"Ronald Weasley, get out of the house this instant! It is your bachelor party, and you WILL be going!"

Ginny, sounding an awful lot like her other, was screaming at her brother from the inside of their home. Suddenly, the boy in question came storming out of the house, rubbing his arm while a black-haired boy followed, stifling laughter.

"Come on Ron, its one night. You and Hermione can control yourselves for ONE NIGHT right? You're not completely crazy little sex-monkeys are you?" Harry chuckled while Ron glared.

"Shut up Potter and tell me where we have to go."

"It's a surprise!" Harry proclaimed, and, grabbing Ron's arm, he turned on the spot and disapparated.

They ended up outside of a loud club called Dragon's Den. Techno music thumped from behind the doors, and a large crowd of people clutching bottles of firewhiskey and butterbeer stumbled out of a back alley.

"Harry, are you sure-"

"Hey guys!" a familiar voice shouted.

Ron looked to his left and saw Dean, Seamus, Neville and a few people from work walking towards them.

"Hey, I guess everyone's here now!" Harry shouted. "Let's go in then shall we?"

"Not without me Potter!" George came racing from behind the building, his shirt untucked and hair ruffled. Harry and Ron both raised their eyebrows, but otherwise did not comment on his less than dapper appearance.

The group of friends all stepped into the club, avoiding the drunken party goers at the door. Within seconds, Harry had thrust a drink in Ron's hand, and had downed his own in one swift motion.

"Alrighty boys, you know the drill, its Ron's last night of freedom, and we gotta make it one he will NEVER forget! Get to it!" Harry yelled.

Two hours later, and Ron could barely remember who he was. He had repeatedly had firewhiskey shoved into his hand, and, not one to waste, it had all ended up down his throat where it was currently bubbling in his stomach.

One thing he hadn't counted on, other than getting totally smashed, was the eleven o'clock show that Dragon's Den held every night.

Sitting front row and center at a very drunk Harry's insistence, Ron was now watching scantily clad girls strut around a stage, flashing altogether too much cleavage, and making him more uncomfortable than any amount of alcohol could ever fix (not that he didn't try).

By midnight, Ron was completely wasted. George was nowhere to be seen, and even Neville, the cautious one, had gone off into the night with a pretty girl he met at the bar. Seamus and Dean were in the middle of the dance floor, a crowd of girls surrounding them, which left Harry, Ron, and two guys from work, Mitchell and Jordan, sitting on the couches in a corner, knocking back yet more booze and talking loudly.

"Ron, I hope your bachelor party was the best one you've ever had!" Jordan slurred, raising his glass in a toast.

"Amen!" cried Harry, and all four of the men tipped their glasses, spilling relatively little of the contents in the process.

"Wait!" cried Harry suddenly, "We forgot about our present!"

Harry stood up and walked towards the front desk, looking as if he was on a rather unsteady ship. He had a few words with the manager, and then came back to the table, a smirk on his face.

"Happy birthday Ron!" Harry declared, and motioned towards a waitress who was coming towards their table.

"Hey there boys," a vaguely familiar and sickly sweet voice said, "Someone needed to have their order taken." The waitress put special suggestive emphasis on her last two words, and Ron started to get nervous.

Before he could move, she was dancing. Right in front of him. Her shirt was soon on his lap, and that left her in her black bra, and a tiny scrap of fabric that was passing as her skirt.

"Last night of freedom Ron," she simpered, "Want to make sure you picked the right girl?" And with that, she was on his lap, grinding and swivelling her hips.

Suddenly, Ron broke through his drunken haze, and realized why this girl looked so familiar.

It was Lavender Brown.

"Enjoying it Ron?" she simpered, feeling that Ron was getting turned on. "Guess you didn't pick the right girl then, I bet Hermione doesn't make you feel like I do. Bet she's too tight."

That was it. Ron snapped.

He pushed Lavender off his lap, and grabbed his coat from the hook beside the table. Putting it on, her stormed out of Dragon's Den as fast as he possibly could.

Harry joined him outside seconds later, and handed Ron a small vial of a sobering potion. Ron knocked it back as fast as he could, and then turned to his best friend.

"Never mention this to Hermione."

This is one of my favourite stories I've written :) Yes, I'm a sick freak, but what if it had really happened?

R&R

~summerlovin'