Entry for HPFC's The Next Gen Competition! (Always Open).

(Rose Weasley plays a Muggle game.)


"...Beer pong."

"Yeah, beer pong."

Rose watched Albus as he scrutinized her in confusion, probably wondering why she wasn't more excited, before asking, "Does it have anything to do with beer and ping-pong balls?"

Al scratched his head, and grinned sheepishly, "Um, yeah. That pretty much sums up the entire thing."

She scoffed, "Muggle games are so stupid."

"Yeah, but we're changing it around," he said, bouncing up and down on her bed in excitement. She resisted the urge to tell him not to rumple her sheets. "James got some Firewhisky, and Dom's playing too, and he's never asked me to come before, so please, Rosie -"

"Fiiiine," she groaned, getting up, but he let out a laugh and tackled her back onto her bed in a hug. Soon she was laughing as well, her incredulity gone.

And that was how she found herself standing in front of James Potter II as he solemnly explained the rules to her while he and Dom played their own game. Their 14-year-old heads were far too muddled with alcohol for their aim to be any decent, and Dom was giggling loudly, drowning out most of what James was saying.

"Oi!" he snapped irritably. "I'm trying to explain some very important...um...stuff! Yeah! Major stuff going on here, so would you just -"

"You're such a wet blanket, James," drawled Dominique, not even looking his way as she bounced a little wooden ball across the table they had set up in James' room. It bounced once, twice, and then landed in a cup. James only seemed too eager to drink, but in three long strides Rose had crossed the room and yanked the cup away.

"Enough," she said flatly, and Albus cast her a worried glance, probably not wanting her to ruin the fun. She scowled, resisting the urge to snap at him. Didn't he see how stupid all of this was?

James smirked, "Who's the wet blanket now, eh, Dom?"

Dominique frowned at Rose, but it was more of the older girl trying to figure out what she wanted to say, before finally settling on, "If James is out, you're taking his place."

"Fine," said Rose, glaring daggers at her cousin. It was always her and James that pulled this stuff, and Al would always want to do it just because his big brother was, and Rose didn't like it.

"Fine," she repeated, "I'll play, and I'll win, and you'll stop all this. Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny will be home soon, and what do you think they'll say when they find their son and niece drunk?"

"You're right," Dom stage-whispered to James, "She's the wet blanket."

James laughed at this, and the Veela-girl continued, placing her hands on her slender hips, "Hey, Rosie, d'you really think you can beat me? I'm Fire-Snitch queen around these parts!"

It took Rose a moment to put Firewhiskey and the wooden ball - which she suspected, was an old Snitch - together to form the new name, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she steeled her gaze and met Dom's challenge.

"Oh, Dommie, I know I will."

And that was how she woke up the next morning with the most vile taste in her throat and the feeling that all the king's horses and all the king's men were trampling around inside her head. She spotted Albus sitting on the edge of her bed, a worried look on his face, but, instead of saying anything, she only tried to pull the covers over her eyes (It was so bloody bright.). In her peripheral vision, she spotted a steaming mug of something (Tea, she thought, Please be tea.) that Al had probably put there.

"What happened?" she asked finally, peeking at him from under her blanket.

"You won," he said, smiling, "James and Dom went off into the living room. I brought you up and you pretty much collapsed. Mum and Dad came home, and found the two of them - you should have heard Mum yelling. I don't think they're going to be drinking anytime soon."

"And me?" she asked, dreading what Uncle Harry would tell Mum if he knew she was hungover right now.

"I told them you'd felt a bit sick, so we'd watched a movie and then you'd gone to sleep," explained Al, "It was the least I could do after the mess I dragged you into. Rosie, I'm - ah, I'm sorry. Really."

She should have told him right then, This is the kind of crap James and Dom get up to - the kind of stuff I try to keep you out of. Why are you always fighting to be more like him?

She didn't know if it was the hangover, or the way his green eyes avoided hers from the guilt, but all her annoyance vanished. Instead of criticizing, like she always did, like she wanted to, she reached up, lightly pinching his cheek.

"It's alright, Al."


In the story, Dom and James are 14, while Rose and Al are 11. Dom and James are a bit...well, they're sorta stupid teenagers, but they clean up their act at around fifteen-sixteen.

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