I wrote this for the Harry Potter Humour and Crack Fest at Livejournal, with this picture as prompt: stuckinthe90s[dot][slash]art[slash] mary-jane-in-the-forest-94985611

This is my second humour/ridiculous fanfic, and it was really fun to write. My prompt, once I had a formed idea, was easy to write and the result is... okay?

Many thanks to TMBlue for her beta work: she was incredibly busy and still found time to help me out with her very valuable suggestions :D Any remaining mistakes are my entire fault.

Please enjoy and review if you have something worth to say. Comments of "quit comedy, you suck" could come in handy, so you're free to leave those as well (just kidding, don't be rude).

Warnings: Underage use of drugs and heavy cursing.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling, but I doubt she'd like to be associated with this.

Harry Potter and the Magical Trip of Hallows

One, two, three, breathe.

She repeated this several times, allowing the cool, crispy air to clean her lungs and her mind as well.

It was no pretension of greatness or arrogance, but Hermione had been the one that had put up with most of that never ending journey, without earning any special recognition or even gratitude from her companions, who kept acting like third graders on a school trip. And she had become the teacher. From the beginning, she had been the one in charge of cleaning, washing their clothes, searching for edible food, cooking said edible food, washing the dishes, making the beds, lulling them to sleep... and she had even had to find time to translate that bloody book that old, cracked Dumbledore had left her... and find clues that could help them in their quest to destroy Voldemort's effing soul!

I hope you're burning in hell for that, Dumbledore, she thought, gritting her teeth and wrapping herself with an extra blanket, as she sat upright at the entrance of the tent.

She was away from her family, away from a cosy bed and an appropriate diet, she had lost her cat, half of her favourite books had been left behind, her seventh year at Hogwarts had never happened... She had had to deal with a splinched man and one that had a locket stuck to his chest, bear the anger of one of her friends and the betrayal of the other, and now—

'Hermione, I really think I could be the Heir of Slytherin.'

Now, this.

'What, Harry?' she asked, as patiently as she could, although she had no idea where Harry was going with this...though she somehow knew for sure that it would be something to annoy her and set her to do even more stuff.

'The Heir of Slytherin,' Harry repeated. 'I might be him. Or at least be predestined to be.'

Hermione frowned at him, concerned now. Her friend's face had circles under his eyes, darker than ever, and his eyes were red and watery, but his expression was of delight, apparently at his discovery.

'Could you explain yourself, Harry? Elaborate, maybe? Or are you trying to have a laugh with me?'

'No, Hermione, look: I have the Invisibli... the Invisible... the Invisibibility Cloak, right?' She nodded, frightened at his sudden stutter that, somehow, he found amusing, for he chuckled slightly. 'Well, I reckon the Resurrection Stone is in the Snitch Dumbledore left me!'

'Oh, Harry.' She saw now where he was heading. 'Please don't buy all that rubbish about the Deathly Hallows—'

'No, no, listen to me! And if I get the Elder Wand... I'll be the Heir of Slytherin!' he shouted happily, raising his arms to the grey sky above in triumph.

He let them fall limply at his sides when he caught Hermione's dumbstruck expression.

'Didn't you hear me, Hermoiiine?'

'Harry,' she said slowly, as if she were about to tell a small child that Santa was not real, 'assuming that you were able to get the Elder Wand, that wouldn't make you the Heir of Slytherin. It would make you Master of Death.'

'Oh?'

'I think you need to sleep, Harry. Say, for two or three days. Why don't you—?'

'But if I'm the Master of Death, I can be anything I want!' he exclaimed, suddenly recovered from his disappointment and looking positive again. 'I can be the Heir of Slytherin.'

It was useless to argue with him in that moment. Hermione thought maybe the weight of his burden was finally beginning to crack him like a nutshell. She saw now that she had been selfish, thinking about her own suffering, when there were so many other much more important things to think about.

'Harry, but you don't like Slytherin anyway, do you?' she tried to reason.

'No, I don't,' he said, as if finally, slowly, coming back to his senses.

Before he could retort, she stood up and, holding him by his shoulders, drove him inside the tent.

'Here. Lie down and try to sleep for a while, Harry, will you? Don't worry, everything will work out for the best.'

She smiled down at him and saw him smiling back. A slightly goofy gesture, but it would do.

'Good boy,' she said, ruffling his hair, before going back outside the tent. 'Ron, can you come here for a second?' she called to him in a lower voice. He promptly obeyed: he did everything she asked as promptly as possible, ever since he had come back, the arsehole. Had she asked him to stop eating sweets just for her, he would do it. Had she asked him to do naughty, sexy things with her, she was sure he'd...

'Yeah?'

Okay, later.

'Um, yeah, I wanted to... eh...' She gulped and cleared her throat, plastering her stern expression on her face again. 'I wanted to talk to you, Ron, about Harry.'

He frowned but gave a curt nod.

'He's been acting weird these days and talking nonsense, much more than usual. I want you to keep an eye on him, and tell me if you observe anything unusual in his behaviour. We're going nowhere, and he's not helping much—'

She forced herself to shut up. Ron didn't need to know she thought exactly the same things for which he had left in the first place.

'Understood?'

'Yes, sure, I'll do whatever I can,' Ron said, flashing a smile for her afterwards. He turned and walked inside again, leaving her blinking stupidly at the entrance.

Ron raised his auburn eyebrows at the sight presented in front of him when he stepped closer to Harry's bunk bed. Harry was lying where Hermione had left him, but he was holding the Snitch that Dumbledore had bequeathed him against his lips—no, he was snogging it! Ron rubbed his own eyes furiously, thinking that maybe he needed some sleep, but when Ron looked again, there he was, Harry, still stuffing his mouth with an old golden ball.

'Harry!'

Harry jumped up in the bed, bumping his head against the upper berth and swallowing the Snitch in the process. As he choked, Ron pointed his wand at him and shouted 'Anapneo!' Harry caught the soaring Snitch in his hands and, gasping, he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

'Wow, mate, you shouldn't come up like that, y'know.'

He looked visibly flushed, but that did not take Ron out of his stupor.

'Just what the hell were you doing with that in your trap?'

'I was... uh, just practising, for when I get back to your sister,' Harry said, chuckling. Ron felt the blood rushing to his head. He shot daggers at Harry, who shrugged and shook his head. 'Just kiddin'... Actually... can I tell you a secret?'

Ron frowned. Hermione was damn right, Harry was acting weird. Nevertheless, he nodded and approached him.

'First, swear you won't tell Hermione.'

'Why not?'

It was hard for him now to promise something like that. If he wanted to get back in her good books, it wasn't a good idea to start hiding things from her.

'Because she's so... she's so... she won't approve of it!' Harry said, almost in a whisper. 'She's worrying too much as it is, but listen... You swear?'

'Yeah, all right.'

'Okay, here's the deal: I think that Dumbledore left me the stone in here,' he whispered again, shooting furtive glances towards the entrance of the tent.

'What?'

'The stone, Ron, rack your ginger brains!' Harry sighed, exasperated. 'The stone that brings back the dead!'

'Ah... the Resurrection Stone, right?'

'That one. And you know what else I think?'

Ron raised an eyebrow.

'What is that?'

'That the wand you gave me, from the Snatchers... I think it's the Deathstick.'

Sure he was taking the mickey out of him, Ron dropped on his bunk bed and massaged his temple. Was it indeed lack of sleep and exhaustion that was making Harry act like this, or was he dreaming all this rubbish?

'Harry, the wand I gave you is made of hawthorn.'

'I know. So?'

He opened his eyes wide in disbelief.

'The Deathstick is known as the Elder Wand.'

'Uh-huh, so?'

'It's made of elder, Harry, not hawthorn!'

'Ah... get it, brilliant.'

And with that, Harry leaned back on the bed again and kept turning the Snitch in his fingers.

'Brilliant? What's brilliant?' Ron jumped off his bed and walked toward Harry again. 'Harry, you're out of your mind! You're acting as if you have been smoking pot, as a matter of fact!'

'Well, now you mention it...'

Harry sat up, shoving his legs lazily over the edge of the bed. Ron's eyes grew wider as he stared at him.

'You mean you did smoke pot?'

'May... be, a bit.' He stopped to consider Ron for a moment. 'How do you know what pot is? You're a wizard!'

'So are you, tosser. I'm a wizard, I'm not stupid. I know what weed is.'

'Oh, good for you. Want some?'

'No—are you mental?'

Ron was torn between calling for Hermione and finding out what had led Harry to get high and, most importantly, how on earth he had managed to bring marijuana with them in the first place.

'Where did you get it from, anyway?'

'Uh... ah... Mundungus gave me some,' Harry said, screwing his face up in concentration. 'When we confronted him at Grimmauld Place, remember? A packet fell from his pocket as he was leaving, I picked it up and found the weed! He asked did I wanna buy some, and I said "Buy, you filthy... you filthy..." Well, I don't remember what I called him, but I said he owed me some, after everything he'd done, and so he gave me this and cursed me to hell and beyond.'

'But...' Ron started, scratching his nose in disbelief, 'had you really been smoking pot before...?'

'No, I was joking when I implied that to Mundungus. I just wanted to make him pay me in some way. But I kept it just in case, y'know... And when I got hurt by Nagini in Godric's Hollow I thought I'd had enough.' He snorted. 'All that pain and suffering when I had marijuana in my pocket!'

He began to laugh uncontrollably, bending over, until his eye-glasses fell on the floor; when he'd finally regained his composure, he wiped his teary eyes and picked them up.

'Harry, that's not quite right, you know,' Ron said in a concerned voice. 'I know you have problems, but we're all having a bad time and... we can't be getting high if we need to destroy Voldemort, mate!'

'Ron, you know what?' Harry had finally straightened up and was looking at him with a serious expression. Ron secretly hoped he had been pulling his leg. Was it April yet?

'I think you could use some.'

'You're barking.'

'Come on, matey! Relax! This will help you sleep!' Harry eyed Ron confidentially. 'You have nightmares, don't you?'

'How do you know that?'

'I've heard you. You wish you could be anywhere but here, don't you?' Harry continued, pointing his chin towards the tent entrance. 'Anywhere with her. Don't you?'

'Yeah,' Ron admitted grudgingly. Bugger, Harry had read him through and through.

Harry thrust his hand into his jumper pocket, took something out and stretched his hand toward Ron.

'Want some? I won't tell her,' he said with a small wink, as he held out the small cigarette.

Before Ron could react, Hermione poked her head into the tent.

'Hey! I'm sorry to interrupt you two, but it must be somebody else's watch. I'd really appreciate some good quality sleep.'

As Harry stumbled toward the cold exterior, Hermione quickly approached Ron.

'You've been talking to him?'

'Er... yeah, I have.'

'And?'

'Couldn't find anything. I think he's just tired, maybe this is finally affecting him more than we've seen so far,' Ron invented. He wasn't all too sure about revealing to her the nature of his investigation about Harry's new methods to fight pain.

'Oh,' she said, slightly disappointed. 'Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see then, right?'

'Right.'

He looked at her for a moment, until she finally averted her eyes. She hadn't forgiven him, no matter how hard he tried to earn it. She was just being civil to him to get what she wanted. He turned his back on her and started to walk away.

'Wait, Ron. Aren't you going to bed?' she asked, puzzled.

'Eh, no, I'll check on Harry for a while, just in case.'

She nodded and went to her bunk bed without another word. Without a goodnight kiss, either, a tap on his head or anything to acknowledge his presence. Screw her.

'Give me that,' Ron snarled, taking the cigarette from Harry's hand. Harry was about to protest, until he saw that, instead of running to show Hermione what he had been doing, Ron held it to his lips and took a long drag. He smiled petulantly at the sight.

'Couldn't resist, uh? I knew you couldn't handle the pressure. It was either tell Hermione or join me on the bad side.'

'Shut up,' Ron said, closing his eyes and relaxing against the canvas of the tent. 'Thank heavens for small pleasures.'

The last three days had been rather odd, Hermione thought, chin resting on her fist, as she watched the melting snow surrounding her. Now, not only Harry was acting weird, but Ron too. They spent so much time waffling on and stumbling over their own feet, to which a stupid series of chuckles from both of them usually followed. The latest crap that they had come up with had been that there might be some huge room at Hogwarts, with loads of things where they'd find all of Voldemort's Horcruxes, their dead pets, Dumbledore having martinis with Sirius and Harry's broken Nimbus 2000.

She snorted. Her idea of Ron helping her find out what was going on with Harry had backfired: Ron had joined him on the same train to complete madness. Hermione would have even been able to forgive him and forget about the past if he had been of more help, but it looked as if he was doing all of this on purpose.

Now they were both—Harry and Ron—off to collect some edible mushrooms. Some hallucinogenic fungus, she'd guess, by the way they were behaving...

Wait. Right. There.

Hallucinogens? In the middle of nowhere?

Hermione, you might be off your trolley.

She tossed her book aside, determined, and put on her mittens. If there was something strange going on and she was the only one who cared about it, she was going to figure it out herself.

Though she was tiptoeing, Hermione knew her caution was unnecessary, for the boys were laughing so loud that, for a moment, forgetting about her curiosity, she was furious, thinking of what would happen if there were Snatchers—or worse, Death Eaters—wandering in this exact forest.

She peered over a thick cluster of bushes. Ron and Harry were certainly doing nothing that could in any way be mistaken for 'collecting food', what they had told her they were off to do when they had left the tent. They were both sitting on fallen logs, arm in arm, singing the Hogwarts song... each holding a cigarette of something that smelled like marijuana.

After her initial shock, Hermione jumped into the clearing, enraged.

'What the... what the FUCK is going on here!'

Harry and Ron looked up, stunned at Hermione's sudden appearance, but then Ron sighed exaggeratedly and exclaimed, 'Geez Hermione, it's you! We thought it was a Death Eater!'

Harry burst out laughing, bending over and sliding off the log. Hermione scowled at him and strode forwards to face them, a menacing look on her face.

'I could have been! I don't know how you two got these, but you're giving them to me right now!'

'Nononno, Herms, you can't take this from us now!' Harry said, looking as scared as a child whose favourite sweet had just been banned from him.

'Oh, really? And why not, may I ask? I'm sick of you behaving this way, and now it's not only you, but this one too!' She pointed an accusing finger at Ron, who looked solemn. 'Don't you realise, Harry, that we are running for our lives here? We're not in a rock camp; you can't go out smoking weed! We need to kill Voldemort's arse, for heavens' sake!'

Hermione looked almost hysterical when she paused to catch her breath. Ron stood up and approached her, putting his hands on Hermione's shoulders and rubbing them slightly.

'We know that Hermione, but it's hard, and we're in pain, and this is just a break from our horrible, horrible reality... we can forget about it for just a moment! After all, we've got almost nothing from all this, you said it yourself. So, really, a few days more, a few days less... it won't make any dif—'

'It won't make any difference?' Her voice dropped to a furious hiss. 'Oh, of course not! Just a dozen more deaths, nothing else! More wasted time, which is nothing!'

'But... relaaaax!' He staggered forwards and into her arms, his face inches away from hers. He suddenly smiled warmly, a gesture she had not seen in months. She'd missed it and dreamt about it, but now it was real again...

Without warning, he kissed her hard on the lips. Maybe he wasn't that high, after all. Maybe it had only been to get her attention. He was really doing it... so wonderful, so passionate, so—

Amusing?

Ron started chuckling against her mouth; he had to release her in order to hold his head and steady himself as his laughter overtook him.

'Oops, I'm sorry, Hermione!' he said, finally dropping on the ground with a thud. Harry started laughing as well, much to Hermione's displeasure and embarrassment, and he walked over to Ron to clap him on the back.

'Hell of a kiss, mate! Hope you invite me to the wedding!'

Her blood boiled with sudden fury, and she removed her wand from her pocket and shouted, 'Accio marijuana!' At least five smoked cigarettes and a bag came soaring toward her, and she hurried to catch it all. 'I'm going to jinx this so that if either of you dare touch it, your lips will fall right off your faces!'

Hermione dropped the drugs she'd confiscated on the table, massaging her head. Harry and Ron had stayed behind, grieving the loss of their "cure", while she'd returned to the tent, humiliated and fuming.

She picked up one of the cigarettes the boys hadn't been able to finish. Stupid, they were. To contaminate their bodies with such a drug, only for a little fun, when they were supposed to be fighting evil for the greater good...

'This is just a break from our horrible, horrible reality...'

They thought they were having a rough time? No kidding! If there was anyone who had the right to set her head off for a while, it was her. Not that she wanted to smoke weed or anything, of course.

Hermione held the tube of paper higher and contemplated it against the dim light of her bluebell flames.

Or did she?

After all, now that the boys would be thinking clearly, without any drug-induced fantasies clouding their thoughts, she could use a well deserved holiday from the real world.

This will be a magical trip, from now on.