Rick Professor Donovan had every right to eye Connor and Juni suspiciously as they entered the room, though Juni was convinced that she had done nothing to warrant his scrutiny. They were completely model students, after all. Every fifth year should aspire to be just like them. They brought life into his cold, miserable existence and he knew it.  Llewelyn was sitting all by his innocent self. In that moment, she and Connor knew what they had to do.

They exchanged a glance that lasted less than a second, and proceeded to make a Ravenclaw sandwich, sitting on either side of Llewelyn. They had just the thing for this occasion.

Donovan went on about how this was a test review day, blah blah, beard. Blah blah, amazing arms. Juni wasn't paying attention as soon as he said 'review.'

The last thing that Juni wanted to think about was the abduction-- the scars that had been left on her body, while they were healing well, were constant reminders. Class was a welcome distraction to it all-- but shenanigans were an even better distraction. Since class was arguably and by some distant stretch of the imagination not happening today, then shenanigans would have to suffice.

They were directed to get into small groups to study. Juni pulled her charms textbook out of her backpack and handed it to Llewelyn. "I don't understand what the author is talking about in chapter five. I wrote notes in the margin and I still don't get it." She did her best to put on an air of desperation. Little did her fellow Ravenclaw know that she and Connor had placed quite the gift in the book, charmed to jump out at the reader once opened.[1]

They would be forgiven. Probably. Maybe. After all, they were model citizens.

1.	A shiny pair of Bastian Desrosier's boxer briefs, transfigured to have the text 'Slytherin me' across the butt.

Llywelyn, surprised by being approached, eyed Juni and her textbook suspiciously. He was rarely noticed by his peers, he found it strange that he was approached by not one, but two of his classmates. He placed the textbook on top of his desk, and opened the front cover.

"I-I-Um, I'm sure I can explain it for you."

He flipped over to the table of contents, searching for chapter five.

And there he saw them. A pair of boxer briefs that were certainly not his (thank god for that).

Blood rapidly rushed to his cheeks, and slammed the book shut with a loud thud.

"Wha-!" he sputtered in disbelief.

"Wha-I-um-who's..." he rambled in embarrassment and quickly shoved his hands into his pockets, and hung his head low as to avoid eye contact with anyone.

What did he do to deserve this? He barely knew Juni, or Connor for that matter. He must've been gazing around the class too often. That must've attracted their attention. Or was it the way he was sitting? Whatever it was he was NOT ready for this.

Clearly the charm didn't work. Bastian Desrosiers' glorious boxer briefs did not leap out of the book like intended. Juni would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed.

Llywelyn then completely freaked out, sputtered a bit, and shut down. Juni gave him a wary look and awkwardly patted his shoulder. She broke him, and it hadn't taken any effort, really. Had they gone too far?

"There, there. It's okay, they're clean." She said in a tone that was meant to be soothing, tilting her head down to get a good look at his face. "You're blushing."

Llywelyn slowly raises his hands towards his cheeks and rubs them slightly, hoping to make the blush disappear. He glances at Juni, his eyes met hers. He gives a sheepish smile, and gives a slight shrug. 

"It happens more than you think."

He then took a deep breath to recollect himself.

"W-where did get those? Wait. Don't tell me, I don't want to know."

At Llywelyn's choke of surprise, Connor’s wide, shit-eating grin dissolved into mad snickers. The charm might’ve failed, but, shite, if nothing else the other boy’s expression made it feckin’ worth it. His face was redder than a swollen tit.


     Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.


Those magic words. Oh, Llywelyn. Lulu. Ol’ buddy ol’ pal. It was like he didn’t even know them.

“They’re Bastian’s,” Connor supplied super virtuously, ever the spirit of helpfulness as he leaned well into Llywelyn’s space—craning his head just so, that he was looking soulfully up into Llywelyn’s eyes, his messy hair brushing up against the kid’s rabbity nose. It made his own eyes look big and round and limpid. “They’re silk, see?” Without opening the book, he rubbed its cover suggestively.

Sitting bolt upright, and the blush beginning to fade from his cheeks, gave a slight smile to Connor, not making eye contact.

"Um, I-I'm sure their very comfortable, if that's what you mean?"

He tried to focus his attention back on Professor Donovan, but his instincts were telling him to run. He wanted to get out of there ASAP

Air.

 He needed air. He felt as if he was trapped between his fellow Ravenclaws, and a textbook with a pair of boxers in it.

He felt silly.

But he didn't move. He was a little curious as to how this would play out, that and feared how Professor Donovan would react to his sudden flight.

Kelvin was in another group near his friends, though one he'd known would be more focused on reviewing the material.  Connor may have been one of his best friends, but that didn't mean they shared a work ethic.  Or that Connor had one.  And it had taken him a moment before he realized something was going on in their group, seeing as he was actually trying to review.

But the comment about silk, which had absolutely nothing to do with anything managed to worm it's way into Kelvin's brain and pull his attention away from the task at hand.  He turned to actually look at the group, Juni, Connor, and...Llywelyn...who was bright red.  Connor had that effect on him to.

"Um, I-I'm sure their very comfortable, if that's what you mean?"

"That's it exactly."  Kelvin said, leaning over.  "Leave him be,"  He looked at Connor, figuring him to be the mastermind of the whole thing.  "That's not silk, Connor." He pointed to the book that Connor was molesting,  "For Merlin's sake, stop that."  His voice broke and his face turned red, though not as red as Llywelyn's had been.  He was more used to Connor after all.

“Ughhhh, a first year’s Engorgio’ed rat literally ate half of my chapter five this morning,” Hattie complained to her nearest classmate, not at all in a Neely way, but in the sincere and self-endorsing epilogue of master-debater and future underwear model politician. “I’ve still got my homework done,” she added, louder still, for her charms professor had a lovely pair of ears attached to an lovelier face. Hattie, unlike Cornelia, did her homework and filed it away properly.

When the descriptors for potentially expensive and legendary undergarments started rolling off the tongues of Ravenclaws of various flavors— spicy, tepid, and saucy (in that order, if one considered Juni, Llywelyn, and Connor), Hattie did what any resourceful Slytherin would do, and helped herself to the ‘intelligent’ house’s open textbooks.

And knickers.

In a dash of waist length hair and too-short skirt, she had slipped from the confines of her chair and straight into Connor Todd’s lap, leaning in rather intimately toward his blushing companions and using Connor’s neck as an anchor to do so. Kelvin Watkins in particular added ‘tomato-y’ to the long list of flavors in the bashful, giggling, wicked soup of fifteen year olds.

“Let me see,” she demanded, friendly and precocious as ever. She fished them up with the tip of her wand, studying them with shrewd eyes as she might the pronunciation of a spell. he swung them toward the pair of embarrassed boys. “They’re more your color, Watkins— Right, Juni?” She asked, extended her arm further down the line with a terrible grin. (Hattie had confidence that Juni, at least, was quick and clever enough to dodge them. Girl power.) “But they are completely silk,” she affirmed, not having realized Kelvin wasn’t talking about the boxers. “Share your book?” She added, in a pretty please sort of voice.

But Hattie quite suddenly scrambled to flick the article into the book, for her perfect view of Donovan’s bum was becoming a perfect view of his face. She shifted roughly in Connor’s lap, her ankles tangling with his as she attempted to land on the farthest edge of his chair, as if there were another shoved in there somewhere. “What page was that again, Juni?”

“What the hell is going on here?”


In all his brawny, bearded, muscle-y glory, Rick advanced on the group, those famous brows dropped into that equally famous frown.

For once he had tried to ignore them. Usually the idea of letting them slack off was ridiculous, but the events of late February were still giving him nightmares, and last night had been worse than usual; the result was an exhaustion that left him too tired to muster up more than an unimpressed stare, at least for the stupid but small stuff. Anyway, the kids seemed to be getting the hang of things, even the ones who struggled. A review would keep them out of his hair and still leave him in the clear.

Of course, he should have accounted for Todd and Zamperia. And Woolfolk. Rarely a week went by without one of them making his eye twitch. Now all they needed was Desrosiers to complete the tableau, which – yeah, no.

Rick stopped behind Llywelyn, towering over him – all of them – like the wrath of God, and folded his arms. The fabric around his biceps stretched across them warningly. “Someone want to explain?” he said, tone deceptively mild.

And then he saw it—a single silky corner poking out from between those pages.


     “Sir, we were just… I think someone… uh…”


Rick leaned over Llywelyn and Connor and picked up the book.


     “…enchanted…”


He straightened. Kevin’s voice tapered off into a weak um. He opened the book.

Emerald green stared back at him. Slytherin me, it said. Rick could smell Desrosiers on it.

There was a pause.

Llywelyn was suddenly filled with the urge the laugh. Between Professor Donovan's face staring down at him, and the other students, the pair of silky underpants that peek out the corner of the textbook. It was all too much. He couldn't contain it any longer. He let out a snort, that quickly became a giggle. Which then turned into a full bellied laugh. Something that he hadn't done in a long time.

When he regained control of himself he went bright red, again. Llywelyn stuffed his hands into his pockets, and bowed his head, not daring to make eye contact with the Professor, or his peers.

Leave it to Hattie to save the day.  She certainly knew how to have fun, unlike Kelvin and Llwelyn, who were clearly prudes. She wondered if she should fix that. Juni decided then that she'd talk to the Professors Donovan about making that project extra credit. It'd be better for everybody who knew them, after all.

"Let Connor do all the stroking he wants, Kelvin!" Juni retorted, "It's not his fault he's..." She gave Connor an appraising look, "Sensual." She mimed a very lewd gesture that wasn't at all appropriate to a classroom setting. Rick, in all of his bearded glory, showed up then-- judging and critical. He looked like a long suffering man who had dealt with their antics for far too long. It was a shame he was desensitized.

"Someone want to explain?"

"We're studying, professor." Juni insisted, "Bastian's taste in pants is spectacular." She raised her eyebrows, "Unless, you have fashion advice..? We all know you used to model for Witch Weekly. This makes you a professional."

It was then that Lulu had a lapse in sanity. Was that a laugh?! It was good to know he had some spirit to him after all.

Juni looked back at Rick again, putting on her most bored expression. She then motioned for him to go away as if he was intruding on something personal.  Completely done with Rick by now, she turned away from him and leaned over Llwelyn to stroke Hattie's face.  practically elbowing the poor guy in the process.

"Hattie," Juni protested, "I thought we agreed we weren't going to share each other." Her lips pouted, her dark eyes twinkled devilishly.

At Kelvin’s censure, Connor only looked at him, waggling his brows and rubbing the book cover even harder. Stroking it. Fingering it, with all the ease and expertise of one who was very, very, very good at it.

He beamed at Juni when she came to his defense. “Aw, thanks, Juni.” And then he had a lapful of Hattie, and. Well. It was like a small Christmas morning—one that, if she got any more comfortable, would become a distinctly bigger one fairly quickly.

Still, Connor grinned as she weighed him down. He dropped his hands to her hips—to keep her steady while she fished out Bastian’s boxers for scrutiny, of course, because he was nothing if not helpful. Then it turned out for the better, or she would have had them both falling out of his seat.

So he wrapped an arm around her waist. And then basked in both her and Rick’s proximity; it was like being in the middle of a sandwich of hotness. Fffffffuuuuuuuck Professor D was swole. Not even the awkwardness of the situation could put a damper on all of that.

…Except Juni, maybe. But her dismissal wasn’t so much as a damper as it was a burst of hilarity that had Connor burying his face into Hattie’s shoulder and letting out a loud, ripping snort. We all know you used to model for Witch Weekly. This makes you a professional. Holy shit.

He wasn’t going to lose it. He wasn’t. At least, not until Lulu cracked, in which case it was perfectly acceptable for a guy to peel his face away from Hattie’s shoulder, all flushed and scrunched up and shoulders silently shaking in laughter because hooooooooooooly shit.

And then. And then, it. got. better.

A strangled sound erupted from their professor. From farther behind them, Esther’s voice piped up, hushed but clear: “Bastian, isn’t that yours?”

Connor lost it. He howled with laughter.

It wasn't that Kelvin was afraid for his life so much as he was certain they were all about to die.  He had tried his best to keep everyone out of trouble when Professor Donovan had approached but he knew his friends and should have known better.  Especially after seeing the underwear.  He hadn't even seen the underwear.  At least the silk comment finally made sense.

The only surprise was Llywelyn apparently also losing his mind.  But he there wasn't even one person he could blame, or kick for being the cause of their collective deaths.  It was a group effort.  He couldn't even be distracted by the professor's arms.  Okay well he was a little distracted by them, but there were certainly worse views to go out on.

"Ah, Professor..."  Kelvin started and then faded off again.  He didn't really know where to go with it.  There wasn't a way to fix this.

They were going to die.

Ayla had been trying to study, she really really had. She had even positioned herself next to Kelvin whom she knew would actually take the opportunity to study during a review day instead of slacking off. She had her text book out, her quill and parchment out for notes and she was set. This was going to be her year, she had done so poorly, been so distracted the year before that she felt she had so much to make up for. Not to mention she was vehemently determined NOT to act like everyone else, swooning over Professor McBeardyface. Even the guys seemed to be taken with him, but not her. No sir!

Unfortunately it didn't take long for Connor to muck it all up and all she could do was watch horrified as the group in front of her dissolved into chaos all over a pair of - oh gross - a pair of boxers. Suddenly Llywelyn was laughing his head off before turning back into a blushing ball of social awkwardness which only led to Connor taking point.

Ayla had to agree with Kelvin and where he hadn't said it aloud Ayla sighed in resignation, "Donovan's going to kill us all."

Esther loved her friends. Really, she did. They were smart, and fun, and most importantly they were actually fantastic friends. She loved them both for and in spite of their many, occasionally heinous, faults. But the problem with being friends with a bunch of juvenile delinquents and miscreants was that they were juvenile delinquents and miscreants. The faults she loved them both for and in spite of were still faults.

And so like Kelvin, she had opted to leave Connor and Juni to their own devices. Bastian wasn’t a saint either, but Bastian was Bastian, and he was always amenable to instruction, so. At least this way she could ensure that two of them did their work.

Still, perhaps she should have been less surprised that he was somehow involved anyway.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. Especially when Bastian turned around in his seat, his look of long-suffering becoming one of barely hidden glee, smile wide and not unlike the Cheshire Cat’s.


     “And how would you know that?”


Esther closed her mouth and turned away, clearing her throat. Suddenly it was very, very warm.

“No-” She winced down at her notes—at the shrill note in her voice. What was wrong with her? “No reason.” She began shuffling them, skimming them briskly, until mint green fingertips pinched a couple and set them aside. Head bent, she let her hair fall around her face like a silky black curtain… and conceal the telltale pink of her cheeks. “We should focus.”

Without looking up, she brandished a highlighter at him.