A band of rain cleared Ireland by dawn and pushed E into Scotland and N parts of England. A second band of heavier rain then swung into Wales and SW England.

Met Office Report: June 6th 2003

Hermione gingerly peeked one eye open and risked a quick assessment of the status of her flat.

Nope.

Whilst she had transitioned from the floor to the sofa, her compact flat was still far too full of Slytherins and, whilst there had been some minor improvements to the lack-of-clothing-situation, there was still altogether too much skin visible for the level of hangover she was experiencing.

'Oh, quit faking it, Granger. Where are the sodding hangover potions?'

'Hermione? Sweetheart?'

Bless Ginny! There with a cool cloth and pressing paracetamol and water into her trembling hands!

'It's alright sweetheart, whilst my recollection of last night is not absolutely total, I am 100% certain that you didn't do anything you would regret. And definitely not with Malfoy. Alcohol just doesn't change your personality that much…'

Now Ginny was helping her to sit, and as the cool water began to leach through into her parched brain, Hermione pulled her metaphorical Griffindor boots on, and slowly opened her eyes.

Theo Nott. Sitting on the floor looking more than a little worse for wear. Check.

Draco Malfoy. In her kitchenette. Raking through the cupboards and cursing. Check.

Blaise Zabini. Looking altogether too chipper and apparently near pissing himself laughing. Check.

'Relax, Mi. I was the designated apperator last night and I can assure you that all that happened was copious amounts of alcohol whilst you plotted to bring down the patriarchy, Malfoy complained about his lovely hair and on his birthday…, and Red and hernew GBFF here made sarcastic comments about everything. Malfoy made an unbreakable vow with you to help bring down the patriarchy and save his hair, then we came back here to play strip Articulate – which you are scarily good at, even when hammered. That's why you're the only one still wearing clothes.'

Hermione pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

'Ok. Number one, do not call me Mi.'

'Yeah, you said that last night. I didn't listen then, either…'

'Number two; unbreakable vow?!'

'Drake insisted. Said you wouldn't trust him to defeat Potter if you didn't.'

'Ok, I am not dealing with this right now. Gin; we are going for greasy food. Slytherins; you are going … elsewhere. Malfoy; stop eating my cereal and put some damn clothes on.

On this, Hermione exited stage right in search of a shower and clothes that didn't reek of tequila and beer.

When she returned, she was confronted with the sight of Ginny Weasley and three hastily dressed Slytherins looking at her with their very best puppy dog eyes.

Theo Nott had apparently perked up magically at the mention of greasy food and a hurried whispered conversation had ensued with his new BFF, gaining him permission to join them for breakfast. And it appeared that where Nott went, the others were keen to follow.

And so it was that Hermione Granger herself in the inconceivable position of scurrying through the sudden downpour to introduce three fascinated purebloods to the muggle greasy spoon on the corner near her flat.