Disclaimer: I own nothing
A/N: This is my new story, 'What Happens in Vegas.' It's based on the film with a few tweaks here and there. I've followed canon including interview information; only the relationships of Ron, Hermione and George are differant. I really hope you come back to see the next chapter! I'm just so excited about this story.
Thanks to my Beta, Remuslives, there shouldn't be any nasty mistakes to hurt your eyes.
On another note, I'm English, therefore all my spellings are English. You might think that that wouldn't mean much, but you'd be surprised.
What Happens in Vegas
One: Jagerbombs
It was a well established fact in the magical world that Hermione Granger was perfect: her brain was the brightest, her hair the neatest, her clothes the most stylish; she was never late, never impolite and always, always right. Yes, Hermione Granger was a very successful young woman.
"You're dumping me?"
Ernie loosened the stiff, white collar on his oxford shirt. Trembling, he placed a calming hand on the shoulder of his livid, soon to be ex, fiancé.
"You can't dump me," she said, shaking her head. Her hands shook as she desperately dug through her bag, sending papers and diaries flying through the air. Tugging at her hair she pleaded with him, "I've made plans. We're getting married, Ernie! You can't dump me. No! No, no, no, no, no!" Sheets covered in dates and times fluttered to the ground. "No."
"Hermione, with you, I know what I'll be doing fifty years from now at five past four in the afternoon." His eyes pleaded for her to understand, "My breakfast is ready before I open my eyes, my clothes are ironed and hung up, waiting, my lunch is all packed in a little, brown bag, and then I come home from work and there is a three course meal laid out on the table. My parents love you. My friends love you. Everyone loves you!"
"Except you." The words came out no more than as whisper. Her life lay by her feet.
Gently, he took her hands in his, "I want to choose what boxers I wear in the morning. I don't want to be governed by schedules and diaries-- I need to be with someone who can let their hair down, and don't say you can. This is who you are, and there is nothing wrong with that. It's just... too much for me. I'm sorry."
She bent to the floor and grabbed at the papers that littered it, they ripped as she shoved them back into her bag. Her lip quivered and her eyes swelled with tears. When her hands fell still, his feet had already walked away, so she sat on the shiny floor of the lobby, her designer pumps tucked up under her brand-new suit, and cried.
"Dinner is ready dear!"
CA'BOOM! With one singed eyebrow and hair that had seen better days, George Weasley tumbled out of his bedroom and crashed down the stairs, his head and back bounced off the steps, the banister, and the wall, leaving him in a crumpled pile at the bottom.
"Oh George," sighed Molly as she bustled from the kitchen to help him up. He wobbled and clutched her shoulder—the world was a swirling kaleidoscope of colours. "Come and eat your dinner dear. Harry and the kids are here; Ginny's not feeling too good."
As George sat at the long, oak dining table that had been in his family for generations, he eyed his brother in law pitifully. The poor boy; married by twenty, two and a half children already, full time job, house by the sea; his life was over. Unlike George's. George grinned as he scooped another spoonful of mash into his mouth. He had it made! Unlike Harry, he had no responsibilities, giving him the option to do what he wanted, when he wanted. Bliss.
"George? Hello..." George blinked and shook his head, coming out of his fantasy world where he was king of everything,
"Sorry mate," he said, grinning at the annoyed glare that Harry shot his way, "you were saying?"
"Ron's stag do? I asked if you wanted to share my portkey? I was going to travel with Neville, Seamus and Dean, but Hermione came round last night. Ernie called the wedding off so Ron invited her to take his place. She is one of his best friends after all. Anyway, she'll be travelling with them, so..."
"Ron's stag do?" George paused as his mother's pursed lips and wrinkled brow reflected off of Harry's glasses. "Oh yes, Ron's stag do! Of course I'll share your portkey. I've been looking forward to going to..." George stopped and ran a nervous hand through his spiky, ginger hair.
"Las Vegas," finished Harry with a pointed look.
"I knew that." George grinned and took another mouthful of mash, "Been looking forward to it all month!"
"He only just told you last Monday," Harry deadpanned. To his left, Harry's son snorted into his cabbage and grinned up at his Uncle George. George cringed.
It was freezing. That was her first thought upon apparating to their meeting point. Her legs and arms were covered in goose-bumps and her stilettos were digging uncomfortably into the grassy field. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms she glared around for any signs of the rest of their party.
POP!
Dean appeared beside her, a bottle of beer in one hand and a large cigar in the other. With his free hand he roughly pulled Hermione into a hug and kissed her upon her neatly done hair. The stench of alcohol and tobacco wafted down her nose and she cringed as she tried to prise herself free.
"Looking hot," he said, "I like this, girly tux thing you have going on. Very sexy."
Hermione whipped her wand out and held it up to Dean's nose, "Listen very carefully Thomas, I took a lot of effort getting ready tonight, and if you dare mess that up by roughing me up, trust me, you'll regret it."
"She's not lying!" Ron appeared next, laughing as Dean backed away from the little, angry lady in a tuxedo style dress. Smiling he took his own jacket off and wrapped it around Hermione's shoulders, immediately upon landing, she felt its warming charms that were laced into the designer material.
The rest of the party appeared in various states of drunkenness, having begun drinking as soon as they finished work. They split up into two groups and placed a finger upon their international portkey. The stench of larger drifted through her little circle and she restrained the urge to pinch her nose.
Moments later they appeared in a beautiful hotel lobby; it was decorated in the finest gold and mahogany, with a crystal chandelier and plush carpeting. Hermione clasped her hands to her mouth and grabbed Harry's hand; he smiled back and squeezed a message of his own excitement.
Being the Best Man, it was Harry's job to organise the hotel rooms and entertainments for the night, and so Hermione left the group of half-cut men to wander around the lobby. A couple of leaflets caught her eye and she grinned as she spotted the luxury spa—seaweed wraps in the pool of tranquillity by Mediterranean mermaids; it sounded divine, oh and a seminar on the theories of house elf's magic by Professor Elvenhire! Her heart sped up at the mere thought of being able to sit in the same room as that beautiful genius.
George scoffed as he saw Hermione sporting a similar face to the one Cho Chang pulled if you tweaked her just right, only instead of being mid-play, she was lusting over some incredibly boring looking leaflets. In the spirit of his brother's stag do he marched over and snatched them out of her orgasming hands.
"What?" she spluttered as her leaflets were snatched away. She snapped her head around in search of the culprit and saw George Weasley holding them high above his head, grinning.
"The only things you will be doing tonight is getting intolerably intoxicated whilst gambling an incredible and ridicules amount of money. Ca va?"
"Hermione, George! I have our room keys!" Harry bellowed across the reception before Hermione could form a reply. With a parting glare, promising retribution, Hermione rushed over to where Harry stood surrounded by the rest of their party.
"It was decided by Ginny that you'd be sharing with me," he began with a chuckle, talking directly at Hermione, "as for the rest of you, I really don't care..." Harry chucked the keys at them and grabbed Hermione's hand, pulling her away from the rabble and into the lift.
Hermione laughed as Harry slotted their room key into the scanner and the lift took them directly to their suite. The content of Hermione's purse was soon folded neatly into one of the drawers while Harry shoved his clothes haphazardly into another. She twitched for a moment before marching over and rearranging his drawers so that even his underwear was folded. It was easy for Harry to ignore her, having gotten used to her odd tendencies.
"We're meeting everyone back in the lobby in half an hour," Harry told her as she pulled a book from her bag and took a seat by the window. It was then that she paused. The words of Ernie flooded back, was this really all she was? She'd spent her life being so utterly perfect in every way that she'd failed at the one thing that mattered.
To Harry's disbelief she placed the book down upon the windowsill and nodded.
"You're right," she said, looking at the book with a curious frown. Placing her hand upon it she turned to Harry and smiled at him wistfully, "When did I get so boring?"
"That's easy," Harry said as he took a seat beside her, "it was when you stopped coming drinking with Ron and I." Kissing her roughly on the forehead he pulled her up and over to the mini-bar, "now, let's blow our months wages on one massive mini-bar bill? What do you say? Time for a little catch up, me thinks!"
The bottles went down her throat like milk from a baby's bottle, one after the other, at Harry's insistence. Apparently they were playing 'I never' and Hermione soon learned that being a workaholic meant that you got drunk extremely quickly in a game like this. When time rolled around to leave, she was already feeling a little tipsy, and once they reached their stretch horse and cart, and began sipping the free Elfen-Champagne, her words were beginning to slur.
It turned out to be a night to remember, and one that she would ultimately forget. She pole-danced with Seamus, took her top off for a jagerbomb, played blackjack with a monkey and ate a deluxe pizza without using her hands.
The night was a whirlwind of activity.
Ron was lost somewhere- the last she'd seen of him was when they'd tied him naked, three quarters of the way up a pillar in a muggle casino. Dean was last seen making out with what Hermione had been sure was a very unconvincing drag queen. Harry had passed out long ago in the club that had no gravity, and was floating around someplace, probably in his own vomit. She wasn't sure where Neville went, but she had a feeling he hadn't drank as much as she had, because the last she saw of him, he was wearing shoes. Charlie, Bill and Percy were on stage, singing an old Weird Sister's song, so out of tune that the goblins were throwing cocktail sausages at them. And she was sat at the bar, a triple line of shots in front of her, with George and Seamus at either side.
"Whoever can do all three of their shots without using their hands the quickest, wins!" George announced. His words were slurred and Hermione had to yank him back onto his seat halfway through his speech.
The glasses trembled, sloshing the liquor over the rim as she slammed her hand down onto the bar. "Let's GO!" Hermione shouted. The three intoxicated adults lent forward, wrapping their lips around the rims of the shot glasses.
The liquor dribbled down her chin and onto her tux, the glass fell from her mouth as she snorted tequila out her nose. At the sound of her chocking, George slammed a hand on her back- with a thump she was thrown forwards into the bar, sending the remaining shots flying across the bar and into Seamus' lap.
"I win!" announced Seamus as he threw down his last empty glass. "What do I win?"
The three looked around and it was Hermione who flapped her arms around at the barman and grabbed Seamus by the arm, "Another shot!" she said, "He wins another shot!" The barman complied with a doubtful look, and seconds after Seamus downed it his head hit the bar sending him slipping off the stool and onto the ground.
And this was the last clear thing that poor Hermione Granger remembered from that fateful night in Vegas.
A/N. Thank you for reading! I really hope that it wasn't too terrible. If I'm feeling amiable I may even post a bonus chapter- as a one shot- telling the hazy memories of Miss Granger after Geroge and she left Seamus.
Next up 'Chicken Dinner'.
And here is a little sneak preview:
'He looked to the large double bed, where a Hermione shaped lump was snoring like a baby dragon. Careful to avoid the disaster zone that was the hotel room, he tiptoed through the rabble and perched beside the lump on the bed.'