A/N: Just a fun little one-shot I wrote for my sisters. J.K. Rowling owns everything you recognize. Enjoy! :)
Hermione Granger absentmindedly fiddled with her butterbeer tankard as she studied the piece of parchment in front of her. The words themselves seemed fairly straightforward – no spells, runes, riddles, or anything else even remotely out of the ordinary – but the clever young witch couldn't seem to make heads or tails of the message they conveyed:
Ground floor side passage
Fifth landscape on the right-hand side
"New Beginnings"
8pm, 31 December
Casual Dress
Hermione had been puzzling over the message for nearly a quarter of an hour now, and she was beginning to get a little frustrated. Here she was, the supposed "cleverest witch of the age," being bested by some overly curly cursive. A gust of chilly October air from the opening door interrupted her thoughts, and her face broke into a wide smile at the sight of her two favorite people.
"Harry!" she cried. "Ron!" She jumped from her seat and hugged each of them in turn. "It's so good to see you!"
"Good to see you too, 'Mione," Ron replied. He playfully tugged one of her curls and slid into the booth, revealing a third person hitherto obscured by his tall frame.
"George!" Hermione couldn't hide the surprise in her voice. "Well, this is a surprise! What are you doing here?"
"Really feeling the love here, kid," George said, but he grinned widely and scooped her into a bear hug. "Am I not allowed to hang with Hogwarts' favorite trio? Besides, I have some information you three might find useful."
"Oh?" Hermione couldn't keep the curiosity from her voice.
"Not so fast, not so fast." George's eyes danced mischievously. "First order of business – drinks on me!" He darted towards the bar before any of them could say a word.
"What was that all about?" Hermione wondered aloud.
"This, I suspect." Harry pulled a piece of parchment from his cloak pocket and set it on the table. Ron did likewise, and Hermione was startled to see that the boys had notes identical to hers.
"Any idea what they might be?" Ron asked.
"Dunno…although if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was some sort of invitation," Harry suggested.
"Correct you are, Mr. Potter – ten points to Gryffindor!" George smirked as he slid their butterbeers across the table.
"An invitation? To what?" Hermione asked, just as Ron said, "How the ruddy hell do you know what these are? I didn't see you get one…"
"Patience, brother dear, and you shall know all." George winked and sipped his drink, looking thoughtful for a moment before he continued, "Have you ever heard…of the Hufflepuff New Year's Eve party?"
"The…what?" Harry spluttered; Ron sprayed butterbeer all over the table in an effort to keep from choking.
"Oh, honestly, Ronald," Hermione sighed. She hastily muttered a spell to clean up the mess, then turned her attention back to George. "What's this about a party?"
"It's only the party to end all parties," George began.
"Hosted by…Hufflepuff?" Ron snorted.
"Ron, maybe Mum's right – you do need to clean out your ears once in a while. I did indeed say Hufflepuff. Scoff all you want, but those badgers know how to throw a party."
"Have you been to one then?" Hermione asked, unable to explain her sudden interest.
"No." George paused. "Well…not one of the New Year's bashes, anyway. See, those only happen once every seven years, and only those of age are invited or have even heard of it. Something in that parchment makes it physically impossible to talk about the party with anyone who's underage – nothing bad will happen to you," he said quickly, noting the apprehensive look on Hermione's face, "but you just won't be able to. Try to, and you'll automatically be tongue-tied, or change the subject, or forget you were going to mention it altogether. Besides that, the invitation's charmed so that only someone of age can even read it, never mind contemplate sneaking in. Really an impressive piece of magic."
"So how do you know about it then?" Harry asked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but if it really only happens every seven years, you wouldn't have gone to one."
"Right-o, Harry. Neither did Bill, Charlie, or Percy, for that matter. Friend of mine who was a few years ahead of me on the Quidditch team told me about it over drinks one night after I left school."
"You still haven't convinced me I should go," Ron said.
"I don't have to," George replied. "You'll go. Dunno how they do it, those Hufflepuffs, but from what I understand, there's never been a New Year's bash yet that didn't have every single of-age Hogwartian in attendance. I mean, think about it – it's only October, but they've got to pique everyone's curiosity before someone decides to be stupid enough to commit to going home for the holidays, so they send the invites now. Guarantee you'll be talking about this for weeks."
"But why did Ron and I get them?" Harry asked. "We're not even at school anymore."
"True," George nodded, "but a little thing like leaving school early doesn't stop you from getting invited. If you're of age and would, under normal circumstances, currently be enrolled at Hogwarts, you're on the list, no questions asked. Really wish I could go – it promises to be a party for the ages."
The trio sat in silence for a few moments contemplating George's words before Hermione broke the spell with a glance at her watch.
"Goodness – we've been sitting here so much longer than I thought! I'd best get back to the castle or I'll miss the Halloween feast," she said. She hugged each of the boys in turn. "I'll be seeing you all soon, I expect?"
"Course, silly," Harry replied, pulling her in for another hug. "Say hi to Ginny for me, will you?"
"For all of us, please," George added. Hermione smiled.
"Of course." The quartet left the pub, drawing their cloaks tighter around them at the unexpected autumn chill. With a faint 'pop,' the three boys Disapparated, leaving Hermione to make her way back towards Hogwarts alone.
"Hey, Hermione! Wait up!" Hermione turned to see Lavender and Parvati hurrying towards her.
"Hey," she greeted them. "Have a nice afternoon?"
"Sure did," Parvati said, and she and Lavender giggled as the three girls started up the path.
"How about those invitations then?" Lavender asked.
Thanks to a number of stressful exams, a rowdy first Quidditch match (during which Ginny's increasingly impressive talent put Zacharias Smith to shame), and an incident involving illegally imported Billywigs that took nearly a week to sort out, November was over before Hermione knew it, and the Heads of House had posted their customary holiday sign-up sheets. Gryffindor's list contained the name of every single one of its of-age students not 24 hours after it first appeared, and from what Hermione heard through whispered conversations between classes, the other houses' sheets were much the same. Everywhere she went, she heard students talking about the party – comparing what they were going to wear, questioning the rumors that their hosts had somehow managed to acquire an impressive amount of Muggle alcohol, and wondering what the Hufflepuffs had planned for midnight. The fireworks supplied by the staff were always nice, but everyone agreed that this party's end, while unknown, would be something spectacular. The Hufflepuffs themselves remained rather aloof about the whole thing, refusing to answer people's questions no matter what the tactics. If anyone started to ask, they'd merely smile mysteriously and say, "You'll just have to wait and see."
Christmas week passed rather quietly, considering the sheer number of people who'd stayed at the castle – Hermione couldn't remember another year when all four house tables had remained in the Great Hall through the holidays. The library was unusually crowded as the soon-to-be partygoers rushed to finish mountains of homework before the anticipated event – since they had no idea what to expect, they couldn't be certain they'd be in a fit state to finish it after the party.
At long last, New Year's Eve arrived. The excitement was tangible amongst the older students as they chattered animatedly at breakfast – "I really don't get what all the fuss is about at this hour," a Ravenclaw second-year muttered to her friend as she helped herself to some bacon – and Hermione swore that time had stopped. She and several other Gryffindors wiled away the time until lunch with a vicious snowball fight on the grounds, which turned into an all-out war when a dozen classmates from other houses joined in. Soaked and shivering, the group enjoyed a quick lunch before retreating to their respective common rooms for hot baths and much-needed naps. Afterwards, Ginny raided Hermione's wardrobe for the better part of the rest of the afternoon – by dinnertime, all that was left was to get dressed and wait for eight o'clock.
"Gin, do you really think this looks alright?" Hermione asked. She secured her front pieces back with a couple of bobby pins and surveyed herself critically in the mirror. After deeming nearly every article of clothing Hermione owned unsuitable, Ginny had finally discovered a deep purple wrap shirt in the back of the wardrobe. When paired with dark jeans and some black ballet flats, the effect was rather nice, but…off, somehow.
"Course it does," Ginny said, turning from her spot at the vanity to smile at her friend. "You look cute."
"You don't think I look too…Muggle?" Hermione asked. Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Hermione, please," she snorted, "Everyone there is going to be wearing Muggle clothes. Even the most stuck-up of pure-bloods knows that wearing full robes to a party like this is a right pain in the arse." She paused to finish applying her mascara, then turned back to the older girl. "Now stop hemming and hawing and get over here so I can do your makeup."
"Makeup? Gin, I don't wear makeup."
"Just a little, I promise." Hermione sighed.
"Alright, fine."
Less than an hour later, the two friends were ready to go. Ginny had kept her promise about the makeup, dusting Hermione's eyes with just the slightest hint of shadow and mascara – not really enough to be noticeable, but just enough to accentuate her brown eyes beautifully. While Ginny had also kept her own makeup to a minimum, she'd always been a bit bolder than Hermione as far as clothes were concerned – she'd chosen a striking blue halter top, which brought out the deep hues of her eyes, and a short, form-fitting black skirt. Her black flats matched Hermione's, and her lush red hair flowed freely over her shoulders.
"Shall we?" Ginny offered her arm in a mock bow. Hermione laughed and slipped her arm through her friend's.
"Off we go then!" They made their way through the castle to the entrance hall and down the steps to the corridor housing the kitchens.
"Fifth landscape on the right-hand side," Hermione murmured, beginning to count. The corridor was wide and brightly lit, a near clone of many of its upper-floors counterparts. The only oddity was a large pile of barrels, which seemed to have been almost deliberately stacked in a nook between the third and fourth landscapes the girls encountered. Hermione and Ginny eyed the barrels curiously before continuing on to the fifth landscape, a pleasant depiction of Hogsmeade at Christmas.
"What do you suppose we do now?" Ginny asked.
"Well," said Hermione, "I'd guess that 'new beginnings' is a password of sorts…" No sooner had the phrase left her lips did the portrait swing wide, revealing a short stone passageway. Neither Gryffindor was prepared for what they found at the other end of the tunnel.
Hermione gasped as she took in the sight. She was in a room that could only be the Hufflepuff Common Room, round, cozy, and adorned with badgers as it was. A number of squashy armchairs and sofas in black and yellow surrounded a blazing fire, above which hung a large portrait of Helga Hufflepuff herself. The ceiling was low, rather like an animal's den, and the round windows promised the residents lots of sunshine and a pleasing (albeit rather up-close) view of the lawn during the day. The rounded bookcases had several odd gaps, as if whatever normally sat there had been tucked away.
A distinct party atmosphere blurred what Hermione was sure was normally a rather quaint picture. Colored lights not unlike those found in Muggle clubs flashed continuously overhead, and music pounded from some unseen source. Tables that were obviously not normally there littered the outer walls and were stacked with all sorts of strange things, including decks of cards, mountains of plastic cups, munchies of all kinds, and, in the case of what was obviously the beverage table, a large keg. Countless students from all four houses sat, stood, or leaned near these tables, obviously enjoying themselves already.
"Hermione!" Ernie Macmillan's voice boomed. "Ginny! Welcome, welcome! Can I get you something to drink?" He gestured towards the beverage table, which, in addition to the aforementioned keg, overflowed with drink options both Muggle and magical.
"I'll just take one of these," Ginny said, helping herself to a glass of wine. "I think I'll go catch up with Luna, I saw her somewhere in here."
"Um…just butterbeer, if you have it," Hermione said warily. She wasn't sure about diving into the alcohol just yet, if at all, and decided to change the subject. "Something missing from your bookcases?"
"Ah, yes," Ernie said. "Always the observant one, you are. It's our plants, of course. Sprout's our Head of House, you know, and she brings all sorts of interesting things in here for us; we've normally got half a dozen species draped over the bookshelves or hanging from the ceilings, but we didn't want them damaged so we stored them away for the night."
"Shame," Hermione replied as she accepted her bottle. "I'd have loved to see them."
"Well, you know how it is," Ernie nodded pompously. "'What happens in the common room, stays in the common room,' and all that. I'm sure you Gryffindors have things you don't share with the rest of us!" Hermione had to laugh at that.
"Touché!"
"Special privilege you lot get tonight," Ernie continued. "First time in its history the party's been held in our common room."
"But I thought it was always hosted by Hufflepuff?"
"Well, of course it has, but we used to have it in the Room of Requirement – so easy to transform for our needs, no need to rearrange the common room or worry about the intruders jinx…"
"Intruders jinx?"
"Of course. Doesn't Gryffindor Tower have a way of keeping those from other houses out?"
"Not that I know of," Hermione said truthfully.
"As I suspected. I'd heard that we badgers were the only ones who had anything of the sort; from chatting with Boot and Zabini earlier, I'd say that's true. Let's just say the entrance you came in tonight was a secondary entrance created especially for this party – we couldn't just go telling you all how to get in our common room, now could we? There's only one correct way to do it, and if you mess up, you're met with a rather unpleasant surprise."
"Which is…?" Hermione questioned, not really sure she wanted to know the answer.
"Something I'm not going to tell you," Ernie replied. "Now, it's been great chatting with you, but I really must go mingle. Please feel free to do the same!" With another nod, he walked across the room to greet a newly-arrived group of sixth-years.
Hermione stayed where she was, momentarily at a loss, until the portrait opened again, revealing Harry, Ron, and George.
"Happy New Year!" she squealed as she hugged them all. Alerted by Hermione's cry, Ginny looked up and caught sight of the boys, promptly launching herself across the room into Harry's arms.
"George, not that it isn't great to see you, but you're not a student!" Hermione chastised gently.
"Your badger compatriots asked a little favor of me," George said. "You'll find out what at midnight." With a wink and a nod, he disappeared into the crowd.
"Stupid git," Ron muttered. "Won't tell me anything."
"Do you really want him to ruin the surprise?" Hermione asked.
"No…I guess not."
"Didn't think so. Let's get drinks, you lot."
As the night wore on, the party got increasingly rowdier. The guests soon discovered that even the normally safe butterbeer had been enhanced to make them tipsy – combine that with a clever spell from Susan Bones to ensure no belligerent or miserable drunks, and everyone was having a grand time. Around nine o'clock, the seventh- and eighth-year boys had started a game of poker with an Exploding Snap deck, and they all burst into hysterical laughter whenever a hand spontaneously blew up in a classmate's face. The most recent victim of the deck had been Justin Finch-Fletchley, who swore loudly and threw his cards on the table, causing them to explode a second time on impact. The burst knocked over several drinks and set the table on fire; as the boys hastened to put it out, Lisa Turpin reached her hand out smugly towards Michael Corner, who rolled his eyes before handing her several coins in obvious defeat.
"Another round, gentlemen?" Seamus asked. "I'm on a roll!"
"Here, here!" his classmates chorused, those who still had drinks clinking them together.
Next to the poker table, a Gryffindor from Ginny's year was instructing a large group of people in the finer points of a Muggle drinking game involving plastic cups, ping pong balls, and copious amounts of alcohol. Harry and Ron, having already played several rounds of the game, were laughing loudly with Dean Thomas and Terry Boot. The music hadn't ceased its pounding, a mix of Muggle and magical tunes seeming to pour from the very walls all night long, and most of the students who weren't involved in the games had taken to the dance floor. Hermione stood on the edge of the floor, exchanging gossip with Lavender and Parvati as they giggled into their drinks.
"Seriously though, when did Anthony Goldstein get so hot?" Lavender was saying.
"I know, right?" Parvati agreed. "Total dreamboat. Still not quite as good-looking as Blaise though!"
"Zabini?" Hermione snorted, absentmindedly scanning the bookshelf behind her.
"Of course," Parvati insisted, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Who cares if he's a Slytherin? He's still one of the best-looking guys in our year, hands down!"
"I suppose he is attractive," Hermione acquiesced, "but he still wouldn't be my first choice."
"Oooooh, but who would then?" her roommates chorused.
"Not telling!" Hermione replied hastily. "Not telling!" She pretended to stare at the bookcase with great interest and nearly choked as she took in the titles more closely. Nestled between the innocuous Herbology textbooks were such titles as Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches, The Art of Seduction, and Redefining 'Pleasure'. Several brightly colored bookmarks held places in What Wizards Really Want, and Love For Those Who Want It had many dog-eared pages as well.
"What on earth goes on around here?" she asked her friends.
"You mean you haven't heard the rumors?" Lavender looked aghast, and when Hermione shook her head, she proceeded to launch into a heavily detailed story – Hermione would never be able to look at Ernie Macmillan the same way again.
Twenty rather painful minutes later, Hermione muttered an excuse about needing another drink and hurried away from her fellow Gryffindors. She grabbed another drink from the bar, not really caring what exactly it was, and meandered through the crowd. At the game table, Harry and Ron were singing loudly, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders as they swayed back and forth. Dean was struggling to keep a straight face as he concentrated on his ping pong ball, but the effort clearly wasn't doing much. The card game, she noted with chagrin, now had a stripping element – a Ravenclaw whose name she couldn't remember was pulling his shirt over his head, and Goyle had lost his pants. "I really hope that doesn't go any further," she said to herself, quickly deciding not to stick around and find out. As she turned, she saw a rather odd sight – Ginny and Malfoy, seated on either side of a small homework table. They seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion.
"Puddlemere's got Wood – you remember him; captained Gryffindor to the Cup in your second year? Even I have to admit he was a damn good Keeper," Malfoy was saying.
"Wood's one good player; the Harpies have got seven," Ginny countered.
"Weaselette, there's no way that pack of crazed females is going to win the League."
Ah – a Quidditch argument. She'd have to find some other way to escape her roommates. However, the blonde Slytherin seemed to have other plans.
"Oy, Granger! Come here!" Hermione turned towards them again, unable to keep the shock from her face.
"Me?" she asked cautiously.
"How many other Grangers do I know? Honestly, woman, just get over here." She rolled her eyes at Malfoy's rudeness but did as he asked.
"Granger, Little Red here and I seem to be having a disagreement of sorts. She's convinced the Harpies are going to win the Quidditch League this year, but I say no way in hell can they beat Puddlemere. What do you think?"
"Oh please, Malfoy," Ginny snorted. "You know Hermione doesn't do Quidditch."
"Of course I know that; I've seen her quite frankly abysmal attempts at flying – proud witness of the one thing she can't do, ha! But I also saw the way Brown was yammering on just now, and unless I'm very much mistaken, I don't think Granger was much enjoying the conversation." He smirked as the uncomfortable look on Hermione's face confirmed his statement. "Sit down and stay a while, why don't you."
"Where, Malfoy?" Hermione asked. "In case you haven't noticed, there isn't another chair."
"Ten points to Gryffindor, Granger – your astuteness astounds me. There are indeed only two chairs here. Doesn't mean you can't sit down though." He smirked again. He wasn't stupid enough to try anything on The Chosen One's girl – he rather valued his well-being, thank you very much – but nothing said he couldn't mess with Granger, and this was the perfect opportunity. Before she could protest, he took hold of her wrist and pulled her unceremoniously onto his lap.
"Malfoy, what the hell-"
"Oh, do shut up, Granger," he interrupted, running his free hand through his hair. "We all know it's a better alternative than whatever Brown's offering you." He took a sip of his firewhiskey and adjusted his hold on her, wrapping his arm firmly around her waist. Unable to argue with that, Hermione conceded defeat, sighed, and took a long draught of her own drink. Ginny raised her eyebrows but didn't comment – they'd all had too much to drink anyway.
"What in the name of Merlin is Potter doing?" Malfoy asked. The girls turned their heads to follow his gaze across the room.
"It looks like he's dancing on a table," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "I'm surprised you haven't joined in, with the amount of alcohol I've watched you drink over just the last half hour."
"Little Red, Malfoys do not dance on tables, especially not with Potters. We find…other ways of entertaining ourselves."
"Do I really want to know where this is going?" Hermione asked warily.
"Oh, you know you do, Granger," Malfoy responded. "Can't give away all my secrets at once though, can I?"
"Malfoy, can I talk to Hermione alone for a minute?" Ginny asked suddenly.
"Of course." He stood up and offered Hermione his chair. "Ladies." He nodded slightly to them, then disappeared into the crowd.
"Um…Hermione? What was that?" Hermione's eyes snapped to meet Ginny's.
"I…I don't know, Gin."
"It was weird, that's what it was," Ginny supplied. "It's almost like Malfoy was hitting on you."
"Like you said…weird," Hermione agreed.
"Although I didn't see you protesting…" to Hermione's horror, Ginny didn't look shocked but rather wore her own smirk that would've made the wizard in question quite proud.
"Ginny! This is Malfoy we're talking about!"
"So? You're single, he's single, he's not half-bad looking nowadays…it's New Year's, Hermione, do something stupid."
"Ginevra!" Hermione practically shrieked, flushing scarlet when several people nearby shot quizzical looks at her outburst.
"Just saying," the redhead said, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "It's almost midnight – anything can happen."
"Merlin, you're aggravating!" Hermione threw her hands up in defeat. "I need another drink." Ginny chuckled.
"I'd say you most definitely do," she agreed. "Let's hit the bar."
Sometime later, Ginny had ensured that Hermione was barely coherent enough to tell up from down, and the two witches were having a fine time on the dance floor.
"Ginny, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm having a blast!" Hermione said enthusiastically.
"You're also drunker than a Niffler in a gold mine!" Ginny called back. "I wish I had a camera, this is great!"
"Gi-in!" Hermione whined. "Don't make fun of me!" She attempted to pout but failed, bursting into giggles as she took another sip of whatever was in her glass.
"Oh, stop. You're so cute when you're drunk. Shut up and dance with me." Ginny plucked Hermione's glass from her hand, downed the last of it, and placed it on the bar before pulling her friend back onto the overcrowded dance floor.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" a voice suddenly boomed over the crowd. "On behalf of my fellow badgers, I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight – we hope you've had a wonderful time!" Hermione had no idea how Ernie had gotten the words out – it was obvious he was even more out of it than she was.
"It's almost midnight, ladies and gentlemen, and we Puffs want to send you all out with a bang. With that, may I present Mr. George Weasley!" The crowd burst into excited applause as George stepped up to the microphone.
"Happy New Year, friends!" George called. "I promise it'll be one you won't forget. This one goes out to my brother Fred – he would've approved of these shenanigans wholeheartedly. To Fred!" He raised his glass in salute to his deceased twin, and those around followed suit. No sooner had the words left his lips did a gigantic purple twelve appear above his head. When it changed to an eleven, the students realized it was a countdown and started chanting.
"Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one…HAPPY NEW YEAR!" they cried. A colossal explosion caused several to scream, but the screams quickly turned to shouts of delight as spectacular fireworks burst into life right in the common room. Everlasting rockets whizzed through the air, and a gigantic silver dragon let out an earsplitting roar as it soared over their heads. The winged piglets made an appearance, and colored sparks rained down in all directions as the students cheered. Echoes of the official Hogwarts display drifted in from the grounds, but it was nothing compared to the deafening noise in the badgers' den. The return of Weasleys' Wildfire Whizbangs was definitely worth waiting for.
Hermione felt Ginny suddenly pull away from her and turned to see what had happened, but she looked away again almost as quickly, blushing furiously at the sight of her best girlfriend and pseudo-brother locked in a passionate embrace. Of course – it was midnight. All around her, people echoed Harry and Ginny's sentiments, hugging and kissing anyone they could reach. Drinks were spilling everywhere as people who hardly ever spoke in normal circumstances tangled themselves around each other, many still missing various articles of clothing from the only recently abandoned poker game. Several people hugged her fiercely before strong arms wrapped around her waist.
"Still want to know where this is going, Granger?" a familiar voice asked. Hermione turned around and found herself face-to-face with Malfoy, who was holding two champagne flutes. He offered one to her and they clinked glasses, both downing the contents in one go.
"I don't know, do I?" she said.
"Why don't we find out?" He leaned closer; Hermione could smell peppermint on his breath. She only vaguely had time to register how odd that was – firewhiskey, which she knew he'd been drinking in vast quantities all night long, wasn't minty in the slightest, and the champagne didn't really smell like anything at all – before he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. He maintained contact just long enough to set Hermione's insides on fire, then broke the kiss, whispered, "Happy New Year, Granger," and left without another word.
Hermione stood rooted to the floor, frozen in shock. Malfoy – Draco Malfoy – had just kissed her. She looked up and caught Ginny's eye, turning red again at the knowing look on her friend's face, before someone else grabbed her – she had barely enough time to register it was Ron before he was kissing her.
As much as she didn't want to, she couldn't help but compare the two interactions as Ron snogged her senseless. Ron's kiss was, quite frankly, disgusting – he tasted overwhelmingly of firewhiskey, and if Ginny had thought he'd looked like he was eating Lavender's face all those years ago, she could only imagine how much worse it looked now that he was barely able to stand. Malfoy, on the other hand, had been surprisingly gentle – she hated to admit it, but she'd actually kind of enjoyed it. She disengaged herself from Ron as politely as she could, wished he and Harry a happy new year, and dragged Ginny out of the common room.
"So," Ginny began, "want to tell me what that was all about?" The look on her face left Hermione no doubt as to what she meant.
"No, I don't," Hermione said quickly. "Make your own conclusions, why don't you."
"Oh, don't worry," Ginny smirked. "I will."
The next morning, Hermione woke much too early for her pounding head's liking.
"Oh, sweet Merlin," she grumbled, rolling over and covering her face with her pillow. "I'm never drinking again!" Across the room, Ginny burst into laughter but quieted quickly at the glare from the brunette.
"Check your bedside table, love," Ginny suggested, still snickering. Hermione did as she was told and found a small vial filled with an electric blue liquid, a scrap of parchment attached with a neat ribbon.
To our fellow Lions, Claws, and Snakes:
A little sobriety brew as thanks for your presence last night. We hope you enjoyed yourselves. Happy New Year!
Yours, the Badgers
"Well, at least they're thoughtful," Hermione managed to chuckle. She popped the cork and downed the contents in one swallow. Instantly, her headache vanished and she stopped seeing spots, but she groaned again as something else hit her.
"What is it, Hermione?" Ginny asked, looking concerned. "Did it not work?"
"Oh, no, it definitely did," Hermione assured her.
"What's wrong then?"
"Nothing…" She couldn't bring herself to tell her friend what she'd realized the instant the potion touched her tongue.
It tasted like peppermint.