Author's Note: Welcome to my first one-shot. Starting time: 12:32 pm. Usually, I hate these because they are so short, but now I am in a fluffy mood and want to write about these people because I just went to see GoF again with my friend. Plus I read an interview with Alfred Enoch and Matthew Lewis (who play Dean and Neville), and they are so comical that it inspired me. Wonder how long this will take me to write… This is an official Christmas/ Hannukah/ Quanza/ whatever else there is to be celebrated by different peoplearound the globe present. So merry all of those and everything else. Oh, and props to Marina, who is my other inspiration because this reminds me of a kind of a thing for us. Hehe. And yes, she can still be an inspiration, even if she is in the Dominican Republic right now. Damn her, DAMN HER I SAY! Bah Humbug for ditching me! Bubbles!

-Kat

Summary: Just a randomly amusing (most likely just amusing for me, but…) one-shot about Dean, Seamus, Neville, Ron, and Harry in Hogsmeade. Much fun…

Disclaimer: As seen in my other story, if I owned HP, then most of the guys in it would be completely and totally in love with me. Hehe. Please don't sue. It will just take me further away from owning a video camera (farther away than in the NEGATIVES?).

Boys Will be Boys; Typically and Terminally Hungover

One of them was slouching. Actually, they all were. Another of them was clumsily slopping his drink down his front. Actually, they all were. One of them was… wait, no, all of them were looking very mopey and grumpy. This was a typical Saturday for the sixth year Griffindor boys.

The one with red hair stood up suddenly, startling another one into a near-heart-attack.

"What the bloody-hell d'ya do that for, Ron! Are you trying to kill me!" Dean massaged his chest dramatically.

"Don't talk so loud!" Neville clutched his head in agony.

"Shouldn't that be loud-ly?" Seamus moaned, his head resting on the table in pain.

"Stop complaining, you gits!" Harry said, trying to hit Seamus, but aiming three feet to his left and therefore missing. "Ron must have had an important reason to stand up, so let him damn-well talk so I can get back to bloody being hungover with no interruptions!"

"Stop talking so loud!" Neville moaned again.

"Shouldn't that be loud-ly?" Seamus opened an eye drowsily.

Harry banged his head on the table in frustration. He then, of course, clutched it and swore at his now-ringing ears and throbbing forehead.

Seamus witnessed this little scene and promptly burst into hysterical laughter. Neville, Dean and Ron soon joined him in mad-laughing, even though none of them had been watching Harry and the table. Harry looked up at his friends, who were drifting in and out of focus, and started to guffaw himself.

Once the five finally stopped laughing at some random event that only one of them had witnessed and that, had they not been completely and totally hammered, none of them would have found remotely amusing otherwise, Dean spoke up.

"So Ron," he said, to much wincing from the others at the pitch of his voice, "What important thing did you want to say?"

"Oh," Ron's ears turned pink at the tips. "I just wanted to go to the loo so I um… well…" his voice trailed off at the 'would be threatening if I wasn't seeing three of you so I will just content myself with beating you up after I finish chucking up at three o'clock tomorrow morning' kinds of looks on his friends' faces.

Neville looked like he was going to say something when he randomly fell asleep onto the table. Some old ladies at the table next to theirs looked disapprovingly at them, and shuffled their chairs further away, as if the sixteen-year-olds would bite them or spread some contagious disease. Which, from the boys' points of view, wouldn't actually be such a bad thing, as the crotchety old ladies had been sneering about 'immature, irresponsible and wild teenagers' since they had sat down.

"Neville." Seamus poked him. "Oi, Neville." He said, poking him again.

Ron giggled and sat back down to join Seamus in poking the sleeping Neville. Dean snorted and started to poke Harry, who, unfortunately for Dean, wasn't asleep. Harry twitched and tried to smack Dean's hand away. Dean continued to poke him, and Neville remained immobile. They were all having too much fun (except Harry), to figure out that Neville hadn't moved in a little over five minutes.

It was a while longer before one of them did notice Neville's immobility, and found it worrying. Seamus slammed his hand on the table and shrieked "Neville! Come back to me! Why, why aren't you moving!"

All of the other boys, except Neville, who still didn't move, leapt away from Seamus in shock, gripping their heads, and this resulted in Ron's chair banging rather forcefully into the old hags… ahem – ladies' table. The old ladies hopped out of their seats and started to whack him with their purses.

Ron let out a very high pitched scream (causing all of the conscious boys to cover their ears and whine) and dove under his original table.

One of the old ladies (Gertrude?) hitched up her skirt and pulled her wand out of her garter, scarring the boys for life and making Neville, at a later date, extremely glad that he was passed out on their table at that exact moment in time and was therefore shielded from seeing anything of the sort. Until later, that is.

Well, anyway, Gertrude sent a few curses in the way of Dean and Ron, and Harry and Seamus did the only logical thing that came to mind… They jumped on her.

By now, a crowd had formed around them (quite conveniently stopping Rosmerta from getting through and murdering the boys), and Fred and George Weasley had opened up the betting opportunities (the 'hangover lads' or the 'old bitties in the floral prints with fake teeth and purses'; already a bet of 1: 10 against).

Shouts of "Gettem' Gertie!", from the old ladies, and "You show those hoodlums!" from the Weasley twins, could be heard easily.

Harry was currently riding on the back of Polly (another old lady), and therefore unable to comply with requests to whip out his wand and hex them all until their denchers fell out. Of course, even if he hadn't been going it 'piggy-back style', him being drunk would probably have put a damper on any attempts to do so.

Seamus on the other hand, was having much worse luck, as Tabitha seemed to have been some sort of athlete in her younger years. In fact, she had him in a quite painful headlock.

Dean and Ron had avoided most of the curses from Gertrude's wand, though they were running out of steam, and her last few had been near misses.

"My HEAD!" Ron screamed as he rolled under another table.

"MINE TOO!" Dean agreed as he somersaulted by.

Harry had just gotten a hold of his wand when Florence latched her denchers into his flesh. He yelled and toppled from Polly's back to the floor, where he was immediately trampled by both Florence and Polly.

"Let's get out of here!" Dean called in between narrowly escaping each new hex.

"Yeah!" Harry agreed from under someone's foot. "Then maybe people will leave me to be extremely hungover in peace!"

"My freaking head!" Ron heard Seamus shout while they both scrambled desperately towards the door.

Harry clawed his way out of the old lady dog pile and followed the other two.

Dean, in a need for speed and safety, leapt onto a moving drinks trolley, which proceeded to roll out of the door and down the road to where the others stood.

"My head!" Seamus groaned as he curled into a ball on the footpath and massaged his aching temples.

"As soon as there is only one of you, Seamus, you're blood-damn-well dead!" Dean said menacingly.

"Yeah! I'll help," said Harry. "It's your fault that I have some old hag's teeth marks in my arm!"

"Voices: too loud!" Ron moaned in barely more than a whisper.

On that note, the sixth-years commenced their long crawl back to the castle (with all of them taking turns on Dean's trolley), pausing every time a loud group of people or a noisy cart passed them by, to clutch at their heads and wish for peace and quiet at the castle.

—

Later that night, a dark haired boy awoke to find himself staring up into the faces of four old woman dressed in similar floral prints.

"ARRGGGGHHHHH!" Neville screamed, clutching his throbbing head, as the old ladies advanced upon him, purses held high.

Author's Note: Well that was pointless and fun. Lots of fun. Here's the short epilogue:

The Saturday after that, five boys sat, slouching around a table and holding their heads.

One with red hair stood up suddenly and startled another into a near-heart-attack.

"You have got to stop doing that Ron!" Dean exclaimed.

"Don't talk so loud!" Neville complained.

"Shouldn't that be loud-ly?"

Ha. Bubbles!

-Kat