Title: Pop Goes The Bottle
Rating: R (For alcohol abuse and language)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Wow, original.
Author's Note: This was written for a LiveJournal comminuty, Enchanted Quill. Word #3.
Winter vacation at Hogwarts offered only one thing for the ten students who resided there for the holiday: freedom. All of the teachers had gone to visit their families except for Professor Dumbledore. Even though the old wizard was still there, he stayed in his study doing paperwork for the upcoming semester and, no doubt, the Order. He only came down for dinner and gave the two houses Gryffindor and Slytherin permission to do, basically, whatever they wanted during this two week period. To make winter vacation of their seventh year even better, the weather was surprisingly warm for that time of the year. The snow had melted from the ground letting the dry, brown grass show.
On this particular day, the ten ended up going to Hogsmeade to visit Fred and George at their joke shop. The hour long train ride was as boring, if not worse, than the last four days of their winter vacation had been. Only five Gryffindors populated the Gryffindor car on the train: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. The same number occupied the Slytherin car: Draco Malfoy, his two simpleton followers Crabbe and Goyle, and Chloris and her sister Melba. The entire lot was desperate to amuse themselves for another hour, in hopes the Hogsmeade adventure would spark their energy to life.
Once they arrived, the two groups headed in separate ways. The Slytherins headed toward the dark alley and the Gryffindors went straight to Fred and George's joke shop. The group looked around the shop for new items and casually told the twin trouble-makers about their boredom troubles.
"You've got to be inventive when you're bored," Fred told them, leaning against the counter of the cash register. "Use your brain. I've already got an idea for you, I just want you to think of it."
"What, buying a bunch of your jokes and playing them on the Slytherins?" Ron asked, perking up to the idea.
"Well, that's not a bad idea either," Fred went on. "But I have a better one for you, my little brother. You have much to learn."
"Just tell us," Harry demanded, annoyed.
"Not even an idea?" George questioned.
"Alcohol?" Ginny asked.
"Right-o! There's a smart one. I'm disappointed in you, Ronald," Fred sighed.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione said. "We're not even old enough to buy it."
"We can help you there," George claimed. "Give us your money and we'll run over to the pub and get you the good stuff."
Fifteen minutes later, the twins came back with five large bags of bottles, all different colors and types. They sat the lot on counter, looking as if they had some news.
"We saw the Slytherin walking around with bags of bottles too. The blokes stole our idea," George said angrily.
"You guys need to show them up," Fred said. "You have to get more drunk than them, or they'll think that they got away with a good idea. You need to make the idea better."
The Gryffindors all glanced at each other before taking the bags of bottles and candy that they'd gathered to take back to Hogwarts. They all carried their own two bags, casting a shrinking charm on them to smuggle them onto the train back without much conflict. Pleased with the fact that they finally had something to do, the group was impatient to arrive back at the school and have a taste.
Back in the common room, they all took out their bottles of alcohol and bags of joke candy.
"And we're just going to… drink it?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, live a little, damn you," Ron replied, taking a bottle out of his bag and taking a long swig before even stopping to look at the name. Slowly but surely, everyone took a bottle out of their bag and began to take sips. Sips, and soon enough… guzzles.
Ninety minutes later…
Ron lifted the third bottle out of his bag. "'Urine Of Hippopotamus'," He read the green label. "Well that's attractive." The red-head leaned the bottle back and took a swig.
Harry pointed across the couch where Ginny sat and slurred to her, "Hey… you're like… prettier when I'm drunk. Like… wow. How you doin' baby?"
Ginny, far gone on her fourth bottle of pixie wine, replied, "I never thought you'd hit on me Harry. You wanna do stuff and… stuff?"
"Sure, I'm up for anything," Harry replied with a hiccup before jumping on top of Ginny, who proceeded to initiate the make-out session.
"Dude, you're like mackin' on my sister," Ron pointed, his red bottle in his hand.
Harry looked over his shoulder at him, "Yeah, I am," before continuing.
"Cool," Ron looked at Hermione. "What about you baby? Your fuzzy hair makes me hot."
Hermione had, of course, finished off all of her bottles and returned with more stolen from the kitchen.
"Only if it hot and bother you makes too," She stumbled over to sit on his lap. They, too, began to make-out.
Neville was left by himself. He was looking through his candy back when he came across a green piece of candy. The description on it said would change you into an animal for a short amount of time. Curiosity mixed with drunkenness forced Neville to unwrap the piece of candy and pop it into his mouth. Within a few seconds, Neville transformed into a bluebird and flew out the window.
"What in the hell of a son of a bitch of a demon of a hell of a shit of a…Neville?" Ron sputtered, looking at the open window.
"Did he just… fly.. away?" Ginny asked, disbelieving.
"Yeah…" Ron replied.
"Oh. Oh well," Ginny commented before claiming Harry's attention again.
"Maybe we should like… tell someone?" Hermione said.
"Like, who?" Ron asked.
"Like Dumbledore, Ronald. Like, duh," Hermione commented as if the answer were obvious.
With some pressing, Hermione got the group moving toward the Great Hall, since it was dinner time. However, the group's moving was more-so Hermione walking, Ron trying to feel her up, and Harry and Ginny walking behind the two making out and groping each other.
In the Grand Hall, the group walked toward Dumbledore's table and upon arriving, Hermione said, "Err… Professor. Neville like, flew out the window."
"…What?" The Headmaster looked at Hermione as if she was drunk or something…
…No… wait… she was drunk.
"What the hell are you students doing?" Dumbledore asked, an odd questioning look on his old, bearded face.
"Curing our… boredom?" Ron said, turning to look at Harry fondling his sister.
Just then, Neville came in, leaves in his hair and his shirt torn across the shoulder. "I'm okay. I'm fine."
"You students have alcohol in this school!" Dumbledore demanded.
"Well… The Slytherins did too! We saw them with it at Hogsmeade!" Ron babbled.
"If that is the case," Dumbledore said, standing up from the table, "it is only natural for all of us to get drunk and play a game of Quidditch."
The students all looked at each other (Yes, Harry and Ginny even stopped making out long enough). "Wha?" Harry asked.
By the time the hour was up, everyone, including Dumbledore, was drunk off their asses. They all grabbed brooms and headed toward the Quidditch stadium with them.
Harry decided it better to fly to the stadium. Ginny followed suite, of course, but the others surprisingly walked. When they arrived, Ginny and Harry were perched atop the tallest hoop, making out again. Draco, having gone out earlier, was thirty feet above the ground, flying in a small circle and yelling, "I'm going to get you! Get your arse back here, bastard!"
They began to play Quidditch, though the game didn't get far because a bludger hit Dumbledore in the head and he was laying face-down in the sand. Neville, at one point, let go of his broom, which was still going, of course, and he fell through the sky chanting, "I'm a bird again! I'm a bird again!" Hermione was trying to stay out of Ron's grasp (He was after her hair again.), but Ron was being pursued by Goyle, who apparently wanted to grab Ron's ass. Neville, after recovering from his second bird incident, sat on the bleachers with the two Slytherin girls fawning over him as though her were the sexiest thing since… well… Draco. Draco was apparently missed by Crabbe, since he was sitting at another set of bleachers by himself saying with tears in his eyes, "I want my Dwaco."
The drunkenness didn't end until everyone all at once passed out. Bodies on brooms and perched upon hoops fell to the ground as the sun was setting in the west. Twilight settled over the scattered persons, bottles, and Quidditch balls and brooms.
The next morning…
Harry sat up and looked around. His head was killing him and he thought he faintly smelled vomit. He looked around at Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, all littered across the Quidditch field.
Ron sat up beside him, also holding his head.
"Why the hell are we in the Quidditch field?"
"I dunno, but I hope I got laid," Ron replied.