people, your reviews are AWESOME and they totally make my day. DarkYoda: i'm american and have no clue what i'm doing when it comes to britspeak, sorry. :( serenity: you're a cheater! <raspberry> I'm actually putting up chapter here as quickly as possible, and working on ch9 as we speak. ShellyK: don't implode, cause then you'd miss the angst ahead. and the payoff. ;) and i cannot express to you have much i love your work. maybe we can entice each other to write—I'm desperate for more of Sugar Quills. :)

there’s some f/f slash in here technically; you’ve been warned. normality: not mine; hers.

--------

And drunk he planned to get.

He knew his sister would spike the already mildly-alcoholic butterbeer with some outrageous dark liquid. Ron had asked once, back when it was the twins getting Gryffindor liquored up, how anyone acquired what must have been 150-proof alcohol. "Magic," they had winked at him, as had Ginny the first time she’d done it. Of course, why didn’t I think of that? Ron had given up asking.

His jaw set, he stepped through the portrait-hole after Harry, only partially prepared for the raucous welcome that greeted him. Sure, he’d seen Gryffindor throw some wicked parties, but it was still a bit unsettling to be pounced by obnoxiously cheering people bearing ale and sweets. Now if only he could get naked Hermione in here somewhere, it would quite literally be a dream come true.

Ron searched the room for her face, for her usual congratulatory smile and lightly disparaging remark about quidditch obsessions. He was searching for some normalcy.

He found her sitting by the fire with Ginny, both holding mugs of some steaming drink. She smiled at him, and Ron felt a bit of the weight come off his shoulders. Perhaps, just perhaps, things would be all right. He grinned at her.

Then Ginny put her hand over Hermione’s and said something, and Hermione’s smile disappeared. She broke Ron’s gaze to take a drink from her mug. A rather long one, Ron noticed. He threw a puzzled look at Ginny, which she pointedly ignored.

"Have a glass, mate." Harry handed Ron a large mug of butterbeer, which he accepted gratefully and downed as quickly as possible. The taste of the added alcohol-du-jour made him fight a shudder, but warmth from the butterbeer settled in him immediately. The crowd cheered their approval when he held out the mug for another helping.

Harry raised his glass and the room grew quiet. "To Ickle Ronnie Weasley, the best keeper we’ve had since Oliver Wood!"

"Oy!" Ron exclaimed. "I’m the only keeper you’ve had since Oliver Wood!" The crowd laughed, and he grinned and raised his own glass. "To Seriously Evil Harry Potter, the best seeker we’ve had since a Weasley deigned to play the position!"

Harry laughed and clinked his glass against Ron’s, then they both drank heartily. The room burst into rowdy applause. Ron heard Ginny whoop loudest and realized she had moved to stand beside Harry. He glanced around for Hermione, and nearly dropped his glass when he felt her hand on his arm. She flashed a wonderfully large smile at him, and Ron’s eyes widened while he tried to stifle a laugh. Ginny spiked her mug quite well indeed. This should be a wicked good party. He sent her a grin and surreptitiously ran his hand down her back. She glanced scorchingly in his direction but didn’t move away.

Harry cleared his throat and held up his hand to bring the crowd down. "I propose we make this party one for the books!" Scattered applause. "I have consulted with my best muggle resources and concluded that they know some fascinating party games. I suggest we try one on for size tonight." He glanced around the room appraisingly as the crowd murmured; everyone seemed game. "Sound appealing?" Ginny whooped the crowd up and Ron suddenly realized she was more than likely in on Harry’s scheme. "All right then. It’s called Spin the Bottle and it’s not exactly complicated: everybody sits in a circle, with the bottle on the floor in the middle. Somebody spins the bottle, and whoever it points to, they get to kiss. Regardless of gender. And whatever happens—happens."

The crowd murmured, the muggle-borns remembering past games and the others envisioning snog-fests unparalleled. Ron shook his head and chuckled. Muggles think up some nutty things. It didn’t really interest him, not while Herimone was standing next to him, warm and intoxicated. He smiled at her look of disdain towards the game.

Harry put a hand up and continued. "However, there is one rule: you either play or leave. In the name of fairness, there will be no onlookers." He grinned. "So, if you’re interested, please find a seat on the floor. If not, have a wonderful sleep and I’m sure you’ll hear exactly what happened by tomorrow morning at the latest."

Hermione harumphfed and made to leave—to Ron’s admittedly selfish relief—but Ginny quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her aside, then said something in her ear that Ron couldn’t quite make out. He certainly saw Hermione’s bright blush, however, then saw her glance furtively in his direction, turning even more pink and quickly turning back to Ginny. Ron watched with an unfounded sense of foreboding as she took a long drink from her mug and had a tense conversation with his sister.

Then he felt Harry tap him on the shoulder. "You’re not leaving either, you realize."

Ron rolled his eyes and looked at his best friend pleadingly. "I’ve had enough embarrassment for one hour, thank you."

Harry just reached over and clinked Ron’s glass with his own. "Drink up, mate. This is gonna be a rough night." Then he sat down in the circle of people on the floor.

Ron tried to think. Maybe you’ll get her, the pesky voice said, sounding slightly inebriated. Or maybe you’ll get someone else and she’ll get jealous. That sounded sadistically delicious. And, really, what were his options? He couldn’t just leave and miss what would be the most talked-about social event of the year. He shrugged resignedly, took a swig of alcohol, and sat down beside Harry.

Harry nodded his approval. "All right then, let’s get on with it," he said to the group. "The ever-so-lovely Ginny Weasley has been kind enough to supply us with the necessary accoutrements." Harry gestured towards the large, empty bottle with no label that she held. Ron wondered absentmindedly if she’d put the entire contents in the butterbeer.

She ceremoniously placed the bottle in the center of the group and winked at her brother. He scowled, and she smirked and raised her glass at him. He chuckled and shook his head. He was feeling her liqour all right, but it wasn’t having the sedating effect he had hoped for. Instead of taking his mind off Hermione, it made a right comfy pool of wanting for him to slowly drown in.

He had simultaneous urges tap dance for joy and punch in a wall. Yes, he had kissed Hermione Granger. Twice, in fact. And if they hadn’t been interrupted a scant half hour ago, Lord only knew where things would have ended up. The thought nearly made him shiver. He glanced over at Hermione, who was sipping her drink and looking apprehensively around the circle. He watched her for a moment.

And there he was stumped by a revelation.

He realized that when he looked at her he didn’t simply want stolen snogging sessions here and there. He wanted mornings and vacations and kitchens and all sorts of other ridiculous things that had never occurred to him with other girls.

So what the hell was he doing playing spin the bottle?

Her denouncement on the quidditch field resurfaced in his mind. Oh, right. She doesn’t want silly ickle me.

He found himself blinking rapidly and forced himself to look anywhere but at her. He needed distraction. His gaze landed on the bottle in the middle of the hesitant crowd. To hell with it. "I’ll have a go." He reached forward and spun the bottle around as forcefully as he could. The circle tittered and his heart thumped against his chest. He refused to look up.

The bottle teetered slowly to a halt, pointing at Lavender Brown.

The girl with two colours in her name. Ron felt the insane urge to cackle, but tamped it down, even in his drunken state. He regarded Lavender for a moment, contemplating his next move. She’s by no means ugly. Hell, maybe it’ll get my mind off of—

Before he had even finished the thought, Lavender was on him like bees on clover. Ron was slow on the uptake, sloggy with alcohol, but instinct soon kicked in and he kissed her back quite thoroughly. She doesn’t taste as sweet as Hermione, he noted dimly. More of a soft, flowery taste. Try as he might to repress it, a snicker escaped into Lavender’s mouth. He had a fleeting worry that she’d be insulted, but then felt her smile against his lips as the kiss ended.

Ron leaned back, slightly flushed, amidst catcalls and various cheers. He reckoned he heard someone booing disapprovingly, but when he glanced around all he saw were grins and looks of drunken approval. Even his sister had a small smile on her face. He dared a glance at Hermione, and his heart did a clumsy jig.

She looked as if she was struggling to keep herself from strangling Lavender with her bare hands.

"All right then!" Harry caught the group’s attention, including Ron’s. "It’s obviously not the most difficult game! Whoever the bottle points to gets to spin it next, so…" He gestured towards Lavender.

Lavender reached down with a grin and spun eagerly. It stopped on Hermione.

The entire room froze and stared at the two girls. Ron didn’t know what to think. This was one situation that hadn’t occurred to him.

Hermione shot a glare at Ginny, then looked at Lavender. A lightbulb seemed to turn on in her eyes and she smiled a slow smile. "Well, then?"

Ron’s eyes widened as Lavender giggled and made her way over to Hermione. The entire room watched, fascinated, as their lips touched. There was an explosion of whooping and Ron could guess that more than a few male fantasies would be fueled for weeks to come.

He—and most everyone else—expected it to be over quickly, barely qualifying as a kiss. But they underestimated Hermione’s vengeful streak. The girls didn’t part for much longer than expected.

Bloody hell, Ron thought with a wild smirk. Somebody’s drunk.

And he found that he couldn’t take his eyes off the two of them. It was surprisingly— He had think for a moment while his intoxicated mind fumbled for the proper word. Beautiful. Really goddamn beautiful. Almost beautiful enough to smother the stab of hurt it caused.

Then it was over. Lavender scrambled back to her place in the circle and Hermione leaned back, looking steadily at Ron. She cocked her eyebrow in a definite challenge. "My turn."

Ron heard more giggles and his face turned scarlet. The drunken fool inside of him simply wanted to swear loudly and yank the bottle out of Hermione’s reach before he had to watch her kiss Seamus or Dean or—God forbid—Harry. He watched, trying not to look as ill as he felt, as Hermione leaned in towards the center of the circle with a fiery look on her face. She grasped the bottle as if to spin it—but then she simply turned it so it pointed straight towards him.

He froze, unbelieving.

"Ron." She looked at him and smiled deliciously, standing up and walking to where he sat.

Ron heard a whoop he knew to be Ginny’s, but couldn’t bring himself to look away from Hermione’s positively feral expression as she grabbed his hand and pulled him up to her.

The spectators roared their approval.

And good Christ did she kiss him. Lavender had been gently insistent; Hermione seemed intent on devouring him whole. Her hands slid into his hair and her small body pressed against his, her kiss deepening insistently. Her tongue brushed against his and he let out a soft moan that he could feel down the length of his spine, too late realizing that the rest of the room could probably hear it too. Somehow, it didn’t quite matter. His whole body felt light as air. Kissing her felt the closest to truth he’d ever been.

And she tasted like chocolate.

Then she was backing away, breaking off the kiss, leaving him alone and cold and aching for her.

The cheers from the crowd broke his train of thought and he looked around blankly at the smiling faces. The room spun slightly and he blinked. Hermione stood a foot away from him, smiling lightly with her arms crossed. He wanted to scream. Not fucking fair.

Then someone shook his hand and he found himself looking at a widely smiling Dean. "Congratulations!" He said enthusiastically.

"What?" Dean looked pointedly at Hermione and Ron’s stomach threatened to revolt. "No, listen, it’s not what you think." But Dean had already moved on to give Harry a congratulatory slap on the back.

"Set a date yet?" Seamus asked cheerfully, standing up to join them.

Ron rolled his eyes and started to answer but was interrupted by a still-tipsy Hermione. "What, you mean a wedding date?" She laughed as if he’d just told a bawdy joke. "Are you kidding? Ron & me?" She snorted. "No!"

Seamus looked like she’d just said, ‘Snape’s quite a nice chap, once you get to know him!’ He guffawed nervously. "But—Everybody knows you’re mad for each other!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured dismissively. "Mad—well, yes! We drive each other mad!" She smiled at the small crowd. "Why on earth would we ever be a couple? We just—" She struggled slightly for the right words and shot Ron a sideways glance. "—have a bit of fun once in a while." She touched Ron’s hand. "Isn’t that right, Ron?"

She was so beautiful, standing there, looking at him expectantly with a small smile on her face, cheeks flushed with drink, lips pink from kissing. Ron could only nod. He felt an inch away from being sick.

Murmurs rose from the rest of the people present. Seamus piped up again. "Now, you guys, that’s just silly. You can’t mean—"

"And why can’t I? Ron hasn’t said he wants anything else, and—" She paused, then angled her chin determinedly. "—I’m certainly not interested in a relationship or any such romantic nonsense." She shook her head. "Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed." She towards the dormitories. Ginny appeared at her side, took her hand and went with her out of the room, heads together, whispering in that infuriating manner girls have.

The small crowd was silent for a moment. Seamus turned and looked guiltily at Ron. "I’m sorry, mate."

Ron sighed. "It’s all right, you had no way of knowing." Seamus still looked sheepish, and Ron shook his head, tired of the whole thing. "I’m going to bed." A few people muttered goodnights and he headed out of the room, marveling at the difficulty of putting one foot in front of the other.

Harry appeared immediately at his side. "Me as well, then. Goodnight, all." He surreptitiously held Ron’s arm to help him up the stairs.

Ron considered telling him to go away, but was honestly thankful for the support and probably too pissed to get the words in the correct order anyhow.

Once in the room, Ron collapsed in bed with his robes on, not giving a wit about pyjamas. He heard Harry sigh and turned towards the sound. "What?"

"Oh, nothing."

Ron sat up, suddenly and irrationally angry. The room spun for a moment. "Don’t ‘nothing’ me. You feeling left out? Or not enjoying watching me get my heart stomped on over and over again?"

There was a moment, then Harry’s sardonic voice. "A little bit of both."

Ron nearly couldn't think of a response. Finally, he settled on the truth. "Yeah, well, me too."

"I know," Harry answered gently.

Ron’s head felt too heavy to keep up, so he closed his eyes and layed down. "Good night, Harry."

Harry’s voice was quiet. "Goodnight."

 --------

i (a girl) once got high with a friend (female) through second-hand hits (i.e. mouth to mouth); another girl (straight) was there getting high the normal way; she later revealed that it was the first time she’d seen two girls kiss, and said that was really beautiful—in a non-sexual way. that’s what i was trying to communicate here. probably tmi, but oh well.