Warnings: Slash, m/m. Don't like don't read. Wee bit OOC. Sexual situation.
Disclaimer: This fic was inspired by Hot Chelle Rae's song Tonight Tonight. I own neither song nor characters/places/related indicia. Furthermore, I do not recommend you follow Harry's example, as for once, he's setting a terrible one.
A/N: I just had this vision of the cast of HP doing the music vid for this on top of the Astronomy Tower. Can't you just see Dan Radcliffe screaming the lyrics and leaping around? And because it's me it's H/D. :)
"Come on, mate," said Ron encouragingly. "It'll be fun."
"So you're going to go off and celebrate Lupin, Tonks, Colin, Fred, and everybody else dying?" asked Harry. His voice wasn't angry, just calm.
"It's not really a celebration, Harry," said Hermione. "It's a chance for everyone who had to grow up too quickly this year to forget all that, just for one night."
"And act like irresponsible teenagers one more time," said Ron. "And if you're really hurting, a chance to get stinking drunk about it."
"Ron!" scolded Hermione reflexively. But it had struck something in Harry. A chance to stop carrying the weight of the world, for just one night. To stop being the Wizarding World's savior. To be an ordinary teenager. And after all the people he'd lost yesterday, getting drunk sounded like a wonderful idea.
So that was how Harry found himself at the top of the Astronomy Tower with a bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand. Ron and Hermione had found a corner in which to make out, so Harry wandered around and eventually sat down next to George, who sat clutching his knees, a half-finished bottle beside him.
"Hey," he said, not bothering to ask how George was. It seemed like a stupid question.
"Hey," returned George glumly. They sat in silence for several minutes.
"Fred would've loved this," said Harry, the Firewhiskey making him bold.
"No kidding," said George. "We never got to go to our own. Part of the reason we went back for our seventh year."
"Huh?"
"The seventh years have a party like this on the last day of school every year. We figured Umbridge would never let us get away with it, though. I hear they didn't have it the year after either because of Dumbledore. I always wanted to go, so when Seamus said they were doing it tonight, I came, but it's not the same. You know."
Harry did know.
"I'm going to turn in," said George, standing.
"Wait," said Harry. "A toast for Fred. Hope he's partying on the other side."
George smiled and raised his drink. "Fred." They took a long draught each, and then George left, waving to Harry.
Two bottles later, Harry was feeling decidedly more partylike. Someone had set up a wireless and was blasting The Weird Sisters, so he threw himself into the mix, flailing along with the rest and dancing with anyone who came in contact with him. Four songs was enough for his equilibrium, so he swayed off to the side to rest. After a minute, he noticed he was standing next to Draco Malfoy, who appeared to be trying to blend in with the wall.
"Come on, let go," Harry slurred slightly. Draco turned to him and raised a blonde eyebrow.
"Of what, Potter?" Harry waved a hand.
"Dance. Drink. Have fun. It's a party."
"You're drunk, Potter."
"So?" And with that, Harry dragged a protesting Draco onto the dance floor, grabbing his hands to force him to dance. Draco apparently gave up fighting him after a minute, and, grinning, Harry played off him, bumping hips and finally ending up so far into Draco's personal space that their legs were entwined. Harry's brain then got the brilliant idea, which it proceeded to utterly fail to talk itself out of, to kiss Draco, who responded with such eagerness that Harry quickly found himself making out with Draco Malfoy. Around then, the last of his alcohol kicked in and his already fuzzy memories ended entirely.
A/N: Lines like "trying to blend in with the wall" I can happily say are influenced by the great and supreme JK, who once wrote, "Harry...attempted to blend in with the canvas" and always makes me laugh with prose like that. Lines like "got the brilliant idea, which it proceeded to utterly fail to talk itself out of" are all my wacky brain and I can cite no influences that I know of.
This was meant to be all cracky, at least as far as I can stand crack, but then George snuck in. I felt too sorry for him to kick him out, so he stayed. Hope he didn't ruin the tone entirely.