A/N: This is intended to be a one-shot, but who knows.
The Three Broomsticks was always crowded this time of year, Hermione thought as she pushed open the door. She gratefully stepped into the warmth and pushed down the hood of her cloak.
"Hey, Hermione!" Harry and Sirius were grinning at her from a back table. She waved back and went to sit with them.
"Sorry I'm late," she said apologetically. "I got caught up in a book I was reading..."
"Of course," said Sirius, looking highly amused by something. "Here, have a drink." He passed her a bottle.
"Firewhiskey?" Hermione stared at the bottle. "Sirius, are you mental? I'm eighteen! Oh, wait a minute..."
"It isn't going to hurt," Sirius pointed out, "and besides, from the look of you, it'd take more than butterbeer to warm you up."
"True," Hermione said, "true...you promise it's not going to kill me?"
"It's good," Harry offered, slightly drunkenly.
"How many did you have?"
"Five...six...I can't remember..."
"And you let him have all those whiskeys?"
"Hey, he's of age now, I can't control him."
Hermione threw him a filthy look and took a long drink of her firewhiskey. She coughed and gagged, wiping her streaming eyes. "It's pure poison!"
"Only the best," said Sirius grandly.
"Oh shut up," Hermione said, and took another swig.
Sirius watched with growing amusement as Hermione downed the bottle with a couple more drafts.
"You know, this stuff really isn't that bad," she said contemplatively.
"Have another?" Sirius said.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"How ever did you figure it out?"
Hermione threw the empty bottle at his head. "Well, I'm not drinking anymore!"
Sirius ducked and, grinning, left the pub.
It was not fun sitting with a drunk Harry, Hermione thought. She was seriously considering buying another firewhiskey just so she'd have an excuse to ignore his ramblings, which were getting more and more ridiculous.
"You know," Harry said, "there's this girl I fancy, and I'll bet she doesn't even know."
Hermione started paying more attention now. "Don't be stupid. Any girl would be delighted to know you fancied her."
"Not this one," Harry said. "She'd probably throw something at me."
"Who would throw something at you?" Hermione said in surprise.
"You would," Harry said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "Because it's you I fancy, Hermione."
Hermione was stunned. But, she figured, this was probably just the alcohol talking. "Harry, you're drunk," she said gently.
"That's just an ugly rumor," said Harry thickly. "But I do fancy you, Hermione."
"You're not just pulling my leg?" Hermione said, not daring to think that Harry, Harry, the person for whom she had suffered a crush for years, might actually like her too.
"Honest. It was Sirius' idea, anyway."
" I knew it," Hermione said.
"Do you or don't you like me back?" Harry demanded.
"Well, yes, of course I do.... but I think I'd better say it again when you're sober."
A/N: Review, please, like always. Reviewers get virtual cookies.