Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe or anything else mentioned within that isn't mine.
Author's Notes: Okay, so this is a semi-smutty fic. It's rated R for some smut and some alcohol usage, maybe language, ya never know.
Chapter One
The Three Broomsticks offered a cheerful atmosphere, and a warm respite from the thunder and rain. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger dragged the door shut behind them, fighting against the howling wind to pull it closed. They smiled at Rosmerta, the bartender, and headed over to the bar for drinks. While Harry and Ron ordered a bottle of tequila, Hermione asked for butterbeer.
"C'mon, Hermione!" Ron said with a groan. "We're legally able to drink alcohol, and you're still going for butterbeer? Please, you haven't touched real alcohol in your life!"
"Ha! We're meeting Fred and George. Getting drunk doesn't seem like a good idea around them."
"Good point," Harry laughed.
"Yeah, but one shot won't kill you, 'Mione! You never drink!" Ron protested.
"That's because I'm intelligent," she retorted, and Ron finally rolled his eyes and let the subject drop. Harry, Ron and Hermione were working as Aurors-in-training at the Ministry of Magic, but had taken time off to attend the graduation of Ginny Weasley—Ron's sister, and their friend. Fred and George had decided to meet them in the Three Broomsticks pub in Hogsmeade to catch up.
Fred and George were difficult to miss. They were both tall, though shorter than their brother Ron, and had Ron and Ginny's flaming red hair. Unlike Ron or Ginny, however, they were loud and boisterous, and currently flirting shamelessly with Katie Bell, who'd been working at the Three Broomsticks to save up money for a trip to Transylvania, where she planned on studying vampires. Sitting with Fred and George, shaking her head and laughing at their antics, was—
"Ginny! My god, it's so good to see you!" Ron exclaimed, wrapping her in a bear hug.
"Hey, Gin," Harry said, throwing his arms around her next.
Hermione hugged her last, frowning. "Ginny, why didn't you tell us this was a Hogsmeade weekend? You knew we'd be in town—"
Once grin exchanged between Fred and George told Hermione all she needed to know. She groaned. "Please, tell me you didn't sneak her out of the castle!"
"Us?" Fred said innocently, a look of surprise on his face mirroring that on George's. "Sneak someone out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Why on earth would we do a thing like that?"
Hermione slapped her forehead, though Ron and Harry's mouths twitched, trying to fight off smiles for the sake of avoiding Hermione's wrath. She scolded the twins profusely as Madam Rosmerta brought their drinks. "Ah, tequila!" George said loudly, trying to stave off Hermione's lecture. "C'mon, baby sis, no seventeen-year-old should be without the knowledge of how to properly take a shot of tequila!" He grabbed Ron's shot glass, asking for an extra one from Madam Rosmerta.
"George! She really shouldn't be drinking; she's got to be up bright and early—"
"Come now, Hermione, it's the day before she graduates! She's allowed a little fun!" Fred chided, handing George the salt and lemon wedges.
George proceeded to show Ginny how to take a shot of it; he moistened the webbing between his thumb and forefinger with his tongue, sprinkled salt on the wet area, then licked it off, gulped the shot, and sucked on the lemon wedge. Ginny followed suit, gagging a little at the taste, but holding her own. Hermione sulked, but finally shut up, and the conversation turned to more mundane topics. Fred and George had nearly put the Diagon Alley branch of Zonko's Joke Shop out of business with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and were planning to open another branch in Hogsmeade. When Hermione gave them a Mrs.-Weasley-like glare as they mentioned a few of their new inventions, however, Harry changed the subject and told the twins about the offer Ron had received to play Keeper for the Chudley Cannons. Everyone had a lot of fun chastising Ron about turning it down. The move had surprised them all, even Harry and Hermione, though the three worked well together and couldn't picture working at the Ministry without Ron. Ginny, however, was thinking seriously about Quidditch as a career; she'd joined the Gryffindor team in her fourth year and was the best Chaser Hogwarts had seen in several centuries, but she still wasn't sure about it. "There's a place for you at the Ministry, Gin, if you want it," Ron told her, but Ginny only shrugged.
"Bill said the same thing about Gringotts," she laughed. "And Charlie about Romania. And Fred and George about Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, though I don't think I'll work there, that's for sure."
"Why not?" Fred demanded, pretending to be hurt.
"Why not? She doesn't want to be turned into a canary or have her tongue grow five extra feet or have her hair turned blue!" Hermione said, laughing.
"Exactly," Ginny said.
"Come, now, would we turn our own sister into a canary?" George joked.
"Yes!" chorused Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny.
"Yes—I mean, of course not!" Fred said with a straight face. "A snake, or a hippogriff, or a wyvern, yes. Canary, no."
"Ha, ha," Ginny retorted sarcastically. She took another shot of tequila, now quite tipsy, giggling. "Ooh, I can't feel my ankles… hee, hee," she said. "Anyways, I don't want to end up covered in burns, either, and you should see the curses wizards put on their tombs in Egypt! One group from Bill's team got hit with a booby-trap that shot the Cruciatus. They were all writhing in agony. No, I'm gonna do my own thing. Not sure what, though."
"Good for you, Gin," Hermione said warmly, and the others nodded in agreement. Ginny went for another shot of tequila, and Hermione reached over and gently plucked the bottle away, leaving her butterbeer unattended for a split second. It was long enough, however, and when she leaned back, Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were looking at each other and trying not to laugh. "What?" Hermione demanded. No one spoke. Glaring at them all, she sipped her butterbeer, unable to detect any difference in it.
The night wore on, and Hermione began to gulp the butterbeer at an alarming rate. She became twice as tipsy as Ginny, who had reclaimed the tequila bottle from Ron, after he'd wrestled it away from Hermione. Hermione was soon laughing uncontrollably, unable to recognize a joke from the words, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom right quick." Harry and Ron kept giving each other half-worried, half-bemused looks. "Can't believe she got plastered," Ron whispered. "From the looks of her you'd think Fred and George had slipped her something major." Harry nodded in agreement.
Fred returned from the bathroom, looking around at his more-or-less drunken brothers and Harry, the rather intoxicated Ginny, and the completely trashed Hermione. "Well, I think it's time we went up to bed," he muttered. Hermione pointed at him, bursting out into giggles, and promptly fell off her chair. "Oh-kay, perhaps it's well past time we went up to bed."
Chuckling, Harry helped Ginny to her feet. She promptly slumped against him, asleep. Harry sighed and hoisted her into his arms, then staggered up to the room he and Ron were going to share. George grabbed Hermione's feet, and Fred got her around the shoulders, and they carried her up as well.
"We don't really have a room here," Fred said, as he followed Harry upstairs. "But I don't think Miss Way-Too-Happy here should be alone. If she wakes up, she might freak out… or else do something really crazy."
"I'll stay with her!" Ron offered, way too eagerly. Fred shook his head.
"Now, now, Ron, can't have her accosted in her sleep!" George joked. "Fred and I will stay with her."
"Ha! I trust Ron more," Harry muttered, though Ron didn't look too eager any more; probably thought there'd be twice the teasing in the morning from Fred and George if he did stay with Hermione, as it was no secret Ron had a long-standing crush on her.
Ron opened the door, and stumbled over to the bed, apparently a lot more drunk than he'd let on. He was out before Harry could even ask where the hell he was supposed to put Ginny; he'd assumed she could sleep in the same bed as Ron, considering they were brother and sister. Grumbling, Harry set her on the other bed and decided to sleep on the floor.
Until Ginny opened her eyes, leaned forward, and puked all over the hardwood tiles.
She slumped back down against the pillows, leaving Harry to pinch the bridge of his nose and groan. There was no way he could bed with Ron; Ron was tall and muscular and sprawled all over the bed, and Harry simply wouldn't fit. Irritated, he took a deep breath and lay down gingerly next to Ginny, folding his glasses away on the bedside table. Her mouth was open slightly, and her breath smelled like—well, vomit, so he pointed his wand at her parted lips and muttered, "Limpio!" Her breath was immediately sweet-smelling against his cheek; it was a simple charm he used to bypass brushing his teeth in the morning when he was in a hurry, and it worked well.
He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, Ginny's breath tickling his ear. He finally rolled onto his side, but that left the back of his neck rather close to Ginny's mouth, making him shiver a little. Thoughts began running through his head, but the sight of Ron quickly quelled them; he didn't want Ron to go all over-protective-older-brother on him, like he had on a few of Ginny's boyfriends in the past. Harry turned over once again, now facing Ginny. She looked adorable in her sleep; she really was beautiful, with full lips, long lashes and a cute little nose that had a smattering of freckles across it. Her hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders in a single, gorgeous wave. Smiling, Harry stared at her, surprised to find himself wondering if she was still single.
From the next room, he could hear, "Well, should we dump her on the floor? There's only two beds, mate."
"Seems less than chivalrous of us."
"Who said we were chivalrous?"
"Good point… oh, gross!"
A familiar splat! sounded from Hermione's room. Harry chuckled, wondering which twin was going to be sleeping next to the drunken Hermione. The last sound he heard from their room was Fred and George arguing over whose idea it was to get her drunk.
Chapter Two
Harry was relieved when Ginny rolled over onto her back; it was getting difficult to stop thinking… "pleasant" thoughts when her breath was tickling his skin. Harry rolled onto his back also, glad to note that he could fit fine on the bed with Ginny without brushing up against her; he didn't want Ron—or the twins—waking up and seeing him touching Ginny in any matter. Ginny had quite a bit of her older brothers' height, but she was slim, so there was at least two inches between her shoulder and Harry's. As long as she didn't scoot over, he'd be fine. More than ready to get some sleep, Harry closed his eyes.
They flew open instantly as Ginny rolled over once again, snuggling up against him and throwing her arm across his chest. Ginny's leg was flung around his waist, and the left side of her chest pinned his right arm to the bed. "Er, Ginny? C'mon, Gin, wake up. C'mon." She didn't move. Great.
He had no idea how to get her off. He only had his left hand free, but he didn't want to hurt her by pushing on her head. Trying to see over the mountain of red hair Ginny possessed, he reached out to push on her side.
Oops! He withdrew his hand quickly; he'd accidentally pressed his palm against her breast instead. He tried moving her hair out of the way to see better, but there was an awful lot of red hair and when he brushed her neck, she let out a moan that made his heart stop and rubbed her leg against him in a way that would have been suggestive if she'd done it while conscious.
Harry swallowed. At this rate, it was going to be a long night.
~*~
In the room Hermione had rented, Fred and George stared in disbelief at the grotesque pile of her throw-up on the floor. "There goes the floor idea," Fred muttered.
"It was your idea to get her drunk," George reminded him.
"Was not!"
"Was too!"
"Was not!"
"Was too!"
"Was not!"
"Was—oh, never mind. Look, we're both mature adults. Or, at least, semi-mature ones. Let's just work this out. C'mon, put her on the bed."
They hoisted her up onto the bed by the wall farthest from Harry and Ron's room. Fred used the same cleaning charm on Hermione that Harry had used on Ginny—which gave George just enough time to claim the other bed. "Hey!" Fred exclaimed indignantly. "Oh no, you don't!"
There was a brief wrestling match, which George won, as he already had a place secured on the bed and found it easier to push Fred away than Fred found it to pull George off. Fred angrily threw up his hands, then stuck out his tongue at his brother and yanked his robe off over his head, deciding to sleep in his jeans. He had no idea what charm to use on the mess on the floor; his mother had always done the cleaning at home, at Fred and George's new house, and their shop, too, if she visited and thought things were too messy. With a sigh, Fred shoved Hermione a little closer to the wall and slid beneath the blankets next to her.
Glaring at George, who had turned over, Fred pointed his wand at the mess on the floor and said "Limpio!" once again, keeping the mess from smelling quite so awful. Then he tossed the wand on the bedside table, closing his eyes.
Hermione giggled in her sleep and muttered something that sounded distinctively like "Ron." Fred cracked up, and George snickered. Then she started wiggling. She finally rolled over on her side, facing him, her legs pulled up and her knees against Fred's hip. It became uncomfortable after a second, so he rolled away from her—
–and promptly fell off the bed.
George howled with laughter. Fred glared at him harder than ever. "This is all your fault!" he snapped, getting into bed with his back to George while George started laughing harder. He stretched out, facing Hermione, irritated beyond belief.
"Look, look!" Hermione shouted suddenly, making Fred jump and nearly fall off the bed again. She was still asleep, though, and Fred cracked up, wondering what else Hermione might say in the middle of the night.
She really was cute in her sleep. She'd taken to wearing her hair braided sometime in her fifth year, which brought out her face shape and kept the fact that her hair was bushy from being so much of a factor. She had a perfect smile now, in addition to her other pretty features, like her high cheekbones and large brown eyes. She looked like an angel while she slept, which was something Fred had noticed years ago, when she used to fall asleep in the common room while cramming for the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Fred grinned, remembering the time he couldn't get Hermione to wake up at around two in the morning, back in his seventh year at Hogwarts. He'd carried her up to her dormitory, and her dorm mates—namely Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown—had woken up and immediately started spreading rumors about them sleeping together. The gossip had died down not long after Christmas, when Hermione had gotten really sick of it all—and Malfoy had said something about her being a "whorish Mudblood." She'd punched him hard enough to put him in the hospital wing. Lucky Draco didn't turn her in… but then who wants to admit they were decked by a girl?
He chuckled at the memories. Not that I would've minded having her for a girlfriend. She's got such a nice body… Fred forced himself to stop that train of thought immediately. It was no secret Ron had a huge crush on her. Besides, it's probably not a good idea to think like that when she's lying in bed next to you… damn, I'm doing it again…c'mon, shut up, brain!
As much as he tried, he couldn't get the things playing through his mind to stop. She was pretty, sweet, brave, strong, and smart, and she was unconscious next to him in a nice, soft bed. "I will not feel up Hermione in her sleep, I will not feel up Hermione in her sleep," he repeated—and then remembered George was in the room. Panicked, he (carefully) rolled over…
… And discovered George was fast asleep.
"Well, there goes my last reason for self-control," Fred muttered. "Other than that whole ethical thing."
Would it really be that wrong, though? a tiny voice inside him asked. She's asleep. She wouldn't wake up if the Dark Lord came back from the grave and started tap-dancing on her head.
He toyed with the idea for a while. It was rather tempting…
"Hermione?" Fred whispered. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her cheek.
No response.
Practically holding his breath, he slowly lowered his hand and ran a finger along her breast. She didn't move. He continued touching her for a moment before withdrawing his hand. "God, what am I doing?"
"Don't stop now, Fred," Hermione murmured, opening her eyes.
With a startled yelp and a dull thud, Fred promptly fell off the bed once more.
Chapter Three
A yell sounded from the room next door, followed by another loud thud. Harry was beginning to wonder what was going on in Hermione's room—he'd heard George laugh, Hermione shout something, and Fred talking on occasion—but at the moment, he had larger problems than what was going on between the Weasley twins and Hermione.
"C'mon, Gin. Wakey-wakey! Please!"
She moved her leg against him again. Harry groaned.
~*~
The sight was rather comical. After a moment of cursing, Fred's red hair came into view, followed by his freckled forehead, and, finally, his wide, fearful blue eyes. Hermione bit back a laugh. "You should be more careful, you know," she told him jokingly. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
"How long have you been awake?" Fred whispered in an oh-shit-I'm-so-dead tone of voice.
"A few moments before you started muttering 'I will not feel up Hermione in her sleep,'" Hermione replied, sounding quite amused. She watched his face turn as bright as his hair.
"It's not my fault you're cute in your sleep," he whined jokingly.
She laughed, and Fred was relieved; at least she wasn't pissed. "Well, the next time you decide to touch me in my sleep, just remember to wake me up at the good parts."
"Will do," he said cheekily, and they lapsed into silence.
"Well?" Hermione said finally.
"Well, what?"
"Are you going to get up here and finish what you started?" she demanded. Fred blushed harder.
"Hermione, I…"
"Yes?"
He stared at her. "You're not… you're not serious, are you?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because the Hermione I know, upon waking to find me muttering something about feeling her up, would slap me unconscious. You're either possessed, we got you way too drunk, or you're in desperate need of a really good shag." He cringed as the last words escaped his mouth, but Hermione just gave him an amused look.
"The correct answer is C. And the Fred Weasley I know, upon finding me awake and not about to slap him, with a good deal of alcohol in his system, would jump at the chance. This is, after all, the Fred Weasley who, instead of stopping the rumors that he was sleeping with me, told the whole of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that I was a great shag."
"You remember that, eh?"
"How could I forget? You destroyed my reputation. Now get up here or I'll wake up George instead."
"You wouldn't."
"Bet me."
"You're still drunk off your ass, aren't you."
"So?"
Fred paused. Hermione watched as he seemed to think the situation over. Then, slowly, he stood up and climbed back into the bed.
~*~
Ginny moved her arm down Harry's chest and snuggled closer against him. "Ginny, if you do not wake up right now, I will not be held responsible for my actions." He groaned, realizing that when she'd moved closer her hip had scooted forward and left his hand practically cupping her butt. "Gin, please! WAKE UP!"
He had to do something. Shaking her was pretty much out of the question; he didn't think Ginny would be happy to be woken up by his hand on her breast, and he doubted that if she was woken up in such a way that she'd believe he'd just been trying to wake her up. Wait—her leg. He could jostle her leg. Granted, it wouldn't be too comfortable for him, but lying like this was becoming torturous.
He grabbed for the upper part of her leg, swallowing at the feel of her smooth skin; her robe had ridden up when she'd cuddled up to him. "Ginny," he hissed, beginning to shake her. "Ginny. GINNY!"
It took a few seconds, but Ginny finally opened her eyes. "What?" she whined.
"You… um… your leg…"
"My leg?" Ginny said sleepily. She suddenly realized how they were laying and rolled away from him instantly. "Oh, god, I'm sorry, Harry."
"That's okay," he said. "More than okay," he muttered.
Ginny looked up at him. "Excuse me?"
Harry cringed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that aloud."
Ginny snorted. "You're not very good with excuses when you're drunk, you know."
If Harry hadn't been so intoxicated, he probably would have blushed and stammered his way out of it. But he was drunk, and, while coherent enough to pretend to be sober if he needed to, he was still slurring slightly and not thinking straight.
"Well, maybe I'm not good at excuses, but at least I didn't tell you about the thoughts that went through my head when you were all curled up around me," he said proudly.
Silence.
The moment the words left his mouth, Harry desperately wanted to call them back. He held still, his eyes wide with horror as he awaited Ginny's wrathful reaction.
The seconds stretched, and Ginny finally responded—in a way Harry never would have expected.
Ginny threw her leg over his waist again, straddling his hips and sitting up above him. Harry looked up at her in shock. Ginny grinned.
"Well, Harry, what kind of thoughts are you having now?"
~*~
Fred wasn't quite sure how he ended up on top of Hermione. Everything was a blur, and once he started kissing her he could barely recall her waking up, let alone anything else. It could have been three seconds or three hours that they'd been making out when her hands slid out of his hair and down to unbutton his jeans.
He hesitated, just for a second, wondering if he should stop, if he was taking advantage of her. Then he was shoving her robes up her legs, Hermione lifting her hips to pull them above her waist and breaking their fevered kissing to tug them over her head. She wore only a pair of denim shorts and a bra under her robe; there really wasn't any need for extra clothing when the robe covered everything, especially not in warm June weather. Fred had the shorts nearly off by the time Hermione had thrown her robe on the floor (taking time to aim, as she had to be careful of the mess still on the floor) and Hermione tossed the shorts down on top of her robe. Soon they were both naked, hands roaming all over each other's bodies while they kissed feverishly.
Hermione wasn't ashamed to admit she'd had a few sexual fantasies about Fred; it wasn't easy to avoid. Fred was, after all, a cute guy, and she'd spent the better part of the last eight years seeing him every day, staying with his family during the summers, hanging out with him and George at school… Never mind the fact that she'd spent half of her fifth year at Hogwarts dealing with rumors about the two of them having sex. Most of her friends were guys, and most of the guys were good-looking, which occasionally led to sexual thoughts. End of story. Still, her fantasies about this moment with Fred (or her fantasies about this moment with several other guys) had gone a bit differently. She'd hesitated, usually, or he had; one of them would ask "Are you sure?" or something. Now that the moment had arrived, however, she honestly didn't give a damn if the fate of the world depended on her not doing this; she wanted it, and she wanted it immediately.
Fred's lips moved to her neck, and she moaned as Fred's hands teased her breasts. Impatient, she opened her legs wider beneath him and accidentally (and loudly) kicked the wall…
…and froze as she heard movement in the other bed. She looked over just in time to see George sitting up, looking around in confusion.
"What was that noise…?" George trailed off, his eyes just as wide as Hermione and Fred's as the three of them stared at each other in surprise and horror.
Chapter Four
Harry struggled for something to say, but his brain was currently AWOL. Ginny, beautiful, innocent, sweet little Ginny, was sitting on top of him with an evil, seductive gleam in her eye.
Say something, he told himself, panicking. Come on, say something! ANYTHING!
"I'd tell you what kind of thoughts I'm having but you might slap me for it," he blurted out.
Anything but that, you idiot! he yelled at himself, mortified. He'd tried to sound cool, like he'd meant to say it, but he hadn't quite pulled it off and had come off half-cool and half-anxious.
Ginny grinned at him mischievously. "Why on earth would you get slapped?" she asked, then lifted up her robe and pulled it over her head.
With a happy little good-bye wave, the remaining parts of his brain stopped functioning. "Er..." Harry said stupidly. Ginny. Ginny in her underwear. Ginny in her underwear, sitting on me like it's perfectly natural for her to be doing that with her brother sleeping ten feet away... oh, shit, Ron! Aaahhh!
Harry whipped his head around to look at Ron, who was thankfully still asleep. Harry had to stop her before he did something stupid. Something involving throwing her on her back and—
Ron's over there, see? he reminded himself.
—and not doing anything at all because Ginny had six strong, scary brothers, one in the room and two next door.
Harry sat bolt upright, then immediately wished he hadn't because that put him way too close to Ginny—but he couldn't just lie down again, that wouldn't be a good idea at all given the circumstances... "Ginny," Harry said, swallowing hard, "I..."
"You what?" she asked lightly, reaching behind her to unhook her bra.
Harry grabbed her wrists in a panic, wincing as putting his arms around her like that made things all the more uncomfortable. "Stop that!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing?"
Ginny smirked and leaned into him. He could feel her breath on his skin as she whispered in his ear, "What do you think I'm doing?"
"I... er... I'm kind of having trouble thinking right now," Harry said in a choked voice.
"Then stop trying to think, you idiot," she said with a grin, pulling her hands away and grabbing the bottom of his T-shirt.
"Hey, now, I need that!" Harry said desperately, struggling to get a grip and knowing full well it was a losing battle.
Ginny yanked his shirt off before he could stop her. His arms got tangled in the sleeves for a second before the shirt went flying out of sight. Suddenly, Harry was on his back, looking up at Ginny as she leaned in to kiss him, her hands running up and down his chest. Harry gave up. If he was going to be killed by a Weasley brother, he might as well do something worth being killed for.
~*~
"Um..." George said intelligently.
"Um..." Fred replied.
"Um..." Hermione agreed.
George stared at Hermione. "Ah ha!" he yelled suddenly. "I'm dreaming!"
"What?" Fred and Hermione demanded.
"There's no way in hell that Little Miss I'm-So-Perfect Hermione Granger would be screwing my twin; that just wouldn't happen."
"Hey!" Fred said indignantly. Hermione snickered.
"Yes, George, this is a dream. Go back to sleep, would you?" she said patronizingly. "Fred and I are busy."
George shook his head. "You know, that's the last time I help Fred spike your butterbeer, you're a complete pod person when drunk." He threw back his blankets, looking partly amused and partly bewildered. "I'm going to go sleep on Ron's floor," he said, and walked out.
"Well then," Fred said cheerfully as the door closed, "where were we?"
Hermione looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "You were about to explain why you spiked my butterbeer."
~*~
George cast a charm to unlock Ron's door, not wanting to wake Harry, Ron, or Ginny. As the door swung open, his eyes were immediately drawn by movement on the bed closest to Hermione's room.
Movement created by his little sister, who was naked and lying on top of an equally naked Harry.
Ginny spun around as she heard the door open, uttering a small shriek as she caught sight of George. She rolled off Harry, grabbed the blanket, and threw it over both of them as the look of rage on George's face intensified.
~*~
Things were just getting interesting again back in Fred and Hermione's bed when a loud, angry bellow sounded from the room next door, followed by George yelling, "I'll kill you, you lit—AAARRRGGGHHH!" George's shout was cut off by a surprised, then pained scream.
Fred leaped out of bed, looking around wildly for his underwear; unable to find them, he yanked on his jeans and rushed out the door without fastening them, Hermione right behind him, wrapping herself up in the blanket.
The two of them headed for Harry, Ron, and Ginny's room; the door was wide open. They stopped in the doorway, staring; then, at the same time, the two of them burst out laughing.
~*~
Ron awoke to a bloodcurdling scream; he rolled over, fumbled for his wand, and held it high, in attack mode before he had fully awakened. He looked around in confusion, unable to understand what he was seeing.
On the bed opposite him were Harry and Ginny, the blanket pulled up to their necks, both looking rather worried. On the floor lay George, who'd taken off his robes for some reason and appeared to have slipped in a pile of puke; there was something slimy on his foot. In the doorway stood Fred and Hermione, both of them laughing, Fred wearing nothing but jeans that were open and slipping down his hips and Hermione wearing a blanket like a bath towel.
"What's going on?" Ron asked suspiciously.
Fred and Hermione froze, and Harry and Ginny looked over at him, wide-eyed and pale. George stopped flailing on the floor... and then suddenly started howling with laughter.
The other five stared at him for a while; Hermione giggled, followed by Ginny, and soon everyone was laughing except for a cross, baffled, half-drunk and very sleepy Ron.
"Barking, howling mad, the lot of you," he complained, lowering his wand.
"Is everything all right?" called an anxious voice, and then Katie Bell appeared in the doorway, barefoot and wearing a nightgown. "What's going on?" She glanced around at them; Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George laughing, Ron looking bewildered and annoyed. Her eyes lingered on Hermione and Fred, then on Harry and Ginny, before resting on George, who looked like he was having fits, his face red and his body shaking with silent laughter.
"I'm not asking," Katie said, rubbing her temples. "Ew, who vomited on the floor? Evanesco." The mess vanished from the floor and George's foot.
George managed to pull himself together enough to stand. "Thanks, Katie—say, do you have any more rooms available?" he asked, trying to catch his breath from his laughing fit. "I was going to try the floor, but I'm kind of annoyed with it at the moment—it hit me rather hard."
"Sure," she said, smiling at him fondly. "Come on then."
"Just a second—oy, Ron, come on."
"What?" Ron said.
"Come on, switch rooms, I'll sleep better knowing Harry and Ginny don't have to share a bed," George said impatiently.
Grumbling, Ron picked up his stuff and left, too tired and out of it to argue.
"You can't stop me from doing what I want," Ginny told George warningly as Katie and Ron headed down the hall.
George waved his hand dismissively. "I know, but this way I feel better, deluding myself into thinking that come morning I'll find you two in different beds. And now I can sleep without having to put up with people getting it on one bed over. G'night, you guys."
George left. By the time he had shut the door, Fred and Hermione had already disappeared back into the other room, the door shut. Katie stood down at the end of the hall, holding another bedroom door open.
Shaking his head, George approached Katie and leaned against the doorjamb. "On second thought, Katie," he said, smiling, "do you have your own room?"
The End
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