Unofficial Portkey Archive

Title: The Snitch

Author: nacey

Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au

Category: Romance, humour

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP

Summary: After a drunken night of revelry, Hermione stumbles into Harry's room and shows him a brand new tattoo she had no idea she had gotten. In the days that follow, Harry cannot get his mind off the glittering tattoo on her belly. Can someone fall in love just because of a tattoo?

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: Okay, this was a real labour of love. I wrote this, the first sixty percent on my own, then I joined forces with Anne and I wrote it and showed her bits as I went. She decided about halfway through this process that she wanted to write a version of this story following Hermione's point of view, and I begged her to please, please do it. She's done a real sterling job, I cannot tell you how much fun it's been to collaborate with her. It's been very hard work though, and I think the both of us will be having a big break of silly one shots! (Hang on, me? One shots! I wish!! I am incapable of writing anything under 10,000 words!!) Anyway, I want to thank and send huge public hugs to Anne - you really are a star. She also wrote the very last scene (the breakfast in bed bit), even though I redid the dialogue (much to her chagrin I assure you). I also wanted to thank my hard-working beta Queen, Lissanne, who never stops supporting me in my writing (or my art!). You are a real sweet heart, it's a joy to have you helping me out. My stories wouldn't be so great without you! I also want to thank my new betas that helped me with this - Molly, Jennifer - I thank you most sincerely! And Molly is a real legend, she did some wonderful edits. Dude, you owe me about five bucks in quarters!

Without further ado - The Snitch! (a lot of fuss for a very silly story!)

~~*~~

Chapter One.

Marking.

They were all insanely drunk. This was absolutely no surprise, as instead of bowing out in the first round of semi-finals, for once the Chudley Cannons had made it to the last round of semi-finals, only to be beaten by the Falmouth Falcons. All this was wonderful news. Ron was a player for the Cannons, a remarkable feat but not too remarkable, considering how horrid the team usually played. Ron had made it on the team a year before, and in that short year, he'd inspired the team with his deep felt passion for the side and the game. Plus he had a few damned good ideas that the Captain took up, and it improved their game immensely. Ron was many things, stubborn, short-tempered and sometimes downright thick-headed, but Harry couldn't deny he was an amazing strategist.

The upshot of all of this was that Ron had dragged his best friends in all the world into a tiny pub in Devon, a favourite Chudley hangout, and demanded drink after drink. As the night wore on, the entire orange-clad team becoming slowly more intoxicated.

Harry was certain that this was the wildest party he'd ever been to. There were Quidditch Girlfriends by the bucket load; young, blonde bombshells with pretty eyes, pouty lips and perfect little giggles. They knew everything about Quidditch, and gossiped amongst themselves about the sports politics. They considered themselves the experts of the sport, and loathed the common fan. Quite simply, they were exactly the kind of people Hermione couldn't stand. Harry could see her nursing a pint with a scowl on her face that would scare even the likes of Knockturn Alley thoroughfare. Despite her great dislike for the girls down the other end of the bar, she doggedly turned up as often as she could. Harry was just as loyal, and attended just as often.

This unity was seen as a little odd by the Quidditch Girlfriends. Hermione wasn't going out with him, and Harry was just his old school buddy. He would see them peering at both him and Hermione, and sometimes he fancied he could see the words vividly shaped on their perfectly lipsticked lips; Why did they always hang around? He guessed it was a bit strange, in their minds, a bit bizarre. Heavens knew what the three of them were really doing together all the time. Their scandal-devouring minds no doubt went to town with the possibilities.

Of course, their intense dislike of Hermione and Harry started so innocently, really.

"Are you Ron's girlfriend?"

Hermione had laughed. "Oh! Goodness, no. I'm his best friend. My name's Hermione."

For that she had received a charming smile, the kind of smile from someone who thought they knew better. "Oh, I see." Blue eyes had roved up and down appraisingly. A glass of very expensive wine was lifted to perfectly round lips. "That's an interesting top. Very - understated."

"Oh!" Hermione had looked down. "It's just a something I bought for a night out."

"Of course." Again, a charmed smile from the girl that made Harry grind his teeth together. It didn't reach the girl's eyes however. "Yes, I often think about trying the second-hand chic look myself, but I doubt I could really pull it off. My looks require fine haute couture. It doesn't gel." Another raking with the eyes, and a tilt of the head. "It works with you wonderfully. Must be that natural look you have. Almost mousy in a charming sort of way."

Hermione's expression froze. Harry could see her taking in every bit of the slim girl in front of her, and it was all he could do not to step in and tell the girl where to go. Hermione, however, could fight her own battles, and in the next moment she proved this beautifully.

A thin smile broke on Hermione's face, and she gave a chuckling sigh.

"Aaah. Must be wonderful to have the time and energy to invest in your appearance." She shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't have time for a heavy regimen. Not with my career anyway."

"Oh, and what is it you do, darling?"

There was a little bit of evil glee in the curl of Hermione's lips as she said, "I work for the Ministry."

"Ah, are you a secretary there?"

Hermione met the girl's eyes and there was a dangerous spark in her own. "Oh no, nothing so mundane. I hunt down Dark Wizards, and the blonde cows that follow them."

"Oh."

That finished the conversation and any chance of the girls accepting Hermione. Not that he thought this would bother her. He could see she couldn't stand the pack of bints.

The treatment that Hermione got made Harry incredibly mad, and since then he'd made a habit of looking out for her when they did turn up at a league or team party. He knew she hated it when he did that; she believed she could look after herself. It still didn't hurt to have the watchful eyes of Harry Potter on the drove of Quidditch girlfriends, should they decide to take a turn for the nasty. This didn't aid popularity, but that was pretty much a lost cause anyway.

There was, of a sudden, a great racket at the door of the pub, and Miss Lavender Brown made her entrance. She was resplendent in a stylish soft pink power suit, her brown hair piled on top of her head. Hugging a ridiculously furry jacket to her stomach, she grinned at the party and waved.

"There you are!"

She approached the group, sighing fitfully and pulling her purse from her sleek black leather bag.

"What *are* you lot doing here? This is an important occasion! You should be at the Leaky Cauldron!"

The most influential of the Quidditch girlfriends, a young lady by the name of Sandra Levine, lifted a perfectly plucked brow and huffed.

"This is the traditional pub of the Chudley Cannons," said Sandra. "It's where we always have our celebrations."

Lavender looked around at the party and chuckled, this time in disbelief.

"Yes, but the press don't come here."

"We find the media rabble annoying."

This made Lavender giggle. "You're a team that was struggling only two years ago. Trust me - the press would do you some good. Might get you more people coming to your games."

The Quidditch girlfriends huddled together.

"I'm not entirely sure how you think you can give us advice. We've been following Quidditch all our lives. You are just some worker on a newspaper."

"I'm a reporter in THE newspaper, honey," Lavender said, throwing the comment over her shoulder as she walked past the girls. "Where's Hermione? Or my Ronnie friend for that matter?"

Ron edged forward with a blush in his cheeks to receive a hearty hug from Lavender. It was strange how Lavender had been thrust into their lives again, after a couple of years apart and in different areas and professions. She worked with strident ambition at the Daily Prophet. She'd gone from being the astrologer, to gossip column editor, to doing social commentary, her drive powered by the memory of the struggle to finally defeat Voldemort. They were dark days, and Lavender's Muggle roots made her a target. Her and her family, all of whom did not survive those dark times unscathed. She didn't like to talk about what she'd suffered - she just focused on life, and being the bright bubbly woman they knew at school. Making her way up the ranks at the newspaper had lead Lavender to seek out Harry again as he was still an influential figure in the issues of dealing with dark wizards and Ministry politics. After a few meetings and a sustained professional relationship, it lead to a night of drunken revelry. Since then they'd opened their life to Lavender, who was delighted about it. Harry was glad to have her around. He remembered well the hard work she put into being in the DA, and he appreciated her loyalty to him in her work. She was terribly busy with her job, but she loved to come to parties for Ron. She had a huge amount of affection for Ron, and had no compunction in letting him know.

She was well dressed, well spoken, and sharp as a tack. The Quidditch girls despised her more than they did Hermione. Harry knew that Hermione adored the girl even more for that reason alone.

Lavender dragged Ron to the end of the bar where Hermione was stationed with Harry.

"Good, we're starting already," she said.

Hermione smiled, squeezing Lavender's hand as she sat down next to her. "With this lot, we'll need it."

"Fuck 'em," Lavender muttered, waving her hand at the bartender. "Snobby tarts, the lot of them."

Ron smirked a little and sat down next to Lavender. "I had to have the friends nobody likes."

Lavender sat tall and lifted a brow. "The boys like me." She looked to the team, who were so utterly drunk that a dung-bomb could erupt under their noses and they wouldn't care.

"You're a pretty girl, Lav, that's no surprise."

Lavender batted her eyelashes at Ron and smiled. "That's sweet of you to say."

The redhead smiled, secret pleasure in his expression.

Harry was relieved to see Lavender there. She distracted Hermione from the barrage of unfriendly glances at the end of the bar. Their times out with Lavender were almost always affairs to remember, and as Lavender ordered up a storm with the bartender, he realised that this time would be no different.

He looked to Hermione, who finished off her pint. The years of struggle against foes of varied kinds had given her a quiet maturity that Harry liked. On the whole, however, she was the same old Hermione. Same bushy hair, same lovely brown eyes that had so much going on behind them. He wondered if the girls were maybe jealous of Hermione. She was so very smart and powerful, and she was lovely to look at, too. There was absolutely no effort required on her part to look beautiful, or to be special. She just was.

Lavender smacked the bar. "We're going to do shots, lots of them. Tequila first. Come on!"

Hermione groaned. "Oh, I don't want this to be a repeat of Harry's birthday."

"Miss Granger!" admonished Lavender. "Of course it won't be. This will be even better."

Harry smiled at the expression that fluttered across Hermione's face as a shot of tequila was stuffed into her hand. He soon had his own little shot glass, and Lavender was now fixing Ron with some, too.

"Okay, ready? Ready! You're ready, right?"

With a smirk Harry nodded, and after a swift countdown from Lav, they knocked back the sharp clear liquid. Lavender growled and gnashed her teeth appreciatively.

"Yes! Yes sir!"

She clapped her hands and looked to her friends. "All right! Who wants a slippery nipple?!"

As always happened at these parties, the boys in the team drifted down the bar to take part in the drinking games Lavender liked to set up and to enjoy the loud, rambunctious company she and Ron became when the liquor hit their systems.

"Voldie! Voldie! What a bloody baldie!

Whines like a bitch and a snake up his mouldy

Bum Bum! Knock back the Rum!"

Everyone knocked back a rum.

"Better to be drunk than that sick fuck's chum!

Shrivelled pin-dick and a foetus for a head!

Such a fucking wanker, alive or dead!

Pickle me, jar me, lock me up tight!"

Everyone hurriedly knocked back some vodka for that line.

"I'd rather be a gherkin than his fuck for a night!"

Hands started slamming the bar and the revelers chanted.

"One, two, three, four, Riddle is a bloody bore! Five, six, seven, eight, Riddle loves to masturbate!"

Again more alcohol was consumed, and then everybody cheered at the wonderful rendition of the song that had become a faithful standard. Harry didn't join in on it; he'd been there when they'd finally defeated the bastard, but he did knock back a drink in time, and smiled, grateful that they were there to joke about it all. Hermione leaned in, and it didn't escape his notice that she hadn't sung the songs either.

"Amazing that not one of them flinched to say his name," she murmured to his ear.

Harry smiled, sipping at a beer. "Not even Ron," he muttered to her.

He felt very, very drunk. The room was slowly turning about him and his tongue didn't seem to want to pronounce words properly. Huddled to his side was Hermione in a similar state of inebriation. Lavender had been feeding her a steady stream of liquor, and she'd accepted it gladly. Harry noticed that Lavender brought out Hermione's more adventurous side, much like he did himself. He'd never gotten Hermione to do half the things Lav had managed. Once, he was privy to a conversation of rather intimate matters. It had started on kissing techniques and had strayed into whether they'd kissed other girls or not, and what it would be like if they had. Lavender had said rather happily that if Hermione ever wanted to try it she'd be more than willing. Hermione blushed and smiled at Harry, seeming to back out of that conversation rather quickly. Why she looked at *him* of all people, he had no idea. He had to make sure he kept eye contact and her attention away from his crotch, which was suffering from a rather embarrassing condition of being harder than Hagrid's scones.

It seemed this night would be just as raucous.

"Let's really stick it up them," said Lavender, tipping her head towards the Quidditch Girlfriends and grabbing Hermione's hand. "Let's snog!"

Hermione blinked, her cheeks going utterly scarlet.

"Uhm - why?"

"Why not?" Lavender cried. "That lot are so painfully predictable that they'd bust their last brain cell over it for sure! You know they love a scandal." A deliciously evil grin flittered across her face. "Besides! It'll send 'em insane when their precious boyfriends all ignore them and ogle us! Come on!"

Harry felt his blood growing hot. Two girls kissing was a spectacle most men were mad for. If the aforementioned girls were to include *his* Hermione and the impish Lavender... That was the kind of thing the wettest of dreams were made of.

Glancing at the crowd at the bar, Hermione shrugged. "One condition."

Lavender nodded. "Shoot."

"You understand that I'm doing this for me. I'm genuinely curious as to what it'd be like. I'm not doing this for them. That's just a fringe benefit."

"Oh Hermione," cooed Lavender, inching closer. "That's just fine."

Ron fidgeted, edging towards Harry. He didn't seem entirely thrilled about it all. He drew close to Harry, worry clear in his eyes.

"You don't think she's after Hermione, do you?"

Somehow, Harry didn't think so, and he shook his head at Ron to say as much. Lavender never called Hermione 'hers', not like she did with Ron. This looked to Harry to be a playful exploration rather than the final admission of love. Hermione closed her eyes as Lavender leant in, pretty glossed lips against naturally pink. She tilted her head and the lips opened. Harry was utterly enchanted by the sight. He couldn't pull his eyes away and he was only vaguely aware of the rest of the pub roaring its approval. Too quickly the kiss was over and Hermione's cheeks were crimson.

Her eyes were on him, and he burned up all over again. Some part of him wanted to make her blush like that, make her feel what he was feeling now.

He blinked, shaking himself. How utterly silly of him to think like that.

Lavender grinned, giving Hermione a final stroke on the cheek.

"That was lovely," she said. "You taste like Black Russians and chocolate."

Ron's face was as red as his hair. He licked his lips, watching the exchange with what looked like crashing disappointment. Harry knew that expression anywhere and he made a mental note to reassure the fellow that if he was interested in Lavender, his chances were nowhere near shot. Especially since the girl was sidling up to him with a twinkle in her eye that was unmistakable.

Well, maybe it would sort itself out.

The kiss had the desired effect amongst the Quidditch girlfriends. Eyes were rolled and expressions of disgust and shock exchanged. Harry really didn't see what the big deal was about. People kissed in pubs all the time.

Another drink had made its way into his hand, and he looked up to see Lavender doling out drinks to them again. Harry wondered how she managed to deal with so much of the stuff. Then again, she was so busy that she didn't get to spend time off like this very often. When she partied, she partied as hard as she worked.

He looked back to Hermione. She was leaning against him, talking to Lavender. Well - listening to Lavender. Lavender was prattling away at her about some kind of wizard politics, which delighted Hermione no end. Hermione wasn't an overly touchy-feely sort of girl, but when they were both drunk like this, they often made contact in some way or another, whether it be hugs or snuggling on a couch back at the flat they shared or just holding hands. He knew most people wouldn't understand that, especially seeing as Hermione wasn't even his girlfriend. He figured when they were inebriated, their fears fled them and they were free to share the bond few could fathom.

His fingers found their way into her hair and he felt the soft tresses in his fingers, his drunken mind utterly wrapped up in the sensation.

Suddenly, a gold flitter zipped towards him. With a inward gasp, his hand shot out and grabbed at it. Despite his drunkenness, he caught it effortlessly. Looking at his hand, he saw a Snitch struggling helplessly in his long fingers.

A roar broke out at the other end of the bar and one of the players punched the air triumphantly.

"Told you!" cried Daltrey. "Once a Seeker, always a Seeker! Obsessed with the Snitch till your dying day, mate! I knew he'd catch the fucker, I KNEW it! Pay up!"

Blinking, Harry placed the Snitch down on the bar.

"Good catch mate," muttered Ron, impressed.

"Guess he's right," shrugged Harry.

Ron shook his head. "It is a shame you don't play Quidditch anymore. I swear you're the best Seeker around."

Harry gave Ron a warm, knowing smile.

"You know I'm too busy with Ministry work to even think about it."

Ron nodded. "Still. Damned shame."

The strange thing was Harry didn't feel that way at all. The odd weekends he spent playing a game of garden Quidditch was enough to satisfy him. Quite simply, being an Auror with Hermione was his life. He loved it, as harrowing as it was as a profession.

The hours wore on and for Harry, the room began to spin slightly faster and faster. It was twelve when the publican slammed shut the till and looked to the drunken party-goers.

"Time to shut up shop, folks."

Lavender gasped and grabbed Ron's hand. "I'm not ready to go home yet."

Ron, quite inebriated, had a funny faraway look in his eyes as he met her alarmed glare.

"We won't!" said Hermione. Harry wasn't sure if it was the copious amounts of tequila or the vodka talking through her, but she propped herself up on the foot-rest of the bar to stand taller than everyone and put her hand in the air. She let out a shrill whistle that got the attention of everyone in the bar.

"Harry and the rest of us are going to the Leaky Cauldron! Who's coming with us?!"

~~*~~

Most of the Chudley players went with them. Only a few of the less popular (and blonde) Quidditch girlfriends tagged along, but that suited them fine. The Leaky Cauldron was an all-night establishment, mainly because it doubled as a hotel, but also because it was one of the most popular Wizarding pubs in all of London. It didn't pay to have early closing hours.

The usually quiet little pub became noisy very quickly. The Chudleys piled in, some with their orange cloaks tied around their heads like long Arab scarves, all of them chanting the team anthem like some holy dirge. Some of the older residents of the pub shook their heads, but this wasn't out of the ordinary. Parties often swept through the Cauldron and the young drunken louts were looked at with mingled annoyance and affection.

The wholesale consumption of alcohol didn't slow any. In fact it became more fervent, and the already toddled Harry was becoming concerned that there would be some serious cases of alcohol poisoning, despite the famous high constitutions possessed by wizards.

Ron was sipping at firewhisky, a chatting bubbly Lavender wrapped around his arm. He lifted his brows, mumbling.

"It's a pity Ginny couldn' be here. She'dah loved it."

Hermione smirked, knocking back her own whisky. "I'm sure she's having fun on her secret mission thing. Bloody nutter."

Ron shook his head at that.

"She will work for the Department of Mysteries," said Lavender with one of her prophetic smiles.

Hermione's eyes boggled at her. "How did you know she-"

Lavender only wiggled her brows. Looking away, Hermione cradled her stomach in her hands.

Harry tilted his head at Hermione. "You all right?"

She nodded, wincing a little. "I just don't think all the different spirits are sitting well in my stomach. You know what they say - you should never mix your drinks-" She stopped, eyes bugging. "Excuse me!"

Jumping off her stool, she ran off towards the little witches room, hands clamped over her mouth. Lav shook her head.

"Lightweight."

Harry gave her a dry look and went after Hermione. He could hear her retching from the door of the ladies' toilets.

"Hermione?!"

Nothing, just retching.

"Hermione? You want me to come in?"

When she didn't answer he walked in, glad to see that they hadn't charmed the toilets to expel people with willies. He found Hermione in the third cubicle, and the first thing he did was to kneel beside her and pull her thick brown hair from her face as she retched. With a sigh, he stroked her hair, shaking his head.

"Silly. Shouldn't try to keep up with Lav."

Hermione only groaned. She was sat on the floor and, after leaning on the rim of the bowl, she reached up and grabbed some toilet paper, wiping at her face.

"I feel like someone is trying to mix a chemical bomb in my stomach."

He wrapped an arm around her, leaning his head against hers and continuing to stroke her hair.

"Will you be all right?"

She nodded, and turning, she burrowed into his arms, snuggling to the nape of his neck. Harry wasn't often treated to such embraces, ones that made him feel strong somehow, as if the circle of his arms about her was a solace for her, a special place. He wrapped his arms about her tightly, unwittingly pressing his lips to her hair. He always loved to hold Hermione; she was the single most important woman in his life. But in this embrace, there was something else growing from the proximity, something growing uneasy in him in a delicious sort of way. He'd always been content with the way things were, and he'd needed a time of dull inaction after the seven years of repeated conflict that had been his rather unorthodox years at Hogwarts. Quite simply, being single and having his friends around him, and just doing his job day in day out, was all he wanted or needed.

Until now.

The feeling of her in his arms recalled the years she'd comforted him and he was surprised to find that he liked needing her, liked having her there to turn to all the time. The idea of her not being in his life in any way or form was so awful that his brain refused to even look at it as a concept. It quite simply belonged in the realms of the absurd. Harry without Hermione about him didn't work. It didn't happen.

She shifted, looking up into his eyes, a sorry expression in her own.

"I must look terrible," she mumbled.

Harry had to smile at that and he cradled her cheek, stroking it with his thumb as he shook his head.

"You never look terrible," he said.

She snorted and shakily pulled herself to her feet.

"Please! I'm not silly, you know." Standing in the cubicle, she swayed a little on her feet. She pointed at him, the finger not exactly firm, but wandering to and fro. "You have this strange idea in your head that I'm pretty or something and it's utter bunkum. Bunkum!" She went to poke him in the chest to reaffirm her point, but only managed to poke him in the nipple. She frowned at him, shaking hands grabbing his shoulders.

"You need to keep still, Harry, you're gonna make me sick again."

Turning, she strode out of the cubicle and washed her face in the basin.

Harry walked over, plodding a little thanks to the levels of alcohol in his system. He pulled her hair from her face again. Abruptly, Hermione stood, glaring at him.

"What are YOU doing in here anyway?! It's a LADIES toilet!"

He glanced about himself, sheepish, and he said the first thing that came to mind.

"I was looking for Moaning Myrtle."

"Huh." She bent over and washed her face and gargled water. Standing, she scowled at her reflection in the mirror. "All my bloody make-up's been washed off." She waved a hand at her reflection in disgust and turned away, striding for the door. "Bloody waste of time anyway."

Harry had to agree with her there. She looked quite lovely without it.

~~*~~

Harry had hoped that this would have heralded the end of Hermione's consumption of the silly juice. It wasn't. With coaxing and cajoling from Lavender, more rounds were handed out, and in a mere two hours they were all so very wasted, cognitive thought was a real challenge.

The world was spinning. Harry wasn't sure why he let Lavender give him any more shots. She'd fed him all sorts of obscene sounding cocktails, the names sounding more like a catalogue of porno tapes than things one drank. Wizard or Muggle, alcoholic drinks often had gimmicky names, many connected with sex, because when one was drunk, the stupidest things were amusing. Right now, Ron was finding the Snitch the team had taken with them to the party very amusing. He'd dropped it down Lavender's top and she was squealing as it wriggled and flapped for its freedom.

"Oh my GOD this thing is OBSCENE!" she cried, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth in shock, obviously agreeing on that point.

"GO GET IT RONNIE!" cried one of the Quidditch team, and the rest of them joined in with roaring laughter.

"Get it out, get it OUT!" she squealed, flapping her coat and shoving her breasts in his face. She clawed at her blouse and Ron didn't need a second invitation. Slipping his hands deftly under her blouse, he corralled the thing up between her breasts and it popped out from her cleavage and zipped into the air. But she wasn't looking at the Snitch. Her blue eyes were fixed on Ron's, her mouth hanging open in mingled shock and arousal. She pulled a hank of her hair out of her face, gulping. Ron's hands were still under her top. The players were roaring and cackling at the display, but both Ron and Lavender seemed utterly unaware of it all. She placed her hands on his, which were flat on her stomach under her breasts, and the tiniest of smiles curled the corners of her mouth, the devil in her expression.

Hermione leant forward, wobbling a little.

"Ron, you're in public. Get your hands out of her bloody top."

The Chudleys found this incredibly amusing, as they all had some strange notion that Hermione was in love with Ron. They all nudged and cheered Ron, who had taken his hands out of Lavender's blouse with a stunned expression on his face.

"Sorry," he muttered, and Lavender just shook her head with a smile.

Harry didn't remember much after that point in the evening. Things got really very naughty, as one of the players started doing body-shots of tequila on his girlfriend and invited other people to give it a go. Harry declined and Hermione looked rather disappointed. She didn't seem to want to do them with anyone else, and Harry thought that odd since there were some rather well-built and handsome single fellows in the Chudley contingent.

Lavender had some kind of bright idea and, grabbing Hermione, she wandered off out of the pub. Harry thought maybe they were going into Diagon Alley to look for some food. Lord knows he felt like a plate of hot chips and tomato sauce right then and there. It was when they were longer than half an hour that Harry grew very worried.

Staggering out of the pub with Ron, they looked all up and down Diagon Alley. They weren't there. Harry panicked.

"Where are they?" he said. "They should be here, somewhere - they're not!"

Ron could only shrug, and he knew Harry was just saying all this to deal with the rising fear inside of him.

They were approaching the darker, less sanitary end of Diagon Alley, that led into Knockturn Alley. Harry was just beginning to really become blindingly worried when two girls staggered out of Knockturn Alley and whacked right into them.

Harry was horrified to see that it was Hermione and Lavender, laughing themselves silly.

"What! My GOD!" He grabbed Hermione and hugged her, sighing deeply. "Bloody hell, don't DO that to me, Hermione!"

She wriggled in his arms, giggling still from whatever shared joke she had with Lavender.

"Harry! I'm all right! Silly boy!"

"Silly-" He glared at her, feeling a full-blown conniption fit coming on. "You were gone for three quarters of an hour, and when we DO find you, you're coming out of Knockturn Alley of all places!!"

She waved a hand. "We couldn't get what we were after anywhere else."

His mouth worked and no sound came out. "Wh- what the hell were you after anyway?"

With a soused smile, Lavender held up a bottle of rather toxic looking green liquid.

"This stuff," she said. "Very strong naughty wizard's stuff that I couldn' get at the Cauldron." With a nose-wrinkling ingratiating smile, she extended her arm to him, offering him a sip of the stuff. "Chug-a-lug, Harry!"

With a sigh, Harry grabbed the bottle. He deliberately put himself between the girls and Knockturn Alley, directing them back to safer areas. He figured, as he looked at the bottle, that he may as well sample the stuff the girls clearly risked their lives for. Damned fools.

Pulling the stopper on the bottle, he took a sniff and nearly got knocked off his feet. Lavender saw this and elbowed Harry sharply in the ribs.

"Good shit, Harry."

Dear God, he thought. What *did* she get her hands on here? With a quick swig, he knocked some of the stuff back. The world spun. Fire roared in his mouth and throat and belly and he missed a step and nearly fell right over. Thankfully, Ron caught him.

"Whah-the--"

"Careful Harry!" gasped Hermione, "It'sss *very* strong."

He would have said, "No SHIT!" but that would have taken too much coordination of his tongue and lips. He just glared at her.

What he couldn't believe was that Lavender and Hermione had had some of this noxious liquid and were quite merry. Fucked beyond reproach, but quite merry.

Now with this quarry of liver-destroying liquid, the drunken lot were rather happy to go to home. Home was Harry, Ron and Hermione's flat. They all piled in, senseless and beyond control, Harry making his way into the kitchen and raiding the pantry. Hermione followed him, and when they came back into the lounge room with biscuits and flavoured crackers, they were greeted to the sight of Ron and Lavender kissing passionately on the couch. It wasn't just heated frivolous snogging that people would be embarrassed of the next day. One could always tell when people meant it, and these two certainly did. With a sigh, Hermione dropped the food on the coffee table and turned away. She smiled, looking very pleased about it all.

"Well, I'm goin' to bed," she said. Ron and Lavender were oblivious.

Harry nodded, leaving the room with her. Plodding down the hall, Harry came to the door of his room. He was surprised to find a hand in his and, looking down, he saw that Hermione was smiling at him. He lifted his brows in askance.

"Than's for the uhm-" She waved a hand at her hair and made a face that indicated her vomiting. "Was good of you."

He smiled back at her, wobbling a little. "S'no problem."

Stepping forward, Hermione pressed a kiss to his cheek. It wasn't a quick peck, that was the first thing he noticed. Maybe it was because she was so very drunk, but she leant against him as her lips touched his cheek, and there was the slightest nuzzle as she pulled away.

"Night, Harry," she breathed, something in her eyes that Harry was certain he'd never seen before.

She turned and disappeared into her room. As Harry walked into his own, pulling at his clothes and not entirely succeeding in removing them all, that look haunted him. It chased him into his dreams as he fell asleep.

~~*~~

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