Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I want to.
Hermione giggled as she stumbled to a stop in front of Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes (Is that right?), clutching the bottle of Firewhiskey tightly in her hand. The shop was still open, even though it was late, and the little bell above the door tinkled, making her laugh uncontrollably.
"Georgie!" she called as she walked to the back of the almost empty shop. "Where are you?"
"Hermione?" George asked as he came out from the back room. "What are you going here?"
"I want to play!" Hermione told him, taking another sip of the Firewhiskey. George looked at her warily.
"What?" George asked.
"I. Want. To. Play." Hermione said slowly and carefully, and then took another sip. George groaned when he realized what had happened. Every other week, Hermione and Ginny went out and drank some Firewhiskey. Afterwards, Hermione would come to him, where he would have to live with her for the night until she fell asleep.
"What do you want to play?" he asked wearily, rubbing his eyes. Hermione thought about it for a moment.
"Hide-and-seek!" she finally decided.
"Okay. Why don't you go up to the flat and hide, while I close up the shop." George suggested. Hermione nodded eagerly before walking past him to his flat. "Okay people, shop's closed!" he shouted as he ushered the last of the customers out. He locked the door, and then walked up the stairs slowly.
When he got up there, Hermione was nowhere in sight. He searched the kitchen and sitting room first, and then moved onto his bedroom. He found her on the bed, looking extremely upset. She looked up at him sadly when he came in.
"I ran out of stuff to do drink." Hermione told him, holding up her empty bottle. George leaned against the doorframe and just looked at her. "George!" she cried when he didn't say anything.
"Yes?" he asked politely.
"What am I supposed to do?" she wailed. George pretended to think about that.
Go to bed, he thought, that's what you should do. "Drink water?" he said. She looked at him disbelievingly. "Fine." he said, defeated. "I'll get you some more Firewhiskey. You're gonna hate me in the morning, though."
Hermione clapped happily as she watched him leave the room. When he returned, he handed her the new bottle reluctantly. She took a sip, then jumped up, poked him, shouted, "You're it!" then ran from the room before George could react. He sighed and jogged out of the room, wanting to tire her out faster so he could get to bed faster.
He followed the giggles into the sitting room where Hermione was sitting on the couch instead of running like she should.
"Why aren't you running?" George asked as he plopped down next to her.
"I'm bored." she whined. George stiffened. When a drunken Hermione is bored, bad things happen.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"I don't know!" Hermione exclaimed. She thought for a moment. "Pineapple!" she finally cried.
George looked at her blankly. "Excuse me?"
"Pineapple," she repeated. "I want a pineapple."
"I don't have any pineapples." George told his girlfriend.
"WHAT?" Hermione shrieked. "HOW CAN YOU NOT HAVE A PINEAPPLE?" She ran from the room, most likely searching for the pineapple she would never find. George sighed and picked up the bottle she had left behind. He took a sip from it, then another, and another until he had drunk half of the bottle.
When Hermione came back, she was holding a pear, completely over the fact that there were no pineapples. "Look at my pear." She said, holding up the pear so that he could see it. She had drawn a face on it, and George laughed, the alcohol he had drank catching up with his system. He gave Hermione her bottle back and she drank it while George found another one and drank that.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. He remembered walking downstairs into the shop and experimenting with new ideas, without a clue of what he was doing. Hermione helped him with her various cries of random words.
Eventually, they stumbled back up the stairs and made it to the hallway outside his bedroom before passing out.
George woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, very sore from his night of sleeping on the floor. Hermione was still asleep, lying on top of him in the same position as last night. George squirmed beneath her and gently moved her off of him. She groaned and reluctantly.
"What did we do last night?" she asked softly. George shrugged a little, before getting on his hands and knees and crawling into the bathroom. He puked up what was left of the Firewhiskey in his system, and then held Hermione's hair as she had her turn.
"Why do we keep doing this?" George asked.
"Because Ginny is stubborn and refuses to let me stay home on Saturday nights and insists I go to The Leaky Cauldron with her. Then she gets drunk and Harry takes her home, leaving me to walk here by myself. You try to get me to go to bed, I refuse, you get drunk with me, we pass out on the floor, and do the whole thing over again two weeks later." Hermione said bitterly.
"Maybe you just come over here next time and hide from her. Then we won't have to deal with this again." George suggested. Hermione thought about that for a moment.
"You know," she finally said, "that isn't a bad idea." She kissed his cheek. "I knew that if you used your brain for something else than making products that you would come up with a solution to your problems."
"Thanks, Hermione." George said, smiling softly.
A/N: Wow. Almost 1000 words. I think this is the longest thing I have ever written. This is just something I came up with when I was feeling particularly silly. I hope you liked it. Please review, I need to know what you think about it!