Fanfic: A Night of Revelry
Title: A Night of Revelry
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings/Rating: FRT, minor curse word and underage drinking.
Word Count: 1,300 <--This was not necessary for me to point out, but I'm immensely proud of breaking a thousand.
Characters/Pairings: H/Hr slant but can be interpreted as friendship. Ron, McGonagall, Fred and George all make an appearance.
Summary: I think the title about sums it up. There really isn't anymore depth to it than that.
Author's Note: Thanks, as always, to lady_of_scarlet for being an awesome beta. Any mistakes left are my own.
This was written for rubberducky1467, who gave me the following prompt.
- How about you pick the couple (H/Hr, H/L, etc...whatever floats your boat)
- Can be either in the trio's time at Hogwarts or their kids', whatevs
- Must include:
º Insane victory party (Voldemort, Quidditch, don't care)
º Somebody getting blitzed out of their mind and doing
something incredibly silly/stupid and annoying McGonagall
- Bonus Points if you somehow work any of these into it:
º Some reference to McGonagall/Dumbledore relationship
º The line "I'm too old for this shit."
º A rubber duck
I'm afraid I don't get the bonus points, but I think I met the rest of the prompts requirements ;)
The Gryffindor common room looked like a tornado had blown through, leaving multicolored confetti and unconscious students in its wake. The twins had supplied the Firewhiskey after the victory against Slytherin, and many had decided to drink copious amounts of it in celebration.
Fred and George are, surprisingly, sober and currently adding the final touches to a night that will not soon be forgotten.
"Fashionable, or downright hideous?"
"He is our brother, fashionable would be the least we could do."
The twins share a smile with the trademark spark of mischief in their eyes. Wands start moving in tandem, an unspoken plan already in place, as they began transforming an unconscious Ron into whatever vision they had of him as a drag queen.
It occurs to Hermione to stop them, but she quickly kicks her moment of conscience to the curb when she remembers his actions earlier in the night.
Ron, in his highly inebriated state, had climbed onto a table to do what he had thought was an accurate, and amusing, impression of her. Half of the students present had agreed, laughing at her expense. She'd felt the flush of embarrassment and had been tempted to take out one of the table's legs to put an end to his performance, but Ron was one step ahead of her. He'd drawn his wand at the wrong end, its tip facing towards him as he slurred the words to whatever he was attempting to do. A small waterfall had appeared over his head, dowsing him in a torrent of cold water, if the spray from it was any indication. He'd let out a shriek and in an attempt to get from under it, he'd slipped and fallen. The table buckled from the impact and sent him crashing to the floor. The aftermath was the most comical portion of his antics, in Hermione's opinion. He'd looked like a drowned rat, half propped against one side of the table still held up by its legs, with a look of utter bewilderment on his face. She couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling out, but it was quickly joined by a chorus as his audience reacted to his grand finale.
"Don't you think falling on his ass was enough punishment for tonight?" Harry asks as he comes up beside her. He must have been reading her mind, or perhaps, he simply noticed the grin lighting up her face as the tip of Fred's wand paints Ron's lips a brilliant shade of red.
"For one night, maybe, but not for all the other times." She turns away from the scene before her to see Harry shaking his head, but when his eyes meet hers, he smiles and makes no move to rescue Ron. Instead, he continues on with their task of cleaning up the night's festivities, shaking one of the slumbering students in hopes of getting them off to bed.
Sometime later, she and Harry, exhausted, plop onto the sofa near the fireplace. Harry yawns and Hermione can't help but follow suit. Everyone, except a now much prettier Ron, is in their beds, fast asleep. The common room shines with the effort they've put into it and she is certain none of the faculty will find evidence of the night's activities left behind.
Harry's body is warm next to hers and the cushions of the sofa feel awfully nice. She looks over at Harry to find he's already leaned his head back and his eyes have slipped closed. Her body feels heavy after a long day of classes, an intense Quidditch match, and a victory party that was sure to go down in Hogwart's history.
She loathes to move from her comfortable spot, but knows they still have Ron's inert form to get up to bed. Not to mention, they need to make it to their own. She gently nudges Harry with her shoulder. One green eye pops open at the contact and then closes again as he heaves a sigh.
"Just give me five more minutes, please?" The last part is whined and she rolls her eyes at him.
"Come on, up you go." Hermione grabs the hand lying palm down against his thigh and tries pulling him up. His dead weight is too much and her efforts only serve to exhaust her further. She's nearly given up and let go when she hears him chuckle. His lightning-quick reflexes grasp her hand, jerking her back towards the sofa before she even knows what's happening.
"Harry!" her voice squeaks as she collapses, ungracefully, back by his side. There is laughter in his eyes when he looks up at her, even in the face of her scowl. He gives her a lopsided half-smile and gently squeezes the hand still held in his. She purses her lips, trying to maintain an air of annoyance, but she has to look away as the moment carries on and warmth spreads through her under his gaze.
She leans back against the sofa, mimicking his earlier pose, and decides to let him have his five minutes. Her head turns slightly as she feels his hand begin to unclasp from hers. She watches, captivated, when instead of letting go he rearranges his hold so their fingers intertwine. Their hands rest mostly in his lap as they sit side by side in the comfortable silence that falls over them. The stillness of the night is a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier, and it allows their bodies to unwind. Eyelids grow heavy, and the last thing Hermione remembers before sleep pulls her under, is the sound of Harry's deep, even breathing, and her head falling to his shoulder.
She isn't sure what woke her, but Hermione isn't ready for morning. She feels as though she's only just fallen asleep, so she snuggles closer to the warmth she's pressed against. The rhythmic sound of tapping keeps her from drifting back off. She startles as realization dawns, her head shooting off Harry's shoulder, causing him to wake from the sudden movement.
"Wha-?" It's all he manages before he sees the same thing that fills her vision.
Professor McGonagall standing in front of the sofa, arms folded, as she taps her foot and quirks an eyebrow at them in question.
Hermione starts to open her mouth to explain her and Harry's current position, but before a word fully forms on her tongue, McGonagall's arm unfolds, and her finger points at something to the right of them. Two pairs of eyes automatically track the movement. When Hermione's land on Ron, she has to bite back her laughter despite McGonagall's intimidating presence.
In the light of day, the sight of him is even more hilarious. He's wearing a bright green dress with thin straps across his broad shoulders, a sparkling tiara, and the bright red lipstick she'd watched the twins apply. She admires their work, as the morning sun glints off dangling earrings and feet splayed out before him sport impossibly high heels.
Harry clearly doesn't have as much self control, because he lets out a bark of laughter before his hand covers his mouth to keep anymore from spilling out. She turns to McGonagall sheepishly, hoping she can express enough contrite to cover her amusement.
McGonagall turns her pointed finger on them.
"I'll deal with the two of you later." Hermione swallows at the ominous tone, then watches as McGonagall strides across the room to Ron's side.
In her most authoritative voice, the one that has commanded hundreds of Hogwarts students' attention over the years, McGonagall wakes Ron up.
"Mr. Weasley!"
"Spiders!" Ron's voice cracks as he shoots up from his prone position against the wall. The tiara fell from his disheveled mop of red hair. There is a moment of silence as Ron looks on in confusion. Then, all control is lost and the sound of their laughter fills the room.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings/Rating: FRT, minor curse word and underage drinking.
Word Count: 1,300 <--This was not necessary for me to point out, but I'm immensely proud of breaking a thousand.
Characters/Pairings: H/Hr slant but can be interpreted as friendship. Ron, McGonagall, Fred and George all make an appearance.
Summary: I think the title about sums it up. There really isn't anymore depth to it than that.
Author's Note: Thanks, as always, to lady_of_scarlet for being an awesome beta. Any mistakes left are my own.
This was written for rubberducky1467, who gave me the following prompt.
- How about you pick the couple (H/Hr, H/L, etc...whatever floats your boat)
- Can be either in the trio's time at Hogwarts or their kids', whatevs
- Must include:
º Insane victory party (Voldemort, Quidditch, don't care)
º Somebody getting blitzed out of their mind and doing
something incredibly silly/stupid and annoying McGonagall
- Bonus Points if you somehow work any of these into it:
º Some reference to McGonagall/Dumbledore relationship
º The line "I'm too old for this shit."
º A rubber duck
I'm afraid I don't get the bonus points, but I think I met the rest of the prompts requirements ;)
The Gryffindor common room looked like a tornado had blown through, leaving multicolored confetti and unconscious students in its wake. The twins had supplied the Firewhiskey after the victory against Slytherin, and many had decided to drink copious amounts of it in celebration.
Fred and George are, surprisingly, sober and currently adding the final touches to a night that will not soon be forgotten.
"Fashionable, or downright hideous?"
"He is our brother, fashionable would be the least we could do."
The twins share a smile with the trademark spark of mischief in their eyes. Wands start moving in tandem, an unspoken plan already in place, as they began transforming an unconscious Ron into whatever vision they had of him as a drag queen.
It occurs to Hermione to stop them, but she quickly kicks her moment of conscience to the curb when she remembers his actions earlier in the night.
Ron, in his highly inebriated state, had climbed onto a table to do what he had thought was an accurate, and amusing, impression of her. Half of the students present had agreed, laughing at her expense. She'd felt the flush of embarrassment and had been tempted to take out one of the table's legs to put an end to his performance, but Ron was one step ahead of her. He'd drawn his wand at the wrong end, its tip facing towards him as he slurred the words to whatever he was attempting to do. A small waterfall had appeared over his head, dowsing him in a torrent of cold water, if the spray from it was any indication. He'd let out a shriek and in an attempt to get from under it, he'd slipped and fallen. The table buckled from the impact and sent him crashing to the floor. The aftermath was the most comical portion of his antics, in Hermione's opinion. He'd looked like a drowned rat, half propped against one side of the table still held up by its legs, with a look of utter bewilderment on his face. She couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling out, but it was quickly joined by a chorus as his audience reacted to his grand finale.
"Don't you think falling on his ass was enough punishment for tonight?" Harry asks as he comes up beside her. He must have been reading her mind, or perhaps, he simply noticed the grin lighting up her face as the tip of Fred's wand paints Ron's lips a brilliant shade of red.
"For one night, maybe, but not for all the other times." She turns away from the scene before her to see Harry shaking his head, but when his eyes meet hers, he smiles and makes no move to rescue Ron. Instead, he continues on with their task of cleaning up the night's festivities, shaking one of the slumbering students in hopes of getting them off to bed.
Sometime later, she and Harry, exhausted, plop onto the sofa near the fireplace. Harry yawns and Hermione can't help but follow suit. Everyone, except a now much prettier Ron, is in their beds, fast asleep. The common room shines with the effort they've put into it and she is certain none of the faculty will find evidence of the night's activities left behind.
Harry's body is warm next to hers and the cushions of the sofa feel awfully nice. She looks over at Harry to find he's already leaned his head back and his eyes have slipped closed. Her body feels heavy after a long day of classes, an intense Quidditch match, and a victory party that was sure to go down in Hogwart's history.
She loathes to move from her comfortable spot, but knows they still have Ron's inert form to get up to bed. Not to mention, they need to make it to their own. She gently nudges Harry with her shoulder. One green eye pops open at the contact and then closes again as he heaves a sigh.
"Just give me five more minutes, please?" The last part is whined and she rolls her eyes at him.
"Come on, up you go." Hermione grabs the hand lying palm down against his thigh and tries pulling him up. His dead weight is too much and her efforts only serve to exhaust her further. She's nearly given up and let go when she hears him chuckle. His lightning-quick reflexes grasp her hand, jerking her back towards the sofa before she even knows what's happening.
"Harry!" her voice squeaks as she collapses, ungracefully, back by his side. There is laughter in his eyes when he looks up at her, even in the face of her scowl. He gives her a lopsided half-smile and gently squeezes the hand still held in his. She purses her lips, trying to maintain an air of annoyance, but she has to look away as the moment carries on and warmth spreads through her under his gaze.
She leans back against the sofa, mimicking his earlier pose, and decides to let him have his five minutes. Her head turns slightly as she feels his hand begin to unclasp from hers. She watches, captivated, when instead of letting go he rearranges his hold so their fingers intertwine. Their hands rest mostly in his lap as they sit side by side in the comfortable silence that falls over them. The stillness of the night is a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier, and it allows their bodies to unwind. Eyelids grow heavy, and the last thing Hermione remembers before sleep pulls her under, is the sound of Harry's deep, even breathing, and her head falling to his shoulder.
She isn't sure what woke her, but Hermione isn't ready for morning. She feels as though she's only just fallen asleep, so she snuggles closer to the warmth she's pressed against. The rhythmic sound of tapping keeps her from drifting back off. She startles as realization dawns, her head shooting off Harry's shoulder, causing him to wake from the sudden movement.
"Wha-?" It's all he manages before he sees the same thing that fills her vision.
Professor McGonagall standing in front of the sofa, arms folded, as she taps her foot and quirks an eyebrow at them in question.
Hermione starts to open her mouth to explain her and Harry's current position, but before a word fully forms on her tongue, McGonagall's arm unfolds, and her finger points at something to the right of them. Two pairs of eyes automatically track the movement. When Hermione's land on Ron, she has to bite back her laughter despite McGonagall's intimidating presence.
In the light of day, the sight of him is even more hilarious. He's wearing a bright green dress with thin straps across his broad shoulders, a sparkling tiara, and the bright red lipstick she'd watched the twins apply. She admires their work, as the morning sun glints off dangling earrings and feet splayed out before him sport impossibly high heels.
Harry clearly doesn't have as much self control, because he lets out a bark of laughter before his hand covers his mouth to keep anymore from spilling out. She turns to McGonagall sheepishly, hoping she can express enough contrite to cover her amusement.
McGonagall turns her pointed finger on them.
"I'll deal with the two of you later." Hermione swallows at the ominous tone, then watches as McGonagall strides across the room to Ron's side.
In her most authoritative voice, the one that has commanded hundreds of Hogwarts students' attention over the years, McGonagall wakes Ron up.
"Mr. Weasley!"
"Spiders!" Ron's voice cracks as he shoots up from his prone position against the wall. The tiara fell from his disheveled mop of red hair. There is a moment of silence as Ron looks on in confusion. Then, all control is lost and the sound of their laughter fills the room.