Butterbeer Ramblings

Butterbeer Ramblings

Harry had to hand it to the twins - they were good at smuggling things. He remembered that fact distinctly pulling the crates of butterbeer in the secret passageway from Hogsmeade, covered in a tea-towel (Why, Harry had no idea), with an already toddled Fred giggling as he shoved more butterbeer into George's arms. Not just any butterbeer, mind, but *full strength* butterbeer, usually reserved for the adults. It was the kind of butterbeer that got the younger ones utterly shit-faced. It was thoroughly alcoholic, not suitable for the kids and completely against the rules here at Hogwarts. Which was why it was so great that Fred and George had gotten their hands on the stuff. They grabbed a crate and dropped it into Harry's unsuspecting arms.

"There you go!" Fred said, stuffing some sickles into his pocket. "That's for covering for us!"

Harry looked confused. "Cov- Fred! You graduated two years ago... you're allowed to have this stuff..."

"Never mind, never mind, you're a pal, Harry, a pal," Fred said, demonstrating how very blitzed he was. Harry's generous contribution to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had been the start of a glorious career for the twins, as their wicked little wizard novelties were the most popular thing since Filibusters fireworks. Mrs. Weasely, angry as she was at the boys not going right into the Ministry, couldn't help but be at least a little proud, because the boys were now, quite frankly, rolling in it. It was times like this that Fred liked to remind people of that, particularly Harry, as without him it wouldn't have been possible. "Now! I do believe izz time to snicker off for a bit of an evening by the lake!" He sniggered. "Where's Angelina nn' Alicia?"

"Uhm... they're still coming," George said, peering down the tunnel. "Gawd, they're not half taking their time..."

"Give 'em a break," said Fred. "They're more pished than we are."

Harry blinked. "But uhm - how are you going to sneak out there?"

"Plen'ny a' kids snuck out without a invisib-iddy cloak in the past ya'know, 'Arry," Fred said.

George looked to Harry after watching his already inebriated brother try to speak and shrugged. "Never mind 'im. He'll regret it in the morning." At that point the girls, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, ex-Hogwarts students, ex-Gryffindor Quidditch players (and darned good ones at that) emerged from the hole, giggling and leaning on each other. They winked and greeted Harry raucously. George smiled and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Enjoy the beer!"

And with that, despite being upstanding members of the community, despite having to be an example to all, they were off like a shot with the idea in their heads that they would get a couple of lovely lasses nicely drunk for an evening of groping and giggling.

Harry was left on his own to contemplate the slab of butterbeer in his arms. He had his invisibility cloak lying across is arms, and a lot of trouble to get into. As he pulled the cloak over himself, he wondered if his best friends would be all for sharing the illicit beer. He carefully crept back and decided that it would be best for them all to get drunk when everyone else was in bed. It was a Saturday night, and unfortunately not everyone was in a hurry to head off to their beds. Well, he would work it somehow. He draped the beer in the cloak, and hoped that not too many people would be around the Common Room. It was awfully late, about eleven pm, but he knew Hermione and Ron would be up. Especially if Hermione was studying... Heh. Of course she's studying! That girl and her books are rarely parted...

He sighed, creeping inside the Common Room after passing the Fat Lady. (Hot Buttered Mashed Potato). He stalled in the doorway from the passage, glancing around the Common Room. Neville was curled up around a book in the corner, Lavender was draped over a chair by the fire, with Parvati sitting close-by and chatting softly with her. Ron was lying on the floor, flicking through a Quidditch magazine dominated by the Chuddley Canons; Hermione crouched over a stack of scrolls surrounded by large stacks of books at the large oak coffee-table in the centre of the sitting area. Harry leant the butterbeer on the floor, and for a moment just watched the scene. He hadn't noticed Crookshanks curled up on the table next to Hermione on the other side of the books. If Hermione was in the Common Room, that cat was her ginger ghost. His eyes wandered to the form of an obviously stressed Hermione. A little crease of deep concentration was between her dark eyebrows, equally dark brown eyes scouring the texts in front of her. He sighed, tilting his head. Always working so hard, he thought. Do you know how to throw it all away and go crazy for just a moment, Hermione? He looked down to where he knew the butterbeer was, and smiled wickedly. Hmm... should find out really.

Not that he minded Hermione the way she was. He in fact was very comfortable with her, often taking great solace in her understanding and warm companionship, where every other girl just seemed to miss the fact that he was a regular boy and went a little strange on him. I'm allowed to be just Harry around her. Normal every day Harry. He tilted his head the other way. Maybe, maybe it was good that way, because he didn't mind her being so study-mad. It could be cute sometimes.

He stepped forward, eager to disturb Hermione's study session, and completely forgot that there was a crate of beer at his feet. He went flying forwards with an almighty 'ooph!'

Everyone in the Common Room glanced up, watching Harry fall arse over tit. Hermione jumped up, hands reaching out and her mouth open in a worried 'o' shape.

"Harry!" she gasped, "Goodness gracious!"

Harry just bit his lip, trying to stop himself from whimpering from the pain of kicking that much glass. He glanced up, leaning on Hermione as he tried to get up again. Unfortunately, he was a full foot taller than her these days, so his heavier weight made her totter this way and that as he used her grip for leverage upwards. She panted, dusting off her front and looking at him like there was something wrong with him.

"What are you up to, you barmy bugger?" Ron said, leaning on a hand.

"Tripping over beer," Harry said darkly, rubbing his knee.

Hermione glanced behind him. "What beer?"

Harry grinned cheekily at that and turning, he grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and the crate of beer. He held it up in front of him and looked very proud.

"Wicked!" Ron gasped, sitting up. "Is *that* where you were tonight?! Helping out my crazy brothers?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. They gave this to me as thanks."

Hermione just looked confused. "Butterbeer? But what's so-"

"Oh my GOSH!" gasped Lavender, leaning forward to peer at the labels on the beer bottles. "That's the full strength stuff for the adults!"

Hermione glared at Harry sharply. "Are you insane?"

Harry's smug grin fell off his face. "What?"

"You're going to get caught," she said. "Honestly! Bringing it into the Common Room like this - we're seventh years, Harry! I'm a Prefect! We're supposed to set examples!"

"Right," Ron said, pulling the slab of drinks from Harry's grip and tapping at it with a wand to get rid of the binding so that the drinks were free for the plucking. "We're setting the example of how much to safely drink in one night!" He popped off a lid and grinned to Lavender and Parvati. "Chug-a-lug, girls!"

Lavender and Pavarti took one glance to each other, and with an eager smile they grabbed a beer each and cracked them open. They clinked them together and pulled back on the bottles. They both promptly choked.

"Wow!" Lavender rasped. "This packs a punch!"

"Oh yeah!" Ron agreed. He turned and knee-walked his way to an apparently snoozing Neville Longbottom. He nudged the boy and shoved a butterbeer under his nose. "Drink up, Nevvie!"

Neville jerked awake, and glancing to the bottle he looked to Ron and smiled. "Gee... thanks Ron." He looked to the bottle again and blinked. "... Hang on!"

"Down the hatch!" grinned Ron at Neville, who just glared about himself like he had some illicit Muggle substance in his hands.

"Are you guys nuts?" he breathed. "What if we're caught?"

Harry crossed his arms. "Well, it's up to the Prefects to look after the children after nine at night, and presently all the Gryffindor Prefects are probably out on the Quidditch lawn divesting themselves of their modesty, considering Gryffindor's tremendous win today."

Hermione glanced about herself and blushed deeply. "Oh this is very, very bad."

"Oh lighten up, 'Mione," Ron said, sipping away at his beer, lying back in front of the fire. "You deserve to relax more than anyone here. Grab a bottle and siddown."

She gave a dark sigh. "Oh yes. Just get absolutely off my tit right under McGonagall's nose! What a bloody brilliant idea!"

"But you heard what Harry said," Lavender said.

Hermione crossed her arms, trying to ignore Harry entirely. "Yes. But what if Harry's WRONG? Then it's big trouble for all of us."

"McGonagall trusts us," Ron said. He stood up, stepping over to Hermione and offering a bottle.

She looked at the bottle like it was diseased and glared at Ron. "Yes. One would have to wonder *why*!"

"Cause she knows you're around to stop us from doing anything that breaks the sodding rules!" Ron grumbled, turning away from Hermione and flopping down onto his bottom in front of the fire.

Hermione crossed her arms then, scowling at Ron. "I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being the only one around here with any common bloody sense!"

Ron threw an angry look over his shoulder. "Common sense!? You'd think after seven years you'd learn to mellow out a bit!"

"Mellow out?!" gasped Hermione. "We have our NEWTs this year! We have to study! I'm not going to waste a full night's study only to wake up trashed in the morning!"

Ron looked suddenly amused. "Why not? Might do you some good."

Hermione turned and glared at him. Something flickered in her eyes. It was a lot of anger, a fair whack of indignation and what Harry feared was a sliver of hurt. "Well, Ronald, why don't you take your bottle of beer and stick it *right* where the sun refuses to shine?" Her eyes glinted sharply. "It might do *you* some good!" With that she turned on her heel and strode from the room, through the entrance of the Common Room to the corridors. Harry didn't even think of admonishing Ron for giving Hermione a hard time again (since it seemed to happen so often these days). Harry bent over, grabbing his invisibility cloak and as many beers as he could stuff into his cloak and keep a hold of in his sleeves. He raced out the door after Hermione with a lot of suspicious clinking. She was striding down the hallway, regardless of what was going on about her.

"Wait on," he called in a hushed voice.

She spun about, glaring at him. "What?"

He looked her up and down. "Where do you think you're going like that?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Like *what*?"

Harry gave a cheeky smile. "You know. Visible."

She sighed, looking over herself and folding her arms. "What does it matter? You lot are going to be in terrible trouble in the morning."

Harry shrugged. "So? You'll be fine."

She narrowed her eyes then. "No I won't. I'll be there in the library, *knowing* that McGonagall gave you detention, and knowing that your fun and games are going to make the House Cup *that* much harder to win this year and you'll be throwing yourself around that ruddy Quidditch pitch like you can't possibly be hurt!" She blinked, blushing a little and shrugging. "Besides... it's nice to have you as a distraction when I'm studying..." She glanced up, seemingly horrified. "I mean - you and Ron. You know." She nodded and turned. "I should get back..."

Harry shook his head. "Nope. We're in trouble anyway. Come on - we're going to find some place nice and have this beer."

Hermione sighed, looking very worried now. "Harry..."

"It's not going to be any fun if you drink it in a bad mood." Without another word he threw the invisibility cloak over them.

Hermione glanced about herself in the cloak and clutched Harry's arms. "Harry! Why? Do you think I'm boring too? Do you think I need to lighten up and get the bug out of my arse as well?" That hurt was in her voice. "I'm not doing it for that and I'm not doing it for you and Ron to get a kick out of! Ha ha! There's Hermione, smashed out of her frigging mind! Who'd have thought she'd do something other than study for once?!"

Harry frowned. "I know you're not like that." Hermione still glared at him with doubt, and he levelled his gaze at her. "I want you to have a beer because it'll be a bit of fun, and we can have a nice time and mellow out a bit and perhaps discuss some of the self-image problems you seem to have been harbouring."

Hermione lifted a brow. "It's not my self-image I have a problem with. It's everyone else's image of me that's in trouble."

"Well - what does it matter what they think?" He shrugged. "I mean, they don't know what you're really like. Their opinions are therefore moot."

She sighed, giving Harry a tired smile. "I suppose you're right."

"I am right. You're fabulous, Hermione."

She blushed at that. "All right, that's enough of that. Where are you taking me?"

Harry had started to lead her downstairs, through the practical living celtic knotwork that was Hogwart's ever-moving staircases, towards the closest convenient exit. "Out for a walk."

"Oh, all right then," she sighed defeatedly. "Really, Harry! Every time I find myself breaking some perfectly reasonable rule, there you are next to me with that damned grin on your face!"

Harry smirked. "Want me to stop?"

She looked almost horrified, and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him down to the bottom landing. "Heavens no! What would I want you to do that for?"

Harry grinned, realising that a lot of the time, people really did get Hermione all wrong, and Ron was often one of them. He tended to be hard on her, and had no qualms in telling her how very boring she could be. Harry didn't see the point in chastising her over the matter. She had always been a dedicated student, and that's just the kind of girl she was. He'd never really had a problem with it, unlike Ron who almost seemed to find it offensive. The fights associated with that were monumental. Harry was secretly glad that he wasn't in on that particular drama. Whatever Ron felt for Hermione, and whatever cock-eyed behaviour that elicited from him, he didn't want a part of the endless volley of quips, insults and hormones that had become the status quo between the two. He also honestly felt sorry for Hermione, as he never figured her to be the kind of girl to enjoy that sort of ham-fisted courting ritual. The full twelve long-stemmed roses per day kind of girl he knew she wasn't, but the confused pursuit from Ron couldn't have been much fun for her.

They finally crept out of the back door and out onto the vast lawn that lead to the Quidditch pitch through a small clump of trees.

"Where are the others?" breathed Hermione.

"Wait..." Harry fell silent, frowning in thought, trying to make out the sounds in the distance. There was an unmistakeable chattering coming over the breeze from the lake. "The lake, by the sounds of things. We can go to the Quidditch stands if you like."

Hermione didn't say anything, and he assumed she agreed with him. Her hand grabbed his as they drew close to the Gryffindor stand.

"Come on, Harry!" she hissed.

"I thought I was the one spiriting you away?"

"Well we're out here now," she said, "May as well have some fun."

It was a balmy late spring evening, and the stars twinkled like pure polished silver in the deep blue satin Scottish night. The grass was kissed by light dew, of which Hermione took utterly no notice as she threw herself down onto it and lay back, gazing at the sky. She grinned at Harry who gazed back down at her, watching her a moment. The half-moonlight traced her young lightly freckled-flecked features in the darkness, and for a fleeting second he understood why Ron was so fixated upon her. Hermione wasn't just the pretty little impish thing she used to be at eleven. She had grown since they'd first seen her, her body maturing, rounding, her sweet little face lengthening to more graceful proportions. Always the same were her lovely brown eyes that had always warmed his heart without fail. Right at this moment her long brown hair pooled about her head in curled silky tendrils, the bushy mess thinning some as she'd progressed through puberty. She was still in her uniform, her socks were just under her knees and her school skirt had ridden up a little, exposing some leg and looking rather saucy to Harry. If it hadn't been for that, she may have looked like a wild looking wood nymph. He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind of such thoughts. It was bad enough having Ron behaving barmy over the girl, lest he start it too.

"Do sit down, Harry," Hermione said. "Or are you going to stare at me all night?"

Forward as ever. He smiled, flopping down onto the ground next to her. He plucked a bottle of butterbeer from the few next to him and offered it to Hermione. "Care to whet your whistle?"

She chuckled, sitting up and taking the bottle from Harry rather demurely.

"So tell me," he asked. "What's the difference in getting sloshed out here and getting sloshed in Gryffindor Tower?"

"Well, this is a little more discreet, isn't it?" she replied, twisting off the cap of her beer bottle. "The common room is a little too near 'the lion's den', so to speak, for me to really relax and enjoy myself."

Harry nodded, opening his own butterbeer and holding it up to Hermione. "To best friends."

Hermione smiled softly and clinked her bottle to his. She really did look like a pixie sometimes. "To the very best of friends."

They both took a swig of their drinks, and promptly sat up and nearly hacked and coughed them back up again.

"Bugger ME that's nasty!" exclaimed Hermione. Harry broke up into laughter, and Hermione giggled with him. She took another good pull on the bottle, draining it considerably. She licked her lips, grunting with approval. "I could get to like this stuff..."

Harry sniggered, tipping back his own bottle and taking a mouthful. He felt himself wince as the sharp wheaty taste sunk through the buttery sweet flavouring. The hops collided with it all to create an odd sensory explosion in his mouth. It was strangely more-ish.

"Hurry up Potter!" Hermione said, leaning back on an arm roguishly. "We've got more bottles to get through."

"Wouldn't that be strangely poetic?" Harry said. "Getting drunk under the non-existent table by Hermione Granger..."

Hermione sniggered. "How will the Boy Who Lived ever live *that* down?" She frowned. "No, you'll be all right, nobody's going to know about this."

"Not even Ron?"

She glared at him. "Especially not Ronald Weasley, thank you very much!"

Harry watched her drink a moment, her obvious wariness of Ron keen in his mind. "Can I ask you a rather embarrassing question?"

She looked at him flatly before tipping her head back to sip her drink. "Yes. What kind of answer you get, however, depends on how quickly this beer works on me."

Harry smiled at that only faintly. His sad look returned, and his stomach lurched. "You still like Ron, don't you?"

Hermione gasped. "Oh of course I do! I adore him! Dear me!" She tutted and peered into her bottle of butterbeer.

Harry looked confused now. "Then what's with all the animosity?"

She tittered. "There's *always* been animosity! Fighting is what Ron and I do. Bicker, bicker, bicker. Since day bloody one!" Her face went blank then. "I was kind of hoping we'd grow out of it."

"Same here," Harry said.

"Doesn't help that all he ever seems to be doing lately is pulling the piss out of the way I am."

Suddenly, her earlier rant in the hallway made utter sense. The bookishness and the dedication to her studies wasn't some phase, or some fear of life around her. She really did enjoy it, and it was important to her, and day in and day out, Ron trod all over that with his teasing remarks. Maybe if he knew that...

"You know people think you're both in love with each other..."

Harry wasn't quite sure why he had said that. It was just the sort of thing he shouldn't have said in the given situation, but it slipped out nonetheless. His worries of Hermione's revelation that people thought she and Ron were a potential item turned out to be unfounded. Hermione just spat out her beer in a dark snort.

"Oh yes! Aren't we the pair?" she growled. "Such fire! Such intensity! 'Oh you wouldn't react if he didn't do something for you!'" she twittered, impersonating someone (possibly Lavender). "Yes, the perfect bloody couple."

"I take it people have suggested it to you before."

Hermione leant towards him, wavering in his personal space, her face barely an inch from his so that her now alcohol soaked breath puffed against his lips. "People think Ron and I will end up together, no matter much I protest." She glowered. "Frankly, I find that really depressing." She sat back and finished off her first bottle, throwing it over her shoulder carelessly after a quick, clean swig. She then held out her hand to Harry. "Barman, fix me up another, please!"

Harry chuckled and handed her another bottle of butterbeer. He watched her a moment. Was it a case of utter denial? It had to be. She must have been in love with Ron, she showed all the signs. The fighting, the glowers of jealousy when he flirted with any of the girls (usually Lavender, for she elicited the most girlish giggles from Ron's cheeky advances), the raging emotions... well, that's how it worked in the movies and popular literature. He looked to Hermione, who was still gazing into her bottle forlornly. Life, he realised, rarely worked out like it did in the movies. Hermione was obviously miserable about it all.

"Do you-" he began, but stopped, a blush rising in his cheeks. He should ask her that, but he wanted to know. He very badly wanted to know. "Do you... you know..."

"No."

He sighed with frustration. "You don't fancy Ron at all, do you?" He meant for it to come out less loaded and not so much an askance for a negative response. He did a lot of thinking and convinced himself that it was insatiable curiosity that drove the question (it was, of a sort).

Hermione gave a thoughtful moan, tipping her head this way and that and finally touching her forehead to Harry's shoulder awkwardly. The action made his heart jump and warm.

"He's awfully cute," she said. "Oh I *do* adore him. In fact... I couldn't imagine being without him." Despite logic usually being Harry's friend, something soured in his heart, a terrible twist of discomfort, and it was all emotion. Logic had abandoned him, and he was now feeling inexplicably awful. At least until Hermione added: "But I couldn't live without you either!" She threw her arms about him, snuggling to his shoulder. "Can't I just keep you both?"

Harry choked on his beer. "Oh dear - uhm... I don't think Ron-"

"Oh bugger Ron!" she growled. "Bugger, bugger, bugger him!" She took a violent swig of her beer.

Harry smiled faintly at that, meeting Hermione's slightly glazed eyes, leaning towards her a little as she propped her head on his shoulder. "I do believe you're drunk."

"Splendid observation, Mr. Potter," she said, blinking more often than she needed to. "What's your next trick?"

"Trying to figure you out," Harry said into his beer bottle before sipping from it. Hermione sighed at that, draping herself over Harry again and settling her head into the nape of his neck. She giggled and sighed.

"Hmmm."

"What?"

"You smell nice," she said, inadvertently nuzzling him. She stuffed her face into the nape of his neck and took great long sniffs. "Mmm! What is that?"

"Some cologne Sirius gave me for my sixteenth birthday," Harry said, feeling that delightful blush burn his cheeks again. (It was the first time he could ever remember welcoming it).

"It's gorgeous!" she sighed, face still pressed against his neck.

"Apparently my Dad used to wear it," he said, that blush in his cheeks burning furiously from Hermione's grabbing him clumsily and talking into his neck.

"I bet he was awfully popular!" she exclaimed. She frowned, pulling her face away and looking to Harry. "Was that disrespectful?"

Harry shook his head with an amused smile. Hermione smiled back at him and draped herself over his wide-shouldered frame again. She was so funny, and against him like this, she was so little. Gosh, he adored her. Sitting there, half-drunk, snuggling, he felt as if there were no girl alive that he had as much fun with as Hermione. A strange thing occurred to him at that moment, and that was that he had never really paid attention to how they'd grown, and he was rather surprised to discover, up close and snuggled like this, that Hermione had changed. No, it was more than changing. It was blossoming. She'd become so different to him, and different in ways he liked. It was the kind of different he'd noticed in other girls, but never in Hermione. He... he had never *let* himself. It was the light low-key lip-gloss she'd come to wear on her lips, the extra care she took in her hair (that wasn't over the top or obsessive like Lavender and Parvati), the way her legs had stopped being knobbly-kneed and were now elegant and pleasingly curved. It was far more than that, far more than appearances. She was such a deep and complicated young woman that he didn't dare sum it up in his head what had become clear to him that evening. The fact remained - he never really looked to Hermione as an option before... it just didn't *occur* to him. He sat there, utterly dumfounded, trying to scrabble together the reason why... why hadn't he seen her? Dear me, he thought. I'm an idiot. A blind, dull-headed idiot. Ron's not stupid. He's just seeing what everyone else has been too stupid to notice - me included! He suddenly felt like he'd missed a bus he could have caught if he hadn't been so distracted by the magazines at the local newsagency mere steps away from the bus stop. And it was probably far too late to do anything about it, considering that she was in the grips of Ron-Love denial.

He took a deep swig of his beer then, but he wasn't too keen on getting smashed with Hermione as drunk as she was. He was getting down, and being down and getting drunk was never a good idea. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed determined for him to join her in insobriety.

"Have more beer, Harry," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I refuse to be the only drunk one."

Harry eyed her and took another sip, and she chuckled, grabbing whatever parts of his body were in her hands (which happened to be his right pectoral and his flat oft-admired Quidditch stomach) and squeezed.

"That's a boy- Ohhh..." Her eyes became even more glazed.

"What?"

"Never mind," she said, getting suddenly shy and ducking her head away. She seemed to forget about the hands that were currently latched onto his torso.

He frowned in confusion. "'Mione?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are we buggering Ron?"

Hermione looked at him. "Huh?!"

"You said... you said 'Bugger Ron' before..."

"Ugh!" She rolled her eyes. "Forget about Ron! I don't want to talk about Ron anymore." She lifted a brow at him. "You seem to be awfully interested in talking about him. Do YOU fancy him?"

Harry didn't flinch at that. "You're avoiding my question."

She sighed. "I'm not letting it bother me anymore."

"Not letting what bother you?"

"Never mind," she groaned, waving a hand and sipping her beer again.

Poor Harry couldn't help but mind. He minded a whole lot. He worried about Hermione. She was endlessly dear to him and the last thing he wanted was for her to be unhappy in any way. The very idea of her being less that thrilled with her life was rather abhorrent to him. What was worse that the source of her upset was his very best friend... who he didn't really feel like thinking about right now either. Come on, Harry, he thought. Let's be reasonable... It's obvious it'll happen. Hermione will get over whatever it is she needs to get over to accept Ron's - rather confused - advances, and you just joined the game too late. Nothing to be done for it, just accept it.

He looked to her, and his heart sighed - a frightening falling feeling that was similar to being knocked off his broom-stick in the middle of a Quidditch match. She was gazing up at the sky, leaning on his shoulder, looking utterly content. Her pointed top lip twitched as she swallowed, and as she blinked, her long lashes just made her dark brown eyes look utterly breathtaking.

Harry looked back to his drink. That's it, he thought. I am going mad.

"You went quiet," she complained.

He looked to her. "Sorry. What do you want to talk about?"

She blinked, and then a bright smile slid onto her face as she tilted her head. "You."

"Me?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Harry blew out a sigh. "Guess that makes a change."

"I don't mean who wants to kill you, or what weird thing you saw the other day," she said, sounding remarkably sober for a moment. "I mean... what do you want to do once you leave Hogwarts?"

Harry licked his top lip. "Hmm. I really have no idea."

"None at all?"

He tilted his head. "Well... everyone thinks I should play Quidditch. But I've seen those international teams - I just don't compare. I couldn't stand up to them."

"So Quidditch is out," she nodded, probably keen to get him out of a sport that had him risking his life far more often than she preferred. "Have you ever thought about Moody's advice?"

Harry looked to her from the corners of his eyes. "Being an Auror?" He let out a snort and gazed ahead, sipping his drink. "Facing dark wizards and Death Eaters day in, day out?" He shook his head. "They couldn't pay me enough."

Harry had seen his fair share of action in the short years he'd been at Hogwarts, and the weariness of his struggle to survive was clear in his sharp green eyes.

Hermione pursed her lips. "What about being a teacher?"

Harry turned his head, looking to her. It was like someone had dropped something heavy onto his chest. "A what?"

"A teacher," she said, "You know, maybe one day you could teach here?" She smiled then, a little waveringly from the drink. "I think you'd be a good teacher."

Amazingly, Harry thought so too. He just had never considered teaching before. Harry felt awfully stupid right at that moment. He'd been so wrapped up in things - Quidditch, getting good marks, his own bottom - that he'd not stopped to take a breather and a fair look at things. He looked to Hermione again, a warm smile on his face.

"I might just think about that," he said. "Thank you."

Hermione smiled back at him, still leaning on his shoulder. "It's all right."

The next comment just fell out of his mouth, and his whole body seized in a blinding heat as he said it.

"You're very pretty, you know."

Her smile stilled, her eyes caught in his, gleaming brown peering into green. "You really think so?"

He nodded, very slowly, the dizziness from the beer augmenting the whirling his mind was doing. Hermione's arms tightened around him, and her eyes narrowed in a remarkable smile.

"You really are a wonder, Harry," she said, her smile fading, but warm affection still burning in her eyes. "Sometimes I think I know what to expect from you but you... you always go and surprise me."

He chuckled, very softly. "I'm only matched by your unpredictability."

Hermione chuckled back at him. "Someone's got to keep you on your toes."

"You do," he breathed, his smile fading. He felt lost, wallowing in a warm endless sea of bliss, and his only anchor was the girl beside him. His soul clutched onto that, never shifting. "All the time."

"Hmmm..." Hermione stretched her arms languidly, and then without hesitation, draped them around Harry's neck, leaning her chin on his shoulder. "Whatever will you do without me?"

It was a valid question. It was mere months before his time at Hogwarts was spent, and then the seven years of endless joy that was his time at Hogwarts would be over. He honestly didn't want to be anywhere else, and he didn't want to be with anyone else other than his closest friends, and right now, the girl he was sharing his beer with. He sighed. What *would* he do without her? He frowned then, a genuinely sad twist taking his features as he thought about it. He sighed, pain keen in his voice.

"I'd-" He choked. "I'd rather not think about it."

Hermione's expression cleared, from amused to one of revelation. "Me either..."

Harry vaguely felt Hermione's fingers dip into the shaggy black locks at the back of his head, near his neck, but it felt a world away as he gazed at Hermione's lovely face. Something in her eyes perceptibly shifted, and his whole world with it. At its herald he found himself leaning forward, space slipping away between him and Hermione, so fast and so slow. He tilted his head, his heart tremoring, tightening, jumping and seemingly trying to climb its way out of his throat. Hermione tilted her head the other way, her hands sinking into his hair and pulling him towards her.

And he felt it. Oh dear God, he thought. Oh Hermione... how could I have missed you for so long? Her lips were so soft, so utterly soft! It was the most perfect, the most delicate little thing he'd ever felt in his life - a pursing of lips, a slow, gentle touch that felt like he had been lurched through a portkey. All he could do was sigh, and hold her. God, he wanted to hold her for always!

As they parted, his eyes opened, and he looked to Hermione. The same dizzy drunken glow was on her features, but he knew it wasn't the beer. She clutched his shoulders, smiling lazily.

"Mmm, Harry!"

Harry blushed, looking down and feeling rather sheepish all of a sudden. That's when he felt the lips on his cheek, peppering kisses there. His eyes fell shut and he sighed, his body slowly burning up under the attention. He was worried for a moment he'd have to reign in her behaviour (as loathed as he'd be to do it), but thankfully she leant back to regard him again. She tilted her head and sighed.

"I'm very glad we did that."

Harry licked his lips and nodded. "So am I."

"Want to do it again?" She looked positively wicked.

Harry blushed again. "Uhm - what about Ron?"

Hermione blinked and chuckled. "What?"

"Well - you know-"

She chuckled again. "If he wanted to snog me, he should have been gentlemanly enough to take me for a walk, make me feel better and get me very nicely drunk," she said, poking his shoulder for emphasis. "He didn't."

Harry frowned. "Is that the only reason you kissed me?"

She sighed, the amusement in her eyes shifting to a knowing warmth that Harry found humbling and awfully comforting. "Sometimes I think you're all I need, Harry. When I'm with you like this - I - I fear nothing. And I'm not ashamed of myself." She smiled, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "I'm proud. I'm proud of myself when I'm with you."

A dip of seriousness twitched in Harry's brow. "I wouldn't want you to be anything but, Hermione."

She gave a happy sigh through a bright smile, pulling him to her and kissing him again. Harry felt the world suddenly jar and spin again, in an altogether pleasant way. He decided that all was right with the world when he was doing this. It wasn't a deep or particularly complicated kiss, not the sort of thing Harry would see in the Quidditch stands after a match. It was different, he thought. Utterly special, perfectly eloquent. But he wouldn't mind a bit of the heavy Quidditch stuff a bit afterwards, he added to himself, and judging from Hermione's opening mouth, neither would she. However it was all cut painfully short by the rowdy hoots and hollers of half of what used to be the Gryffindor Quidditch team who had somehow managed to stay quiet for long enough to actually sneak up on the pair.

Hermione sighed as Harry pulled away and blushed, squirming as though he were looking for a place to hide. She folded her arms and lifted a brow at a cackling George and Fred.

"Are you quite finished?"

"Nowhere NEAR!" cried George as Fred wrapped an arm around Harry and ruffled his hair vigorously. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were in similar states of inebriation, chortling and giving Hermione rather shaky sets of thumbs up. This broke her annoyance and a smile teased the corner of her mouth.

"'Arry, 'Arry, our boy 'Arry!" crowed Fred, shaking him so proudly that Harry nearly lost his glasses. "Di'n think ya haddid in ya, you dirty li'l bas'sad!"

"Mm, I would say he does," said Hermione. This heralded another rousing chorus of rowdy noise-making, and Harry leant to her.

"Don' encourage 'em," he begged, wobbling a bit.

Hermione just smirked.

"Now," announced George, "We're gon' go back to Gryff-eh-naw towah, n' you're comin' with us."

Harry blinked, disappointment plunging through him. He stared at George. "What?"

George wagged a finger and tried to look firm, but it just seemed like he was doing an absurd impersonation of Percy. "Now I'm not afraid to say it, Harry... Harry?"

"Yes?"

Harry hadn't moved. George just obviously felt the need to repeat himself.

"Good boy Harry. Harry - I love ya, mate. You're like the l'il brother I never 'ad." He slapped Harry roughly on the shoulder and Harry was tipsy enough that it unbalanced him and he nearly fell over.

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, steadying him and glaring at George. "You mean other than that tall hunkering lout that answers to the name of Ron?"

George sighed, covering his face with his hand. "Smart-arse." He looked to Harry. "You're like the OTHER little brother we never 'ad, and as a rule of thumb, I don't let me younger sibili-ings... sib... " He stopped for a moment to think, then looked back to Harry. "Where was I?"

"As a rule of thumb..."

"Right! As a rule of thumb, I don't let me younger sib- fuck it - I don't let 'em have more fun with a girl than I've 'ad!" He nodded and slapped Harry on the back. "Le'ss go!"

Perhaps it was for the best, as Harry didn't know how long he could go on kissing Hermione like that without getting carried away in some way or another. She looked up at him with a sleepy smile, and he attempted to get to his feet. This involved a bit of staggering, and Fred and George trying to steady him, which was a bit of a joke since they were as steady as a game of jenga. The girls laughed at this, and Hermione shook her head.

"It's times like this one needs that... that charmy thing that makes one all better. That charm..."

Harry frowned at her. "Mion', I don't think you could get your tongue around the bloody spell to cast it in the first place."

"Why not?" piped up Alicia, a proud and indulgent smile on her young face. "She seemed to manage to get her tongue around yours!"

Fred, George and Angelina all crowed at once, holding their bottles in the air and falling into helpless laughter. Hermione just narrowed her eyes at Alicia with a mildly amused smile. Harry stepped over (carefully) to Hermione, and offered her a hand.

"Come on," he said. "We better get inside before we hurt ourselves."

They all staggered inside, all jeering and teasing Harry and Hermione along the way, for no other reason than Fred and George and the girls had gotten bored of jeering and teasing each other. Harry couldn't help but think they were going inside because there were more people to poke fun at in the tower. They finally, and miraculously, made it to Gryffindor Tower without getting caught. How this happened, no one knew. Hermione nearly fudged the silencing charm, which could have caused a myriad of problems. They had tried to cover themselves with the invisibility cloak, but none of them had seen that their feet were all sticking out from the bottom of the thing. It was an eerie procession of staggering disembodied feet. One wouldn't have blamed Filch if he'd seen them, and just turned around and went right back to his office for a nip of fire-whisky. It was the sort of thing one just didn't want to deal with at that time of the morning.

The sight that greeted the six intrepid revellers when they wobbled in through the portrait hole was one that they had never, ever, in their entire time of being at Hogwarts, imagined that they would see.

Neville was laid back in the high-backed chair Hermione usually commandeered for studying, a giggling Parvati sitting on the armrest looking utterly besotted by the transformed boy. He seemed to be doing a rather convincing impersonation of Hagrid giving a Magical Creatures lesson.

"An' ye take the lit'l beggar, and you stick yer finger up it's bum like tha!" He winked and stuck his finger up and imaginary bottom. Parvati nearly fell off her perch in high squeals of laughter. Lavender, currently taking residence on Ron's lap, followed suit. Ron just looked utterly bewildered. He blinked at the group of now still and silent Gryffindors by the hole, and gulped.

"He's a ladies man," he muttered. "Who'd have known?"

Hermione giggled despite herself, turning and looking to Harry. "Poor Hagrid!"

Harry smiled slightly. "It's all right. I'm sure he'd find the humour in it."

"You'd hope so," she said.

George and Fred stumbled over near the fireplace, clearing the chess table with a fierce swipe and pulling up some unopened bottles of full-strength butterbeer and slamming them on the table.

"We're not spent yet!" declared Fred.

"Naw," agreed George, and cracked open another bottle.

Harry grinned and looked to Hermione, as if he were silently asking her position on the matter.

Hermione, completely understanding this despite her inebriation, stood up straight and pulled her cloak about her (in an almost Snape-like fashion), and looked down her nose at Fred and George. "I will be damned before I let these two louts drink me under the table!"

Harry chuckled. "What about nobody knowing you're drunk?"

She turned her head very slowly, wobbling a little, and gave Harry a flat stare. "Harry... I staggered in the Portrait Hole looking like I was doing a very good impers- imp - impression of a victim of a Jelly-Legs hex. The only way I could've been more obvious is if I walked in wearing your underwear as a hat."

Lavender and Parvati exchanged impressed looks, and grinned back at the bushy-haired girl.

Hermione sat down at the chess table with the boys, taking up her own bottle. "Not that I think this sort of wild bee- binge shrinking is at all good for a person." She frowned. "It's very bad. It shouldn't be done."

"Right," said George. "Which is why we're doin' it anyway."

"Right," agreed Hermione, "Cause we're Gryff-en-aws."

"Yes."

"It's just that I'm sobering up," she frowned seriously.

"So where've you two been anyway?" Ron said, jigging his knees up and down as he sat on the long couch across from the fire and causing Lavender to bob up and down, giggling and letting out wild cries as if she were on a roller coaster (which Ron seemed to find rather amusing).

"They were smoooooching," cooed Alicia, collapsing next to Harry and pinching one of his now bright red cheeks.

Hermione spat a mouthful of beer back into her bottle and blushed deeply. "Alicia!"

Ron blinked. "You were kissing Harry?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked rather flustered. "No, I was kissing George... of *course* I was kissing Harry."

Parvati and Lavender gasped, and then both giggled in unison.

"Well, that's all right, isn't it?" asked Neville suddenly, and very earnestly. "Ron's been kissing Lavender."

Hermione blinked at Ron.

"And I've been kissing Parvati," continued Neville. "I mean, it's a party isn't it?" He grinned.

Parvati blushed and hid behind a hand. George just shook his head at Neville and lifted a bottle.

"You dog," he growled with a grin.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. He decided he quite disliked the turn this entire conversation was taking. He didn't like the shocked look on Hermione's face, and he did not like the look on Ron's. Ron frowned, looked to Lavender in his lap, and then back to Hermione. Hermione had done the same, but instead looking to Harry, and then to Ron. Harry felt like he was stuck in the middle of a cheesy American soap opera. Hermione tilted her head and looked to Ron firmly.

"Does... does this bother you?"

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment, brows knitting, and then he looked at her like she was daft. "Of course not."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Really?"

"I can't complain, I got her in me lap."

Lavender looked suddenly put out. "And this is a problem?"

"No!" said Ron and Hermione in unison.

Both Ron and Hermione looked to each other for a good moment, probably for the first time ever, an unspoken communication crossed between them. Ron smiled and lifted a bottle of butterbeer to Hermione, and she echoed the motion, a small smile on her face.

"Oh my God!"

Angelina had a hand clasped over her mouth in shock. Parvati and Neville had resumed their snogging, which she was quite unprepared for. George and Fred both burst into childish laughter.

"What butterbeer has unleashed on to the unwitting female population of Hogwarts," sniggered Fred.

"Indeed," agreed Hermione with a sly smirk.

Lavender's squeals started up again as Ron bobbed her up and down on his knee so violently that she just about slid off, in which it was his duty to catch her and put her to rights. This involved him clasping her about the bottom and sliding her back onto his knees again. She would laugh and giggle as the bobbing staggered her voice, and being drunk this was far more amusing than it would seem.

"Ron!" she cried, "I'm going to he-e-e-e-eeeeh!" She slid quite off his knees this time, arms clambering for a hold about his neck. "Ron!!"

Ron chuckled and pulled her back up.

"You bastard," she squealed, wobbling a bit as she spoke. "How am I ever s'posed to be a lady of poise if you keep making me fall over?"

"I dunno, but if you don't like it you can get off my knee."

She frowned at him and smacked his shoulder. "Don' be daft!"

Harry was not as relaxed as the rest of the room was. Hermione, Fred and George were at the chess table, drinking heavily. Harry really couldn't believe his eyes. Hermione was slamming back the beer at a rate of knots, and every now and again her hand would seek out his. She would turn, wink at him, smile gently. Despite all this, despite Ron's seeming preoccupation with Lavender in his lap, and Hermione's contented smirk as she knocked back beer after beer, a lingering doubt played in his mind.

Is she with me because I made a move first?

Parvati had slipped from the armrest of the chair right into Neville's lap, and Ron and Lavender were now splayed over the couch they'd been sitting on, giggling and laughing and muttering incomprehensible and no doubt senseless drunk nothings into each other's ears. Harry was getting close to sobering up, so he cracked open one of the last remaining bottles of butterbeer. Fred and George both sat with Angelina and Alicia, laughing and telling stories and being a little more laid back about hanging out with the opposite sex. It wasn't such a big deal to them as they'd had nights like this countless times before. Nonetheless, in their relaxed ease one could tell that Angelina was rather attached to George and Alicia to Fred. It seemed that Alicia and Angelina were more than happy to be one of the boys, no matter what they actually meant to the boys.

After another two butterbeers, Harry's head was spinning rather gently, and he wondered how the heck Hermione could do it. He stood, swaying a little, and addressed the room, which was more or less on another planet anyway.

"I'm just going to get a warmer jumper on," he said. Nobody even looked up from what they were doing, except Fred, who nodded and waved a mostly empty beer bottle at him.

He toed his way very carefully up the spiral staircase that led to the walkway that split off to the two dorms. This took him a little more time than usual, for his feet didn't land quite where he wanted them to. He planted his foot on one step and it missed it entirely. He would have tumbled over and got a face full of stone if two small hands hadn't pulled him back. Instead he and the smaller body behind him staggered against the wall. He turned.

He was quite alone in the curve of the spiral staircase with the smaller person, the curve bidding them both privacy. He could tell from the smell of her hair under the butterbeer that it was Hermione.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"I mean," she said, moving up to the step he was on and meeting his eyes in the light of the torch that lit the flight of stairs dimly. "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he said.

"Hmm, let's see," she replied. "You have spoken barely a word to me since I had that little exchange with Ron."

Harry sighed at that. He didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to ruin what was a perfect night. "I'm just being stupid."

She lifted her brows at him with some doubt. "Well why don't you tell me what you're being stupid about, and then I can decide if it's really stupid?"

"It might be kind of insulting to you," he said. "But that's not - that's not how, I mean..." He frowned and sighed hotly, his brain a muddle and not making sense. "It's more about me than you..."

"Just tell me, Harry."

He sighed again, looking down at his feet sheepishly. "I... I thought maybe... if Ron hadn't have fought with you... if he had gotten drunk with you instead of me-"

"Oh Harry," she sighed, and Harry nearly started as he felt her warm little hand on his cheek suddenly. "You really have such little faith in yourself?"

He slowly met her eyes, and he felt his heart seizing up in his chest. "'Mione... this is more than a night of drunken snogging to me... I can't just do this and have it mean nothing."

"Shhh..."

Her soft hushing lulled his eyes closed, and he felt her pull his head to her shoulder gently. He hugged her, tightly, as if he would lose her if he let go. Her arms slowly wound about him, and he wondered perhaps if there was nothing more perfect than this in the world.

"You're the world to me, Harry," Hermione said, her voice warm and gentle in his ears.

He pulled away to meet her eyes, and he was ashamed at the tears that seemed to form there. "I was afraid, Hermione. Everything I've ever really really loved has left me an-"

Hermione sighed, a little moan lifting from her, and she pulled him to her, kissing him soundly. He clutched her to him, kissing her back with such intensity that he could barely breath.

Harry pulled away a moment, battling to get his words out, just so Hermione knew. "I couldn't bear to lose you, however it would happen..."

"No, no," she murmured.

He nearly whimpered. "But you liked Ron so much."

She gave a sad little laugh at that, cradling his face so close to hers. "Harry, it's always been you. It's always been you."

He blinked at that. "R-really?"

She laughed again. "Always."

"But you said just tonight-"

"Hormones, Harry," she said quietly. "Just hormones."

He frowned at that. "And this isn't-"

"Oh for goodness sakes!" Hermione sighed. "There's a difference between drunken ramblings and what is really in the heart."

"There is?"

Hermione looked to him like the beer had slowed his mind considerably, which it had. The expression was reminiscent to the one she would give them in their earlier years at Hogwarts when they didn't know something extraordinarily simple about the wizarding world that any dolt would know if they'd bothered to open a book (which Ron and Harry rarely did at that stage).

"Yes, Harry, there's a *big* difference."

Harry tilted his brows up, looking to her like a helpless lost green-eyed puppy. "Could you give me the benefit of the doubt and just... just go over those differences?"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little. "Okay okay, but only because you're drunk out of your mind..."

"Not as drunk as you."

"Let's not bring me into this..."

Harry frowned. "This is all about you..."

She groaned. "Do you want me to bear my soul or not?"

Harry tilted his head, gazing at her and looking utterly lovelorn. "Please do."

"The difference between drunken ramblings," she said, stroking the line of his jaw with the back of her knuckles, slowly and surely, "and real feelings is that in the morning, the drunken ramblings are gone and they mean nothing. But the real feelings stay, they never leave..." Her lips were brushing against Harry's now. "They were there before the ramblings and will be there the next day and the day after that and the day after that." She smiled, cinnamon eyes to the brim with a heady desire.

Harry fought to find his voice, and all he could find was a breath. "Th-they were there before?"

She nodded silently, her lips running maddening circles over his. "Growing day after day, afraid to be there, until you looked at me like you did tonight, and suddenly it was okay." She brought her arms up around his neck, smiling a little. "Then this happened, and nothing's ever felt so right, Harry."

He nodded back at her, his breath frantic in his lungs. Dear God she was driving him crazy.

"Harry?"

His eyes were closed as he was afraid to even look at her. In the warm magic light of the torch flame above them he knew she would look too beautiful to bear. "Yes?"

"Aren't you going to kiss me?"

He gave a shy little smile before pulling her to him, pressing his lips to hers and feeling the world spin about him all over again just like it had before, just like it did every time he touched her. He wasn't sure how long they'd stood there, arms wound about each other, every caress and every touch another expression of the bond that had only grown even stronger over the years, a natural progression in the scheme of things, a beautiful blooming that was both pure and passionate at the same time.

The sanctity of the moment of course was blasted to the four winds by their drunken company.

"Oh! There you are!" In stairwell of the spiral staircase was a wobbly Fred. "We've got the las' bottle 'ere if you wan' it 'Mione."

Hermione smiled down at Fred, then back to Harry. "Want to share it?"

Harry shook his head. "I think I've had enough tonight."

Hermione's arms tightened about him and she nodded. "Me too. Go crazy Fred."

Fred looked mournfully at the bottle. "I don't think I can drink another..."

"Give it to Neville," said Harry with a smirk.

"Too late," Fred said. "He's passed out, right into Parvati's cleavage too. He'll wake up with a dirty great line down his face, he will." Fred shuffled about on the spot, looking into the common room with a lost look on his face. "Maybe Ron'll 'ave it..."

Hermione giggled, leaning against Harry's shoulder and covering her mouth so as not to wake the others in the tower. "Goodness!"

Harry stifled a burp and wavered a little. "Well. He's cooked."

"That's the Ol' Weasley constitution at work, I suppose."

Harry sighed deeply. "I s'pose we should get this place cleaned up and us off to bed. It's..." He checked his watch. "Nearly four! Bloody hell!"

The clean up was as much of an operation in teamwork as the getting drunk part was. Harry and Hermione would pick things up, and Fred and George would accidentally knock things down again. Neville, Parvati, Ron and Lavender were passed out on the chair and the couch and didn't do much at all, as was Alicia and Angelina on the floor. After a good twenty minutes of this, Hermione threw her arms up in disgust.

"That's it!" she sighed. "To bed, the lot of you."

Lavender slowly sat up and grinned. "Bed?"

"Separate beds," droned Hermione.

Lavender's face turned to a frown. "Darn."

Fred, George, Angelina and Alicia hugged Ron, Hermione and Harry goodnight before noisily creeping out the Portrait Hole, no doubt sneaking their way back to Hogsmeade and to a bed-and-breakfast to recuperate, as was their usual on Quidditch Days. Hermione corralled the sleepy drunks up to the spiral stairs, making sure they ended up in their respective bedrooms, and Harry picked up about the Common Room, trying to clean up as well as he could. He'd gathered all the bottles together but he was quite at a loss as what to do with them. He was making a rather creatively stacked pile when there was a sharp 'POP!' behind him that made him jump a good foot in the air with a yelp.

"Oh! Harry Potter!" came the plaintive voice of the house elf Harry knew as Dobby. "Dobby did not mean to scare you, sir!"

"That's all right, Dobby," Harry said with a sleepy smile. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm not quite with it."

"Dobby can see that, Sir," said the elf. "Dobby came so you could go sleep. Dobby saw that you is all going to bed now. Dobby will clean up."

Harry patted Dobby on the head affectionately. "You're great Dobby. Thank you."

Dobby blushed and toed the ground. "Oh! Harry Potter is too kind, Sir. Dobby is only doing his job Sir!"

Harry turned, twisting his fingers together nervously. "You'll make sure these bottles are disposed of ... secretly... right? You see, we're not really supposed to-"

"You is drinking what you isn't supposed to be," said Dobby. "Dobby isn't silly, Harry Potter."

Harry sighed with some relief. "Thanks Dobby, I mean it. Thank you."

"Is no trouble at all, Harry Potter." Dobby bowed and smiled a little. "Harry Potter must promise Dobby one thing."

Harry turned and looked to Dobby with some surprise. "Oh? What's that?"

"Harry Potter must make sure Miss Granger is in bed safe and sound, Sir." The little smile on the elf's face grew.

Harry tilted his head and stared at Dobby with disbelief. He smiled, shaking his head and patting Dobby again. "Thank you, Dobby. I really must get to bed before I collapse."

"Yes Harry Potter," Dobby said, bowing his head a little, and without another word he got to work popping the bottles away from the Common Room, other elves coming in and beginning on cleaning up the smell and the mess.

Harry met Hermione halfway up the staircase, and he stopped her as she plodded her way down.

"No need," he said softly. "Dobby's taking care of things."

"Oh," sighed Hermione. "He shouldn't have to-"

"Don't worry," Harry said with a little smile, "I had to promise him that I'd get you to bed safely in return for the favour."

Hermione smiled, a wrinkle of disbelief in on her nose. "Really?"

Harry grinned at her, and on a whim, tilted his head and kissed her. Hermione sighed dreamily, leaning back on the wall of the staircase limply. She giggled under the kiss, clutching Harry's shoulders and talking around his lips.

"Mmph - we'll... ohmm," She sighed again and laughed. "We'll never get to bed this way. We'll be unconscious and joined at the lips!"

"That sounds very-mm-promising," mumbled Harry.

"Yes but not what you promised Dobby," she giggled and pulled her mouth away. Harry looked mournful at the loss of contact and she giggled again. "Oh honestly, Harry! You'll see me in the morning."

Harry grinned. "I will, won't I?"

She nodded slowly like he was a little daft.

He sighed at her, looking over her features dotingly. "You're beautiful, Hermione."

She blushed, smiling and looking at her feet coyly. His lips were on her cheek and a sigh left her again. She stomped her foot and whimpered. "This isn't fair, how am I supposed to get to bed with this going on?"

Harry met her eyes with mischief in his own, and Hermione twisted her lips, trying not to giggle.

"You know this is the longest goodnight I've ever participated in?"

Harry chuckled. "We're not even at the door yet!"

She giggled back at him, and grabbing his hand, she turned and started trudging up the stairs, pulling Harry with her.

"Come on, Mr. Potter!" she said, "Time is of the essence!"

"Are you sure *you* don't have a career as a teacher?" he muttered.

"You never know," she said. "Though I think I might make a mean Auror."

Harry glanced up at her, looking thoroughly horrified. She glanced down to him and giggled.

"You should see the look on your face!"

Harry sighed deeply, leaping up the steps and grabbing her, making her scream with delight. "Don't you scare me like that again!" he said with a worried little chuckle.

"I wouldn't really do that to you," she said. "Trust me."

"Always," Harry replied, gazing up at her fondly.

Hermione smiled down at him from the next step. The moment was so serene, so lovely, Harry did the only thing he thought was appropriate at that moment. He pinched Hermione firmly on the bottom.

Her shrill squeal bounced off the walls of the hall about them, and she grabbed her bottom and stared at Harry in shock.

"So we're at an understanding about the Auror jokes," he said.

She smirked. "I don't know, that seems like an awfully good encouragement to me..."

Harry moved up onto the step next to her, leaning into her ear and saying in a very low, sing-song voice, "Not in the Great Hall it's not..."

She blushed and glared at him. "You wouldn't!"

He wiggled his brows. She leapt for him but he raced up the steps, and Hermione clambered after him in hot pursuit. The squealed and laughed, grabbing and pawing at each other until they'd found their way in front of the sixth year's girl's dorms. Hermione sighed as she leant in the doorway of the dorms, pouting a little.

"We'll have to do this again sometime, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed, leaning over her and nodding, his hands sliding onto her hips. "I do think so..."

They fell silent as their lips drew close, and they kissed, losing track of time and place just as before.

"Mm, tomorrow," Hermione said through a moan, "We'll do this again tomorrow."

"And the next day?" Harry said, almost plaintively.

Hermione gave a small laugh. "Yes! Of course. Go to bed."

Harry stepped back, sighing a little. "All right."

Hermione nodded to him, opening up the door to the dormitory and backing into it, her eyes glinting as they met his. He had fully expected her to close the door when of a sudden she leapt forward, planting a kiss on his lips. She grinned at him.

"I love you, Harry," she said, and without another word, spun about and disappeared, the dormitory door slamming shut behind her.

Harry stood in the landing of the girls' dorms, absolutely dumbstruck. She... she loved him. Of course she loves you, he thought, Don't be stupid, she said as much before... Oh, but she really said it! She said it. He turned, plodding slowly to the boys' dorms, still in dull shock from the three most beautiful words he was sure he'd ever heard uttered. He had made all the way to the foot of his bed before it registered that his cheeks were aching. He put his hand up to his face and realised he'd been grinning stupidly. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes, barely feeling anything else but deep exhaustion and utter elation. He practically staggered into bed, forgetting his pyjamas and crawling under his covers in nothing but his boxers. He was half asleep when he heard Ron call him from behind his curtain.

"Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm really glad you're with her, you know."

Harry paused, and he shifted in his bed so he faced Ron's. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Ron."

"It's all right," said Ron. "Just remember, if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

Harry smirked. There was a distinct humour in Ron's voice. "I'll keep that in mind."

After another pause, Ron spoke. "Sweet dreams, Harry."

Harry sighed deeply again, cuddling his covers to him, sleep chasing him down swiftly and without mercy. He had no doubts in his mind whatsoever that his dreams would be very sweet indeed.

~~*~~

Don't they already have the girls that are already drunk?

Question: if they were all out on the lawn, how come they didn't see them when they went out there?

Can I just say? I thought that was bloody hilarious.

The fake Moody or did he have that conversation again with the real one?

Hehhehheheh