: a cloudless sky, crescent moon, and glittering stars made it the perfect night for romance, which was apparently what Draco had in mind. A few of the Muggle-born students had suggested a bit of karaoke, and after watching a couple of very inebriated Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws stumble through annoying Muggle songs, Draco decided to show them how to shock and amaze people.

Harry and Ron exchanged amused glances after seeing Draco climb onto a picnic table and demand for the crowd's undivided attention. He appeared to have a hard time getting to the top of the table, and Harry wondered if it was because he was drunk or if his leather pants were overly snug. Grabbing the microphone from a surprised Hannah Abbot, he yelled, "I have an announcement to make, Hogwarts! For the past two years, I've been secretly dating someone! Wanna know who it is?" His audience cheered, and Harry looked at Ron with panic in his eyes.

"Ron... um... there's something you might want to know..." Unfortunately for Harry, Ron wasn't paying a bit of attention to time, being too busy watching Malfoy make an ass of himself.

"Now, Draco said calmly, "Before I reveal this mysterious person, there are a few things you should know about me. One: I am not, nor do I have any intention of becoming, a Death Eater. I'm opening a fine magical clothing shop in Hogsmeade after graduation." He grinned at the shocked reaction he was gaining. "Two: earlier today, my father disowned me because of this secret... lover." He was now laughing at the Slytherins' disgusted faces. "Finally, I'm gay. Don't tell me that's not obvious, either," he said confidently, gesturing towards his carefully selected ensemble: a black wife beater, forest green leather pants, and black boots. "Straight men don't wear leather pants," he commented offhandedly. A scream, sounding remarkably like Pansy Parkinson, pierced the dead silence. A moment later, said Slytherin was lying on the ground, having passed out.

Ron curiously eyed Harry, who was proudly sporting his favorite pair of black leather trousers. Pansy came to, screamed, and promptly fainted once again. Hermione, of course, smiled knowingly. She may have been piss drunk, but she wasn't blind--Draco's pants were surrounded by a glowing hot pink aura. Or maybe they weren't. Okay, she was just drunk. Immediately following this self-admission, she passed out, falling on the ground next to Pansy. Harry pointedly ignored the many interested male glances that were currently being thrown his way, and wondered if he should go buy another pair of leather pants in a new color. Black was getting to be so boring now.

Slowly, the students began to applaud Draco No-Longer-A-Malfoy, partly because they understood the amount of nerve this admission had taken, but mostly to encourage him to make an even bigger ass of himself. All of the hostility felt towards the blond boy by the other students was washed away by the respect he had just managed to gain from them, with a little help from the astonishing amount of Ogden's that had been poured into the punch. A wry smile crossed Draco's pale face, and he flipped away a strand of hair was hanging in his eyes.

"As I said before, I've been dating someone rather special to me for the past two years. I finally brought this to the attention of my father, who proceeded to scream at me, curse me, beat me, and all of that infamous evil Malfoy stuff. Then, once I insisted that I still loved this person, he stripped me of the Malfoy name. Good riddance to that. Still, this leaves me with a rather pressing issue. I don't have a last name!" Grinning wickedly, he pulled a platinum ring from the pocket of his oh-so-delectably-tight leather pants, and asked, "Harry Potter, can I use yours?"

Ron passed out between Hermione and Pansy.

The seventh year Hogwarts students woke up with terrible hangovers and almost no memory of the night before. Ron came to between a drooling Pansy and a snoring Hermione, and noted with disappointment that all three of them were still clothed. He could hear Hermione muttering something about pink pants, and the events from last night came flooding back to him. Pants. Leather pants. Draco in leather pants. Straight guys don't wear leather pants. Harry in leather pants. Draco. Ring. Harry. Shit. With those final confused thoughts running through his head, he passed out again from the sheer horror of it all.