Daisy Potter and the Wedding (Book 8, Harry Potter ff)

Chapter 10 - Drama at da Club

*Daisy's POV*

I was unsteady on my feet as the three of us ran into the club, teetering on my heels, tipsy and off-balance due to the amount of whiskey I'd consumed. It didn't help that I'd just been pounded by two well-endowed men, the fluids of which were running down my thighs and coating my throat, distracting me and making me cough. My core ached as I moved; my ankles wobbled; small scratches on my back burned from where I'd been fucked up against the brick wall outside.

"What the hell is going on?" Fred breathed next to me.

I followed his gaze, my brain foggy. I hadn't even noticed, I was that drunk; every clubber in the building was on the floor, eyes closed and limp. George stooped down to press a finger against someone's neck; he staggered up again, nodding.

"Still alive." He said, a slight slur to his voice. "They've been knocked unconscious, I think. Why, though?"

"And who screamed?" I said, my head throbbing. The music had been cut off, but the flashing strobe lights hadn't.

"Wasn't me." A familiar voice said, and I sighed in relief as Terry hurried over to us from behind the bar. "I felt like it, though - Riddle's here, guys."

"Where?" Fred said urgently. His eyes darted around the large room, and I followed suit, scanning the dance floor, the staircases leading up to the first floor balconies, the bar areas behind them...

"I dunno." Terry shrugged. "He came in, sent out this weird black smoke from his hands, and everyone dropped like flies. I hid behind there," he gestured, "and waited for him to go. I dunno why it only affected the Muggles. I was afraid he'd got you guys."

"Don't worry, Hopper." I slurred, my face breaking out into a grin. "We were outside - Fred 'n George were fucking my brains out -"

"God, Softpaw, I KNOW." Terry rolled his eyes, turning away from me to scan behind us. "No need to rub it in. I know two of the five hottest guys to ever exist pound you on a daily basis. It's not fair."

"Who's the other three?"

"Me, obviously." Terry primped himself, grinning. "Draco, also obviously. And Sirius."

"Interesting." I said, advancing further into the club, my wand pointed at nothing in particular, my hand unsteady as I stepped cautiously over the sleeping bodies on the ground. "You think my boyfriends and my godfather are hot. Why are you coming for all the men in my life, Hopper?"

Terry smirked, his wand also drawn and aimed upwards at the balconies. "I'm coming for them, alright. In my dreams, at least."

"Don't let Draco hear that."

"Oh, he knows. He has his fantasies as well."

"Oh? Like who?"

Terry's smirk grew wider.

"Like you and Ha-"

A shout of shock interrupted us, and Terry and I whirled around. Fred and George had climbed one of the staircases to the first floor, and George was backing down the stairs, hand reaching out for the banister as Fred braced himself against the railing of the balcony, shaking his head slowly.

Terry and I sprinted up the stairs, avoiding bodies as we went. We shuffled past George, reaching the landing, and I gasped a quiet exclamation as I saw it.

A young woman who looked scarily like me, with curly black hair, a round face, and a soft tummy was splayed on the ground, her throat slit. Blood was dripping down the wall - her blood - still fresh and running down the paintwork as if someone had written those words a split second before we'd arrived up here.