Author's Note:This the second entry for AlywasPadfoot's 52 Weeks of Writing 2013 Competition. This is for Round 3 (yes, I am posting out of order because I'm playing catch up.) I definitely rushed this one so it isn't really the best I can do. Still, I hope it entertains you!

Prompts: Mirror, Teddy bear, Alcohol, 'What the…'

Hurricane Drunk

"Who the fuck made this shit?!"

Romilda looked up from where her face was mashed into her folded arms. Draco was looking at a shot glass clutched in his hand mutinously. Well shit, that can't be good. She turned her head to glance at the bottle of cheap vodka he had no doubt poured a shot of.

"Uhm, not all of us want our throats scorched by fire whiskey, Draco." she muttered, her head dropping back onto her arms.

Darco sniffed haughtily, "Yes, well, it's better than the shit you brought with you." He pushed up on his legs, climbing to his feet and swayed dangerously once there. The pair currently inhabited Romilda's flat living room. The brunette was sitting on the floor at the coffee table, legs splayed underneath the low table.

"How dare he, the nerve of him to break up with me…me! I made him who he is today, that motherfucker." The brunette mumbled sullenly. Speaking over her ex-boyfriend "Two years together – two years of happiness and bliss and he breaks up with me through a letter?"

A loud crashing noise sounded from another room in the flat along with Draco's echoing curses. He must have either broken something or tripped or something. Who knew the self-proclaimed Slytherin Prince was a clumsy drunk?

Romilda fell back against that couch, a small burp erupting from her. "Where the hell are you going, Dray?" she asked, staring after the former Slytherin whom was stumbling out the living room.

Luna sat up from under a mountain of throw pillows, a lamp shade – how typical – over her head. "Did you hear about that party?" she asked abruptly, pulling the shade from her head and smoothing down her hair. "The one Seamus and George are throwing for the New Year?"

"A New Year party? Brilliant!" Draco gushed, materializing back in the living room – appearing to have sobered up a bit – not much though. The former Gryffindor pondered on whether a partial sobering potion was involved but ultimately let it go.

"Asshole," Romilda swore in the background, dropping her head onto the table with a low thump. "He'll never another like me, I was the best he ever had. I hate him, I really do." While she was deep in thought her two companions had pulled her from the floor and her subsequent funk over her ex-boyfriend, Theodore Nott.

"H-hey, where are we going?" Romilda asked, the trio stumbling out into the hall.

"Away from here!" Luna laughed, dropping a kiss on her cheek with trembling lips from holding back her drunken giggles. Draco grunted in agreement from the other side of Romilda.

"Ready?" Draco asked, looking to the two girls then nodded to himself. "Alright, we're off." In the next second the trio swirled out of the foyer with a loud crack of apparition.

-x-x-x-

When Romilda, Draco, and Luna made it to the twins' party it was in full swing and boarding on insanity with only an hour till the new year rang in. There were a lot of crazy sights that assaulted them when they showed up and walked around. Romilda had even witnessed some unfortunate soul making out with a mirror, have weird. The trio was separated about twenty or so minutes after their arrival. Draco had been the first to go, it had happened when they were in the backyard near the pool. Surprisingly enough Lavender Brown and come sauntering over, tipsy in her own right and asked Draco to dance. After a particularly probing stare the former Slytherin only shrugged and allowed himself to be dragged off to the dance floor.

After that Luna had been lost somewhere between the body shots table and the small stage with the enchanted DJ booth. Now Romilda was all own her own – over forty-five minutes after arriving, plastered to a dark corner nursing her cup filled to the brim with some sickly yellow concoction that oozed some sort of mist. It was deliciously fruity and reminded her of a smoothie – Fred and George's new experiment with alcohol based products for adults. The brunette in all her Gryffindorish bravery and courage happily – or stupidly in this case – volunteered to test it out.

After her third gulp of the fruity tasting drink she realized that she was nine kinds of fucked up. The wall that her back was pressed to was the only thing keeping her from falling flat on her ass. It was ridiculous, utterly mind-numbingly stupid and yet… "Whoa, this is the best drink ever..." Romilda slurred while sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

She stretched her legs out, staring at her black furry ankle boots. Why the hell did the look like it was moving? Was… was it alive? Romilda continued to stare at them with wide eyes then pulled them off in a surprisingly fluid motion and tossing them on the floor. Immediately afterward someone walking past her little corner stumbled on them.

"What the…" exclaimed the stranger, catching himself both verbally and physically.

Romilda slapped both her hands over her mouth to hide her laughter, even though the blaring music mostly masked the giggles. Her movement must have drawn his attention because she was suddenly captured by the brightest blue eyes she'd ever seen.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" His voice was a bit on the deep side, low tenor possibly and held a sort of catch to it that made Romilda eye him suspiciously. Even though the flickering lights did nothing to help identify his features she could see that he might have had light colored hair. He was shorter than the guys she was used to but still quite tall in his own right. He was probably around 5'10'' or 5'11'' and muscular for his build but it was proportioned just right so it wasn't awkward.

He came closer, crouching in front of her and she could make out freckles and a pleasing smile. "Are you alright?" he asked, setting his own cup down next to hers.

"Mhm." Romilda nodded jerkily, pushing her thick, curly mane off her shoulders and fanning herself. When had it gotten so hot? The stranger with the pretty blue eyes crept closer and she swooned – he was handsome. Not the panty-soaking type of handsome where all he had to do was smile and women fell over pregnant. But the classic, textbook handsome – boy next door type of hot with the rough around the edges feel.

He hummed; giving her a peculiar look then took hold of her under her arms and lifted her onto her feet like a child. Romilda stood there wide eyed at the casual show of strength, that was definitely hot. She melted against him, her arms slithering around his waist – he was huggable like a teddy bear.

He laughed, "How about we get you some water and take you outside for some cool air?"

She didn't care where he took her as long as it was hard and fast. Romilda blinked, where the hell had that come from? If she were sober she'd probably tie a few stones to her person and dive into the ocean. The crisp night air blew away her suicidal thoughts and she hugged her knight-in-shining-strobe-lights closer. Eliciting another hearty chuckle from said unknown, yet kind stranger.

Romilda cooed mentally, how sweet of him to cease his partying and help her sober up. Subconsciously she was checking off items on her somewhat perfect boyfriend list, and Mr. Freckles was looking very datable.

"Be my boyfriend?" she suddenly asked, voicing her thoughts.

Mr. Freckles shook his head with a smile, guiding her to sit on the front steps. "You don't even know my name." he said, clearly amused but he didn't shut her down right away.

Not to be discouraged Romilda leaned closer to him. "I'm Romilda, some call me Romi." She hiccupped halfway through her introduction and blushed.

"Yes, I know who you are. I'm Charlie, we've met once before but it was just in passing and I don't even think you got a proper look at me then." he explained, brushing the hair out her face that kept tickling her nose and sent it into a twitching fit.

"Twins' older brother?" Romilda suddenly cried in a triumphant flailing of arms and a bright smile. "You're cute, be my boyfriend, please?" she asked again, scrambling into his lap and trying to kiss him.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?!" An enraged male voice cried, freezing Charlie and Romilda in a somewhat suggestive position. The voice belonged to the brunette's ex-boyfriend, Theodore Nott.

To be continued…