𝗠𝗔𝗝𝗢𝗥 𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 - 𝗞𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗲𝗹𝗹

{𝟮𝟮} 𝗔 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗕𝗜𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗟𝗬

𝘾𝙤𝙖𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚

You'd think we'd already won the Quidditch Cup; the party lasted for the rest of the day and well into the night. It took a while for it to get started; Fred and George had disappeared for a bit and came back with cases of Butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, savoury platters and several bags of Honeydukes sweets.

They dipped the duffle bag onto a table and laid out the bottles of Butterbeer, George giving up with being tidy and instead throwing Peppermint Toads into the awaiting arms of the crowd.

"How did they do that?" I squealed to Angelina Johnson over the roars of excitement, her shaking her head.

Hours later, and vinyl after vinyl played, I was beginning to feel queasy.

(b/f/n), adjusting her top, fell to my side on a couch. "Want to confront your unloyal boyfriend?"

I laughed, looking at her. "What?"

"I'm feeling like we should do something spontaneous!" she squealed over The Weird Sisters. "We should finish what we started - Ron doesn't want to let him off easy. You shouldn't 'ave dismissed him."

The party suddenly sucked arse.

I hopped up, leaving my tipsy friend on the couch to babble to herself. Butterbeer didn't have a high alcohol rate, so I was slightly suspicious of how much she had drunk to look, well - drunk.

Only one person wasn't joining in the festivities. I hadn't seen her all day, and there she was, sitting in a corner, attempting to read a book bigger than her head.

Harry also made his way over to her, and I joined them. "Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles." I read aloud, Hermione's eyes briefly glanced up at Harry and I, then at where Fred and George had started juggling butterbeer bottles, and refocused on her book.

"Did you even come to the match?" Harry asked over the noise.

"Of course I did," Hermione said defensively, not looking up, and I nodded in agreement. "And I'm very glad we won, and I think you did great, but I need to read this by Monday."

I looked to (b/f/n) on the couch and Ron scarfing chocolate, wondering if they would bury the hatchet if they were in good enough states.

"At least have something to eat," Harry said weakly.

"I can't Harry! I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!" Hermione cried, now sounding slightly hysterical. "Anyway," she said, glancing both longingly and critically to where Ron was at the food table. "He doesn't want me to join in."

There was no arguing with this, as Ron decided to say loudly, looking sideways at us, "If Scabbers hadn't been eaten, he could have had some of these Fudge Flies. He used to really like them -"

Before I could say anything to Ron, Hermione yelped, bursting into uncontrollable tears before tucking the book under her arm and running toward the staircase.

The sobs could still be heard as she made her way to the dormitories. I sighed, dragging my feet to Ron.

"Can't you give her a break?" Harry said to Ron under his breath.

"No," said Ron flatly. "She never admits she's wrong, Hermione. I can't believe she's still acting like Scabbers has gone on holiday or something."

I decided I wasn't in the mood after that, slinging (b/f/n)'s arm over my shoulder and heaving her up the stairs to our dormitory. Lavender came up with a nauseous Pavarti a little after one, saying that the only reason the party had ended was because McGonagall had stormed in and insisted the house went to bed.