Vacivitas

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Two

Welcoming Seamus back is seamless.

His laugh is as hearty as she remembers, and he gives her a bear hug that takes her feet off of the floor. He definitely doesn't like Draco, but he's happy to let everyone know how much he likes the comforts of Paris. They spend a half-hour or so catching up, but when it comes time to talk about Dean, that's when the alcohol really comes out.

It starts with everyone taking a drink in his name. That translates into more drinks. And more. And soon, it's mayhem. The noise is unbearable. Pinky's frantic with trying to clean up after Neville, who really can't hold his liquor at all. Hermione, Faye, and Ginny are acting foolish, racing each other to see who can roll across the floor in the Floo room the fastest. Ron and Tillian are playing a drunken game of wizard's chess that has them alternating between screaming at each other and saying, "No, but I love you, mate," over and over again. Seamus and Harry are on the couch, sobbing uncontrollably and hugging each other.

When Ginny drunkenly asks them what's got their knickers in a twist, they tell her they're crying over Seamus' long-lost grandmother, who traveled to Timbuktu and apparently, never came back.

Just when everyone's starting to come together with the intention of playing a silly game, Pinky appears in front of Hermione. She's covered in sweat, panting, and smells like bile. There's a soiled towel tossed over her shoulder.

"Forgive Pinky, Miss. Mister Longbottom is in the loo, and Pinky is tired, but Pinky needs to tell Miss something."

Hermione blinks. There are two Pinkys, spinning around each other in circles.

"What?"

"Master Malfoy is home."

Hermione shrieks and staggers to her feet. Faye helps her, and both of them snicker.

"Where is he, Pinky?"

"Why do you sound so excited?" Seamus asks, slurring his words and wiping his obnoxious tears. "Last bloke I want to see is him."

CRACK.

"That's unfortunate, since this is my home."

Everyone in the room screams. Loudly. The wizard's chess set goes flying into the air, the pieces cascading all over the floor. Drinks are spilled and spluttering laughter is heard coming from Ron at the sight of Tillian, his head and face dripping with Firewhiskey.

Draco is standing there, undoing the buckles on his arm guards. They're made of dark brown leather.

Hermione stomps over to him and puts her hands on her hips. "You didn't have to do that. You were already in the house."

He smirks. "And?"

"You, sir," she says, holding up a warning finger and squinting up at him, "are made of poop."

Harry starts laughing, practically howling, and he doesn't stop. He's rolling on the couch, clutching his stomach and hitting Seamus' arm.

Draco's eyebrow arches and he crosses his arms over his chest. "And you, witch, have had too much to drink."

"Don't be silly." Hermione tries to wave a dismissive hand, but it makes her dizzy. "I've only had on-two-wenty-thirty-two. Thirty-two."

"Thirty-two drinks, hm?" Draco shakes his head. "I'm impressed you're still standing."

"Yeah, well...I'm an impressive sort-of woman." She saunters toward him, heedless of watching eyes.

"Oh, is that so?"