Untouchable: a Fred Weasley fanfiction

Making Things Interesting

The best thing about not drinking at a party is the morning after.

You saw everything that happened and you were there for the whole thing, but you have no consequences when you wake up... you sit there, smiling gleefully as people around you groan and shove their heads into their pillows.

I remember I went to a couple parties at Beauxbatons just when I felt it was far too depressing to sit in my room without anyone there. A lot of alcohol. A lot of girls making out. The only time more than one person has hit on me.

This wonderful, sober realization washes over me when I walk to the Great Hall and sit down at the Slytherin table across from Draco.

Merlin, he looks like hell. He's slouched over a bowl of dry cereal, hand weakly holding up his face by his forehead, eyes drooped down and posture more bent than a house elf.

"Good morning," I smile.

"Shh, shh, shhhh..." he tiredly waves a hand at me. "You're screaming."

"And how are we doing this fine morning?" I ask, pulling the cereal box to me.

He looks up at me with just his eyes, expression practically scoffing at my question. "I had four shots and two full cups of Chocolate Liquor. Take a guess."

"We told you to skip that fourth shot," I shrug, pouring my cereal. "I hate to say that this is your drunken fault."

"Please, I don't... I don't need the persecution..." he groans into his arms, having slunk onto the table now, "...my head is already screaming it at me..."

I chuckle, shaking my head at him. He then pushes himself up and places his hands on their sides upon the table, staring at the wood with a focused look in his baggy eyes.

"I know... that I made out with someone..." he says, "...but I don't know who."

I slowly recoil the box of cereal, setting it down. "You know? How could you know but not remember?"

"I've got that made-out-last-night feeling," he answers. "It's like... a sense. I feel... filthy. God, curse me... curse me..."

I simply laugh. "I do hope you solve this mystery. Maybe it was a Professor."

He shoots me a look. I grin.

"Just considering all the possibilities."

"This is agony," he says, then forces himself onto his feet. "C'mon. Let's go ask Johnson if she knows any remedies. You know, so I don't vomit my organs out."

I whine in a don't-make-me-get-up way, but he snaps his fingers at me.

"Ugh, fine," I groan, standing up. "But I'm taking my cereal."

"As long as you've got one free hand to catch me," Draco replies, stabilizing himself.

I sidle up next to him once we reach the same side of the table and we walk over to the Gryffindor table on the other side of the Hall. Draco is letting out occasional groans and whines and I'm thoroughly enjoying spooning my cereal into my mouth as we walk while he holds onto the crook of my elbow.

Angelina is sitting near the end of the table, so it doesn't take us long to find her and cause the girl to turn around, eyebrows barely raised at Draco's appearance.

"Moron," she says. "Cut off earlier next time, yeah?"

"If I had the strength, I'd slap you right now," Draco says, and Angelina smiles sarcastically. "You got any... remedies for this situation? Please, I'm so incredibly miserable. And hey, did you see me snog any-"