Harry Potter and the Snog Aftermath

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Harry was singing. Maybe not fully singing, because he did not know all the words to "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love," but he knew a few here and there. He had picked up enough of the melody over the years, at least, to be able to hum along loudly, mumbling where there should have been lyrics

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[honestlyrubbish]

Hermione was already at the end of her wits. The party had started out nicely enough, a fair number of people worming themselves over to Hermione's quiet corner outside of the Compound, carrying pleasant conversations until Eduardo had even been capable of coaxing Hermione to the dance floor. While she had been engaging what looked to many others like some sort of ritualistic dance (a healing one, perhaps, given that neither could rest their weight evenly on both feet), Ron had found her at last, and carried such a strong scent of liquor on him that she had immediately excused herself from the party with many embarrassed apologies, steering Ron toward their hut and hoping that a hangover the next morning would teach him a fair lesson. The fact that he refused to listen to her admonishments, and instead prattled on and on about certain Quidditch moves and how she needed to see how much he'd mastered, only wore Hermione's patience down until she blocked herself off a space in the corner of the common room, waiting for Harry to come home and take over in watching after Ron. He'd have more patience.

Surely, surely he also had more sense.

When proven wrong by the slam of a door and warbled, off-key singing, Hermione immediately huffed, getting to her feet and stalking over to make sure that Harry didn't fall flat on his face, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Not you too, Harry," she muttered.

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"Me too!" Harry chirped happily in response to Hermione, unable to keep the smile off his face. He didn't even properly realize she was angry yet, or properly realize what he was agreeing to, but Hermione always did know best. Surely she knew what she was talking about.

He threw an arm around her shoulders because she was sort of kind of hugging him and that seemed like the thing to do. But he hung to her more than hugged, his eyes on Ron.

"How's it go?" he demanded. "I need to know 'cause I need to sing it. It's.. very important, Ron. Ut-ut-upmost."

[sixthhandlion]

Ron sat up straight then, frowning a bit as he tried to remember the words. His Mum had sung that awful song LOADS of times, so many in fact that he could probably sing the song backwards if he tried it. Sober, at least.

"Wait, wait, I know this one Oh. Oh come and stir my hot, warm-- no, that's not it," he thought about it for a moment more, then snapped two fingers together as he stood up and started to belt out the song himself. Tomorrow morning, he would likely regret doing it. That is, if he actually remembered it at all.

"Oh, come and stir my cauldron, and if you do it riiiiight, I'll boil you up some hot, strong love to keep you warm toniiiight."

[honestlyrubbish]

It would have been hilarious under any other circumstances, but with Harry suddenly leaning a great deal of weight against Hermione, her eyes only widened as she tried to hold the both of them up (she had never been the most athletic of the three of them, not by a long shot), taking gradual steps until she could sit Harry down in a chair and breathe herself, most of the air coming out in an indignant sigh. Figuring that her chances of surviving the night and keeping herself relatively intact were better if the two were in a single spot, Hermione promptly veered over in the direction of Ron, hooking her arm around his shoulders with some difficulty and directing him to the next seat over, trying for all her might to ignore the fact that he still (when he realized that she was there, though her anger seemed beyond him tonight) gave her soft looks now and again. Always affectionate.

"What's more important," she chided, looking between the both of them, "is making sure that you don't get sick all over this hut and that you haven't done too much damage to your bodies from a single night of partying."

Grabbing an additional glass from their small side cabinet, Hermione set it in front of Harry and filled it with water. "Drink," she instructed.

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Harry laughed delightedly as Ron burst into song, any thoughts of teasing him for it later hidden under a haze of alcohol, hormones and emotions. This really was the best night ever.

He was sitting now, before he realized it, and that was fine by him. Even more fine when Ron was seated beside him, making it easier for Harry to lean in now when the chorus came around again (according to the timing in his head) and encourage Ron to sing with him.

"OH come and stir my cauldron--" He took up the glass, but couldn't be bothered to drink it just yet until the line was over. "--and if you do it riiiiiight--"

[sixthhandlion]

"Oh, come on, 'mione," Ron said, though he had to keep himself laughing at Harry's rendition of Celestina Warbeck. Admittedly though, just about anyone would sound better singing it than that old bat would, really. Either way, he joined in with Harry once he got to the chorus again, stumbling to his feet again as he sang along. Once he'd steadied himself on his feet, he grabbed at Hermione's hand in an attempt to get him to dance with him.

"--I'll boil you up some hoooot, strong love to keep you waaaaaaarm toniiiight."

Not that he knew why they were singing at all, but it seemed like the thing to do anyway.

[honestlyrubbish]

"Oh no- oh no, I am not-" Hermione's voice was cut off as she was hauled to her feet, immediately wrapping her arms around Ron's torso to keep him steady as well as she could, a difficult task given his height. If she knew how boys acted, it wouldn't be long before Harry would, too, get to his feet and start dancing, and there was no way that she could watch over both boys in a space so small and ensure that they didn't somehow injure themselves along the way. Cheeks turning red, Hermione frowned, the best frown she could manage in her current state, which was indeed more apprehensive than angry, precisely. It wasn't like the boys had ever had a chance prior to test their alcohol tolerance.

"Ronald Weasley," she gritted out, clamping both hands on his arms with a pleading look, hair already coming undone from the bun she'd so meticulously twisted earlier in the day. "You need to sit down, if you know what's good for you. Sit down, and then surely we can ask Harry what's taken place to have him suddenly singing about love."

Her eyes narrowed. "After he drinks his glass of water, that is."

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Harry applauded, practically bouncing in his seat as Ron tried to weasel a dance out of Hermione. Well, practically because his seat kept moving underneath him. Or was his bum moving without his say so. His whole body still felt loose and warm and he had no right idea what his limbs were about.

But Hermione's tone changed things right quick. Even if it wasn't Harry's full name, he knew what a full name ground out like that meant, especially when coming from Hermione. It meant bad things.

His gaze skittered suspiciously around and looked anywhere but at Hermione (who might scold him as well) or Ron (who might expect from back-up from Harry only to result in the both of them being scolded). Deciding he did not want his full name used, Harry took up the glass of water and sipped at it, trying to look innocent.

Which was quite hard for him, but he tried.

[sixthhandlion]

And suddenly Ron was singing on alone, Hermione's hands clasped on his arms. He stopped and looked at Harry to back him up, but when he couldn't meet his mate's eyes, the grin quickly faded from his face and he was still. The room was still swaying a bit, like he'd been caught on the wrong end of a jelly legs jinx.

"Cheers, Harry." Ron said, then sat back down in his chair, though he very nearly missed it, and caught his balance just before falling to the floor.

He was annoyed at Harry for a moment for abandoning him, but his frown quickly shifted to a look that was more confused than anything else. "Yeah... why are we singing?"

[honestlyrubbish]

After briefly assessing Ron's state of balance, Hermione grabbed another glass of water and placed it in front of Ron, slightly mollified by how easy it'd been- in spite of inebriation, at that- to get Harry to listen. If Ron could only follow suit, in the way that he often did when it came to his best friend, then Hermione imagined she might come out that night with her mood intact after all, sighing lightly. The unfortunate part of it all was that she hadn't brought back any food to help process the alcohol, having had her hands full enough hauling Ron back at all, and now she didn't dare leave the boys, not even to grab food from the party.

So she sat heavily down at the last chair, rubbing her forehead with her hand, though her gaze was still directed at both boys.

"Oh, isn't it obvious, Ron? Why would Harry be singing a love song if he wasn't somehow taken with a girl at the party?" Hermione breathed, shaking her head lightly and taking in the self-satisfied look on Harry's face. "And, judging by his expression, he at the very least got to dance with her. It's a look you've worn before, actually, Ron." Her lips pursed as she thought of Lavender, then shook her head (and hopefully, the thought) away.

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Harry hadn't been aware of wearing any look himself, but as he couldn't see his own face very well, he reasoned that Hermione would know better than him. So he didn't let confusion stop him from grinning, rather stupidly, from behind his glass.

Thankfully no water spilled down his front this time.

"I snogged a girl," he confirmed with a gleeful glint in his eyes. "And it wasn't wet and it wasn't your sister!" he added triumphantly, kicking at a leg of Ron's chair, but not nearly hard enough to dislodge him.

In another set of circumstances, acknowledging that it wasn't Ginny that Harry had just spent a portion of the night kissing would have been depressing. But just then all it meant was that he didn't have to watch himself or what he said around Ron.

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"I've never looked like that," Ron protested in Hermione's direction, frowning a bit before Harry came out with his news. In ordinary circumstances-- Ron not being a bit off his face and wondering when the room might be still again-- he might've asked Harry just what was wrong with his sister that he was so keen to not have snogged her. But as it was, Ron's expression burst into a bright grin.

"Well done, Harry! Which one was it, then?"

[honestlyrubbish]

Immediately after Harry's bit of clarification, Hermione's brow rose in incredulity. Not about the fact that Harry had kissed someone (he was more than attractive enough to pull in girls, she was certain of it, even without the allure of being the Chosen One), but that he would bring Ginny up at all, indirectly or otherwise. It seemed like a horrible idea, Ron being as- perhaps rightfully- protective of his family as he was, and with Harry being more taken with Ginny than Hermione suspected he realized. But apparently alcohol dulled all senses, and so Hermione settled with a soft sigh and a shake of her head in Harry's direction.

"Yes, you have," she said offhandedly to Ron, without even quite turning around to face him again. There was no point in beating a metaphorical dead horse, even if her own streak of contrariness forced her to bring it up at all.

Fortunately, Ron's next remark wiped away all thoughts readily enough.

"Which one- Harry, have you been trying to woo two girls at once?"

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About to answer Ron's question, Harry was thrown completely off track by Hermione's, so much so that the looked her way and blinked owlishly at her.

"Woo?" he repeated. Harry was not entirely sure what the word meant at that moment, but he did feel as though he he should have been a little insulted. There were no notes or flowers or serenades involved. Well, other than the song he had been singing coming home, but that hadn't been for Kate, so it didn't count.

"I haven't been wooing anyone," he stated, frowning at Hermione's assumption. "I sort of fancied two girls, and one of them fancies me back. Apparently. The blond one," he added, grinning faintly as he nudged Ron's chair again and answered his question. "Kate."

[sixthhandlion]

"Nobody uses the word 'woo', Hermione. I mean, my dad 'wooed' my mum, but I didn't woo you, did I?" Ron commented, aware of that much, even in his inebriated state. But the word was bloody hilarious though, and he couldn't keep himself from laughing at it just a bit. Sometimes, it was as if Hermione got all of her slang from Wizarding Vocabulary: A History. But Ron reckoned that was just who Hermione was, and if she hadn't changed at all in the time he'd known her, she wasn't likely to at all. Not that he'd ever want her to, anyway.

Maybe he'd ask again later if she'd snog him. After he was a bit soberer, that was. Suddenly, it seemed a little unfair that Harry'd gotten a kiss that night and he hadn't. He took a drink from the glass of water that Hermione had given him.

"How was it, then?" Ron asked, trying remember who he'd seen Harry talking to at the party. Harry had mentioned Kate before, but Ron had never met her or seen her or anything.

[honestlyrubbish]

It would have been ridiculous for Hermione to expect Ron to be romantic- or, at least, romantic by her standards. Emotional range of a teaspoon might not have been fair to him, but there was truth in the fact that Ron wasn't the most perceptive of boys by a long stretch. He'd made some effort already in the past year, treating her more gently, even inviting her out on a date for Valentine's Day, but things like cut flowers, things like having Ron wait patiently at her doorstep, she couldn't expect that. Yet to have the matter so plainly laid out for her did Ron no favors either, Hermione's frown deepening for a moment, lips pressed together, as she crossed her arms over her chest. "No, I suppose you didn't woo me at all," she said, even knowing that in the end it didn't matter, that even while stuffing his face, there was still some part of her that was charmed by him. "I don't think that's a mere matter of my choice in words, though."

The last sentence was spoken quietly enough that Hermione hoped neither boy heard; it wasn't the time for her to be complaining. She certainly didn't want to turn into a girl who needed constant reassurance or petting, whether or not she was a romantic at heart.

In spite of Harry's inebriated state, Hermione's brow raised in interest. "Oh, Kate, was it? I met her at the party. She seems like a really lovely girl, I'm glad that the both of you were able to speak."