Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Harry Potter universe, however drunken ramblings are publicly owned.

Author's Notes: If you don't like drunk!Ron or Ron and Hermione being friends, turn away now. Slight nod towards slash. Thanks to my beta, deltadasher, aka my little sister, for the quick read over, and this shall hopefully be finished in five chapters (one for each sense). Remember to review, and enjoy.

Written as part of Fic101, a fanfiction challenge community on LiveJournal. Prompt: 5. Listen


"This time next year I'll be famous, Harry'll be sleeping somewhere in the outback of Wales and you, Miss Granger..." The drink sloshed everywhere. "You'll be off being the proverbial ice maiden of Scotland... Or bonking Snape... Probably the former rather than the latter." The red head leered lasciviously at her. "Your knickers have never reached the floor have they, or that contraption you call a bra? Men so much as look at you and they start singing soprano, or announce that they're as straight as a dog's hind leg."

The lips kept moving but Hermione had long since lost interest. Ron was a dear friend, but drunk he was rude, sexist, ageist... Any "-ist" you could think of and he would be it. And worse than that, he thought he could predict the future.

"Tosh," she muttered into her drink.

"No, Tara and Josh. Crikey 'Mione, ever since you started reading those muggle scandals you've been mixing more names than... than..."

"You and your drinks?" she finished, snark belying her comment. A swift middle finger rose as Ron finished his Appletini.

To her credit, Hermione had been a very good girl, and an even better friend than anyone could imagine. Every twenty first of the month she was with Ron, taking care of him as he sloshed his way through each pay check. How he managed to live for the rest of the month was beyond Hermione and Harry.

"Ron, you are famous..." she started cautiously.

"My prediction came true!"

"But this monthly ritual must stop." Ron's face crumbled. 'I should have expected this,' she thought to herself as she placed an awkward around the weeping man's shoulders.

"How could you say that Hermione?" Closing her eyes she counted to ten. "This is what Harry would have wanted! He wanted us to be happy!" Ron raved on, the histrionics enough to rival Molly Weasley's.

"Ron, dearest Ron, how can you be happy if you're crying over Draco?"

Instantly the tears and pandemonium stopped. "Hermione, we must away to work!"

"But your office doesn't open until nine," Hermione told him softly but firmly, like a mother with her child.

"Your work!"

"But the children?!" She didn't mind staying up for her friend, but waking up first years with the caterwauling red head singing the latest Youtubians song, that just pushed her over the limit, and she didn't appreciate Ron's apparent lack of care and responsibility.

"But you need to be bonking Snape! I can't let you die a born again virgin!"

"And Snape is the way to go?" she asked incredulously, ignoring the born again virgin comment completely.

"He's the only one brainy enough and young enough to actually understand you when you talk about things like... like..."

"Television?"

"Exactly! And Snape knows exactly what that is."

'Snape would know about television, he's a half blood,' Hermione thought to herself, but hadn't the heart to tell Ron.

"Come on! I need to save the hole between you legs!" Blushing, Hermione allowed herself to be dragged out the Leaky Cauldron, Ron in front mumbling loudly about knickers, virgins and snakes.