"Hermione, hurry up!" a female voice yelled from the opposite side of her door. The mere fact that the Barbie twins, Lavender and Parvati shared Hermione's dorm was enough to make Hermione practically cry with joy when she learned that she would be awarded her own room via a Head Girl badge. Hermione shoved her hair up in a bun and meagerly attempted to flatten the frizzy pieces of hair sticking up in rebellion. In frustration, she yanked the band holding it in place out and threw it on the sink. Her frizzy hair poofed out in excitement as Hermione's face fell. It was April 30th, Beltane, also commonly referred to as May Day or Earth day. To some, it meant dancing around a huge, phallic maypole and celebrating Celtic traditions. To Hermione, it simply meant one last chance to indulge herself as a proper seventh year student should. For some horrid reason that she still wasn't sure of, she had agreed to make an appearance at the Shreiking Shack where drunken teenagers would let their inhibitions loose and drown themselves in rabid hormones screaming for sexual release while gulping Fire Whiskey. Keep in mind that to Hermione, like the book worm prototype she has never failed to be, socializing wasn't exactly on her list of priorities.
Hermione sighed and opened the drawer under the sink that didn't manage to escape her anal retentive organization. Next to the perfectly aligned q-tips laid a brush that rarely saw daylight. Like Pavlov's tuning fork, merely picking up the brush made a conditioned surge of pain spread over her delicate scalp. After a few swipes, she ultimately decided that there must be a simpler solution that yanking her hair out strand by strand.
Unfortunately, Hermione failed to stay after Trelawney's class for a useful informational on 101 beauty spells, so she opted for a more Muggle solution. Crouching down on one knee, Hermione examined the cabinets for a moment before pulling out a pink bottle. The bottle had been part of a so called 'beauty kit' she had received by her plastic aunt, Janet. iPeach Zucchini Hair Balm/i, Hermione read the bottle in pink cursive. Opening the lid, she took a deep whiff before closing it and wishing she hadn't as it smelled very similar to a wet dog fallen into a peach cobbler.
Not sure of what she was doing, she poured a gradual amount in her hand and proceeded to soak her hair with it. Her optimistic side had hoped that maybe this concoction of Trixellic Hydroperogywhateverxide and red number 5 was a magical potion in its own right. But, as Hermione noted, the only thing it successfully accomplished was to make her hair look like it belonged to Snape. iDisgusting./i Despite the anxious voices and threats of being left, Hermione continued to shower it off.
Disappointed with drenched hair, she made her appearance in the Gryffindor Common room. An obnoxiously perky Lavender ran circles around her best friend shouting out random compliments like a puppy begging for her owner's approval. Parvati with her oh so familiar I'm-too-good-to-smile scowl stopped in front of Hermione.
"I love your skir-" Lavender began before a tan, perfectly manicured hand silenced her.
"Down girl." Parvati said coolly before directing her attention back towards Hermione. "Are you going with us?"
To Hermione, Lavender had always reminded her of a fair skinned doll come to life when she wasn't looking. Next to her, Parvati looked like Cruela Davill had picked up the latest issue of iChic Witch./i For a moment, Hermione considered running back to the comfort of her room and avoiding the night by hiding herself in a book, but before she could act, that manicured hand strapped itself to her upper arm and began to drag her out the door.
"You were about to run back to your room. I saw it in your face. Listen, Hermione. I'm doing this your own good. I have yet to see you get properly pissed so I am not letting go until you start slurring, honey."
Hermione's heart dropped every single time they broke a rule. They snuck past Filch with an impressive trick of the wand that caused a vibrant pair of pink undies to block his vision. As he fumbled, they quickly disappeared behind a statue leading to a relatively new walkway leading on the side of Fred and George's shop – a useful tool in the underground prank trade.
They snuck around the shops and up the small hill to the Shrieking Shack. To the outsider, it looked like any other house that had been left uncared for the past several decades. There were no lights on, and no noise could be heard which left Hermione proud of her fellow classmates charm work. The only sign of life was a Hufflepuff girl, a prefect, with her head out of the second story window. Below, three figures sharing a flask in the shadows.
"She's gonna blow!" Hermione heard someone warn. With timing comparable of Old Faithful, a concoction of whatever the girl had drunk or ate hit the ground bellow in a disgusting splat.
"Did you see that?" Hermione asked her two unlikely companions.
"Yeah," Parvati said nonchalantly, "She just can't handle her liquor. Does it everytime."
Hermione was flabbergasted at the lack of logic people used. If you drink something to make you puke, why do it again? Her personal opinion was that liquor was simply a liquid people drank due to a lack of any intelligent, more constructive things to do. Up until now, that is.
Inside, the house looked like a chaotic experiment gone awry. As she ducked her head to avoid a spider web decorating the front entranceway, a broom flew past her at mach speeds, nearly knocking her down followed by a loud thump, a slight pause, and a drunk giggle. Hermione shook her head in disbelief and continued through the doorway.
As she stepped inside, a cup nearly fell on her head. In an attempt to find it's source, she looked up to find a Hufflepuff considerably smaller than the other boys her age hanging from the chandelier, rocking it back and forth in the middle of the chorus of an Irish drinking song.
In a complete daze of shock, Hermione continued onward towards the living room, where several small tables were set up resembling a London pub. A flash of red appeared in front of Hermione.
"Here, hold these." Ginny said with a giggle, dumping a pair of blue jeans in her arms and running off. Slightly confused, Hermione's attention was caught by the sound of a creaking door and someone shouting the female Weasley's name. The upper half of a nude Harry Potter was revealed by the open door before his face went red as he spotted Hermione.
"Oh, Hi. Erm, glad you made it. Any chance I can have those back?" His eyes gesturing towards the heap of clothes in her arms.
Hermione looked at Harry in disbelief before realizing he said something. "Right, you're clothes. Right, well, there they are." She said, handing them to him. There was an akward silence before Harry peeped up.
"Ok, Erm, I'm going to go back in here now."
Hermione's cheeks were red as Parvati forced a drink in her hand.
"Drink up, it will make you nice." She smiled before heading towards a large group of people and leaving Hermione alone and unarmed in the jungle of Teenage Delinquency.
Hermione looked down into the glass, examining it's contents. Looks like orange juice. She put the cup to her nose and inhaled. Smells like orange juice, it couldn't be that bad. Hermione put the cup to her lips, taking in a large gulp before spitting it back out.
"There is something ivery/i bad with this orange juice!" Hermione warned a nearby Lavender. The girl who gave a new meaning to the term "dumb blonde" simply giggled.
"Oh no, it's fine, it's just a screwdriver."
Hermione gave her a look that displayed her misunderstanding.
"Orange juice and vodka, sweetie."
Hermione nodded, finally having a name for that ungodly substance in her drink. As Lavender walked off, Hermione was more than tempted to dump the contents but a little voice reminded her that the whole point of making the trek up to this so called party was to have fun, to lighten up for once.
In calculated sips, Hermione finished the drink. Extremely proud of herself, Hermione set down the empty glass on the long table only to have Seamus appear and begin refilling her drink. But before Hermione could say anything, it was full and the Seamus was gone. She looked at the second cup dreadingly but was determined to let go off her usually anal retentive personality for just one night.
Hermione held her drink curiously, swirling it around with a flick of her wand to ensure that the paint thinning alcohol was sufficiently mixed with the otherwise sober inducing orange juice. She held her breath and took a sip only to have her face contort and her lips pucker as the superiorly potent vodka rushed down her throat. Hermione had discovered it was best to get it over with than take her time with ladylike sips. She turned around and found Seamus at the bar again. With two highly unpleasant gulps, it was gone.
"Screwdriver." Hermione ordered, slightly inebriated but refusing to admit it. Seamus Fennigan had a sudden sparkle in his eye as he poured an extremely generous amount of alcohol in the cup and added a dap of orange juice before handing it back, anticipating an amusing reaction. The Head Girl took a cautionary sip only to find it anything but unpleasant and downed it in two gulps that failed to show her feminine side. Seamus looked on in shock, pouring himself a double shot with newfound invincibility and a "If She Can Do It, I Can Do It" attitude before spitting it out rather abrubtly. Hermione saw a flash of red in her peripheral vision. She turned to see Neville sitting on an ancient looking fainting couch looking as awkward as ever in a bright red jumper that only brought out the red in his chubby cheeks. Hermione turned her attention back to Seamus, to find him wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt in disgust. "Another one?" She asked sweetly. Seamus nodded and poured her a glass as equally dangerous as the first.
With Neville being a kindred heart in social situations, Hermione considered going over and amusing herself. As she walked over, a gorgeous blonde girl that Hermione recognized as a Townie performed a walk that she could only describe an amazing coordination between her hips and waist. Curious, Hermione back stepped and sat at a table away from the general crowd in a corner dark enough to not be noticed as she watched Neville. A short conversation between Neville and the blonde ensued, showing how truly uncomfortable Neville was as he shifted in his seat and faked interest in his empty glass. The girl, for whatever reason, looked on with admiration, ignoring the stares from the more socially apt members of the male class. The blonde took an unexpected move and leaned in to give Neville a short peck on the lips. Hermione gasped in shock and was sure steam would be coming out of the chubby little boy's ears at any moment, just like a Bugs Bunny episode.
In the middle of comedic release through a classmate, Hermione gasped again, but for a different reason. A thin finger traced it's way along her jaw line with a feather touch. Hermione's instinctive urge to turn around and slap upon sight was muffled by the sensations brought on by a simple touch to her face, indulging herself in the nerve endings that chose to respond with such wonderful delight to incredibly simple stimuli. The finger made its way to the bottom of her ear, pausing before trailing off the side of her neck. Hermione leaned into it, subconsciously begging for more.
"You liked that, didn't you, Granger?" an all too familiar voice mocked quietly in a whispery warm breath near her ear bringing Hermione crashing back to reality, hitting branches on the way down.
Hermione sighed and opened the drawer under the sink that didn't manage to escape her anal retentive organization. Next to the perfectly aligned q-tips laid a brush that rarely saw daylight. Like Pavlov's tuning fork, merely picking up the brush made a conditioned surge of pain spread over her delicate scalp. After a few swipes, she ultimately decided that there must be a simpler solution that yanking her hair out strand by strand.
Unfortunately, Hermione failed to stay after Trelawney's class for a useful informational on 101 beauty spells, so she opted for a more Muggle solution. Crouching down on one knee, Hermione examined the cabinets for a moment before pulling out a pink bottle. The bottle had been part of a so called 'beauty kit' she had received by her plastic aunt, Janet. iPeach Zucchini Hair Balm/i, Hermione read the bottle in pink cursive. Opening the lid, she took a deep whiff before closing it and wishing she hadn't as it smelled very similar to a wet dog fallen into a peach cobbler.
Not sure of what she was doing, she poured a gradual amount in her hand and proceeded to soak her hair with it. Her optimistic side had hoped that maybe this concoction of Trixellic Hydroperogywhateverxide and red number 5 was a magical potion in its own right. But, as Hermione noted, the only thing it successfully accomplished was to make her hair look like it belonged to Snape. iDisgusting./i Despite the anxious voices and threats of being left, Hermione continued to shower it off.
Disappointed with drenched hair, she made her appearance in the Gryffindor Common room. An obnoxiously perky Lavender ran circles around her best friend shouting out random compliments like a puppy begging for her owner's approval. Parvati with her oh so familiar I'm-too-good-to-smile scowl stopped in front of Hermione.
"I love your skir-" Lavender began before a tan, perfectly manicured hand silenced her.
"Down girl." Parvati said coolly before directing her attention back towards Hermione. "Are you going with us?"
To Hermione, Lavender had always reminded her of a fair skinned doll come to life when she wasn't looking. Next to her, Parvati looked like Cruela Davill had picked up the latest issue of iChic Witch./i For a moment, Hermione considered running back to the comfort of her room and avoiding the night by hiding herself in a book, but before she could act, that manicured hand strapped itself to her upper arm and began to drag her out the door.
"You were about to run back to your room. I saw it in your face. Listen, Hermione. I'm doing this your own good. I have yet to see you get properly pissed so I am not letting go until you start slurring, honey."
Hermione's heart dropped every single time they broke a rule. They snuck past Filch with an impressive trick of the wand that caused a vibrant pair of pink undies to block his vision. As he fumbled, they quickly disappeared behind a statue leading to a relatively new walkway leading on the side of Fred and George's shop – a useful tool in the underground prank trade.
They snuck around the shops and up the small hill to the Shrieking Shack. To the outsider, it looked like any other house that had been left uncared for the past several decades. There were no lights on, and no noise could be heard which left Hermione proud of her fellow classmates charm work. The only sign of life was a Hufflepuff girl, a prefect, with her head out of the second story window. Below, three figures sharing a flask in the shadows.
"She's gonna blow!" Hermione heard someone warn. With timing comparable of Old Faithful, a concoction of whatever the girl had drunk or ate hit the ground bellow in a disgusting splat.
"Did you see that?" Hermione asked her two unlikely companions.
"Yeah," Parvati said nonchalantly, "She just can't handle her liquor. Does it everytime."
Hermione was flabbergasted at the lack of logic people used. If you drink something to make you puke, why do it again? Her personal opinion was that liquor was simply a liquid people drank due to a lack of any intelligent, more constructive things to do. Up until now, that is.
Inside, the house looked like a chaotic experiment gone awry. As she ducked her head to avoid a spider web decorating the front entranceway, a broom flew past her at mach speeds, nearly knocking her down followed by a loud thump, a slight pause, and a drunk giggle. Hermione shook her head in disbelief and continued through the doorway.
As she stepped inside, a cup nearly fell on her head. In an attempt to find it's source, she looked up to find a Hufflepuff considerably smaller than the other boys her age hanging from the chandelier, rocking it back and forth in the middle of the chorus of an Irish drinking song.
In a complete daze of shock, Hermione continued onward towards the living room, where several small tables were set up resembling a London pub. A flash of red appeared in front of Hermione.
"Here, hold these." Ginny said with a giggle, dumping a pair of blue jeans in her arms and running off. Slightly confused, Hermione's attention was caught by the sound of a creaking door and someone shouting the female Weasley's name. The upper half of a nude Harry Potter was revealed by the open door before his face went red as he spotted Hermione.
"Oh, Hi. Erm, glad you made it. Any chance I can have those back?" His eyes gesturing towards the heap of clothes in her arms.
Hermione looked at Harry in disbelief before realizing he said something. "Right, you're clothes. Right, well, there they are." She said, handing them to him. There was an akward silence before Harry peeped up.
"Ok, Erm, I'm going to go back in here now."
Hermione's cheeks were red as Parvati forced a drink in her hand.
"Drink up, it will make you nice." She smiled before heading towards a large group of people and leaving Hermione alone and unarmed in the jungle of Teenage Delinquency.
Hermione looked down into the glass, examining it's contents. Looks like orange juice. She put the cup to her nose and inhaled. Smells like orange juice, it couldn't be that bad. Hermione put the cup to her lips, taking in a large gulp before spitting it back out.
"There is something ivery/i bad with this orange juice!" Hermione warned a nearby Lavender. The girl who gave a new meaning to the term "dumb blonde" simply giggled.
"Oh no, it's fine, it's just a screwdriver."
Hermione gave her a look that displayed her misunderstanding.
"Orange juice and vodka, sweetie."
Hermione nodded, finally having a name for that ungodly substance in her drink. As Lavender walked off, Hermione was more than tempted to dump the contents but a little voice reminded her that the whole point of making the trek up to this so called party was to have fun, to lighten up for once.
In calculated sips, Hermione finished the drink. Extremely proud of herself, Hermione set down the empty glass on the long table only to have Seamus appear and begin refilling her drink. But before Hermione could say anything, it was full and the Seamus was gone. She looked at the second cup dreadingly but was determined to let go off her usually anal retentive personality for just one night.
Hermione held her drink curiously, swirling it around with a flick of her wand to ensure that the paint thinning alcohol was sufficiently mixed with the otherwise sober inducing orange juice. She held her breath and took a sip only to have her face contort and her lips pucker as the superiorly potent vodka rushed down her throat. Hermione had discovered it was best to get it over with than take her time with ladylike sips. She turned around and found Seamus at the bar again. With two highly unpleasant gulps, it was gone.
"Screwdriver." Hermione ordered, slightly inebriated but refusing to admit it. Seamus Fennigan had a sudden sparkle in his eye as he poured an extremely generous amount of alcohol in the cup and added a dap of orange juice before handing it back, anticipating an amusing reaction. The Head Girl took a cautionary sip only to find it anything but unpleasant and downed it in two gulps that failed to show her feminine side. Seamus looked on in shock, pouring himself a double shot with newfound invincibility and a "If She Can Do It, I Can Do It" attitude before spitting it out rather abrubtly. Hermione saw a flash of red in her peripheral vision. She turned to see Neville sitting on an ancient looking fainting couch looking as awkward as ever in a bright red jumper that only brought out the red in his chubby cheeks. Hermione turned her attention back to Seamus, to find him wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt in disgust. "Another one?" She asked sweetly. Seamus nodded and poured her a glass as equally dangerous as the first.
With Neville being a kindred heart in social situations, Hermione considered going over and amusing herself. As she walked over, a gorgeous blonde girl that Hermione recognized as a Townie performed a walk that she could only describe an amazing coordination between her hips and waist. Curious, Hermione back stepped and sat at a table away from the general crowd in a corner dark enough to not be noticed as she watched Neville. A short conversation between Neville and the blonde ensued, showing how truly uncomfortable Neville was as he shifted in his seat and faked interest in his empty glass. The girl, for whatever reason, looked on with admiration, ignoring the stares from the more socially apt members of the male class. The blonde took an unexpected move and leaned in to give Neville a short peck on the lips. Hermione gasped in shock and was sure steam would be coming out of the chubby little boy's ears at any moment, just like a Bugs Bunny episode.
In the middle of comedic release through a classmate, Hermione gasped again, but for a different reason. A thin finger traced it's way along her jaw line with a feather touch. Hermione's instinctive urge to turn around and slap upon sight was muffled by the sensations brought on by a simple touch to her face, indulging herself in the nerve endings that chose to respond with such wonderful delight to incredibly simple stimuli. The finger made its way to the bottom of her ear, pausing before trailing off the side of her neck. Hermione leaned into it, subconsciously begging for more.
"You liked that, didn't you, Granger?" an all too familiar voice mocked quietly in a whispery warm breath near her ear bringing Hermione crashing back to reality, hitting branches on the way down.