A/N: Now, this one was actually the first "drabble" I wrote in the series! Drunk writing is fun (writing drunk people I mean... writing while drunk is also really fun, wish I could do it more often).

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Rating: T


Things you said when you were drunk

Hermione's drink sloshed down to the floor, adding to the existing layer of stickiness, but she noticed none of this. The figure in front of her turned round and she gasped—finally the one he was looking for. In any other circumstances, she would have recognized him a mile away, always. Presently, it took her eyes a couple of seconds to focus, and the dim lighting of the pub didn't do her any favours.

'Ron!' she said, grimacing at how high-pitched her voice sounded but beaming immediately after as Ron's own slightly glazed eyes took in her presence.

''Emmione!' he cried thickly, moving towards her and swooping her off the ground without warning. One of his hands was holding a bottle and Hermione was still clutching to her tankard, so when he tried to spin her around, Hermione slipped from his arms, her feet dragging on the floor, and she stumbled against him, causing them both to lose their balance and collide with the group right behind them.

'Ron, watch out! My drink!' Hermione lamented.

'We'll get you 'nother one,' he said, slurring his words a bit and smiling lazily at her as he took the tankard from her. 'What's this stuff, anyway?'

He gulped down the rest, licked his lips in appreciation, and dropped both her jug and his bottle on a table before placing his arms around her waist.

'Was really good.'

'I know,' Hermione said, still grinning widely and, some part of her thought, slightly unnaturally.

Ginny was coming of age and, after a family gathering that still felt clouded by the aching absence of Fred, her brothers had convinced her to throw a small party for her friends elsewhere, to celebrate one of the perks of being 17 in the wizarding world.

Hermione had resisted drinking alcohol beyond Butterbeer for a while, but it was hot and they were dancing, and drinks went from hand to hand. Soon enough she found herself relaxing, her movements less calculated but more freeing, her soul lightening as she started to find everything delightfully funny. She didn't think she'd had this much fun in years, and as she danced with Ron, she felt like they were finally being what they were—young. Just for one night, it was nice to put their thoughts and feelings on pause, to at least pretend they didn't have a care in the world other than dancing and laughing with their friends. Alcohol, Hermione had found, helped enormously with the pretending.

Ron dropped his head on her shoulder, pulling her closer, and she shivered. He buried his face into her hair and mumbled against her neck.

'Yer 'air is so fluffy, 'Ermynee.'

'Thanks,' she scoffed, slapping his shoulder blade.

'Ow! Why're you angry?' Ron complained, lifting his head to look reproachfully at her. ''Twas a compliment. I love yer 'air so much.'

He dipped down his head again and kissed her neck, making Hermione giggle. He then rubbed his nose softly against it, before sucking on the skin right behind her ear.

'Rooon!' Hermione moaned, breaking apart. 'There's a mill… a mill…'

She huffed in frustration when she couldn't get the word out, feeling as if her tongue had become tangled up.

'A million people around us!'

'Sod 'em,' Ron said, going for her lips instead. She didn't pull away, and despite the fog in her brain, she knew the reason Ron was being so insistent… and she so willing to comply. Their trip to Australia hadn't been easy, but at least they had been away from the misery and together, with loads of alone time to explore the most physical parts of their new relationship. When they came back, however, they had been reminded of all the pain, of how difficult it really was to carry on with life, and with fewer opportunities to be on their own. Even though they hadn't talked about it, the frustration was palpable.

'You know what we should do?' Hermione asked, dazed, after breaking their kiss. 'We should go home and get—no, not getnot get any sleep.'

Ron looked at her, looking so adorably confused that she reached out a hand and ran her fingers clumsily along his frown.

'What? You want to sleep?'

'No, I said not get, gettit?' she said, giving him a meaningful look.

'No, I don't,' Ron replied, still looking very much puzzled.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

'We go home but we don't sleep.'

'Then why d'you wanna go home? I don't wanna go home,' Ron whined.

'Because I want to sleep with you!' Hermione practically hissed, glaring at him.

'But you just said you don't want to sleep! You women're mental.'

Hermione growled and grabbed Ron's face with both hands, bringing it down to her level and staring intensely into his eyes, trying to pass on the information telepathically.

'I want to sleep with you, not sleep-sleep. I want to—oh for goodness' sake, never mind!'

'No, tell me!' Ron said, grabbing her wrists when she made to move them away. 'You've got to tell me now!'

'No, forget about it, if I have to spell it out for you—'

'I'm drunk; 'course you do—'

'I always have to spell it out for you!'

'Tell me tell me tell me tell me,' Ron chanted, making her arms flail in front of her.

'I'm saying let's go have sex, you idiot!' she shouted.

Ron looked so baffled for a moment that it made her miss the shocked glances from a couple of passers-by.

'Really?' he said, eyes wide open.

'You're ruining the mood, actually,' Hermione said grumpily, managing to remove her arms from Ron's slackening grip. But in one unexpectedly swift movement, one of Ron's hands pressed against her back while the other swooped down behind her knees and lifted her up. Hermione barely had time to let out a surprised squeak before Ron's lips crashed against her.

'Okay,' she gasped. 'Mood's back. Do you want to go, then?'

'If you say that again,' Ron said, smirking.

'What?'

'You know what. What you wanna do wimme.'

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

'You're getting away with this only because…'

''Cos you're absolutely pissed, yeah,' Ron said, when she wouldn't admit that she was.

'I want,' she said slowly and clearly, 'to go have sex with you, Ron. But if you ask me again, or you take another second, or if you even think of mentioning this tomorrow, I'll hex you.'

'Deal.' He grinned. 'You're like, talking dirty, though.'

'I'm not!'

Ron laughed.

'From you, it counts as dirty talk. I take it.'

Hermione glared dangerously at him and he cowered.

'You're gonna hex me, aren't you?'

'Probably… but later.'