Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction using characters and entities from the Wizarding World trademarked by J. K. Rowling. Original plots, dialogue, and characters are mine.

Synopsis: Adulthood has everyone engaged to be married and preparing for the next stage of life, but is everyone done sowing their oats? All it takes is a night out to realize settling down may not be the best idea…

Songs that inspired the chapter:

That's What I Like – Bruno Mars

Pony – Ginuwine

Shape of You – Ed Sheeran

Sing – Ed Sheeran

Notes: Dedicated to Gryff_inTheGame and coyg_81 for whom I am thankful crawled up my ass and begged me to write this story. It was so damn fun to write and pushed me out of my comfort zone.

Beta: MrBenzedrine89 and Enigmaticrose4

AWARDS/NOMINATIONS:

2017 "After all this Time" Spring Dramione Awards

RUNNER UP: Big Surprises come in Small Packages." Award (best mini fic) *10k-40k words*

FINALIST: Best Smut Fic

2017 Granger Enchanted Awards

WINNER: Picture Perfect Awards (Best Cover Art)

FINALIST: Best new Author

FINALIST: When Life Gives You Lemons Award (Best Smut) — Dramione Subcategory

Chapter 1: Hens and Stags

"Ginny, are you almost ready?" Hermione hollers from the sitting room of their shared flat. She unfolds a bit of parchment which sits in her pocket. Her fingers trace the handwriting as she bites her lip with a smirk.

"Okay, done. How do I look?" Ginny wears a short, fitted white dress with a deep plunging V-neckline that leaves little to the imagination. On her feet are silver strappy heels, and she adorns a pink tiara and the gaudiest sash that said 'bride-to-be' in hot pink lettering.

Hermione looks her up and down and wolf whistles, "Are you about to get married, or are you on the prowl?"

"Well, it is my last night as a single woman," Ginny shrugs her shoulders to the side in a coquettish fashion. "What have you got there? Ron sending you love letters?"

"Something like that," Hermione quickly shoves the letter into her bra. "Let's go. Luna, your team, and the others will all be meeting us at the restaurant before we go dancing."

"Yes, Mum. So, did you already check in with the boys?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Harry and Ron are playing quidditch right now, then are going out to dinner at Leaky, then drinks at Exodus. Ron and I have it all planned out, so we don't run into each other."

"Best maid of honor ever. Let's go!"

—xoxox—

"You just had to bring Viktor Krum to our pick-up game, didn't you? This is supposed to be my stag do. Couldn't let me win this, could you?" Harry whines as he sheds his gear in the Harpies locker room, "at least Ginny and the girls let us use their training center."

"The perks of marrying a professional quidditch player, eh, mate?" Ron says, throwing a dirty jersey at him.

"I guess so," Harry responds but quickly looks away as Viktor walks naked toward the showers.

The Bulgarian seeker stops in all his glory and asks Ron and Harry in his thick Eastern European accent, "Dinner avter this, correct?"

Harry slightly turns his head to unlace his boots in an attempt to avert his eyes and says, "Yeah, Viktor. We're all just washing up and then dinner at the Leaky Cauldron before drinks at the lounge."

"Good. I am hungry," Viktor says as he gives Ron a wink, unbeknownst to Harry, and heads to the shower.

"Explain to me again how the two of you became so chummy?" Harry asks Ron while stripping the rest of his gear off.

"It was at that professional players' charity thing Ginny dragged us to a few months back. We started talking — he was cool," Ron says casually.

"Alright. Hey, we all make friends in unexpected places. He's just very different from how I remembered him," Harry says with a bit of uneasiness.

"Growing up tends to do that, Harry. Come on. I'm starved," Ron cuts him off. The problem with being with friends with Harry Potter is that when he became suspicious, it was usually for a good reason.

—xoxox—

Greg Goyle steps onto the hearth of Draco Malfoy's study out of the green flames. He's in a great mood knowing that he is going to go out for dinner and drinks with the guys. Once the flames vanish, he is alarmed to see both Draco and Theo on the sofa, looking dejected and nursing their drinks.

"What crawled up your arses?" Greg asks them.

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose and starts massaging his forehead. "Whatever you do, Greg. Postpone getting engaged at all costs. Getting married is a sodding nightmare."

"What are you talking about? Tori's fit and comes from a good family." Goyle isn't quite grasping what Draco is complaining about.

Theo mimics his fiancee's voice, "'Do you like garden roses or peonies?' 'Which white is whiter?' 'Which lace is less scandalous?' 'Do you like the linen or the laid textured paper?' 'Is it presumptuous of us to invite the Minister of Magic?' 'Should we invite the Golden Trio as an extension of the olive branch?' — Shit, Greg. The things these girls ask are fucking mental." He forgoes pouring himself another glass and drinks firewhisky straight from the bottle.

"The worst part is because we are marrying sisters, their parents want us to plan together, but the dates will be separate," Draco says while taking out a cigarette. He lights it up with the tip of his wand and inhales the relaxing smoke. As he exhales he says, "At least they have been fighting so much, we don't have wedding dates set."

"And that is a good thing? Why?" Greg walks over and pours himself a glass and lights up a cigarette as well.

Theo is smoking something a bit more medicinal and chokes out, "It gives us time to back out."

"You two aren't serious are you?" Goyle asks.

"Dead serious, Greg," Draco says bluntly. "Remember when we were kids and we thought that being pure-blood was the greatest thing we could ever be? Well, that was before we realized our families would make us marry right after school. I turn twenty-one in June, and Astoria is looking for dates around that time. Merlin, that's so soon. I did a little research. Just guess what the average marrying age is for muggles."

"I don't know — twenty-five?" he guesses.

"Thirty. And you know the average number of sexual partners they had in that time?" Draco asks, and Greg shrugs in response. "Around twenty. So, do we have money, prestige, magic? Yeah. But they have the freedom of time to figure out who they want to be with in life and fuck tons of people in the process."

"Yeah, I thought I was in love with Daphne in school, but is she really the only pussy I'm going to fuck for the rest of my life?" Theo takes another drag of his joint and passes it to Draco.

"Fuck. You convinced me. I'm not getting married," Greg finishes the rest of his drink. "Where the fuck is Blaise? I thought we were supposed to go to dinner."

"We could always eat here," Theo says.

"No. I need to get out of this house. If I'm here any longer, my mother will find some reason to talk to me about the wedding. I can't do it," Draco says, looking unhinged.

Right on time, Blaise makes his way through the fire. "Sorry I'm late, gents. I had some entertaining to, um, wrap up."

"See, he has the right idea," Theo says, pulling himself off the couch. "You missed it, Blaise. Draco and I gave Greg our warning to not get married for many, many years."

"You two fuckers take the pureblood code way too seriously. You should have sown your oats then settled down," Blaise says. "Ready to go eat some Italiano?"

"Fuck off with the Italian bit, Zabini," Draco sounds annoyed. "Your arse was born and raised in Belgravia in one of the fucking poshest parts of London. The only thing you can say in Italian is Bolognese ."

Greg and Theo roll with laughter and Blaise attempts to shoot stunning spells at all three of them, but Draco deflects the attack knowing that Theo is too high and Greg is just an idiot.

"Alright, arseholes. Let's go," Blaise scowls.

—xoxox—

After dinner, Harry's group of future brothers-in-law, school friends, and fellow aurors make their way to the new lounge called, Exodus. It isn't the bumping nightclub type, but still, it has a cool vibe that attracts a young crowd. It isn't The Chosen One's speed, but with all the single guys in his group, he thinks it will be fun going to a bar with eye candy.

While the guys all make their way into the crowd, Harry and Ron go to the bar and order drinks. Viktor comes to help Ron bring the beers over to their party, leaving Harry to start the tab. He looks to his right and sees a petite figure with curves in all the right places, especially with how that Chinese-style dress hugs her body. The dress is made of green silk with snakes embroidered into the fabric. The woman has her hair up in a loose bun with an ornate jade comb carved in the shape of a serpent. There is something about the Orient that has always intrigued Harry, so he decides to strike up a conversation. "Ahem... I like your dress."

The woman turns around, and it is none other than Pansy Parkinson, the best friend of his former school nemesis. For a split second, she has the same surprised look that Harry has on his face, but she immediately corrects and composes herself. "Potter. Fancy seeing you here."

"Uh, yeah. My stag do."

"Ah, you and your ginger witch making your way down the aisle?"

"Yeah, in two weeks—" Harry signals to the bartender to get him a pint of lager. He doesn't want to be rude and leave Pansy as he initiated the conversation. "—But like I was saying. Your dress. It's beautiful."

"It's called a cheongsam. I just came from my grandmother's Lunar New Year dinner," she says then takes another sip of her martini, all while looking Harry up and down.

"Lunar New Year?"

"Chinese New Year. It's the year of The Snake."

"You celebrate Chinese New Year?"

"Potter, have you always been this slow, or are you just that drunk?" It seems as though Pansy is growing annoyed, but she continues, "My grandmother is Chinese, so we celebrate the Lunar New Year. The muggles celebrate it, but it started out as a magical holiday in China."

"You're part Chinese? But I thought you were a pure-blood."

"You can be a pure-blood and interracial. We're magical elitists, not racists."

"Makes sense. Sorry to have bothered you. I'll be going..." He gets up and walks away, receiving the message that he isn't welcome company. Harry isn't sure why he felt the need to try to keep Pansy's attention. He's a few feet away from her now and stops to give her an over-the-shoulder glance to tell her, "but I meant it; you look beautiful in that dress."

"Potter, wait!" He turns back around, and she continues, "Sorry to be such a bitch. I didn't mean it. My family just drives me mental. I had to come here for a drink after dinner to clear my head."

"You're here alone?"

"Yeah. This is the problem when all your friends are guys, and they want to have 'boys night.'" Pansy sounds upset that she was left out. "I could have asked Tori and Daphne to join me, but all they talk about lately are weddings."

"You don't need to tell me. I'm ready to get it over with," Harry says.

"'Get it over with?' How romantic of you, Potter," she leans into him a bit more, and they can almost smell each other's fragrance. "Well, weddings, or lack thereof, are why I walked out of family dinner."

Harry cocks an eyebrow, unsure if he should push the subject.

Pansy can see that he won't converse, so she continues, "I told them I didn't want to get married to the first pure-blood who asks me, and that I want to live life for a while. Well, madness ensued, members of the family started threatening arranged marriages, so I left."

He tries to imagine being in Pansy's shoes but can't. So, he says the one thing can think of, "Sorry."

"Let me ask you, Harry Potter. You didn't grow up with pure-blood traditions poured down your throat — why on earth would you want to get married so young?" Pansy pulls out the jade comb, and the dark brown hair cascades to her shoulders. It's a lot longer than she wore it in school. The smell of her shampoo is intoxicating.

Harry gulps, forgetting that Pansy is asking him a question about Ginny. "Well, I'm marrying a pure-blood girl. There are so many traditions I have no idea about, but I want to make her and her family happy. I thought getting married young is what I'm supposed to do."

"Again, that doesn't sound romantic." She reaches over and brushes the fringe out of his eyes, gazing at his scar. "Tell me, do you think if the circumstances were different, would you have chosen to get married so young?"

He wants to say, 'no.' Instead, he says, "I've always wanted a family."

"Family is overrated. A little bit of selfishness is good for you now and then." She swirls the olives in her glass, gingerly picking them out of her glass and slowly sucking them off the toothpick. She looks Harry directly in the eyes as she licks the olive juice and vodka from her fingers.

Harry swallows hard. "I, uh, better get back to my friends. They might wonder where I am."

"Nice chatting with you, Potter. I'll be here for a while if you want to talk some more." She gives him a seductive wink and turns back to the bartender.

Merlin, when did she get so hot? Harry thinks to himself.

—xoxox—

Boys night. It was a long time since Draco, Theo, Greg and Blaise got together for a couple of pints. They had all taken over their family businesses and estates, and the responsibilities took them away from carefree moments like this. They decided to go to Eden, a club that opened a few months ago. Blaise wanted to go somewhere he could dance and have his pick from a plethora of women. Draco had suggested the club, as it played both muggle and wizarding music and is always popular with ladies.

A loud group of women make their way through the door and immediately capture the attention of the young men. They recognize them as a drunken Hermione Granger, high-as-a-kite Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley, and the entirety of her professional quidditch team.

"Jackpot," Blaise says as he points to the door. "The entire Harpies team just walked into the club. Damn, Weasley looks hot. She's the whole reason I bought season tickets. Why haven't any of you joined me in my box?"

"Because we don't want to watch you wank in the middle of the match," Theo quips.

Blaise pushes him off the stool, but Theo just lands on the floor and stays there, still clearly baked.

"I'm going to talk to them. Oh, this is going to be fun," Blaise says before chugging the last of his beer and slamming the glass down on the bar. The rest of the boys chuckle and get up to watch the drama unfold.

"Hey, Weasley!" Blaise calls to her, "Nice match the other night."

"Thanks, Blaise. You know the rest of the team?"

"Yes. I should as Zabini Publishing is a major sponsor—Hello, ladies. Looking good, Granger. Lovegood." His smooth talking attitude charms the ladies. "Now I'm guessing by the tiara, sash, and penis paraphernalia, this is a hen do?"

"Ever astute, Zabini," Hermione Granger interjects.

"Granger, how do you manage to sound sexy even when you're insulting me? You really engaged to the least attractive Weasley brother? If I were you, I would have gone after the dragon trainer," He gives Hermione a wink to which her cheeks go a bit pink, partially from the insult about Ron, partially because Blaise has a killer smile. "But Ginny, as it's your hen do, you deserve a gift from me."

"What, pray tell, do you plan on giving me? Remember, I'm an engaged woman." She knew this was trouble, but curiosity was getting the better of her.

He pushes her into a chair and points his wand at the DJ booth. Pony by Ginuwine starts playing. He swings one leg over Ginny's lap so that he's straddling her. The group of guys and ladies holler, knowing how much this embarrasses Ginny while attracting the attention of the whole bar.

Blaise moves his pelvis to the seductive beat. Ginny swallows hard, unable to believe what is going on. Blaise rolls his hips, inching his package closer and closer to the future Mrs. Potter's face. He grips the back of her head, making sure she doesn't miss any of the show. Blaise runs a finger down Ginny's forehead, nose, lips, neck, cleavage, down her abdomen and stops right before her crotch. Ginny's breath hitches, and she has broken out in a sweat.

I am in so much trouble, Ginny thinks to herself.

Blaise can see the confused look of embarrassment and lust, and it only urges him to continue to publicly touch, feel, and fondle Miss Weasley, all while dancing.

While Zabini bumps and grinds on Weasley, a certain blond saunters up to a very inebriated brunette.

"Granger."

"Malfoy."

"Enjoying the show?"

"Immensely. You?"

"What I would give to see Potter's face right now."

"Same."

"So how pissed are you right now?"

"Pretty far gone. I can hold my liquor, though."

"So... pissed enough to make a mistake?"

"Aren't you engaged?"

"Aren't you?"

She puts her ring into her pocket. "You think they would notice if we slipped out of here?"

"They didn't notice last time."

"You know where to find me."

"Same place?"

"Same place."

A/N:

Thanks for reading. Feel free to leave a review. I'm also on tumblr: harrypotterandthegobletofwine and Facebook: saintdionysuswriter.