A/N: Written for IWSC Writing School, Round 3 (A/N with sentences to be judged at the end.)

School: Hogwarts

Year: Exchange 1

Topics: Descriptions and Verb Tenses

WC: 849

As the queue inches forward, the knot in Hermione's stomach tightens. The pink neon above the entrance casts an incandescent glow onto the waiting patrons, but its effects pale compared to the blinding, pulsating light that appears each time the door opens to admit another group of witches. The strobe lighting accompanies an assault on Hermione's nostrils, the wind catching the stench of alcohol and stale sweat.

Why did I let Ginny talk me into this?

It's not just Ginny, though. She is surrounded by her soon-to-be sisters-in-law, all of whom used their magical upbringing to persuade her into participating in this nonsense, claiming it to be some sort of pre-wedding wizarding custom.

"It's just like when you go to Ollivander's for the first time," Fleur said when Ginny broached the idea after dinner and met vehement protest from Hermione.

"She's right," Audrey agreed. "The wand may choose the wizard, but a witch needs to have a look at some other wands before her wedding."

"I've already chosen a wa—husband." Hermione stopped herself from using the silly innuendo. "That's why I'm getting married tomorrow."

But they insisted. Hermione sighs; there's no way her impending nuptials rely in any way on her being at this ridiculous cabaret. She glances up at the neon sign again and rolls her eyes. Her future sisters must have gotten their terrible wand puns from the club's name. If she were a betting woman, she would be certain they're just pulling her leg.

Then again, the wizarding world does have some strange customs. She can't shake the nagging feeling that if her friends are telling the truth and her magical marriage vows don't take tomorrow, it will be her fault.

Besides, Ron wasn't bothered by his sister's insistence at dragging Hermione out tonight, even knowing their destination. She hoped he would resist Ginny's impromptu bachelorette party, providing an ironclad reason for Hermione to bow out of the evening's illicit festivities. Instead, he laid a kiss on her cheek, promising to see her at the altar, and allowed the girls to whisk Hermione away.

Now she finds herself in Diagon Alley, holding out her hand and allowing herself to be branded like a Death Eater by the matching pink hand stamp which allows entrance to the nightclub. The girls squeeze into the crowded building, pushing their way past witches squealing at the show onstage and wizards wearing too little clothing as they hand out cocktails. Ginny takes two from a passing waiter and presses one into Hermione's reluctant hand.

"Bride-to-be here!" she says to the bloke, shouting to be heard above the music's pounding beat as she points at Hermione. "Make sure you boys take care of her!"

Hermione has to guess at how the man's name tag remains on his bare chest—must be some sort of sticking charm—as Dave shares a conspiratorial look with Ginny before disappearing into the throng of bodies. She takes a cautious sip of her drink, wincing at the bitter taste. "One hour, Ginny," Hermione reminds her. "I've got to get home and get some sleep."

Ginny shakes her head and leans closer to Hermione to be heard. "I remember our deal, but will you at least try to have fun while we're out?"

The establishment doesn't suit Hermione at all. The flashing lights have her seeing stars behind her eyes already, and the Sonorous-enhanced speaker system will give her a headache before long. The smell created a mere whiff on the sidewalk but hangs so thick inside she can taste it. Worst of all, there is far too much skin on display for her comfort zone, both from the wizards working and the witches showering them with attention.

But Ginny's wide, hopeful eyes persuade her to give a reassuring nod. "Yes. I promise."

"Brilliant!" Angelina exclaims, sidling up to the pair. "Let's get closer to the stage."

Fleur joins them, reaching into her glittering clutch purse and withdrawing a handful of paper sickles. "Who needs singles?"

"Make sure Hermione gets plenty," Audrey says. "Every bill you stuff in a wizard's pants ensures you a year of wedded bliss."

Hermione laughs in spite of herself. "That's such rubbish!"

"No, really, this is customary!" Ginny insists, not for the first time this evening. "Helga Hufflepuff herself founded this very strip club."

"And I suppose Godric Gryffindor was the first performer?"

"Yes, he and Salazar did a routine together. It was quite scandalous for their time."

Angelina nods her agreement. "How else do you think they blew off steam after dealing with a bunch of rowdy students all day?"

"Oh, all right," Hermione relents. "Let me have a few bills."

The women cheer at her response, and Hermione allows them to sweep her into the crowd. Although she's confident her companions are fabricating this wizarding ritual—there's still a grand opening sign tucked behind the bar from several weeks ago when she remembers seeing the club appear in a seldom-traveled corner of Diagon Alley—she knows they want to give her a good time.

Despite their antics, she can't wait to join their crazy family.

A/N: For the grammar section I'd like the following sentences judged please:

Problem Verb 1:

She hoped he would resist Ginny's impromptu bachelorette party, providing an ironclad reason for Hermione to bow out of the evening's illicit festivities.

Problem Verb 2:

Instead, he laid a kiss on her cheek, promising to see her at the altar, and allowed the girls to whisk Hermione away.

Subjunctive:

If she were a betting woman, she would be certain they're just pulling her leg.