Author's Notes: I seem to be going through a rather silly humour phase at the moment. If you'll just bear with me, I'm sure I'll have it out of my system in a bit.
The trio get blind drunk and decide to forgive Snape - minor lemons ensue, mostly HG/SS (nothing explicit) with a side order of HP/GW. Unbeta-ed, so mistake are mine.
The Golden trio were in the process of getting drunk. Blind drunk. As in so-blind-they-could've-been-in-a-Dementor's-armpit drunk.
"Lessh faysh it," slurred Ron hanging over the end of the bench, swinging his bottle of firewhiskey – the second of the evening, "we won the war, but we're looshing the battles."
They were crammed onto one of the benches that lined the path from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, and had been crammed like that for the past two hours, having been kicked out of every pub in the area for rowdy behaviour. Now they were all beginning to feel slightly damp from dew, and pink was showing on the Eastern horizon.
"Fuck yeah," nodded Harry in agreement, unsure as to whether he was still drunk enough that throwing up would make him feel better. He took a slug of whiskey to decide. No, throwing up was no longer an option. He checked his watch, and was mildly surprised to find it was already 8am – it was only mid-October, but winter was drawing in fast.
"We're failures, horrible hopeless fucking failures," moaned Hermione. She was sitting in between the two boys, her head thrown back and staring at the rapidly disappearing night's sky. She was sure she would recognise some of the constellations she was seeing if they would just stop spinning…
"I mean, you'd think," continued Ron, sloshing more of his alcohol over the ground, "that ash we shaved the world, lady love might shmile a little more in our direction."
"Fuck yeah," agreed Harry, having no idea what he was saying.
"What the fuck you talking about?" Ron peered at his best friend through his beer-goggles, and Hermione lifted her head slightly to peruse the conversation. "You got my shish- my sish – Ginny, you got Ginny - don't know why you're even here."
"'Caushe she won't marry me, that'sh why," moaned Harry. "She said would be shtupid to get married now, too young, but-" he looked confused, and swung around to Hermione. "I'm ugly now, aren't I?"
Hermione shook her head in hazy disagreement, but Harry continued.
"It's the scars, it's the fucking scars, she hates them, and I'm ugly, and she's just being nice and letting me know slowly, and she'll never marry me and I'll die alone!"
"No y'won't," muttered Hermione. "I'll die alone – you'll get shagged by all the Potter groupies, and Ron'll get seconds."
"Wish I did," muttered Ron, "but I don't. I'd shag you Hermione, but it'd be illegal now, what with the blood bond and being siblings and all…it'd be incest!"
Hermione nodded soberly. Harry started ranting again. "I don't blame her – they're disgusting, horrible, sodding Voldemort, no wonder she can't look at me."
Hermione squinted at him. "Your face ones have all gone though – she can't hate those."
"It's below my waist, it's disgusting!"
"S'not, can't be, you're Harry Potter." She looked to the horizon, over which the sun was just beginning to peek at them. "We should go."
"Where?" said Ron, staring mournfully at his now empty bottle.
"Castle?"
"Ok." They lurched to their feet, and Harry followed a second behind them.
"They are bad, look, I'll show you," he said, clearly experiencing a time lag in the conversation, dropping his bottle as he fumbled with his flies.
"No," said Hermione, taking the crook of one elbow.
"Let's go sleep," said Ron taking the other and steered him up the path in an involuntary serpentine path, Harry still fumbling with his trousers.
It took them a good forty-five minutes to reach the castle and even then, they managed to get lost.
"Where'sa door?" grumbled Ron, staring at a wall.
"Dunno," answered Hermione, frowning at a set of windows low on the ground.
"They're really bad, look, I'll show you," repeated Harry for the twenty-seventh time, making a triumphant noise as the fastenings came undone and shoving his trousers and underwear down to mid-thigh. "See!" he pronounced triumphantly.
The other two turned and peered at his exposed bits.
"No they're not," they said in unison.
"Yes they are – look, it makes it twist!" he argued, holding out his penis.
"Does not – isn't that Snape's classroom?" said Hermione.
"Slughorn's."
"No, Snape, he came back after the war, remember?"
"Oh yeah."
"I think it does," muttered Harry, still engrossed in examining his privates.
Hermione frowned. "I always thought Snape was kinda sexy."
Ron made a face. "Even when we were going out?"
She nodded, and then her expression brightened. "What day is it?"
Ron squinted, searching his memory. "Sat – Sun – no! Monday!" He beamed in triumph.
"Maybe I have to be hard," said Harry, still staring downwards at himself with a frown, and absent-mindedly started pumping his fist.
Hermione grinned. "I have an idea!"
Ron grinned back. "What?"
"Snape has Ginny's class first thing on a Monday, right?"
"Yeah – do we help Harry show her he's not disgusting?"
Behind them, Harry moaned.
"No – get this. We'll show Snape we've forgiven him – that's makes us good people, right? So Ginny will see he's a good person, and not mind the scars that aren't that bad anyway, and Harry'll be happy. And all her friends will see you're a good person, and you get laid. And Snape will know I'm a good person, and maybe he'll like me enough to kiss me a bit!"
Ron tried to clap his hands in appreciation but missed. "That's brilliant Hermione!" he cried, still far too drunk to realise there was no way on Earth that's what would happen. Then, he frowned. "How do we show Snape we forgive him?"
Hermione thought for a second, then said, "We'll sing the song!"
"What song?"
"The Gryffindor one – the one McGonagall hates. That means Snape must like it!"
Ron nodded. "When?"
"Now?" She pointed to the windows, through which a dark shadow could be seen moving among tables.
Inside, Severus Snape had a sudden moment of foreboding.
Ron shrugged his agreement, and turned to Harry. "Oi, mate, we're gonna sing the Gryffindor song."
Harry stilled his hand on his semi-turgid cock. "Why?"
"So Ginny'll love you."
Harry brightened, as if it all made perfect sense. "Ok."
Hermione made a swishing movement with her finger and counted them in, and then all three of them started bellowing at the top of their lungs:
"Oh! Gryffindors have no learning curve,
Gryffindor's brains are like grass!
And the reason for this problem is
They always take it up the -"
A section of wall next to them from the classroom blew up and knocked them all sideways onto the grass.
"I'd take it up the arse if it got me laid," mused Ron, staring up at a parapet. He blinked and looked down. "I've lost my shoe."
Snape emerged from the smoking hole spluttering with anger.
"Hey!" shouted Harry suddenly, pointing to his now erect penis. "I i told /i you it twisted!"
Hermione, slightly dazed from a chunk of rock that had caught her on the forehead, squinted at it. "S'not very much," she said, finally. "I still think you're being over sensitive."
"And WHAT do you three think you are doing?" screeched Snape.
"Hi Professor," smiled Harry happily, waving 'hello' with the hand that was still clasped around his cock. Then he frowned. "Does Ginny love me now?"
"I have no idea or interest, Potter – for Merlin's sake, put yourself away!" Snape turned his head, trying to keep his wand on the three of them while not looking at Harry's genitals.
"But it twists," pouted Harry.
"I don't care if it tap-dances Potter, PUT IT AWAY!"
Grumbling, Harry obeyed. Hermione suddenly remembered her part of the bargain and staggered to her feet.
"You're not s'pposed to be doing that," she scowled at him, and tried to point her finger at his face, but only managed to poke him on the nose.
He glared at her. "And what, exactly, am I supposed to be doing then, Miss Granger?"
"Kiss me!" she pronounced, before slumping into his surprised arms and passing out.
Ron was now asleep on the ground where he lay, but Harry was still conscious, and to his delight, he'd spotted Ginny. Lurching to his feet he staggered over to her – but stopped to examine an obstacle in the form of the ten foot drop into the classroom from the hole.
He frowned at it, and then smiled at her. "Hi Ginny," he said, happily.
"Hi Harry," she said in a small voice, wondering what the hell her boyfriend was doing, showing up at her Potion's class, dead drunk with his flies only half fastened and with an obvious erection.
He looked at her, then at the drop, then back at her. "Catch me?" he asked absently, stepping out into the air.
Ginny didn't succeed in catching him in time, but he stood up from the fall completely unharmed, and not seeming to realise she hadn't.
He grinned at her. "You love me now." He staggered towards her, and all the other pupils retreated.
She watched him warily as he sat himself beside her in her partner's recently vacated seat. "Of course I do Harry. Why are you here?"
He couldn't stop smiling; although his head hurt and so did his ankle and someone had put weights on his eyelids. She loved him! "Because you didn't love me before, but now you do because I forgave Snape."
"Right…" said Ginny, still very confused, but slightly warmed by the fact that he was so happy because she loved him.
Harry squinted at the ingredients in front of him. They were all blurry, and he moved his head closer to try and make them out. "Is that armadillo bile?" he managed, before passing out in it.
Hermione was the first to wake. Severus Snape was standing over her bed, and poured a potion into her mouth before she could even say anything.
She choked it down, and felt mildly better. "Thank you," she muttered.
"Oh, you owe me so much more than thank you," he sneered.
She groaned. She could vaguely remember bitching about their lack of love lives, then the plan to get people to like them, and kissing Snape – it wasn't such an unusual thought for her lately, she thought about that quite a lot – but she hadn't said anything, had she? She groaned again. "Whatever I did, I'm so very sorry."
"You will be," he said, presenting her with a piece of paper. She squinted at it, but her eyes were still blurred too much for her to read it.
"What's this?"
He stared down triumphantly. "Community service, to be served under my supervision, for the next six weeks."
She stared at it. "Oh god – was it that bad?"
"You interrupted my lesson time with lewd songs, Potter assaulted my eyes and then you made entirely inappropriate overtures."
She had said something – shit! "I'm so sorry Professor, of course I'll do this." She looked for a quill. "Where do I sign?"
He looked at her in a strange manner, and then stooped down as if to hiss something at her.
She braced herself for a lecture. Instead he kissed her.
She was kissing Severus Snape – and she was in heaven! Lips and tongue and – oh! – his hands caressing down her sides, talented fingers brushing over her nipples, his weight gently coming on top of her. She squirmed, pressing up against him, hoping it would never end.
Eventually, it did though – he drew back for breath, and looked into her eyes, as if trying to convey a deeper meaning. "Make sure you understand what these will consist of before you sign, Miss Granger," he breathed, brushing his lips against hers as he spoke.
She didn't even bother to read it. "I don't just understand – I need it." He descended once again, a pleased smirk on his features driving her wild.
Six weeks later, and the difference in the trio was astonishing. Both Ginny and Hermione were wearing rings on their left hands – with the understand for both that it was going to be a very long engagement – and Ron was escorting two different ladies who seemed to find everything that came out of his mouth hilarious.
There was one moment when they were sat alone, just the three of them again – Ginny and Ron's dates had gone to powder their noses, and Severus had escaped to buy another round.
They looked at each other, and grinned in the way you do when you have a very private joke, and together they mouthed ' And the reason for this problem is they always take it up the -'