A/N: This is my Round 7 entry for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm the Keeper for the Ballycastle Bats. The prompt was to write about a specific potion and/or its effects. My potion as keeper was felix felicis. Final word count: 1628

An 8 of clubs and 2 of diamonds? What am I supposed to do with such a shite hand? Ron thought to himself as he peeked at the cards on the table.

"Sir, are you still in, or are you folding?"

I should fold. There's no way I can win with this hand, he considered his options, "What's the bet?"

"We're at £20, sir," the dealer responded.

Ron nodded. He could reach for his flask, the muggles wouldn't know what he was drinking. He had brought it in and filled it with their cheap liquor, so it was allowed, spatially since they didn't know that he had a second identical one filled with something else. But he wanted to win on his own. He was almost out, and using it meant that he was as bad as he thought.

"Sir, we really need you to decide please."

"I'll raise you £10," he declared as he gathered the chips and toss them into the pot before taking a swig from his flask.

Immediately he was filled with a warm, tingling sensation. He felt light, like he didn't have a worry in the world. His wife was home, pregnant, and driving herself insane being paranoid about what he did at night. And he was winning them a fortune. Luck was literally on his side tonight.

"Damn man, what kind of hand do you have? I fold," a young player said as he flipped his cards over, revealing pocket deuces.

The rest of the table followed suit except for one man, "I'll call."

The dealer nodded and flipped 3 cards on to the table; an ace of spades, an 8 of hearts, and a 3 of hearts.

Okay, so far I have a pair. That guy seems pretty confident in his hand. But I have luck. Freshly brewed, pure luck. He took another swig of his second flask, allowing the luck to flow through him. He giggled a little at the sensation.

I've got this in the bag. I have enough to last me few games.

"Are you that sure of yourself, mate? Or have you had to much to drink?"

"Nah, mate, just having some fun."

"Well, I hope you can continue to do so. I'm gonna bet £15," the man with silver hair said casually. It was like the game didn't matter.

He must be really confident in his hand. Should I take another swig?

"I'll see your 15, and raise you £10."

"Got that good a hand? I'll call."

The dealer revealed another card, the 8 of spades.

"That help you at all, Giddy boy?"

"I wouldn't tell ya if it did."

Okay, 3 of a kind. Not bad. I could win with this, but he's still pretty confident in his hand, which means he has something good. After a moment of thought, Ron reached for his flask yet again, and took another swig, this one bigger than the others.

"£20."

Ron stared at the man with a broad smile, "I'll raise you £20."

"What have you got? An ace up your sleeve?"

"Nah, I just think things are going in my favor tonight."

"Oh really?"

"Yea."

"Then I'm all in."

The man's pile wasn't even close to half of Ron's, and so he grinned, "I'll call ya."

The dealer revealed the last card as Ron took another swig from his flask. A 2 of hearts.

"Alright players, reveal your hands."

The man revealed a hand of two hearts. So he had a flush.

"Well, Giddy boy, What's ya got?"

"Well, I have to hand it to you, you played a good hand, "Ron started, trying to make him think that he won. And it worked, as the man started reaching for the pot, "but my full house beats you. Eights over twos. Read them and weep."

The man looked dumbfounded at Ron's hand.

"No, that ain't possible."

"Sorry man, better luck next time," Ron said through an insincere grin as he raked in his chips.

"Sir, he won. You're going to have to leave the table."

"I want my money back.

"Sorry man, but you made the risk. You had no idea what I had. I guess you'll just have to try again another day."

"You cheated. I don't know how, but you did!"

"Sir," the dealer said, attempting to use a calming voice, "please don't make me call security. The game is over. You lost, perhaps you'll have better luck next time."

The man shot Ron a death glare, but Ron only chuckled and took another swig. "Man, the only thing I did was drink my liquid luck. I didn't start off with a good hand. It's not like I can control the cards."

As Ron tucked the flask back into his best, the man finally turned to leave, shooting one last glare at Ron.

"If looks could kill, am I right," Ron laughed once the man had left.

Everyone chuckled slightly, clearly nervous from the encounter.

The dealer handed out cards to each player, and Ron peeked at his; a 10 and ace of diamonds.

Maybe I have something to work with. Ron thought as he took another swig from his flask.

"I'll bet £30."

He smirked when he saw the other players' reactions. They couldn't tell if he was bluffing, or had that good of a starting hand.

The men each folded. One had pocket kings, the other a pair of fours. He revealed his cards and they groaned. As far as they knew, he had been bluffing.

And so the game continued, every time Ron looked at his cards, he took a swig, until he was out. What they didn't know was that he had a little bit of his luck mixed in with the alcohol. So they assumed he wasn't drinking a lot at a time as he began drinking from his second flask.

A little around midnight, the game finally ended, with Ron having swept everyone.

"Come back next week, I'll beat you all again," Ron declared through a giddy laugh.

"Sir, I think it's time you return home. Would you like for us to call a cab for you?"

"No thank you. I have my own ride home. Last luck is on my side."

Ron stood up and gathered his chips into the two buckets he had been given at some point during the game. As he walked over to the counter to receive his money, he took the last swig of his flask. He was feeling dizzy and nauseous. He needed to talk to Seamus about the quality. Ron had no patience for the consequences of an improperly brewed batch.

After Ron had his money, he stepped out into the alley and disaparated home. He'd barely landed when he fell to the ground, his body seizing up and vomit spewing from his mouth. His head smacked against the floor multiple times.

He heard Hermione run in, and he heard her practically scream in fear, but he couldn't make out her words. Moments later he blacked out.

"Hermione, what happened," Harry asked as he embraced get in the waiting room at St. Mungo's.

"I don't know, they haven't told me yet. He was out late again last night. I heard him aparate into the house and then there was a thud and a bunch of thunks like he was hitting something. I came out to find him convulsing on the floor."

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Harry, I know where he's been disappearing to. He's been gambling. I had my theories, but he had a significant about of money on him. Muggle money."

"Why would he be doing that?"

"I don't know. He's been pretty messed up since the war, Harry. And the expectations are so much higher for the two of you in auror training. He doesn't handle pressure well. Everyone is here though. And they won't tell me anything directly, because I'm not his wife or immediate family."

"Mrs. Weasley," a doctor called out from the hallway.

Hermione head jerked up and she looked towards Molly, following close behind as the webcam went to hear about her son's fate.

"Mrs. Weasley, would you like her present here," he asked nodding towards Hermione.

"She's his fiancee, she should be here. Just tell us what you know about my son."

"We found a large amount of felix Felicis in his system. It seems he over dosed on it. Now, although not improperly brewed, it wasn't a quality batch from the samples we tested of his flasks and he mixed some of it with alcohol."

"Is he going to be okay?" Hermione blurted out.

"Well, at the moment we don't know. He took enough that he should have good luck for several days, which means that he could easily pull through. But when it begins to wear off, there will be a few hours that anything could happen as the potion tries to balance out the luck."

"Is he stable now?"

"Yes. We managed to pump his stomach of the remaining potion and have administered an antidote to cancel out the effects. But he was in a bad way. Even with the quick response, he might not pull through. If he does, he will never be able to drink it again. His system will react violently after an over dose."

"So he could be here for days?"

"At least two or three. Like I said we're trying to cancel out the effects of the potion, but we have to do so slowly to keep from causing anymore prob-"

"Dr. Goodman, we need you in here asap."

The doctor looked at the two witches before him with apologetic eyes before running down the hall.