After Party

17: After Party



WARNING : This chapter contains references to underage drinking. It in no way is condoning, nor encouraging, such activities. If it offends you, you may want to skip this chapter. Actually, it’s pretty much about underage drinking as a rite of passage, so consider yourself warned.

Madam Pomfrey gave Harry one last look-over and checked the bones in his wrist before allowing him to leave and make his way back towards Gryffindor tower. His arm was in a sling, which he immediately removed once he was out of Madam Pomfrey’s sight. His stomach was growling, and he forlornly realized that while he’d been laid up, he’d missed dinner in the Great Hall. He’d have to sneak down to the kitchen and get something from Dobby, after he checked to see how the celebration was going. If he were lucky, there would be some food in the common room.

As he gave the Fat Lady the password, “ Victory is ours ,” and climbed through the portrait hole, he was assaulted by a wave of noise that nearly sent him stumbling back into the corridor. Since when was the common room hooked up for music? Must be the twins’ doing.

Looking around the crowded room, he could see Ron and Hermione sitting to the side at a table covered with an enormous variety of smuggled-in foods. The twins must have kept the house-elves busy all day; Hermione must have loved that. Fred and George were standing by the fireplace, a large group of younger students surrounding them. It looked to Harry like they were demonstrating products. Angelina Johnson sat with Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet on the sofas, ignoring the twins and talking animatedly with Ginny and the other new Quidditch players. Realizing Alicia was there, Harry scanned the room further and, sure enough, saw Lee Jordan off in a corner with Seamus Finnigan. The two were hunched over a punch bowl and laughing uproariously.

He could see Dean Thomas sitting on a chair by the fire; Lavender and Parvati were on each arm of the chair and he seemed to have them thoroughly engrossed in what he was saying. Dennis Creevey was dancing with a girl Harry didn’t know, and Colin was taking pictures of the whole thing. The Gryffindor victory party was in full swing.

Harry made his way towards Ron and Hermione, planning on grabbing a Butterbeer and some food, when Fred grabbed him by his arm. “Harry, mate, glad you finally got sprung. Here,” he said, shoving a plate of food at him. “Eat up. Then try the punch in the punch bowl. Specially made for only the upper classes.” Fred winked at Harry as he said this, and Harry just looked at him blankly. George and Lee walked over to join them, handing Harry a glass of the punch.

“A toast,” George said, raising his own glass in the air, “to Gryffindor’s stunning victory.” Fred, George, and Lee all tipped their heads back and downed the liquid. Harry stared at them for a moment, unsure whether or not to trust them. Nothing happened to any of them. He could see Ron sipping at a glass of the funny, orange-colored punch without any kind of physical transformation.

Harry raised the glass and downed it like the others had done. Immediately, he began coughing, feeling like he had just swallowed liquid fire. A burning sensation traveled all the way from his throat to his stomach, and he thought for sure steam must be coming out of his ears. George clapped him on the back as he spluttered.

Harry felt his eyes watering, as he struggled to catch his breath. “What is that?” he gasped.

“Ogden’s finest,” said Fred, beaming.

“Courtesy of Dung,” added George.

“Never had better,” said Lee.

Harry had recovered enough to clear his eyes, the burning in his throat and chest settling to a deep warmth. He could vaguely taste berries or something sweet in his mouth.

“Sorry, mate,” George said. “We forgot you’re a Firewhiskey virgin. You weren’t with us yet that time back at Grimmauld Place.”

Harry looked at them, his eyebrows raised. “What time at Grimmauld Place?”

“It was after the wards came down at the Burrow. We arrived late, and we were all pretty shook up. Of course, Mum scooted us all out of the kitchen pretty quick while the Order discussed everything. George and I joined up right after that. Ron and Ginny came up to our room, and we had an impromptu christening with a bottle we’d been saving for just such an occasion. It was hysterical. You should have seen Ron pissed out of his gourd.”

“Ginny was giggling pretty hard herself, but it was Ron who had us all in stitches. Going on and on about Her-my-oh-knee. It was our job as siblings to give him hell over it. Wasn’t long after that they started going out.”

“I notice Ron is going much slower on the stuff tonight,” Fred commented, looking across the room at Ron.

Harry found another glass being placed in his hand, and he took it, but sipped at it this time. He was sorry he’d missed that experience with Ron.

“How did you get Hermione to agree to this?”

“Well, she didn’t really agree, but she allowed it. Put some kind of age hex on the bowl that won’t allow anyone under fifth-year to pour any. I think she felt like this House needed a real victory party; it’s been too long.”

Harry thought about that for a minute. He couldn’t remember the last time Gryffindor had a real Quidditch after-party in the common room. During the TriWizard tournament, Quidditch had been cancelled. Then, last year, with Umbridge and all of the restrictions, the parties had been very subdued. The twins were right; it was time to right a few wrongs. Grinning at the twins, he raised his glass. “Cheers,” he said, tipping it back.

“Eat that plate, Harry,” George said, “or you’ll be as silly as Ron was. You don’t want to pass out too early; we’ve got a lot planned for this evening.”

Harry noticed that although Lee and the twins were drinking the punch, none of them touched any of the food they had placed on Harry’s plate. Knowing the twins as he did, Harry didn’t trust anything they’d given him. Nodding in agreement, he carefully put the plate down out of the twins’ line of vision while walking over to where Ron and Hermione were sitting.

“Hi!” he said, sitting down with them.

Ron handed him another cup of punch. “Try this, Harry, it’s a ‘Fred and George special’.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve already tried it. It’s pretty good, though,” he replied, taking the glass. Fred and George had moved over to the window and began releasing some Weasley Whiz Bangs into the air. Hermione scowled at them, but Fred shrugged. “What are you going to do? Can’t deduct points, we’re not students anymore. Watch this one, Harry; I think you’ll like it.”

Harry watched as the unmistakable image of Snape appeared in the sky carrying a bouquet of flowers and wearing what looked like a Gryffindor wedding veil.

“Nice prank someone pulled,” George said, grinning as Harry returned the smile.

“How’s your wrist, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Good as new. Pomfrey fixed it right up,” Harry answered, chuckling a little. He was feeling good and very happy all of a sudden. A warm joy seemed to be seeping through him, and he was glad to be with his friends, not worrying about anything.

Ginny came over to join them. “How are you feeling, Harry?”

Harry looked at her very seriously. “I really wasn’t trying to catch the Bludger, you know.”

Ginny grinned and Ron snickered. “How much of this have you had already?” Ginny asked, nodding her head towards his cup.

“Dunno,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders and refilling it, bouncing his head from side to side. “I like it, though.”

“Go easy, Harry. I think that maybe you should slow down. Did you eat anything after the game?”

“Leave him be, Gin,” Ron said, leaning back in his chair. “This is a lesson he needs to learn on his own, anyway. If anyone deserves a night of relief, it’s Harry.”

“Yeah!” Harry responded. “It’s relief night. No nagging, no Voldemort, no prophecy.”

Hermione looked at him sharply. “What about the–”

“Hermione,” Ron said, tugging her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get another round.” Ron and Hermione walked away but didn’t head for the punch; instead, they slipped into a quiet, darkened corner.

“He didn’t say another round of what,” Harry snickered.

Ginny smirked. Harry was really rather cute with his lips loosened up a bit, not nearly as shy, and his eyes seemed to have lost that haunted look that was so prevalent in them lately. “Here,” she said, handing him a dinner roll. “Eat that; it’ll help. This is really what we had in mind for your birthday party, you know. Something big and loud and full of fun.”

Harry really didn’t feel all that hungry anymore, but munched on the dinner roll nonetheless. “What do you mean? I had a great party.”

“Yeah, it was fun, but smaller than we’d wanted, just family and the Order. It was really just a Weasley family party, after all.”

Harry cocked his head in confusion and continued staring at her without speaking.

“Well, it certainly couldn’t have been the best party you ever had; sixteen should be special,” Ginny said, wondering why he was looking at her so strangely.

“It was the only party I’ve ever had,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if it were common knowledge.

Ginny felt her heart constrict. Oh, no . “What do you mean? Didn’t you ever have a party as a kid?” She knew the Dursleys treated him poorly, but they must have done something for him when he was small, anyway? She suddenly flashed on the image of a lonely little boy wearing clothes much too big for him, standing outside the barrier to platform nine and three-quarters and asking her mother how to get on the platform. His relatives had just left him there alone in a train station full of strangers. Why would she think they’d ever do anything decent, like celebrating his birthday?

“Nah,” Harry shrugged. “They never even acknowledged it until I was about seven, and that was an accident. A neighbor had come over for something, and I happened to mention it was my birthday. Aunt Petunia had told me when it was once, so I always kept track. She asked what I had got for a present, and Aunt Petunia piped in that I hadn’t opened it yet. I never got presents before, so I was amazed at the idea. Aunt Petunia appeared with this silly wrapped thing and placed it on the television. I waited all day to open that present, just staring at it.

When it got to be late, they shooed me off to bed without it, so I asked. Aunt Petunia looked at me like I had three heads. Looking back now, I realized she just threw something together to put on a show for the neighbors. It was always about appearances with Aunt Petunia. Still is. She shoved the present at me and sent me to bed. It was an apple core. I’d never had a present to unwrap before, so I still thought it was exciting. Every year since then she’s done the same thing with some foolish household item.” Harry finished his story and took another drink of the punch.

Ginny had never heard so many words come from his mouth, and the casual way he told such a sad story broke her heart. She felt tears well up in her eyes; how could they have treated an innocent child so cruelly? He was their nephew. She wondered, not for the first time, how he’d grown up to be such a decent and generally sweet person, despite the way they had treated him. He could have turned out so differently. She was about to open her mouth when the portrait hole swung open, and Neville crawled through, followed closely by Luna. They walked over to where Harry and Ginny were seated.

“Hi, Neville, Luna,” Ginny said, smiling.

“You aren’t a Gryffindor,” Harry said to Luna. He wasn’t being nasty; he had more of a blank look on his face, as if he were just stating the obvious. Luna didn’t seem to take offence.

“No, I’m not. If my birth sign were under the Water Bearer, I'd be in Hufflepuff,” she replied dreamily.

Harry seemed to accept this as perfectly logical. “Right. Okay, want some punch?”

“I’d love some.”

As Harry went to get some more glasses, Neville looked at Ginny, raising an eyebrow in question. “Watch out, the punch is spiked,” she said, giggling.

As the night wore on, the music seemed to get louder in synchronization with Fred and George trying to outdo it. Their boisterous personalities were infectious, and Hermione soon gave up on even trying to keep control of the situation. She settled for sending all the younger students up to bed amidst their grumbles and complaints. Third-year Holly Proctor complained the loudest of all. Ron half-heartedly helped her send them along, but came back as quickly as possible to sit down again with his own glass of the punch.

When Hermione returned, she plopped down on the couch next to him and grumbled, “Give me a glass of that punch.”

Ron eyebrows rose in surprise and completely disappeared into his hair, as she downed the contents without flinching. Ginny smiled with glee and refilled Hermione’s glass.

“Okay,” Angelina spoke up. “This party needs some drinking games. Anybody know how to play 3 Man?”

“You need Wizard dice, don’t you?” asked Ginny.

Ron looked at her in surprise and demanded, “How do you know?”

“Oh, please,” Ginny scoffed. “What do you think Bill and Charlie and all their mates did up in the tree house? Have tea parties?”

“You spied on them?” queried Fred, looking exceedingly pleased with his little sister.

“Of course I did. How did you learn to play 3 Man, Fred?”

“From spying on Bill and Charlie in the tree house,” he answered, nodding his head with a smug expression.

Harry, who by this time was feeling no pain and quite fond of everyone in the room, began to laugh at the antics of the siblings.

George ruffled Harry’s head fondly, smiling at how silly Harry was behaving. “All right there, Harry?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“Okay,” Angelina said, drawing everyone’s attention back to the game. “Here’s how 3 Man works.” She placed a set of wooden dice on the table. They looked like any common Muggle dice except that there were no numbers visible. With wizard dice, the dice remained stationary on the table and the player taps his or her wand to the die; the number magically appears. “First person to roll a 3 is ‘3 Man’. Every time a 3 is rolled after that, 3 Man drinks. The only way to get out of being 3 Man, is to roll another 3 yourself. Roll a 7, the person to your left drinks, an 11, the person to your right. Double sixes is a social; everybody drinks. Any other kind of double, you choose who drinks…”

Angelina was talking so rapidly Harry had lost her; he just couldn’t make his mind follow what she was saying. She continued on through a list of what all the numbers meant. Harry figured he’d learn as he went along. He’d never got anything for dinner and suddenly found himself starving again. He grabbed a bowl of crisps and started blindly reaching up to the table behind him grabbing whatever his hand came across, stuffing his face before moving on to the next item.

Ron was watching him grinning. “Got the munchies there, Harry?”

Harry shrugged; it was his turn to roll the dice. Unthinking, he went to pick them up, but George grabbed his arm. “Are you a Wizard or a Muggle?”

Harry stared at him in confusion. “What did you just ask?”

George started laughing, and Ginny gently said, “Just tap your wand to the dice, Harry.”

“That’s what I was doing, but George stopped me.”

George laughed even harder, “That’s what you were doing, all right, mate. Go ahead.”

Harry pointed his wand at the dice and proceeded to roll a three.

“Hey! I’m the first 3 Man,” he said, quite pleased with himself. He sat back with a smug smile, as if he’d just single-handedly won a Quidditch match.

Ginny was shaking her head. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

Hermione, who had by now downed several more glasses of punch, said, “Oh, sit down, Ginny, and stop being a worrywart.”

Ron, shocked by Hermione’s uncharacteristic attitude, sprayed his punch all over the table.

Katie Bell was staring warily at Harry, as she rolled a three, causing Harry to have to take another drink. “Ginny might be right. I’m Head Girl and this whole party is under my watch. What if the Daily Prophet gets wind of the fact I helped to get Harry Potter pissed out of his gourd?”

Harry laughed. “They wouldn’t print that. They’d say I’m always pissed out of my gourd, and I got the rest of you to ignore the rules and drink with me. Hell, then they’d say I invited Voldemort to join us, and he sat in the corner and pouted, because I wouldn’t let him be 3 Man.”

This time, it was both twins who sprayed their drinks everywhere. A few of the party guests stared around in alarm, as if expecting Voldemort to materialize instantly. Most were used to Harry’s using his name and were unaffected. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione laughed at him; it was good for Harry to be able to joke about this; it helped lighten his stress level.

As the game wore on, Harry couldn’t seem to get out of being 3 Man. Of course, everyone else playing found this ‘out of character Harry’ extremely amusing and would cheer every time he failed to roll another three. He was happy and laughing about it, but no longer making a lot of sense. Ron and Hermione were both feeling happy themselves and paying much more attention to each other than anything involved with the game.

When a new song started playing on the wireless, Angelina jumped up and dragged Fred with her. “I love this song.” The two began dancing in the middle of the floor, in the wildest, most out-of-rhythm way possible. Lee sat there, watching them and shaking his head. “Exactly what kind of mating ritual is that suppose to be?”

Alicia slapped him on the head. “Get up and dance, Lee.”

George looked over at Katie, and she looked back at him. They both shrugged their shoulders and said at the same time, “Shall we?”

Various other couples got up and began dancing; Colin asked Ginny, and Parvati moved over to Harry. “Come on, Harry, for old times sake?”

Harry stared at her in confusion. “I don’t know how to dance; you know that. I went to the Yule Ball with someone who looks like you. In fact, I think there were two of you then, too.” He furrowed his brow, trying to remember.

Parvati giggled but tugged on his arm, anyway. “Give it another chance.”

Harry tried to stand up but tripped over the leg of the chair and fell right down on the floor, laughing hysterically. When Ron saw Harry fall, he began to laugh so hard he fell over himself and then couldn’t get back up. The two friends sat on the floor across from each other, each pointing at the other in glee, while Hermione tut-tutted above them

It wasn’t until Harry noticed Ginny dancing with Colin that he suddenly didn’t find anything funny anymore. A strange anger rose up within him, and he had an overwhelming desire to fling himself at Colin and shake the living daylights out of him. It was a new feeling for Harry, and he wasn’t certain what to make of it. Colin had irritated him before, but never to the point of wanting to cause him physical harm. At this moment, Harry wanted to skip the wand and simply rip Colin’s head off using his bare hands.

Noticing the sudden, increasingly angry expression on Harry’s face, Hermione followed his gaze and smiled to herself. She pointed her wand to the wireless and turned off the music. “Come on, everyone, up to bed. McGonagall will be up here shortly, and we don’t want her to find this punch. I can’t imagine how many points Gryffindor would lose. Fred, George, Lee, you go bunk in with Ron and Harry. Angelina and Alicia, I imagine you’ll be staying with Katie?” With a flick of her wand, the incriminating punch bowl was gone.

Amidst groans and grumbles, the students began gathering their things, as Harry made his way over to Ginny. He’d heard Hermione talking but honestly had no idea what she’d just said.

Ginny watched as Harry made his way towards her, then just stopped in front of her, staring. She looked at him in confusion, and he began to laugh. He pointed his finger at her and said, “You used to have a crush on me…”

Ginny’s face paled. She suddenly didn’t find this funny anymore. Yes, she’d had a crush on Harry, and everyone knew about it; she certainly hadn’t done a good job of hiding it…but Harry had never commented on it before; he’d never even acknowledged he knew about it. She knew he’d been aware of it, but he’d never teased or made fun of her, and she didn’t want him to start now. She could see a panicked look on Ron’s face as he moved towards Harry, no doubt attempting to shut him up and save Ginny her dignity. Harry was still laughing, unaware of Ginny’s discomfort, “…and now I have one on you.”

Ginny’s heart swelled so much she thought it would burst from within her and beat out loud on the common room floor. She stared at him in a daze; the intoxication she had been feeling suddenly evaporated. Harry has a crush on me. Well, I’ll be damned. She stared back at him in amazement. Was he having her on? Surely this must be some kind of joke. She discounted that thought instantly, though; Harry was never intentionally cruel—it wasn’t in him. She looked deeply into his eyes and could see nothing but trust and honesty there. Yet again, she wondered how someone who had been raised being constantly belittled and abused could have such an amazing capacity to care.

Ron had made it over to the two of them and, instead of saving Ginny, as it looked like had been his intent, he grabbed onto Harry and dragged him away. Harry hadn’t admitted his crush in a quiet way, and he would be beyond embarrassed come morning. “Drop it,” Ron growled to the sniggering onlookers still awake in the common room.

Ginny usually found Ron’s over-protectiveness stifling and was highly irritated by it. Seeing it directed towards Harry, however, was rather endearing, and she was feeling very fond of her brother.

“Come on, mate, enough for tonight,” he said, leading Harry up the stairs and to the boy’s dormitory.

Ginny stood there, deliriously happy and lost in her own thoughts, and didn’t notice Hermione creeping up to her and latching onto her arm as they climbed the stairs to the girls’ dormitory together. “Take my advice, whatever you do tomorrow, don’t bring up what he just said. If you do, he’ll retreat so far it’ll take forever to get back to the place you are now.”

Ginny smiled her gratitude. “I know that, Hermione; it was probably just the alcohol talking, anyway. Most of the people here won’t even remember it tomorrow.”

Hermione wasn’t fooled by Ginny’s casualness. “There’s no doubt in my mind that at some point Ron is going to give Harry the ‘big brother speech.’ Since both Harry and I are only children, I’m going to make it my responsibility to give the ‘big sister speech’ to you. Don’t hurt him, Ginny. I don’t think you realize what his developing feelings for you will mean. He’s very fragile emotionally right now, and you could hurt him so easily. He has no experience whatsoever with these kinds of feelings. The only emotion he was ever shown growing up was contempt; of course he’s insecure. I ask you, how could he be anything else?”

Ginny had to interrupt her. “Hermione, don’t be ridiculous. There is no way Harry could actually have a crush on me that he’s been hiding, no way.” The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he does, and I think he has for quite some time. Be gentle with him. Go slow and don’t be too hard on him when he messes up, because he will. You have no idea how clueless he can be about things like this. I love him, Ginny, and I think you could really make him happy, but he’s probably going to fight you all the way.”

Ginny was stunned. “Hermione, I–”

The moment was broken as Professor McGonagall stormed through the portrait hole, demanding the party break up and everyone get to bed this instant. Ginny continued climbing the stairs slowly, her mind whirling with the impact of Hermione’s words.

Ron had pushed Harry onto his bed, and he lay there gripping the edges, hoping the room would stop spinning. He didn’t have the will or desire to change his clothes and really wasn’t sure he could get up to do it anyway. Dean Thomas was already passed out in his bunk; Neville had sneaked out to take Luna back to her own dormitory.

Seamus and Ron were helping the twins and Lee transfigure some extra beds in the limited space that was available. By the time they were through, the room was wall to wall beds with no room left to walk. Harry kicked off his shoes and managed to undress down to his boxers before falling back down. “I don’t feel so good,” he muttered. “My bed keeps on turning.”

“Put one foot on the floor, mate,” Fred told him, or was it George?

Harry complied and found that did help a little. He lay there with his eyes closed, listening to the disjointed conversations going on around him. The twins were talking about Quidditch…

“I play Quidditch,” Harry told them and heard their laughter. He didn’t know what was so funny. There was something he was supposed to be doing, but what? Glancing over at Ron, he could see him getting his own pajamas on. Ron seemed to be having trouble standing up. He said something about the game today, but Harry was confused.

“Did we play Quidditch today?” he asked, but his voice didn’t sound quite right. Again, he could hear the laughing. He overheard a brief snatch of a conversation, “…good to be able to forget there’s a war on…”

Harry’s heart began pounding loudly as he felt that now familiar panic begin to seep back in. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

His tongue suddenly went dry and seemed to be too big to fit in his mouth . Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…

His palms began to sweat, and he felt cold and clammy, wrapping the blankets around him trying to keep warm. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the voices from speaking inside he head. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…

Harry’s breath was coming in rapid pants now. His hands had started to tremble, and he desperately wanted to flee from the room. He knew it must be some kind of panic attack, but he didn’t know how to stop it. Ron must have sensed something was wrong, because he leaned over Harry and whispered quietly, “Are you all right, Harry?”

“Make it stop,” Harry pleaded.

Ron misunderstood and thought Harry was talking about the room still spinning. He pulled the hangings around his bed. “Just go to sleep, Harry. I can’t say you’ll feel better in the morning, but it’ll help for now. Shut your eyes and go to sleep, mate.”

Harry nodded, glad to have an instruction to follow. He willed himself to relax and control his breathing. As his heart slowed, the alcohol overtook him, and he drifted off to dreamless sleep.

_____________________

A/N: Okay, I warned you about the drinking. The way I see it, legal adult age for a Wizard is seventeen, not twenty-one. That being said, my guess is that some experimenting would happen around fifteen and sixteen. It’s just a story and no offense intended.

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