Title: Wassail, Round 3
Author: Constant Vigilance
Status: FIN
Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Website: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/
Rating: PG
Pairing: H/D
Spoilers: None. AU 7^th year.
Warnings: Slash, Hagrid, the morning after…and ladies panties
Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR is God.
Summary: Harry and Draco don’t quite make it to the Quidditch pitch. What they find is much more amusing.
Notes: Written for The Hexfiles December Challenge. 500 words using ‘wassail’, ‘charm’, and ‘solstice.’

The boys fell into step, shoulders brushing and shadows merging on the ground before them. Every now and then one would turn to the other and smile. They hadn’t made it far when Harry spied a large lump on the ground where no lump should be. Frowning, he pointed it out to Draco. They switched directions to investigate.

 

They couldn’t decide to be surprised or amused when they discovered the identity of ‘the lump.’ Rubeus Hagrid, gentle giant, was laid out flat on the ground, snoring like a chainsaw. In his right hand, he clutched a jug of leftover wassail. In his right?

 

…a pair of lacy white panties with a tiny pink bow.

 

Harry studiously ignored the delicate undergarment as he attempted the enervate charm. The best he got was a bit of grunting and a sappy smile. Then…

 

“Sweet petal, not now. Daddy’s sleepin’.”

 

Draco nearly burst a lung guffawing. Harry glared briefly at him before shaking Hagrid.

 

“Petal, darlin’…spank you later. Daddy’s tired.”

 

And Hagrid rolled over and began snoring again.

 

Harry stood bewildered while Draco howled in laughter next to him.

 

“It’s horrible, Draco!” Harry finally yelled. “How can you laugh at this? Leering drunken professors? Strip Exploding Snap? Hagrid spanking someone and stealing their shorts? It’s like the bloody Solstice Sexcapades!”

 

Draco's looked confused. “The what?”

 

“Sexcapades…Like Icecapades?” Blank look. “Never mind,” he said exasperated. “My point is that I don’t want to know this much about my professors’ personal lives!”

 

Draco just shook his head, his smile returning. “Course you do, Potter. Just let the humor of the situation sink in. So, who do you think ‘Petal’ is?”

 

Harry clamped hands over ears. “Don’t know. Don’t care!”

 

Draco smirked. “McGonagall?” he thought out loud, watching Harry flinch though he ‘couldn’t hear anything.’ “Naw…too prim.” “Trelawney?” Harry shuddered. “Nope. Probably not. We’d still be smelling incense.”

 

“Could be Hooch,” Harry said hesitantly, hands coming down.

 

Draco nodded approvingly. “Could be. I’m thinking Hooch is more the, er…McGonagall type.”

 

Harry’s jaw dropped. “She’s…?”

 

Draco nodded. “Flaming.” He looked thoughtful. “It can’t be Sprout. Shorts are too small. Ow!!” He yelped as Harry smacked him.

 

“Don’t be rude,” Harry ordered. “What about Sinestra or Vector?”

 

Draco shrugged. “Who says it’s a woman?”

 

Harry frowned. “But these are ladies panties!”

 

Draco smirked and Harry’s eyes widened again. “But…the men…Dumbledore, Flitwick, Filch…”

 

Harry suddenly tinged green. “Snape. Oh Draco, Obliviate me right now!”

 

Draco snickered. “You don’t want to try to figure out who these panties belong to?”

 

“No!” Harry sounded mortified. “No! Well, I…Absolutely…oh, hell. Yeah, I do. What’s your point?” He finished in a huff.

 

“Just asking,” Draco returned innocently. Harry glared for a moment and then grinned wickedly.

 

“You know, we could make a trip back to get some help for poor Hagrid.” Draco's eyebrows rose. “Maybe even ask around for Petal. I mean, dear Hagrid was moaning terribly for his Petal.”

 

Draco snorted. “Gods, Harry. You’re an evil bastard. How’d you get into Gryffindor again?”