All Because Voldemort Got Drunk

Written for xXxSkittlerzxXx's '49 Quotes Challenge', for which the task was to include 49 of almost 100 quotes (supplied by her) in a Harry Potter fanfic. Quotes will be underlined.

Warnings: includes slash, silliness and mass OOC-ness, though not entirely without justification. :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, and I claim no responsibility for what I've done to them. I also disclaim all responsibility should reading this fic make your eyes bleed. XP

...

"Well, as you can all clearly see, Voldemort is dead," said Harry. Then he smiled at the crowds. "And now to celebrate with massive amounts of alcohol and horrible dancing!"

A great cheer went up as the entire population of the school – and then some – trooped gleefully back inside Hogwarts. If there was anyone who thought it was a little odd that Voldemort had just stumbled up to the castle, blind drunk, and demanded that Dumbledore hand Harry over so that he could challenge him to a duel, they were soon silenced by the copious amounts of alcohol the kitchen elves rolled out by the barrel.

As the party progressed, the older partygoers spread out throughout the castle... there were suddenly a lot less deserted classrooms than before, put it that way. And broom closets, for that matter...

"You're rich, Draco."

"Thank you for pointing that out, Granger." He swayed on the spot slightly, butterbeer threatening to spill out of its glass.

She giggled and took another sip of her own butterbeer. "Why're you so rich, Draco?"

"My dad is successful."

"How come?"

"Behind every successful man there is a woman who made it necessary."

"Right. Isn't your dad a bit, you know, loopy?"

"Um, duh."

"He should go see a psychiatrist."

"You're right."

"You're actually agreeing with me?"

"Look, we both know that the only women who're usually right are you and Mum, and half the time we men agree out of survival instinct."

"You're very drunk."

"Correct! But so are you and I doubt either of us'll remember any of this in the morning, so I'm happy right now to admit you're usually right."

"Even about your dad needing professional help?"

"Yeah – actually I told him that one time and you know what he said? He said a psychiatrist is a fellow who asks you a lot of expensive questions your wife asks for nothing."

Hermione laughed. Then Malfoy said, "See that broom cupboard there?"

"Yeah?"

"It's empty."

"Yeah."

"So get in, Granger."

"Why?"

"I think you should know why."

"Huh?"

"Take a guess."

One could almost see the light bulb flickering to life above her head. "Oh." There was a pause. "Can't we go up to my dorm instead?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because the dorm is too far away and I'm horny and unless you want me to start molesting you in the middle of a corridor, you better get your delectable arse in that broom cupboard."

"Uhuh... tell me, exactly how delectable is my arse? And when since did you think so?"

Suddenly Neville, who had been standing beside them, silent and unnoticed for the entirety of the conversation, spoke up. "And this is one of those situations from which I am now going to politely excuse myself before I start inventing mental images that I'd happier without. Excuse me." And he walked off.

"I wasn't aware we were even having a conversation with him."

"Me neither. Now into that broom cupboard with you, Granger."

...

A few minutes later, Neville found Luna sitting on Sirius's knee in the next room. "Hey Luna," said Neville.

"Hello Neville," said Luna.

"Why're you sitting on his lap?" said Neville.

"Because he asked me to," said Luna.

"I'm a lovable drunk. Come sit on my lap and talk to me," said Sirius.

"He is very drunk," said Neville.

"What makes you say that?" said Luna.

"Two things," said Neville. "One, he just said so, and two, he's cast Silencio on his shoes."

"Oh," said Luna.

"I like pickles," said Sirius. "And why can't it rain pickles? It can rain rain, but why can't it rain pickles?"

"Do you realise we two are probably about the only sober people over sixteen in this whole castle?" said Neville to Luna.

Luna nodded and said, "I think Sirius has just fallen asleep."

"Come on," said Neville. "Let's go for a walk."

"Alright," said Luna, and they walked away together, leaving Sirius sleeping peacefully in a puddle of his own drool.

...

Some bright spark had decided to turn the Great Hall into a disco, with the house tables pushed to the walls and serving as both food stands and stages for drunken revellers to dance on. Music was pumping throughout the Great Hall, thousands of bodies jumping and gyrating to it.

Harry, though, was standing in the far corner, nursing a mug of butterbeer.

"You look rather gloomy today," remarked a voice rather suddenly in his ear.

Harry started and turned to look at his companion. "Draco?"

"Well done, Potter – you appear to be drunk enough to call me by my first name, like you should."

Glaring blearily at Malfoy, Harry replied, "You can't control whose name you call out behind the curtains. Now go away."

"Oh, the cryptic drunk, are we? Who's a moody little Chosen One then?"

Harry just glared at him some more.

"What's got your wand in a knot, Potter?"

"Voldemort's dead," Harry finally said, with a distinct air of reluctance.

"You bet," replied Malfoy cheerfully.

"And I'm not," Harry continued sullenly.

"You don't appear to be, no." Malfoy was still smiling.

Silence.

"What's this got to do with your mood, Potter? Don't tell me the Boy Who Lived wants to be the Boy Who Didn't! You should be partying and getting laid along with the rest of them."

Harry took another gulp of his butterbeer. "My purpose in life has been achieved, and Voldemort is dead, but I never expected to survive that. So now I'm wondering what there's left to live for."

Malfoy smirked. "I know of at least one thing."

"Oh yeah?"

"Come with me and you'll find out."

"Come with you where?"

"Where doesn't matter, Scarhead. As long as you come... with me. Get it?"

"Oh..." Comprehension dawned across Harry's features. "Really?" Malfoy nodded and Harry thought for a second longer. "Okay then."

They made their way to the nearest door, walking past a group of first years as they went. "Why is that child waving at us like he has some type of twitching disorder?" asked Malfoy.

"Must be Creevey," slurred Harry. "He's always like that. He has more energy than a herd of Hippogriffs after a ferret."

The child in question chose that moment to call loudly to his friends, "Let's all squee with unrestrained delight! It's our saviour!"

The group of twenty or so eleven- and twelve-year-olds then proceeded to throw themselves down at Harry's feet, crying things like, "All hail the Messiah!" and "Praise Jesus Christ our Lord!" and "The Holy One has returned!"

"Well, there's one thing to live for," remarked Harry joyfully to Malfoy, upon which the latter swiftly Stunned the lot of them. Several people nearby – Harry included – glared at him, as if to say, 'You wacko!'

"Should I be concerned about the death glares I'm receiving?" asked Malfoy cheerfully.

"Why did you do that?" Harry shot back angrily. "I was being worshipped!" He looked down at Creevey lying frozen by his feet, then, glaring at Malfoy, he planned where to hide the body.

But Malfoy, seemingly unfazed by Harry's clear plans to murder and bury him, pulled at his companion's sleeve and dragged him towards the door while some onlookers began to revive the Stunned children.

"Hey – wait – no – I'm not going with you anymore! You killed my worshippers!"

"First of all, I did not kill them, I only Stunned them. Second, had I allowed you to let them believe you were some fictional god-like figure from a Muggle religion, I would have been allowing you to commit identity fraud, and I simply couldn't have that on my conscience. Thirdly, you won't be going anywhere – it's coming we were talking about."

"But –"

"Harry, if you don't come with me, I'll make your penis talk every time it gets near a vagina. I can do that, you know."

Sighing, defeated, Harry allowed himself to be led out of the Great (Disco) Hall.

...

On a desk in Snape's Potions classroom a situation was brewing that would probably scar any of the students that normally sat there for life. It would also prove just how 'loopy' Lucius Malfoy really was.

"Where are you, Lucius?" called Snape in a scarily sing-song voice. He was lying face-down on a desk in nothing but his long black cloak, his double-strength firewhiskey slopping out of the glass and over his fingers. "I know you're there, Lucius. Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

There was silence. "Lucy..." called Snape, the hint of a threat in his voice. "Lucy..."

A voice came from behind Snape's desk at the front of the room. "I'm not ready yet. And don't call me that."

"I knew you were there. Are you going to come over and talk to me or what?"

"Talk to you?"

"Yes."

"About what?"

"Oh I don't know... family history?"

"Seriously?"

"Are you deliberately trying to be difficult?"

"Not deliberately. I'm just not sure what you're asking."

"Humour me, okay?"

"I suppose I could do that... just because I'm so nice."

"Merlin forbid you actually do something out of the goodness of your non-existent heart."

There was a thoughtful pause. After a while Snape said, "Lucy, I'm getting tired of waiting."

"Don't you think the anticipation is exciting?"

"Waiting for you to say something? Oh yes, about as exciting as stabbing myself in the eye with a fork."

There was another, shorter pause. "We're related, you know that, right, Sevviekins?"

"Did you just call me 'Sevviekins'?"

"Well, you call me Lucy, for Merlin's sake."

"Fair point. And yes, I know we're related. Well," Snape amended, "We're distant cousins, really."

"Oh, how distant?" There was something insinuating in Lucius' voice, something that was not lost on Snape.

"As in we could fuck until we were raw and our family wouldn't really care..."

"Well, in that case..." Lucius popped up from behind Snape's desk, wearing nothing but a lacy red thong, matching bra and scarlet stripper heels. Snape's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets.

"You're just a plain slut, aren't you?"

"Pretty much." Lucius strutted over to Snape and picked at his cloak. "I still think it's funny how this covers you nearly from head to foot."

"Well, if I want to give my students the 'giant greasy black bat Potions teacher' impression, I have to take certain measures – but I've told you this before."

"Have you? I must have forgotten."

"Naughty boy! Join me on this desk so I can punish you for that – you deserve a good spanking."

"Yes sir."

...

Neville and Luna walked through the corridors of Hogwarts side by side, talking about things like Wrackspurts and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks to pass the time. At some point Neville remarked, "You know, I feel kind of like a Prefect, patrolling the corridors at night to make sure no-one's misbehaving."

And sure enough, at that point he and Luna turned into another corridor, just in time to see a door at the far end of it slam closed.

"I know what you mean," said Luna calmly. "Shall we go and have a look at whatever it is they're doing, then?" She indicated the door that had just slammed closed.

Neville nodded and said, "I think that might be the back door to the kitchens," as they approached the door. Standing in front of it a minute later, there was nothing to be seen but wood and ancient stone, but through the thick wood of the door, slightly indistinct, slurred conversation could be heard.

"What're you doing?" said one voice.

"Watch me," replied another.

"Oh. OH – I can't see you now, you know. You're – uhn – behind me."

"But you like it that way, don't you, Potter?"

"Well I've never had the chance to – ahh – okay, okay – no don't stop – the chance to – nnngh – experiment... so – I don't – know—"

Then there was the sound of groaning. Neville grew pale and even Luna felt uneasy. Surely not—

"Draco..."

"Yes?"

"You're a bastard. I did not want to be bottom." A pause. "But this beats being worshipped by first-years... Thanks."

There was the sound of tipsy laughter.

"What?"

"It's the first time I've ever been thanked for being a bastard."

"There's a first time for everything... say, have you ever been bottom?"

"Um..."

There was silence for a while, and the two sober friends in the corridor shared a look of confusion and horror. Nobody in their right mind would believe that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were—

What could only be Malfoy's voice came from the other side of the door again. "I can't – ahh – think when you – oh – do that..." He was panting. "But don't – don't stop – oh, fuck! Fuck you—!"

Laughter. "Fuck you very much too. There's a first time for everything, remember? Now don't you dare – oh Merlin – move –"

"But – ow! Hey, did you just bite me?"

"You poor thing. Shall I fetch Madam Pomfrey?" Sarcasm.

"No. I am perfectly capable of waddling to the hospital wing!"

"Waddling? I'd have to bite you somewhere entirely different to achieve that..."

At this Neville made a strangled noise. He was suddenly very glad that he'd never been made a Prefect. "Luna," he hissed. "Are Harry and Malfoy—?"

"Well, what do you think they're doing, chatting over fruit salad?" she replied in her usual dreamy voice, though her expression clearly said she was uncomfortable too.

"Let's get out of here – if I have to listen to much more of this, I'm going to have to burn out part of my brain to get rid of the mental images I'm getting," said Neville.

Just then the grunting noises from the other side of the door stopped, and Harry could be heard saying, "Did you hear that, Draco?"

"What? I told you not to stop!"

"Is someone listening at the door?"

"Probably just some Hufflepuff. You discover a new one every day."

"So you don't care?"

"No. Now put that back where it was a second ago and—"

Yes, time for fluffy walls and strait jackets, thought Neville. I am now going to hand myself in to the nearest Insane Asylum for the Mentally Scarred.

Luna, having turned pale green upon hearing Malfoy finish his sentence, said to her companion, "You're right, Neville. We've heard more than enough. Let's go."

Neville nodded and they left the corridor, in search of maybe a Pensive or a strong Memory Charm – something that would make the memory of the past minutes disappear, and soon.

...

A short time later, Hermione ran into Luna in a corner of the Great Hall. "Hello, Luna," she slurred brightly.

"Hermione," said Luna in surprise. "Did you get attacked by a flock of Horny Kneazles?"

"What?"

Luna hiccupped loudly then blurted, "The telltale signs of a Horny Kneazle attack are all over you! The messed-up hair – they line their nest with stolen hairs you know – the rumpled clothing – scraps of cloth make good nest material too – the glowy skin – a result of coming into contact with their horns... If you've got scratches you should get them looked at... you don't know where those claws have been!" She hiccupped loudly again.

Neville appeared, and walked over to Hermione with a bottle of butterbeer in his hand. "Neville!" Hermione exclaimed. "Did you hear that? She took one look at me and practically stated I looked like some animal had ravished me!"

Neville just shook his head and said, "If she seems a bit nuttier than usual, blame it on Harry and Malfoy. It appears she doesn't take her firewhiskey all that well."

Hermione was more confused than ever. "I don't get it. What have Harry and Draco got to do with Luna getting drunk?"

Luna staggered around in a circle before collapsing to the carpet in a fit of giggles.

Neville raised an eyebrow when Hermione laughed too. "It's so... Muggle!" she exclaimed. Neville gave her another questioning look. "My parents used to be hippies, so the drunken giggle-fit is a familiar sight." She sighed happily, then added, "How many's she had?"

"Only one," replied Neville.

"Oh. She really doesn't hold her alcohol well then."

"No," he replied. "And it's Harry and Malfoy's fault for driving her to drink in the first place!"

"What'd they do?"

Neville pulled a face and took a steadying swig of his butterbeer. "Each other. In one of the back rooms of the kitchens."

Hermione stood in stunned silence for a moment, looking as though she'd been slapped in the face with a fish. Then her expression changed to one of anger. "Fuck that bastard. I'll kill him. The very... ugh. Stupidity must be thinned out of the gene pool, anyway. That's a reasonable excuse for murder, I guess."

"What?" Neville looked alarmed. "Who?"

"Draco," said Hermione simply, seething.

"Can I ask a dumb question, Hermione?" said Neville, "Why kill Malfoy for sleeping with Harry? I mean, you've got to know he's basically fuck-buddies with almost every willing person in the castle."

"BECAUSE DRACO'S MY FUCK-BUDDY!" she roared. "How could he be stupid enough to sleep with the best witch in his year's best friend? That is... that is... it's NOT OKAY!"

Neville gulped, shaking his head at Hermione's drunken logic. He felt sorry for Malfoy, what with the gory death clearly waiting for him. After all, no one wanted to be murdered by being bashed to death by books. Or something equally Hermione-ish. "Since when?" he asked weakly. "Since when have you two been... you know...?"

"Since today."

"Why?"

A blissful expression came over her face, as though she was remembering something – more than likely the time spent in that broom cupboard a few hours ago – with relish.

He shook his head. "The words Sex and God are not enough, Hermione."

But Hermione didn't pay him any attention, instead grabbing a protesting Neville by the sleeve and saying, "Come on – I have a bitch to kill!" She proceeded to drag him out of the kitchens, leaving Luna lying on the floor, staring vacantly into space and drooling.

"Hermione – wait, stop – why do I have to come along? I want nothing to do with this! Youshouldn't be doing this! Just leave them be – you don't want to see what's going on in there!"

"Too bad. You're my witness. You'll tell them I wasn't guilty, or... or something. And you know where they are – so lead me to them!"

Neville sighed and silently admitted defeat, trudging onwards with Hermione following him. Soon they were standing in front of the door. It seemed that Harry and Malfoy were still at it – they could be heard talking, and the conversation they were having made Hermione and Neville stop to listen. With every word she heard, Hermione got more and more disbelieving. Up until that point, she'd been trying to hold on to some small vestige of hope that Neville had been mistaken, but now...

"Malfoy... what are you doing?" That could only be Harry's voice. "You're not—"

"I'm tired. I'll cuddle you if I damn well want."

"Well, fair enough, since it's got to be past three in the morning already, and we've been at it for... how long?"

"A while."

"Do you ever get tired of this?"

"Potter, how can you ever get tired of sex?"

"No, I mean... don't you ever, you know... get spent?"

Laughter. "There's a spell for everything."

"I don't doubt that. Although the thing with the mask was... unexpected."

"You liked it. I heard you squeal."

"On that topic... how tired are you, exactly?"

"Not that tired. Don't you dare question my ability to fuck you, Potter. Now where is that mask? ...Wait, how did it get all the way over there?"

"I dunno. Wasn't me."

"So our things just threw themselves around the room?"

"Never mind that, just get back over here and—what are you doing?"

"How would you feel about me conjuring up a thong, Potter?"

Hermione almost gagged. Then Harry's reply came through the door.

"Thong?" Was it just her, or did he sound... excited?

This had to stop – now. Her temper rising again, Hermione motioned for Neville to open the door, since he was closest. Neville, looking as though he really would rather not be there, shook his head vigorously and stepped away from the door.

Hermione rolled her eyes, grabbed Neville by the sleeve and pushed the door open.

It was indeed one of the back rooms of the kitchens, though all house elves had clearly left it some time ago. In more or less the centre of the room there was a large wooden table... with Harry and Malfoy intertwined on top of it. Their grunting and straining stopped abruptly as the door slammed closed behind the two intruders.

The pair on the table looked up at them, bewildered. Malfoy pulled what was clearly a Death Eater mask away from his face, while Harry tugged a little at the ropes Malfoy had apparently tied him to the table with.

"Did Hermione and Neville walk in just now, or am I just that drunk?" Harry asked Malfoy casually.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" screamed Hermione, beetroot red.

"Oh, so you weren't just a figment of my exhausted imagination," said Harry almost cheerfully.

"Shut up, you drunken fool," hissed Malfoy to him.

"Why?" slurred Harry. "It's just Hermione. She's friendly enough."

"Yeah, she looks about as friendly as a rabid she-wolf right now. So be quiet," the Slytherin hissed in reply.

Harry took no notice of that comment and said, "Hey, Hermione. What've you been up to? I'd come over there and hug you but I'm afraid getting up these days is like trying to push a Hippogriff off of me." He smiled, as though it was perfectly normal to be having a conversation with a friend while he was completely naked on a table with Malfoy's cock still up his arse.

When Hermione didn't reply immediately – she looked as though she was very busy trying not to implode – he added, "What? Did I do something wrong? Did Draco do something wrong?"

"Of course not, he just dressed up like a Death Eater, tied you to our kitchen table, and held you down by the throat while he shagged your brains out... Oh, but you liked it, so I guess that makes it okay!" Hermione yelled.

"So," said Malfoy, "you think me screwing Potter was a bad thing?"

"Yes!" cried Hermione. "It was unforgivable, hurtful, betraying and a lot of other emotions I'm too tired to think of right now." There was a pause as she took a deep breath before announcing, "Draco, you have crossed a line. And I'm going to have to kill you for it."

"Does this mean I won't get to shag you in random broom cupboards anymore?" gasped Malfoy.

"Well... yes," she replied slowly, as though realising that by killing Malfoy she would be ridding Hogwarts of its resident Sex God, and that she wouldn't be able to sleep with him once he was dead.

Suddenly Malfoy surprised everyone by bursting into tears.

"Are you crying? I didn't know you could do that!" exclaimed Harry.

"Yeah... wow," said Hermione in surprise. "But more to the point, why are you crying, Draco?"

Malfoy, who had, throughout the conversation, been buried up to the hilt in Harry's anus, pulled out and sank sniffling to the floor. Hermione deftly conjured up a blanket, which she sent to settle over his naked form.

"Hey – what about me?" asked Harry indignantly. Hermione rolled her eyes and levitated the death Eater mask with a flick of her wand, allowing it to come to rest over Harry's bare behind.

She then turned her attention back to Malfoy. "What is it, Draco?" she asked. "Are you crying because I said I'd have to kill you?"

"No," he sniffed. "Only because if you kill me I won't be able to shag people anymore..."

"Oh," said Hermione.

Still standing just inside the door, Neville shook his head disbelievingly. Drunken logic... well, it simply wasn't logic at all. "I've had enough of this madness," he said. "I'll just... leave you all to it, shall I? I'll be going now..."

"No!" cried Hermione, pointing her wand at him, stopping him in his tracks. "This is all your fault you, you, man!"

"What?" said the astonished Neville. "Me? How is any of this my fault?"

"Because... because... because you were the one that found out that Harry and Draco were shagging in the first place! And that's where the whole trouble began," Hermione announced triumphantly.

"It wasn't just me!" said Neville, worried about what this drunken witch was going to come up with next. "Luna was there too!"

"AHA!" said Hermione. "It was a conspiracy! We'll have to make them pay for that!"

There were murmurs of agreement from the two other boys. Hermione pointed her wand at the door, just past Neville, and called loudly, "Accio Luna!"

Not ten seconds later something crashed into the outside of the door, hard.

"Open that, would you, Neville?" asked Hermione sweetly. Neville nodded mutely, and a limp Luna Lovegood flopped through the doorway as he opened it.

"So, what shall we do to make then repent their evil ways?" as she said this, Hermione took a bottle of double-strength firewhiskey out of her pocket and took a swig. Neville almost quailed in fear of this new Hermione – she was so... unlike herself.

At that moment Luna stirred at Neville's feet, opening her eyes blearily and asking, "What's going on?"

Hermione looked down at Luna and said evilly, "Ah – glad to see you're awake, Luna; this will be so much more effective if you're conscious. Now—" And then Hermione froze and fell backwards to the ground, Stupefied.

All eyes turned to Neville, whose wand was still pointed at Hermione's inert form. "I saw an opportunity," he said slowly, as though astounded at what he'd done, "and I seized it. I think I like drunk Hermione better when she can't do anything, don't you?"

Harry, Malfoy and Luna just looked at him. Then Luna passed out again. Harry and Malfoy looked at each other, then Malfoy said, "What do you say we kill him for putting us through this?"

Harry nodded in drunken agreement. "It really wasn't very nice to interrupt us, Neville. We were in the middle of something."

Malfoy started to get up, about to look for his wand, but by then Neville had decided he'd had enough. "Stupefy!" he shouted, and the Slytherin fell back to the floor, rigid.

"Aw, come on, mate," Harry whined. "Did you really have to do that? He was only going to—"

"—kill me?" finished Neville for him. "Just don't you try anything, or I'll do you too."

Harry groaned. "No need – I've already been well and truly done; Draco took care of that. Oh, I won't be able to walk straight for a week..."

Neville decided to give up trying and Stupefied Harry. He cast one last look about the room, decided he'd simply leave everyone where they were, and left.

I am going to forget this ever happened. He marched out of the room, closing the door with a determined click. Time for more butterbeer. A lot more butterbeer.

...

The morning dawned upon Hogwarts, the sun casting its golden rays over the cold stone walls of the castle. The air was crisp and fresh, and the birds twittered happily as they flew with the Thestrals over the Forbidden Forest... But inside the castle, not a being stirred.

The dawn turned into morning, and the Thestrals retreated back into the forest to shelter from the sun. Still no movement inside Hogwarts.

The morning turned into afternoon, and some inhabitants of Hogwarts – that was, the ones who hadn't had ridiculous amounts of alcohol to drink the day before – began to assemble in small groups, mostly to clean the kitchens of junk food.

Afternoon turned into evening. The sun began to fade from the skies, and the Thestrals came out again to do a few more laps of the grounds before bedtime. The sunset was a blazing red, throwing its last beams of light over the castle, when the older – and therefore hung over – inhabitants of Hogwarts began to stir.

Hermione woke up with the distinct feeling that there was a sizeable army of decidedly vindictive gnomes doing very, very painful things to her head. And damn, did it HURT. Little men were chiselling away at her brain, she was sure of it.

Then she noticed the sound of someone murmuring someone else's name. "Malfoy... Malfoy... I will... Malfoy... choke... must... kill... Draco... ferret..."

Hermione groaned and opened her eyes. They came to focus on the shape of a blonde girl lying beside her, twitching and mumbling in her sleep. Well, well. It seemed that Luna was currently enjoying a nice game of Let's Squeeze Draco's Windpipe Until He Can't Breathe and Dies.

But why would she subconsciously want to kill Draco? Hermione asked herself over the splitting pain of her skull. That makes no sense...

Then suddenly memories of the previous night came flooding back to her. Oh, shit. Snippets of her own actions, and the actions of others for that matter, threatened to overwhelm the tenuous hold she had on reality. Did that really happen? Did they really –? Did I really–? Oh Merlin.

Her last thoughts before she blacked out again were, It's all Voldemort's fault that last night happened the way it did. It all started because he got drunk!

...

Author's note: I would just like to say that I do not support or condone the abuse of alcohol, especially by those underage; I think getting drunk is a really dumb idea, to put it mildly. But be that as it may, it was a very convenient thing in writing this story; it kind of gave me an excuse for writing some major OOC-ness.

I also apologise to the readers of my current ongoing story, An Honest Face; I have not given up on it, I promise! It's just taking me forever to update. I'm sorry!

In any case I hope you liked this massively oversized (4,926 words of story is for me, anyway) one-shot, but whether you did or didn't enjoy it, please leave a REVIEW! Go on, click that green button. It's right there... it's begging you to click it. So click! :D