Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the associated characters...
Tumblr Prompt: "I'm Not As Drunk As You Think I Am -Ron Weasley"
~*I'm Not As Drunk As You Think I Am*~
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"Did 'nyone tell you, you have really lovely eyes?" the Red-head smiled at the other, booping them on the nose with one hand and holding onto the bedpost for stability with the other.
Harry sighed with deep-seated resignation. "Yes, Ron… me, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Hagrid, Dumbledore on two separate occasions, Professor McGonagall, the Fat Lady, Seamus, the Patil twins, three sets of armour, Winky the House Elf, Peevesand…" he mumbled the last name.
"Wait… who?" Ron asked, strangely focused.
"Doesn't matter, Ron, just get some rest, alright? How Fred and George smuggled that firewhisky in, I'll never know… nor do I ever want to see Neville in Ginny's best night dress -and nothing else- ever again. Like… never… ever."
"H-Harry," Ron said, fighting his way up and out from under the blanket that the Chosen One was trying his damnedest to tuck him in with. "Hey, 'arry, stoooooop, don' wanna go t' sleep… I'm fiiiiiiiine."
"Ron, you are most definitely not fine, now get in the damn bed because you are wasted." he nearly shouted, frustrated beyond belief. So this was what 'herding cats' felt like…
His best friend sat up, eyes strangely focused and full of fire as the red-head put a steady finger dead in front of his face and said quite seriously, "Harry, I'm not as think as you drunk I am… wait…" and keeled over, asleep and snoring.
With an over-dramatic rolling of the eyes, Harry tossed the blanket over his brilliant idiot of a friend and tucked him in; still in school robes and all.
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The next morning, Ron looked like utter death, as did several other members of their year-level…
He moaned into his scrambled eggs, sliding sideways glances at Harry for sympathy, but ending up with a slap on the face as Hermione tried to comfortingly pat him on the head, from her own position face-down on the great table, munching small triangles of buttered toast. Probably regretting that last goblet of Never-Ending Firewhiskey!TM the twins had sent.
Only Harry was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed today, having decided to be the sober one… it wouldn't look good for the Chosen One to be sploshing drunk now that he was in everyone's good books again…
"Oh come on now, it's not so bad," he jabbed, being a bright, cheery little shit just because he could.
"Harry, when I gain the mental faculties to move my limbs, I am going to curse you into next year…" Hermione grumbled, uncharacteristically.
Somewhere down the table, Neville, Seamus and Dean chorused, "Ditto"
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Ron let out a strained chuckle and mustered the ability to sit upright, momentarily at least, shading his eyes against the faux morning sky's light that was the Great Hall's enchanted roof.
"Why is light so painful?" he sighed mournfully, gazing at the bacon an arms-length away with both longing and something approaching nausea.
"It's just a… a physiological reaction to the imbibed amount of-… oh who cares, someone wake me when it's class time," said the bushy-haired Gryffindorian genius, lolling a little into her plate and dozing.
"Double for me…er, us!" came a muffled voice from under the table, prompting Harry to look under there and see Neville curled up on the floor, alongside Seamus and Dean, and how the hell did they even get down there…?
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"Now they have the right priorities…" Ron sighed, looking as if he was going to slide under there himself and join them.
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"Hey Weasley!" shouted a voice across the room, prompting the flame-haired last son of the Weasley house to practically get whiplash as he turned to find the shouter.
Instantly, a very specific blonde individual was on him… a smirking pair of lips pressed against his own; completely obscuring his vision for a second.
The hall went silent. There were a few catcalls…
Ron shoved the individual away, "Bloody Hell! What the-…?"
"Aw, Ronnie-kins, and last night you said I had such pretty eyes…" Draco smiled, plonking himself on the red-head's lap and throwing an arm about his shoulders. "Hey, if you're our King… does that make me a Prince of Slytherin?"
"Harry?" Ron said weakly.
Said Chosen One tried not to smirk, "I tried to warn you Ron… but he is right, you did say he had pretty eyes…"
The murmur of the Hall began to build again, the whole scenario not exactly one of the weirder breakfasts they'd ever had -given Harry Potter went to the school.
"Well if anything, Pretty-eyes," Ron directed at Draco, having accepted his fate, "you'd be the Queen of Slytherin, now accept your title or get off my lap!"
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Draco simply shrugged his shoulders and wiggled a bit. "Well, you're a Pureblood, I'm a Pureblood, and this is as good a throne as any…" he stretched out to grab some bacon and nibble on it.
Ron turned a fun shade of green and plonked his head on the oaken table, beside Hermione, completely ignoring Draco wiggling on his lap.
"I am too hungover for this…"
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[The End]
Did you see that coming…? Mwahahahahahahaaaa.