Author's Note and Disclaimer: This story was written for a FanFiction competition on an MSN group. I don't know how 17 year olds are supposed to be able to go on a pub crawl and fill themselves with Butterbooze, but that was the Theme. I don't own any of these characters, just the situation they are in. Enjoy!

Che Maurice: synonymous with the rich and famous. A restaurant associated with talented musicians; with black tie occasions; with high prices. And yet, there was none of this tonight, except perhaps for the prices.

The staff were cowering in the back kitchen, drawing straws to see who would be unlucky enough to go out and serve. Perhaps it was fate that the short straw was drawn by the youngest female member of staff. Shaking, she headed towards the swinging doors…

"I'm the king of the world!" bellowed Ron, swinging from a chandler, above the piano.
"Ronny, be careful up there," Hermione said, slurring her words, cautious even when drunk.
"I'm fine, Hermi…" Ron replied, letting go of the chandler to wave. Just like a cartoon, he hung in the air for a moment, before flying through the air towards the wall.

Silence fell as Ron flew, his "Oof!" as he landed the only noise. Jumping up, Ron cried, "I'm invinci-bib-le!"
Laughter burst out across the room, as everyone returned their attention to their Butterbooze.

"Oh dear," Harry said, gazing into his now-empty flagon, "I'm out of alch-e-ma-hol."
Hermione reached over the table to get the pitcher of Butterbooze that had been sitting in the middle of the table.
"Erm, problem," she said, "None left!" They gazed at each other, dismayed.

Meanwhile, Ron had wandered (although staggered may be a better word) over to Pansy's table. "'ow you doin'?" he asked, leaning on the table to look cool. The truth was that the table was holding him up, so as he didn't sprawl directly into Pansy's lap.
Pansy looked around and saw Ron, before quickly searching the room, almost frantically. "Have you sheen Draccy?" she asked of Ron, before turning her head and calling, "Draccy-poo! Draccy-poo!"

A voice from the darkest corner of the room replied, "Busy, Pansy!"
Everyone's head swivelled around, to see what Draco could possibly be so busy with, especially now that the Butterbooze had run out.
There, underneath Draco, eyes unfocused in an expression of pure pleasure, was the waitress.
Aware of the attention he was now getting, Draco turned around, never letting go of the waitress, and smirked. "She wa-sh jusht sho lonely," he said, slurring the words together.
The waitress lifted her head slightly, just realizing the attention her and the teenager were getting. She waved her hand in the general direction of the crowd, before looking up at Draco, saying, "Oh, just kiss me, you big llama!"
Draco said, "'cuse me," before returning his attention to the waitress.

Pansy blinked before screaming, "No' fairrrrrrrr!" Just as small child would do. She pouted, and grabbed Ron, planting a firm kiss on his lips.
"Mrffffle," was the only sound to come out of Ron's mouth as this was happening.
Pansy pulled out of the kiss and glared over at Draco. "There!" she said, huffily. She pouted even harder when Draco didn't even raise his head to look at her. She turned back to Ron, who, by this time, had fallen to the floor and scooted along the ground back to his table with Harry and Hermione.

"What'sh up guysh?" he said, crawling back into his seat.
Harry looked at him woefully, saying "There'sh no alch-e-ma-hol left."
Ron stared at him as if Harry had just told him that magic wasn't real, grabbing the pitcher and looking in, just to be sure. "Well," he said, standing up, swaying slightly, "We'll jusht have ta make our own fun!" He grabbed the closest bottle to him, which just happened to be a large bottle of Muggle Tequila someone had somehow smuggled in, and waved it in the air. "Who'sh up for Sh-pin the Bottle?"

Silence. Noone was willing to put their hand up for something quite so, well, Muggle-ish.
"Well c'mon then," Ron said, "It'sh not tha' bad! I know – I'll make it different! Mixsh two gamesh toge-sher. Sh-pin the Bottle and Trush, Dare or Kissh. Shomeone sh-pinsh the bottle and whoever it landsh on saysh Trush, Dare or Kissh. Then the pershon that sh-pun the bottle ha-sh to make up the Dare, Quesh-ton or Kissh the pershon it landed on."
Still there was silence. This time, however, it was more a confused silence, since Ron was so completely drunk. His slurring made it almost impossible to understand him. Finally, it seemed that people understood, and everyone began standing up, pushing the tables out of the way.

Moments later, there was large empty space in the centre of the restaurant, with the class of 1990 standing in a somewhat wobbly circle. Pansy was standing directly across the circle from Draco, still pouting at him. In fact, he was still ignoring her, too busy with the waitress, who was standing next to him, gazing at him, completely starstruck.

Ron looked around the circle, swaying slightly as he held the Tequila bottle above his head. "Who'sh going firsht?" he asked, and was met with a deathly silence.
"Fine," said Padma, probably one of the most sober people there, "I'll go!" She staggered slightly over to Ron and took the squarish bottle from him. Waiting until Ron had stood back in his place in the circle, Padma leant down and spun the bottle. She watched it intently as it slowed and landed on Neville.

Padma looked thoughtful for a few moments, as Neville blinked before saying, "Truth!"
Padma grinned – Neville had just done exactly what she'd been hoping he'd do. "Truth? Um, okay Neville, why were you caught by Malfoy rolling around with those fluttering ferns in Greenhouse Four?" she asked, grinning even harder.
Neville stared at Padma, a bright red flush spreading over his face, right to the tips of his ears. Finally, he just laughed and shrugged. "Wha' can I say?" he said, "They flutter and tickle. Actually, that's a huge turn-on for me."

Silence.

Everyone was just sitting and staring at the boy who had just revealed such a dramatic secret.
"That's just WRONG!" cried Millicent.
Those words were enough to send everyone haywire. A variety of comments echoed across the room, from sounds of disgust, to murmurs of interest. All through this, Neville just laughed it off, saying, "Well, you asked!"

The noise of the room finally died down, and Neville reached over to spin the bottle. It spun around three times, before landing on Hermione. It seemed as though the Butterbooze had finally set in on her, as she squealed like a schoolgirl, crying, "Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!"
Neville blushed again, and swayed on over to her, intending only to give her a little peck.
Hermione, it seemed, had other ideas. She placed her hands firmly behind his head and planted a large kiss squarely on his lips.

Finally, Neville leaned back, eyes slightly glazed. Hermione had a silly grin plastered over her face as she reached out and spun the bottle.
Harry's breath caught in his throat. The bottle seemed to be heading directly for him. Out of the entire class, even when full of alcohol, he had been the only one who had to be convinced to join the game. The reason? A secret crush. One that could be embarrassing. Correction – would be embarrassing! He took a deep breath, as the bottle landed on him.

Harry wrestled with the question in his mind. Should he take the risk and choose truth? After all, it was Hermione asking the question – noone could guess what she could ask. What were the odds of being asked the one question that could be so embarrassing and potentially ruin Harry, after giving Malfoy more ammunition against him?

Suddenly, Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Hermione using his head as if she was knocking on a door. "'ello 'arry? 'ogwarts to 'arry! Anyone 'ome?" she said, poking her tongue out at him.
Harry sighed and said, "Orrite, orrite! Keep ya hair on! Truth!"

Hermione grinned wickedly. "Well 'arry," she said, mischievously, "You are the Boy-who-lived and so you are always in the spotligh'. But there's one thing we dunno…" She paused for dramatic effect, "Who ya crush is!"

Harry froze. The odds of her asking that question had seemed so slim. And yet, there it was, out in the open. Why did she have to ask it? There was no escaping it now. He took a deep breath and said, "Mrffle mrf."
Everyone blinked. "Wha' he say?" whispered Seamus.
"I dunno," Lavender whispered back.
Overhearing them, Harry sighed, realising he was going to have to speak louder if he wanted to get past this embarrassing moment. He breathed in and said in his normal voice, although it shook slightly, "Professor McGonagall."

For the second time in just a few moments, there was silence.
Harry closed his eyes and prayed that this moment would pass.

The next day, about midday, Harry raised his head and blearily rubbed his eyes. His head was pounding, as if his brain was trying to comprehend its own stupidity. Suddenly, the realization that he had revealed his crush hit him, and he groaned, covering his head with his pillow.

"Ron?" he asked, somewhat muffled by the pillow. Taking the grunt that he heard in response to mean that Ron was awake, Harry asked, "Do you remember playing Spin the Bottle last night?"
"Uh huh!" said Ron, obviously still half-asleep.
"Do you remember some of the questions and answers were?" asked Harry, almost beggingly.
"Nope," said Ron, rolling over to go back to sleep.
Harry sighed in relief. "Thank goodness for Butterbooze," he thought, "My secret is still safe!"