DISCLAIMER: Oh, if only… Harry Potter and any of his friends are not mine, but I like to drink Midori and lemonade on weekends while eating chips and watching English Comedies.
"Spies, Lies and Wizard's Chess"
"Don't touch the pineapples!"
That particular cry of desperation was the last thing Hermione heard before gracefully falling, unconscious, to the floor. 'And everything had been going so smoothly, too', she thought with a huff as she collapsed.
As it happened, the Smartest Witch of the Century had been celebrating her twenty-first birthday with her friends (a jumble of Gryffindors – Harry, Ron, Lavender, Neville, Dean and Seamus – a Hufflepuff – Ernie Macmillan – and a Ravenclaw – Terry Boot) as well as her slutty cousin, Aphrodite. They were having the shindig at the Leaky (which was currently under new management (Hannah Abbott was a proprietor to rival Madam Rosmerta (and when one was drunk, she was scarier than Snape))). Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones who'd decided an outing to the refurbished pub was the best way to spend the balmy Friday evening.
Besides the other patrons – all of whom had become somewhat disgruntled after the fourth rendition of Hortense the Happy Hippogriff in less than an hour – it seemed that the Graduating Class of 1997 was having a bit of an informal reunion, because in the corner of the bar sat four Slytherins: arrogant, vain, and peroxide blond Draco Malfoy, pampered, prissy Pansy 'Pugface' Parkinson, quiet, intelligent, obscure Theodore Nott, and the raucous, raunchy, snarky Blaise Zabini.
Within five minutes, wands were being drawn.
In ten, the situation was diffused by an angry, rampaging Hannah, who roused on them all for being disruptive in her pub and sent them all off to Grimmauld Place.
In twenty, a mutual decision had been made that everyone would drink and be merry, and any goodwill and ogling would be forgotten by morning, or, at the very least, beaten down into the depths of their minds so any vague recollections would be considered a strange and possibly disturbing dream.
Everything had been flowing perfectly by two in the morning, and then somebody had to touch the damned pineapples that were sitting in the living room. Hermione didn't quite know why the pineapples weren't supposed to be touched, but she knew that they were damned, and when her elbow clipped the table on the way to her dead faint, she cursed them in every language she could before blackness encompassed her, conveniently dulling the pain emanating from her funny bone.
OoO
Groggily, and feeling like Hortense the Hippogriff had performed an impromptu Irish dance routine inside her head, Hermione careened back into full consciousness, delightfully signalled by a desire to throw up everything she had ever consumed.
She moaned, and was answered by several other pitiful groans that made her sit up and assess the damage and discover who she was with; apparently, that was everyone who she had been celebrating with, including the Slytherins.
"What in Merlin's name did we drink last night?" Someone (possibly Ernie – the sole Hufflepuff in the party) asked mournfully, but the chance to respond was prevented by a sudden burst of laughter that caused the more hung-over individuals to reel.
It wasn't a single burst, either. It was the continuing, bubbly kind that eventually steals all the air in the vicinity and leaves the hysterical person gasping for oxygen and laughing silently, so their whole body shakes with joy.
It was unexpected. It was rare. It was completely random, but Harry Potter had the giggles – and he had them bad. The reason why was about to become obvious however, as Draco Malfoy hauled himself into a sitting position.
The aristocratic blond, whose hair was normally perfectly coiffed, and painstakingly arranged each morning, was currently sporting a haircut most commonly seen on rebellious muggle teenagers and drug addicts. His touch-too-long blond locks were shorn off on the left side, and a fancy, Maori-esque pattern was shaved into the half centimetre long hairs that remained. On what could be argued to be the plus side, he still had his fringe, which now fell over his left eye and required constant flicking away from the grey orb so that he could see clearly.
Snickering broke out among the Gryffindors, but they politely tried to stifle it when Draco glared at them with the eye that wasn't in hiding beneath a veil of white blond hair.
"Um," a timid voice eventually spoke up. "Where are we?"
It was a good question, and one which nobody actually had an answer to, because the pineapples had been in control and they were somebody else's business.
Seamus kneeled uneasily, leaning heavily on the window sill and clamouring underneath the blinds to gaze out the window. A few moments later he reported his thoughts.
"I reckon we're somewhere in Ireland." He stated, a little dumbfounded at his realisation, and promptly slid back down to the floor.
"How the heck did we get to Ireland?" Hermione's slutty muggle cousin Aphrodite asked from beside the brunette witch, hiking her revealing top up slightly when she spotted Blaise trying to get a look at her chest.
"I think it was the pineapples." Hermione offered. Clearly, the tropical fruits were some new form of portkey or some other such contrivance of the Ministry (or shady character such as Mundungus Fletcher).
"I like pineapples!" Harry told them all excitedly. "Where are the pineapples? Can I have a pineapple? I just love pineapples!"
The entire group of youths turned their attention to the Boy-Who-Conquered, taking in his childlike joy and excitable puppy countenance with mixed expressions of horror, amusement and worry.
"I think the pineapple magic addled Potter's tiny brain." Pansy remarked, sounding gleeful and fascinated at the prospect.
"Harry's brain isn't tiny." Hermione retorted loyally in defence of her friend.
"Pineapples aren't native to Great Britain." Harry informed them, just as Ron came around.
The red head yawned then winced as his body recalled the vast amount of Firewhiskey it had absorbed the previous night.
"Ugh. Any Sober-Up handy?"
A rumble of agreement travelled through the room, and Hermione huffed noisily before opening her trusty beaded bag, reaching into it and rummaging around for a while before discovering a large bottle of the desired hangover potion.
"Must I always be the organised one?" She grumbled, taking a swig and passing the bottle around.
"Yes." Everyone replied, including her cousin. Hermione scowled.
"Whose house is this?" Ron wondered aloud, having just realised that he wasn't back in Grimmauld Place, where he usually found himself after a night of obscene drinking. It wasn't until the grip of the hangover had been reduced that everyone else began to take an interest in their unusual predicament.
"So we think we're in Ireland, we don't know how we got here, Harry's gone a bit mental, and we've landed in a pretty but enormous cottage." Dean summarised, after a lengthy discussion. "Brilliant. Now what?"
They all turned to Hermione expectantly and she glowered in response.
"Why am I the designated leader?" She whined as they gazed at her with wide, innocent eyes that wouldn't have been out of place on a child begging her mother for a puppy.
"We're not going to dignify that with an answer." Ron asserted on behalf of the group, who nodded in agreement.
A thought came to the Hogwarts' Arithmancy Champion of 1993-1994-1995-1996 as she gazed out over the veritable sea of faces.
"Who touched the pineapples?"
OoO
Hermione narrowed her eyes, shrewdly analysing the expressions of each person's face. Draco looked shifty, and flicked his blond fringe from his eyes in a nervous gesture.
"Malfoy!" She barked, frightening the life out of Neville, who immediately stood to attention.
"I DIDN'T DO IT!" Malfoy yelled; a look of panic crept into his one visible eye. He backed hastily away from the menacing, quickly approaching Hermione, but was stopped short by the lounge.
"What didn't you do?"
"I didn't touch the pineapples."
"So, when you didn't touch the pineapples, what happened?" Hermione asked, keeping her voice calm, aware that any stress or an, aware that any stress or angry energy would be transmitted to the boy in front of her.
"Um, I don't remember." Draco responded awkwardly. "I do remember seeing a card though. I think it was from that Loony girl."
"Luna." Hermione corrected absently, as she considered this vital information. Joy; if it was a gift from Luna, anything could happen – or be supposed to happen.
"Well, that's about as good as it gets. I think we should eat some breakfast and then figure out what we're going to do." She said finally, clapping her hands once and standing up. Aphrodite followed quickly, and glanced around at the men in the room before settling on Draco and giving him a predatory smile.
"You come with me, Blondie." She ordered, imperiously. "We're going to scout this place."
Draco looked affronted, though it was hard to tell whether he didn't like her demanding tone or the nickname she'd employed, but did as she said before Blaise offered to 'come' with her. Who knew that somebody related to Granger could be so stunning?
Leaving the others downstairs and in charge of cooking breakfast, Draco and Aphrodite strategically sussed out the upper floor of the two storey cottage, and after twenty minutes of suffering the name 'Blondie', Draco finally snapped.
"It's not 'Blondie', you crazy muggle. It's Draco!" He told her forcefully. She looked back at him with a bemused expression.
"That's nice." Aphrodite said apathetically. "Look over here, there's all sorts of weird charm bracelets."
Draco slouched over to have a gander at the jewellery, and his eyes brightened substantially. His hand seemed to move of its own accord when he turned to follow Aphrodite out of this fourth bedroom they'd found, the nimble fingers slyly slipping two of the prettiest bracelets into his trouser pocket.
"Dreyfuss, hurry up!" Aphrodite called out, presumably to him. "I can't open the door."
Draco pulled his wand out and said 'Alohomora', then stepped back to watch as the door unlocked itself.
"Brilliant." Aphrodite beamed, pushing it open the whole way, leaving the pair to gaze around the room that was presented to them.
It was enormous, white, and circular and appeared to be made from the same kind of material as a jumping castle.
Aphrodite kicked off her heels and bounded into the white room, bouncing off the floor and walls with an expression of pure bliss. Draco was caught between abhorrence at such a plebeian act and enjoyment of the way it made her laugh and be happy.
OoO
Downstairs, the kitchen was, in a word, quaint. And seemed to be filled with a ridiculous amount of alcohol, Lavender observed when she entered behind Hermione.
Hermione went about trying to locate pots, pans, food and drinks, while the blonde witch turned on the Wizarding stove and then sat on the alcohol-covered table, awaiting further instruction.
Thankfully, they found a large string of sausages, a bunch of mushrooms, some behemoth tomatoes, eggs and bacon, which was all ceremoniously shoved into a huge frypan and made into the most mouth watering fry-up any of the students had ever been graced with.
Of course, that could have been the ravenous appetites they'd worked up by travelling unknowingly to Ireland during the night.
Munching away on their hastily, but lovingly prepared meal, the group were caught up in their own thoughts.
Hermione was wondering how her birthday celebrations had gotten so diverted.
Pansy was internally lamenting the fact that all her make-up was at home.
Neville was trying to figure out why every time his mind wandered, his gaze landed on Pansy.
Theo was brooding over having to suffer the presence of so many Gryffindors, while Terry and Ernie held a silent conversation across the table with only miming, facial expressions and withheld sniggers.
And Harry, well, Harry wasn't able to keep track of his thoughts long enough to be entirely sure what he was thinking. All he knew was that he had a really flexible tongue, and he could turn it upside down in his mouth and even make the tip into a clover if he concentrated really hard.
"Harry, stop doing that!" Lavender scolded from across the table. Harry closed his mouth obediently, and began to tap his feet against the floor instead. The blonde witch resisted the urge to drop her forehead to the table.
Draco and Aphrodite walked in, having followed the delicious smell into the kitchen.
"You'll never guess what Drew and I found." Aphrodite announced to the room.
"A reason why we all ended up here?" Hermione suggested.
"A puppy?" Harry asked excitedly.
"A corpse of a missing multi-billionaire whose will gives the house and all his money to the first people to enter the cottage?" Ernie piped up with a hopeful tinge to his voice. Everyone stared for a moment before strategically ignoring the Hufflepuff and looking expectantly at Aphrodite.
"There's a room upstairs that's made to be an indoor jumping castle." She explained triumphantly, to a mixed reaction.
Ernie looked crushed that he wasn't about to inherit some dead, rich fellow's house and money, some of the purebloods had been lost at 'jumping castle', and the others were a experiencing a mixed sense of anti-climax and barely restrained excitement.
"Ooh. Can I go on the jumping castle, please? Please, please, please can I go on it?" Harry began to natter, climbing out from his seat, and scrambling to the doorway where Draco mumbled a 'whatever, Potter.'
The Boy Hero vanished from view and everybody in the kitchen heard the sequential opening and slamming of doors as he searched for the wonderful room of joy and jumping. He didn't seem to have stopped talking either, as they heard a happy 'so much bounce – it's like a marshmallow world!' echo down the hallway.
"He really has gone mental, hasn't he?" Draco said with wonderment, and the others were inclined to agree - not even Hermione argued against that statement.
Sitting around the table, Dean suddenly asked, "who's moving that bottle?"
The bottle in question was slowly making its way across the tabletop as if being towed by an invisible force, and the former Hogwarts students all shared confused glances; none of them were doing magic.
"What the hell?"
Dean had tried to pick the bottle of Irish Strength Firewhiskey up, but it refused to lift and the harder he pulled the tighter it held on.
Eventually the West Ham supporter managed to wrench it upwards, knocking the bottle over and then falling heavily against the countertop, swearing loudly at the impact.
"Ow." Said an unknown male voice from somewhere in the centre of the table, drawing the wizards' and witches' attention.
In the middle of the spilt liquid was a section of impervious table top.
Lavender reached out to poke the space, recoiling quickly when she connected with flesh, and let out a strangled scream when a tiny, red headed person with scruffy hair and pointy ears suddenly materialised before them all.
"Careful, Angel." The little man said, rubbing the afflicted side – though he gave Lavender a handsome smirk.
"Oh dear lord, it's like being in a room with another Weasley." Blaise noted unhappily.
"Oi." The little Irishman protested. "I'm no Weasley; it's Mickey. Mickey Muldoon, Leprechaun, pleasure t' meet ye, whoever y' are."
He looked around at the faces of the people around him sizing them up.
"You've got to be kidding me." Hermione interjected disbelievingly. "The Magical Legend of the Leprechauns is real?"
Mickey turned to look at her.
"Clearly."
He pulled his cap off and ruffled his hair. "You seem to know what's going on - who are you, then?"
"Hermione Granger."
"And you, lovely lady?" He asked Lavender, and sat down on the bottle that was lying on its side.
"Lavender."
He winked at her. "So what are y'all doin' here?"
"We have no idea." Ron explained uselessly.
Dean elaborated. "Malfoy over there-" he pointed to the blond, who outed at being singled out, "touched the bloody pineapples from Luna, after Hermione's birthday celebration and they transported us here somehow."
"Luna? The new Grand Banshee, like?" Mickey interjected, and Hermione gawked. Luna was the Grand Banshee? How typical.
"She must've had a reason." Mickey continued thoughtfully. "Though I can't imagine what it would be."
"Erm, excuse me?" Pansy interrupted. "What in Merlin's name is going on? And what in the world is this 'Magical Legend of the Leprechauns'?" She huffed, before slumping back into her seat.
"Seconded." Neville spoke up, watching the Leprechaun with distrust. "Someone kindly explain."
He looked beseeching at Hermione, who seemed to know more than everyone else at this point, apart from Mickey the Leprechaun.
"The muggles have these things called films, which are recordings of actors." She paused. "You know Wizarding photos – how they move? Well, it's like that, but a two hour show with a plot, and all sorts of things going on... Anyway, one of the films I've seen is called the Magical Legend of the Leprechauns, and Mickey here is one of the stars."
Hermione took a deep breath. "The Fairies and the Leprechauns are on opposite sides, and each thinks the other is lesser. Mickey the Leprechaun here and Jessica – who is the Fairy Princess – fall in love and everyone is up in arms, there's a big war between the two, and the Banshee has to take away their immortality for them to finally come around and stop their fighting (which was, incidentally, destroying Ireland because the Fairies weren't doing their job of caring for Mother Nature)."
She turned back to the little man. "How is Princess Jessica?"
Mickey wrinkled his nose in distaste. "She decided to go off with the American Fairy Ambassador, and I wasn't about t' stop her, not since I'd stopped flying. We weren't in love anymore. The king was ecstatic though, and now everyone's figured we can go back t' our warring ways."
Hermione looked aghast. "That's awful!"
"Well, can't be helped." Mickey told her, smiling again.
Harry came darting back into the kitchen, beaming like a madman, and his sudden entrance startled Mickey, who fell off his perch.
"An albino raven just flew in through the upstairs window!" Harry revealed excitedly, before running out again.
His information was still being processed when he ran back in once again.
"It's actually Luna the Grand Banshee, and she wants to see us all."
Sprinting away for the second time, Seamus starting counting down from three out loud, and on the 'one' Harry came running back in, pointing at Mickey.
"AAARGHH!" He yelled, confused and filled with adrenaline from an hour's worth of uninhibited jumping. "AAAAGHHHHH!"
Seamus and Dean herded him out of the room and upstairs, Seamus covering his mouth with a hand, to present themselves to the Grand Banshee (or Luna Lovegood, as they all knew her). Like good little soldiers, the group filed out behind them and shuffled along to find Luna in the Marshmallow Room, as Harry had taken to calling it.
OoO
"Greetings, everybody." Luna greeted airily, waiting patiently for a response.
"Hi Luna." Hermione finally answered.
Luna smiled happily and clapped her hands together. "Oh, good: you've elected a leader. That makes things much easier."
The others traded bewildered looks, but she continued, unbothered.
"You are all here to stop an impending war."
Well, that was frank. No pandering around when one was a Grand Banshee it seemed.
The room erupted with noisy protests, and Mickey laughed at all the wizards and witches from his position on Hermione' shoulder. Draco looked as if he were going to hex the Leprechaun, but Aphrodite cuffed him around the back of his shaved head.
"Bad Damon." She scolded, and plucked his wand from his grip. She then hiked her dress up a little to slide the magical stick into her thigh high stockings; he wouldn't be getting that back unless she let him. She knew Kapow. Draco was flabbergasted, but suitably ashamed – at being beaten by another female Granger.
Luna raised her voice above the cacophony of sounds. "Jessica made a mistake, she's left a big old mess for me to clean up, and you lot are going to help me." She announced.
"You," the Grand Banshee pointed collectively at Draco, Aphrodite, Pansy and Neville, "will be spies at the fairy ball in three days time."
Rounding on Terry, Ernie, Hermione and Mickey she divulged, "You four will be in charge of tactics and beverages."
Luna looked at Dean, Seamus and Harry (mouth still covered with Seamus' hand) speculatively for several long moments before concluding, "You…you will bake the chocolate cake for tonight's dessert. I'll be here for dinner at five thirty."
That said, she turned to leave, preparing to transform into the albino raven.
"Hey!" Lavender called out. "What about us? What's our role?" She queried, waving her hands to encompass Theo, Blaise and Ron, none of whom had received a job either.
Luna merely smiled creepily and said, "Oh, you'll find out soon enough," in a way that suggested she was as all-knowing as Harry had always presumed.
"Oh. Mmkay." Lavender conceded, appeased for the moment.
It didn't last long however, because just as she settled back down, Luna did a strange arm movement that wouldn't have been out of place at a Wiggles' concert, and, all of a sudden, the world seemed a lot bigger to the blonde witch – while Mickey Muldoon was looking much too normal sized.
Lavender fainted like a lady, daintily and with grace. Mickey caught her before she hit the ground, but Luna had already moved on.
"Draco, empty your pockets." She commanded.
The blond regained his shifty expression, but did as he was asked, pulling out the two bracelets he'd nicked from the room down the hall, a small crystal figurine of a hummingbird, Ernie's gold pocket watch (which was hurriedly snatched back by its owner), an unopened lollipop, one of Aphrodite's sparkly bobby pins, and a shiny silver spork from the kitchen.
Luna raised an eyebrow, and the blond huffed, taking his shoe off and taking an emerald ring from a secret compartment in the heel.
"Good boy." Luna praised him when he finally stepped away from the pile of trinkets and handed him a biscuit with pink icing and sprinkles.
"Five thirty." She reminded them, and jumped out the window as she transformed into the raven and flew off into the distance.
"Eurgh, gross." Seamus yelled as she disappeared, wiping his hand on his pants and releasing Harry. "He licked my hand!"
Harry laughed. "Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh. Cake, cake, cake; off to make a cake for Luna the Grand Banshee! Come on Seamus, come on Dean."
The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice skipped ahead of them, making his way down to the hallway, pausing halfway, and running back to the doorway to scream randomly, "SHOTGUN LICKING THE SPOON!" before giggling and then dashing to the stairs and sliding down the banister.
"I guess we're stuck with Potter-sitting duty." Dean sighed to his mate who nodded glumly in agreement.
Lavender began to regain consciousness, but promptly lost it when she recalled that she was now the size of a Leprechaun, and that a pair of wings had sprouted out of her shoulder blades.
Ron was gazing at Draco curiously. "I knew you had to be some kind of serial thief."
"Kleptomaniac." Hermione inserted absently.
"This is brilliant and all, but can we go do something now? I'm bored." Aphrodite declared, ripping open the lollipop from Draco's pile of thievery and popping it into her mouth.
OoO
By the time Dean and Seamus had made it downstairs and back into the cottage's kitchen, Harry had located most of the ingredients and piled them haphazardly on the countertop, and conjured himself a tall, white chef's hat. When the two entered Harry had them halt, waving a spatula in front of their faces energetically.
"Sous-chef Dean! You're in charge of handing me properly measured out ingredients." He said, hitting the dark skinned boy with the cooking implement and directing him over towards the right section of bench, before turning to Seamus.
"You're going to sit here," he flailed the spatula around and pointed to one of the breakfast chairs on the other side of the bench, "and ask me interesting questions, and compliment me on my cooking, mmkay?"
Both boys nodded, eyeing the spatula cautiously.
"Ho-kay, now we begin!"
A little while later…
"Harry, there's no sugar." Dean told his head chef carefully.
Harry paused, mid-stir, and for a moment Dean felt panic rise in his chest.
"That's alright, that's okay; we'll just use some magic today!" Harry sang unexpectedly and pointed at one of the empty bowls with his spatula. Apparently, he'd transfigured his wand.
Small packets of sugar that one normally got with store-bought coffees began shooting out the end and into the bowl, making thwacking sounds as paper hit paper and little 'tings' when they hit the glass container. There were about a hundred of them all up, and Dean looked at them uncertainly.
"Well, go on! Cakes need sugar!" Harry coaxed the wire-haired boy, who began tearing the sachets open and pouring the contents into another bowl. "Seamus! Ask something."
Seamus sat up straight and racked his thoughts for something to say.
"Erm, what chocolate is best to use in cooking?" He offered tentatively, making the asking of the question sound like a question itself.
Not-Cooking with Harry was more stressful than being a helper; next time he'd shotgun being sous-chef, Seamus decided when the baking had been completed about two hours later.
In his excitement, Harry had made three cakes – which was a fortuitous thing, really, seeing as the house was filled with adolescent boys. Ron had already eaten a substantial amount and saved a piece for later should he require a snack. He used an old quill, one of those nifty spell checking ones, that he'd found lying around to write his name on a slip of parchment so everyone knew whose slice of cake it was sitting on top of the fridge.
Unfortunately, habit made him neglect reading to make sure it was spelt correctly. Apparently, it was an old quill, and the spell-check spell had gone a bit funny.
Roonil Wazlib was back in business.
OoO
Pansy had figured that now was as good a time as any to take refreshing shower, and get her groove back on. It had taken a bit of a blow, been thrown out of whack, and a shower was just what the doctor ordered. Or it would have been had she actually gone to see a medical practitioner.
Feeling the jets of hot water on her back she sighed happily and began to trace patterns on the fogged up glass. Big hearts and little hearts followed, as did some stick figures, and then, shockingly she wrote four initials, in a big heart with an arrow poking through it.
Pansy pulled away as if burned.
Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. That wasn't good.
The top letters, 'P.P', were followed by the customary '+' and then, to her utter embarrassment, in the position that should have taken up any of the more suitable 'Prince Charming', 'Professor Lockhart', 'Sirius Black' or 'Adrian Pucey', were the incriminating initials of 'N.L'.
The black haired witch stared, and then groaned, dropping her forehead to the glass with a thump. Of all the boys she was stuck in this household with, she had to choose the most inappropriate one to crush on. How typical.
Not to mention the fact that the only girls with whom she had the choice to gossip with were Lavender Brown and Hermione Granger. Heck, she needed to talk with someone about all things girly, and how boys are stupid, and pretty, and wonderful, and can make such good pets if you train them right.
Gryffindors or not, she concluded resolutely, she'd gossip with them or die trying. Momentous things like this weren't meant to be kept secret.
Pansy stepped out of the shower and dried herself off, pulled on some clothes she'd found in one of the bedrooms and went to go build the proverbial bridge of friendship.
"Hermione?" She called out somewhat tightly, the name rolling awkwardly off her tongue. "Lavender?"
Conveniently, both girls (and Hermione's muggle cousin) were in an upstairs bedroom, the shrunken latter having finally recovered from her fainting fit. Mickey was sitting next to her, but was quickly banished from the room when Pansy said the magic words of 'Girl-Talk'.
"I need my girl time, and you're the only girls here, so speak now or forever hold your peace with the information I'm about to discharge." She warned them fairly, as she put them under a quick scrutiny with her dark, glittering eyes.
"I'm all for it." Lavender agreed as Aphrodite nodded enthusiastically. Hermione gave a half-shrug.
"Okay, excellent." Pansy said happily. "I'm in love with Neville."
The two Gryffindors' eyes widened with shock, and Aphrodite mimicked them, feeling left out.
"Excuse me?" Hermione spluttered, just as Lavender choked out, "say what?"
"You heard me; somewhere between your birthday celebrations and my taking a shower here I've fallen for Neville – bloody – Longbottom!" Pansy ranted, throwing her hands in the air despairingly. "I mean, seriously! I wrote our initials in the damn fogged up glass! I'm besotted!"
She was borderline hysterical now, being surrounded by so much oestrogen and having an excessive exposure to exclamation marks, but it was good. They were thriving off one another's gossip now, and the bonds of friendship were being cemented like a group of friends holding hands in a circle and standing in some quick-dry cement.
OoO
Dinner should have been an awkward affair, but it was surprisingly and appropriately posh for an evening meal with the Grand Banshee, a Leprechaun, and fourteen chance adolescents (one of which was the size of a Leprechaun (and had to sit on an impromptu booster seat to see over the table, to Blaise's amusement)).
"Pass the potatoes, please, David." Aphrodite requested of Draco, who had given up entirely trying to teach her his proper name. Neville was seated a little way away from the muggle girl, and he was fidgeting spasmodically, occasionally dropping his spork-knife (it had a serrated edge on one side as well as the spoony-fork goodness) loudly against his plate after he'd sneaked a glance to the black haired witch seated beside Draco.
Near the end of the meal, he stood violently, knocking over his red wine and creating what could have been the most delicious mash ever had Harry not magically cleared the mess up so speedily with a well-placed scourgify.
"I can't stop –bloody – looking at you!" He yelled, pointing at Pansy who paused with her own spork-knife halfway to her open mouth.
"All the time!" He continued. "It's like you're just always in my eye-line, and I'm always looking at you. IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE!"
Daintily, Pansy set down her multi-use utensil and dabbed at her mouth. She stood quietly, walked around the table to Neville, grabbed him by the shirt front and pulled him down so she could kiss him full on the mouth.
"You'd better get used to it." She declared when they came up for air. Catcalls from the non-Slytherins and resounding groans of disgust from the Slytherins filled the air. She tugged a goofily smiling Neville out of the kitchen and, without looking back at the other inhabitants, informed them, "We won't be back for a while."
When they'd disappeared upstairs, Seamus let out a low whistle.
"Merlin's Balls." He swore. "That was unexpected."
The boys all nodded in agreement, thought the girls tutted sanctimoniously at them, sighing and shaking their heads, as if the men should have picked up on the Apparently Glaringly Obvious raging hormones between the two.
"Honestly, Dougal, for a successful thief, you're so oblivious sometimes." Aphrodite said to the blond, collecting his plate as he lifted a sporkful to his mouth, and then stealing the utensil too before he could complain.
The girls kindly offered to do the dishes, and the boys trailed behind Mickey to the Gentlemen's Parlour for a nightcap, as Luna proclaimed that she had to leave, but she'd take the chocolate cake to go, making everyone even more thankful that Harry had baked three of the delectable, multi-layered cakes.
OoO
A while later – it took quite a long time to clean up after a banquet for that many people – the girls trudged past the Parlour, stopping to eavesdrop by the double doors when they heard a girly scream from inside.
"Tá mo bhríste trí thine!" It had to have been Seamus, drunkenly having switched to Irish Gaelic, yelling out. Pushing open the doors the four girls were accosted with a peculiar sight.
Mickey was hanging by his knees off the chandelier, staring at his hands in wonder. Seamus' pants were on fire, and he was attempting to put it out, yelling out the same phrase over and over again and gesturing wildly at his crotch (well, to be fair it was at his flaming trousers, but it seemed so suggestive with the fire). He finally succeeded and, giggling sporadically, he flopped against one of the lounge chairs and passed out. Ron and Draco were involved in a vicious Wizard's Chess battle that was taking up all of their attention, and it appeared that Harry, Terry, Ernie, Blaise and Dean were completely off their face, having found something in one of the cupboards the looked dangerously like hallucinogenic mushrooms which they were now seated in a happy-circle around.
"I'm sure we didn't take that long." Hermione tried to convince herself, looking at the destruction around them. Cushions were strewn all over the floor, furniture was upturned, and the boys were lying on anything they could reach, hugging anything soft and acting very, very strangely.
"You bastard, you sat on Yossarian's tail!" Dean shouted in an appalled tone at Blaise who had, in his dazed stupor, fallen sideways off his beanbag.
"Yossarian-shmarian." Blaise drawled, reaching for his drink and taking a hefty swig.
Hermione picked a path through the debris towards them.
"Who is Yossarian?" She asked Dean, who clutched at his pillow defensively.
"He's a platypus. And he's pink and magical, and he doesn't like Blaise anymore, because the wanker sat on his tail." Dean explained verbosely, flinging the pillow into Blaise's face when he said his name.
"I did not!" Blaise argued, wrenching the pillow from Dean's fingers and throwing it across the room.
"Hermione!" Harry yelled, and scrambled to his feet so he could better invade her personal space. "Guess what? Guess, guess, guess! Guess what we found! MUSHROOOMS! And they taste like chicken! I like chicken! And cake! Where is my cake?" He chomped on Hermione's shoulder with his teeth, and then screamed, "AEROPLANES!"
Harry and magical pineapple travel was a bad combination that mildly exacerbated his slight ADD.
Harry, magical pineapple travel and hallucinogenic mushrooms was a catastrophic nightmare.
He was all over the place; in her face, hanging off the chandelier, hugging people, licking the furniture, bouncing off the walls. It was possibly the most unnerving thing Hermione had ever seen.
She stupefied him and he toppled to the ground, a manic smile frozen on his face.
Ernie stared, unfazed, at the still form of the Boy-Who-Baked. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He enquired of Terry.
"I dunno, are you thinking how amazing toes are?" The Ravenclaw replied, wiggling his own ten toes as he gazed at them with admiration. "I mean, seriously, man – they're like fingers for your feet. They're feet fingers. Look at them waggle!"
Aphrodite and Lavender burst out laughing at that admission, and Hermione fought valiantly against the desire to bash her head against the nearest wall.
Dean started talking to the air beside Hermione's right leg.
"Bite him, Yossarian. He shouldn't be allowed to hurt your tail and get away with it. No, you're right. Violence isn't the answer." The dark skinned boy paused, looking uncommonly interested in the empty space. "I do like fish. That's so funny. What a strange world we live in…Huh."
Ernie was leaning sideways, and his poor state of mind meant his balance had abandoned him. He flopped indelicately onto his side, and then rolled onto his stomach. Bracing his feet against Terry's body, he pushed off, making breaststroke movements to propel himself along the floorboards.
At that point, Mickey jumped down from the chandelier, staggering slightly but, for the most part, reasonably cognizant, and by far the most with it of all the boys. Twice he caught his hands trying to squeeze Lavender's bottom, but he managed to stop them both times. He was practically sober.
"Y' are very sneaky." He told them conspiratorially, holding his fingers in front of his face. And they were: if at any point he relaxed his control they would find their way to the closest alcohol, or try and attach themselves to Lavender's curvaceous figure. It was pure strength of will that had stopped him from giving up and subsequently received a slap to the face. "But I've got you covered."
Lavender sighed. "Come on, Mickey Muldoon. Off to bed with you now." She led him away to one of the other rooms where he might actually be able to rest. Hermione could hear his tired commentary echo down the hallway.
"I didn't give them any mushrooms, I swear, Angel."
"I'm not drunk, just a little bit tipsy."
"Stay with me, just until I fall asleep."
Lavender didn't return, so Hermione assumed she must have finally conceded to the Leprechaun's charms.
Aphrodite forcibly removed Draco from his intense chess game and sat him down on the lounge with orders to go to sleep. He glossed over the advantages and disadvantages to this and decided in favour of doing as she said. Aphrodite looked pleased, and cuddled up beside him to take her own advice.
After careful consideration, the Hermione performed a warming charm on the room, an action which had the desired effect of making all the occupants sleepy, and soon everyone was nodding off. Even Ron eventually dropped off, knocking over the chess pieces as he fell asleep on the board game. She took a comfy seat for herself and followed them all to the Land of Sleep, feeling exhausted.
End of Part One. Part Two up soon, hopefully =P