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Colour Me . . . by Cassie Valentine
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Colour Me . . .

Cassie Valentine

*****

Harry stared bleary eyed at the fire whiskey in front of him. He glanced at Ron who was trying, badly, to pick up some girl. He chuckled as the girl quickly rejected Ron, and then turned back to his own fire whiskey. Bottles and glasses of all different shapes and colours littered their table.

"Last round boys," Rosmerta said as she gave them each one more glass of fire whiskey.

"Come on now love," Ron said. "We're the quietest ones here."

"You're also the drunkest ones here. Last round," she said as she walked off with some of their empty containers. Harry finished off his glass in one swallow before picking up his new drink.

"So," Ron asked. "Feeling better?"

"Not really," he admitted as he swayed a little in his chair. Ron furrowed his brow.

"Your line was supposed to be 'yes Ron, I feel loads better.'" Harry shrugged.

"I wonder if Hermione's okay." Both of the boys paused. They hadn't thought much about how she was doing.

"Let's go see her," Ron suggested. Harry shook his head. He had a feeling that he knew where Hermione was and he didn't particularly feel like seeing Molly Weasley when he was drunk off his ass. "Right then. Home?"

"When we're done." Ron nodded and the two drank in silence. The two shakily stood up to leave as soon as the last drop of fire whiskey was gone.

"Come to my place?" Harry shook his head. "Night then. And good luck," Ron said before disapparated to his place.

Harry stood outside the little pub for a moment, enjoying the cool air before he concentrated on home, disapparating shortly himself.

"This isn't where I wanted," he said when he realized he was in the Burrow. He stared blankly at Hermione and Moll, gave them a little wave and sheepishly turned and stumbled up the stairs to Ron's old room.

***

"Well, there's one drunken prat home in one piece," Molly remarked. "Now where's the other one?" she asked as she headed to the fireplace to floo to Ron's.

"Ouch! Damn it!" Hermione heard from upstairs. She sat at the table for a moment, wondering if she was ready to deal with Harry again. When she heard the banging and swearing that was going on upstairs, she decided that she was and she headed up stairs.

"Have fun?" she asked him.

"Not really," he told her. "All I could think about was how you were." Ah, alcohol, the fastest and easiest way to loosen Harry's tongue.

"I'm okay now." Hermione walked into Harry's room when she heard his reply and found him fumbling with his shirt, stuck halfway on and halfway off. She pulled it off and the two stopped for a moment and stared at each other.

"I like your hair like that," he commented, not really knowing what else to say.

"Thanks," she said. "Fire whiskey?"

"They didn't supply muggle beer," he answered. She nodded and he turned away, taking off his pants and kicking them across the room and dug through Ron's drawers, hopping to find a shirt and he found two; a black one and a Gryffindor red one. He grabbed the red one and threw it over his head. He noticed Hermione smiling at him. "What?"

"You look good in that red," she told him simply. He looked down at it and played with the hem.

"I was starting to miss it a little," he told her as he sat down on the bed. Hermione nodded and sat down next to him.

"So was I."

"Thank you," he said after a long moment and she nodded, understanding. Another long silence fell over them before he started to talk again.

Molly came home a few hours later after she had berated Ron for taking Harry out to drink. She looked around for Harry and Hermione and when she couldn't find them, headed up the stairs and paused at Ron's door, a soft murmur coming from inside. She peaked in the room and smiled a little. The two were in bed. Harry was curled around her, and they were talking in low voices. She left them alone and she knew that things would be fine now.

*****