Mischief Unmanaged ➰ H.P

VIII. A Drunk Hermione

The winter finally arrived, coating every roofs and trees with white, thick pile of snow. That day was their first Hogsmeade trip for the current school year.

Hermione asked Ginny and Neville to help her accompanied every third year who were very excited for their first visit.

Before afternoon draws, Hermione and her friends settled inside the Three Broomsticks pub. Ginny was sitting next to Dean Thomas, while Neville was busy cracking a corny joke with Luna.

Hermione snorted when she spotted Ron and Lavender having a sweet moment on the other side of the pub.

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Hermione walked towards the counter and ordered a small bottle of firewhiskey. She's glad that Madam Rosmerta was off to the nearby village and the bartender didn't bother to questioning her about her age.

She's deliberately making noise to catch her friends attention but they seems too busy to even glance at her.

"Yeah, I love you too firey-whiskey," that was her first time to taste an alcohol, Hermione almost blew it out of her mouth but did her best to gulp until she gets used to its taste.

After a couple of minute, Hermione was already hiccuping, her eyes were half open and face flashes red. Still, no one of her friends had noticed her drunkenness.

"Ok-ay *hik* I'll just go outside to *hik* catch some fresh *hik* air," with a great effort to keep her balance, Hermione sneak out of the pub, leaving her friends behind who seems to forgot her presence completely.

Her legs were wobbling as she stumbled once in a while, giggling everytime she fell over the soft snow. Her vision went blurred and the ground was spinning under her feet.

Hermione continued walking to nowhere in particular, until she caught a sight of some old, isolated house.

"The Shrieking *hik* Shack," she giggled to herself stupidly before running towards its fence. She slid in the wide gap between the old logs and began zigzagging her way towards the old shack.

The door creeks open for her, she cackled before stepping inside.

"Yoohoo, is anybody home?!" Hermione called before laughing to herself like a mad fugitive. She's utterly drunk and she really love how the alcohol temporarily removed all her worries and sadness.

Hermione started climbing upstairs, leaving a loud squeak at every step on the rotten wood.

Feeling so much dizzy and tired, she goes straight to what looks like a room. There was an old bed with a lump on the left side which she find odd but didn't bother checking it.

She immediately collapsed on to the bed, her body bounced slightly as her eyes instantly closed on their own.

However, a loud thud followed by nonstop cursing replaced the silence in the room. "What the--"

Draco was holding his wand, firmly pointing it over sleeping Hermione. He stopped on track and stared at her innocent blushing face for about thirty seconds before gaining back himself.

"Granger?," there was a pure hint of confusion on Draco's face, firstly because what the ruddy hell a Mudblood was doing there, secondly because why he can't find a place where he can sleep without disturbance and lastly... Because he seems to feel something strange inside his stomach upon seeing Hermione's angelic face.

"Oi, get up and get the fuck outta here," Draco bellowed but the witch was already breathing deeply on the bed.

"Argh! Granger I said--"

"I hate them so much mum, I really do," Hermione mumbled softly before Draco could finish his own sentence. Her eyes were still close and she's obviously having a dream.