It's Called a Hangover

Harry's first thought as he woke up was 'Oh Merlin, I must be dead'. He seemed to lack the fundamental level of energy needed to stir from his bed. Within a millisecond of his waking, the earth-shaking, mountain-splitting, boulder-crushing Mother of all Headaches kicked in. His second thought was 'Oh Merlin, I wish I were dead'. He felt as if all the forces of good and darkness were doing battle inside his head, with the world's largest and worst marching band providing musical accompaniment.

~|~

"I don't know, Bill ...I mean, I know Ron came of age months ago and Harry's now seventeen as well, but I just don't think they're ready for this," said Molly Weasley uncertainly as her sons and Harry prepared for one hell of a night out. All Molly and Ginny had to look forward to on the other hand, was a whole evening stuck with Fleur.

"Mum, they'll be fine as long as they're with us. Besides, they've been looking forward to my bachelor party for months. We're all responsible adults and ..." Before Bill could finish his out and out lies, Fred and George came running into the living room from the stairs, both of them wearing makeshift togas.

"TOGA! TOGA! TOGA! TOGA! TOGA!" they chanted as they ran circles round the sofa.

"Are those our best bed sheets you two are wearing?" asked Molly incredulously.

"Guys, we decided against a toga party in the end, remember?" Bill reminded the twins. "We're going out to a club."

"We thought maybe you'd changed your mind." Molly grabbed hold of the pair of them from behind.

"Give me those this instant!"

"No, Mum, wait!" exclaimed George as he felt his mother tug on his 'toga'. "We've got ..." With one almighty and masterful pull; Molly yanked her bed sheets off of her sons.

"Nothing on underneath," finished Fred. Bill shook his head disbelievingly. It was going to be an interesting evening.

~|~

Still finding it hard to move, Harry decided to try engaging his vocal chords. His mouth was drier than the Sahara in August. His throat felt as if though he'd volunteered for a sword-swallowing act that had gone horribly wrong. There was a severely unfamiliar taste in his mouth, though he had a feeling that whatever it was he could taste had once been in his stomach. Finally, after a great deal of strain and effort, he was able to articulate exactly how he felt.

"Urrrrrgggghhhhhh ..."

~|~

"This place is great!" Harry said loudly to his best friend, struggling to make himself heard over the absurdly loud music.

"What?" shouted Ron.

"I said 'this place is great!'" hollered Harry.

"Yeah, I like your face too, mate," answered Ron.

"What?" yelled Harry.

"What?" Ron and Harry's riveting conversation was interrupted by Fred tapping on Harry's shoulder.

"George and I are going to the bar, what do you want to drink?" he asked.

"Uh, I'll have a Butterbeer, I suppose ..." said Harry uncertainly.

"Like bloody hell you will!" laughed Ron. "We'll both have a Firewhiskey!"

"Sure thing," said Fred. "Your funeral, not mine," he muttered as he walked away. Harry gave Ron a surprised look.

"Oh, come on Harry! We've both come of age and we're at a bloody stag night! Let's have some fun!" For a moment or two Harry pondered the possible ramifications and implications that inevitably came with drinking alcohol for the very first time. There was also the issue of whether or not it was right to give into peer pressure. After carefully considering all this and more, he thought to himself, 'Sod it and let's all get pissed!'

"Yeah, why not?" Harry said as George handed him a large, tall glass of Firewhiskey. "After all, what's the worst that can happen?"

~|~

The slim ray of sunlight coming in from the slight parting of the curtains hurt Harry's eyes like hell. Blinking, he struggled to hoist himself up from his position. As he did, he felt something knock against his leg. Something hard. Hard and long. Hard and long and smooth. Pulling up the corner of the duvet, he took a peek to see what it was. His vision was blurred as he didn't have his glasses on, but even without his glasses, he could recognise a traffic cone when he saw one. After extracting it from under the covers, he placed it clumsily by the side of the bed. It was then that it dawned on him.

He was naked.

~|~

"I love you, Ron!" slurred Harry as he leant against his ginger friend. "You're the best bloody friend I've ever had!"

"I love you too, H-Harry ...you're the best friend I've ever ...ever had. Scabbers was a pretty good friend ...until he turned out to be a man ..." Ron was suddenly overcome with a fit of inexplicable giggles.

"What's so ...what's so funny?" asked Harry.

"I dunno!" guffawed Ron.

"Charlie!" exclaimed Harry upon seeing that Ron's second eldest brother had joined them. Charlie was about to say something when all of a sudden Harry threw his arms around Charlie's strong, broad shoulders. "I love you, Charlie! You're the best ...the best ...the best friend I've ever had!"

"OK, Harry. I understand," said Charlie casually as he gave Harry a friendly pat on the back. "How much have you had?"

"Not that much, really," slurred Harry as he stepped back from Charlie, half spilling his drink down himself as he did.

"No, I didn't think you had," sighed Charlie. While this was going on, Ron had found Percy sitting at a table in a corner, nursing his soft drink gingerly.

"Percy ...Perce ...Percester ...there's something I've always wanted to say to you ..." said Ron bluntly. "You know I ...I don't often reveal my feelings ...but I must ...must speak out ...you are ...the world's ...biggest ...git!" He started laughing uncontrollably again.

"And you, little brother, are drunk," said Percy with a note of disgust in his voice so noticeable they could detect it from space.

"Fuckin' proud of it too!" retorted Ron as he took a very big swig from his glass. Nearly colliding with the table as he did, Harry came up beside Ron to tap on what he assumed was his shoulder.

"C'mon Ron! Let's ...Percy! I love you, Percy ...you're the best friend I ever ..."

~|~

Still dealing with his general feeling of crappiness, Harry started trying to make sense of how he had come to be like this. He was stark naked. Wherever his clothes were, they were not on his body. He fumbled around the bedside table for his glasses. After trying to put on several items that felt initially like glasses but turned out not to be, he finally found them and put them on. One of the first things he saw were his boxer shorts on the floor beside the traffic cone. At least that was one item of clothing accounted for.

~|~

"Having a good time, Bill?" asked Fred as he put his arm round his biggest brother.

"Well, I ..."

"Super!" interrupted George. He also put his arm round Bill. "Because it's time for your present!" Before Bill could even react to this, the twins forced him down into a seat with great zest. The others started gathering around the groom to be. At a signal from Charlie, the DJ started playing the stereotypical stripping music (no prizes for guessing what's about to happen). From one of the side doors of the club emerged a young lady dressed in glittery wizarding robes. She was greeted by catcalls and loud cheers.

"So, you're getting married in the morning?" she asked Bill seductively.

"Ding dong!" hollered the twins. In time to the music, the girl started removing various items of clothing, dancing erotically all the time. All very exciting, you understand. Bill simply sat wide-eyed, gulping occasionally at the thought of what Fleur would do to him if she ever, ever, ever found about this.

Harry had only just returned from the bar with another drink when he saw what everyone was watching.

"That's nushing special! I can do that!" he exclaimed as he started tugging at his clothes. Not that anyone was paying attention.

~|~

Harry had finally managed to sit up in bed. He had even gone as far as to retrieve his boxers from the floor. They were soaking wet. Harry's brain was too scrambled to even begin thinking of why they were wet. He probably wouldn't have liked the reason anyway. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his untidy hair. His head still felt as if a team of Morris dancing hippos were having their dress rehearsal inside it.

"Oh Merlin, I feel like crap ..." he mumbled to himself.

"It's called a hangover, Potter. You'll get used to them eventually," said a voice from the other side of the bed.

~|~

"I'm a hippogriff! I'm a hippogriff!" sang Harry as he ran down Diagon Alley, flapping his arms.

"Of course you are, Harry," called Charlie. He turned to look at Percy. "Where are the rest of his clothes?"

"He wouldn't tell us where he hid them," stated Percy. "At least he's still got his boxers on. We should count that as a blessing." The Weasley boys and Harry were making their way back to the Leaky Cauldron to use the fireplace to get home. Ron was in a similar state to Harry. Fred and George had had a few to drink but were much better at holding their liquor.

"Hey guys!" shouted Harry.

"What?" answered Bill.

"I fell down," stated Harry. Indeed, Harry was lying on his side, in a puddle. With one great effort, Bill and Charlie managed to get him up again. Needless to say, his boxers were drenched. Ron was still giggling like a madman.

"He fell down," he told Fred. Upon entering the Leaky Cauldron, they were surprised to find Tom still up and sitting by the fireplace.

"I promised your parents I'd make sure you all got back OK." He looked at Bill. "You don't seem too bad, for a guy who's just left his stag night."

"I think my youngest brother and his friend had my stag night for me," mumbled Bill. "Hey, that's a point, where are Ron and Harry?" Before anyone could answer, Harry and Ron came stumbling in through the door that led out to Muggle London.

"Look what we found! New wizarding hats!" yelled Harry as he and Ron showed off their new orange attire.

"That's great, guys. Now let's get you home. Charlie, you go on ahead. We'll send them through after you." Charlie threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepped in, stated his destination and disappeared. "Now then, Harry, you can go first. You know what it is you need to say, don't you?" asked Bill.

"Yeah, yeah ...Merlin, I'm so gay ...in that I really ...really ...really like men ..." Harry mumbled.

"Well, you can tell us all about it once we're all back at the Burrow." Harry had to be physically directed into the fireplace. Bill then stood back.

"Burramurrafurra!" stated Harry. In a flash of green, he was gone.

"Oh, shit," muttered Bill. Ron really couldn't stop giggling at this point.

~|~

"Zabini!" exclaimed Harry. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?"

"You happen to be in my bed, Potter. This is my room."

"But ...but ...how did I get here?"

"You really don't remember, do you? You stumbled out of my fireplace at about half past one in the morning. I happened to be getting a glass of water at the time so I saw you. Before I could ask you what the hell you were doing in my house, you jumped on me and started snogging me. I managed to get you up to my room without waking my parents and then we ...well, you can figure that out yourself." Harry gripped his head in agony, trying to remember any of this. As little flashbacks started to come back to him, he knew that what Zabini was saying had to be true. He still had one question though.

"Was I any good?"

"Oh yes," said Zabini honestly. "The best I've had in a long time."

"Oh, and what am I? Chopped liver?" said a voice by the foot of the bed.

"Yes, Weasley, you were pretty good too."