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Chapter 67 : Acting Stupid With My Best Friends
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Acting stupid, getting drunk with my best friends
I couldn't wait for the summer
Almost every night, we camped out on the beach, because everything was just so beautiful. It was splendid! It was awesome! It was the shiz!
And, in between the night time camp-outs, and the breakfasting on cold pizza, there were sick, nasty, raging parties.
For instance, it was the first of July - about a week after we arrived, when we threw the first real party, in which Damon’s moderately sized, three-bedroom beach house (and it’s adjoining property - both grassy front yard, sandy backyard, and the salty ocean water beyond that) became temporary home to nearly seventy people. Most of whom were completely and utterly smashed. And by most, I mean everyone.
“Whooo!” Sirius and I, for one, were taking a journey down memory lane. On Darren, Stephen and James’ insistence, I stumbled up onto the table, and was able to climb onto Sirius’ shoulders. It had been quite a while since we last did that, and Sirius was nearly half a foot shorter back then.
Even Remus, our designated one-with-brain got a little tipsy.
I could see from my seat on Sirius’ shoulders that he had gotten distracted by, and was flirting with a cute brunette.
As of around my Graduation time, he and Dora were no longer ‘together.’ Dora had broken it off with Remus, telling him, “I can’t tell you why, but know how much it pains me to not be with you.” And, when you questioned her further, she answered, “You’ll know soon enough.”
It was a very cryptic and dubious-sounding message. I believe that part of the reason that Remus allowed himself to get a bit tipsy was that he felt better about the whole still-stinging situation when he did. It was obvious to anyone with even a semblance of a brain to know that Remus was hurting more than he let on; he loved Dora so much.
But, with a party around, who had time to remember?
“Sirius! Anna! Watch out!” Neither me nor Sirius were thinking fast enough to realize that the ceiling fan (which was, thankfully, not on) getting bigger and bigger, meant that it was getting closer and closer.
“Oww!” I let go of Sirius’ neck (which I had been holding onto loosely) to clutch my forehead, where the sharp edge of the fan had cut me. My quick, violent movement caused an already stumbling Sirius to fall out of balance. Luckily, he made a few quick sidesteps into a wall, where he stayed.
“Bloody hell!" From experience, it was easy to tell that Darren was the most normal when he was drunk. Perhaps it was from his long history and experience with partying, but he was always thinking the most clear.
“Come on, come on. Get down.” He carefully led Sirius and me over to the couch, where he held onto my waist as Sirius sat down, and then helped me hop successfully off Sirius, and onto the couch next to him.
“Good. Good, now stay here.”
Unfortunately, while I had every intention of staying put, my stomach did not.
An unpleasant grumbling, and a spot of pressure (which, in actuality, felt more like someone stepping on my stomach) let me know that I was about to puke.
Luckily for me (and everyone within a two meter radius of me,) I wasn’t yet drunk enough to be able to ignore such commands from my body. I shot up from the couch and dashed down the corridor and around the people to the loo.
The loo was occupied. In a positive twist of architecture, the loo was just opposite the front door. I burst out of the door, dropped to my knees, and empty the alcohol-based contents of my stomach into the rose bush outside.
Once the unpleasant spewing had stopped, I stayed sitting on the ground, leaning against the steps. It was a half minute before Remus showed up. He was quite sobered up from the last time I had spoken with him (which was around an hour ago,) so I assumed that he had had his fill of drink for the night.
“God, Anna. Is that where you were?” I laid against the brick stairs while he cleaned up the mess that my sick stomach had made like the little Mother that he was. Luckily, I was a good puker, and almost never got sick on myself. Remus was probably thankful for that as well, because he got stuck with the task of picking me up and carrying me back inside, because as well as being completely smashed, I was also practically asleep.
Remus had me cradled in his arms like a little baby, and I had my arms around his neck for extra support. He carried me all the way into the kitchen (which was a feat - while I wasn’t a boulder, I wasn’t exactly feather light, either,) and, luckily, found a still-thinking-somewhat-straight Darren.
I was transferred, and Darren held me just as easily as Remus had. “I’m going to make some coffee, because she really shouldn’t be allowed to go to sleep, yet. Go put her in one of the empty bedrooms, and watch her until I get back. If there are no empty bedrooms, kick someone out.”
With the orders, Darren nodded, and stumbled off into the corridor. “You sure do know how to get yourself into messes, don’t you, Anna?”
I mumbled sleepily.
“I thought you were better with your alcohol, though. At least, that’s what the guys told me.”
I nodded and mumbled a bit more.
Darren carried me all the way to the farthest bedroom, also with the least noise. He didn’t bother knocking, and, luckily, there was no reason inside that would have made him wish he did.
He tripped a bit on the way to the bed, and I was thrown from his arms. Luckily, it was nothing more than a rough landing on the soft bed. I could have just as easily landed on the floor and been on the way to a hospital to have my stomach pumped, and my concussion treated.
I curled up in a ball at the edge of a bed. Darren sat across the room in a chair, taking Remus’ words to heart, and watching me like a hawk.
I fell asleep, and was woken only a few moments later. “Anna? Drink this.”
I took the cup from Remus and sipped lukewarm coffee.
“I cooled it down because I knew she’d practically chug that. Then we’d have a tired, burned drunk on our hands.
“I’m going to stay with her for an hour or-so while she sobers up enough to sleep; you go back to the party. Find Sirius if you can, and make sure he doesn’t have anything else to drink . . . He’s abusing his size and the fact that he can finally out-drink his girlfriend.”
The coffee was already having an effect on me, and the reminder that I could, at one time, hold my liquor better than Sirius even at my small size was funny, a set me off into giggles.
“Yeah, on second thought, it might be more than an hour until this one sobers up,” Remus remarked when Darren left.
In retrospect, Remus locking himself in that room with me for nearly two hours commands a certain amount of respect. It takes a lot to handle me even when I’m not completely smashed. When you throw a bit of Firewhiskey in my system, I’ve got even less of an attention span.
Finally, after those two-ish hours, Remus deemed me sober enough to return to the party, on the promise that I didn’t drink another drop of alcohol that night. “I can’t let you sleep yet, but just try to stay out of trouble, alright?”
Excited about being out of my prison, I consented and bounded down the corridor and back to the party. (First stopping to brush my teeth.) In the crowded sitting room, I found a more-sober Sirius, as well.
“You alright?” he asked, still slurring his words a bit.
I nodded excitedly. “Let’s beach ”
Luckily, Sirius seemed to know what I meant, and put his hand on the small of my back to guide me outside. Unfortunately for us, there were stairs to get down to the sand.
Just as I was about to go down them, Remus arrived on the scene. “Anna! I told you not to do anything stupid!”
I looked at the stairs, confused. “I’m not.”
“You’re going down stairs. That’s stupid ”
Before I knew what was happening, I was being levitated from where I was standing on the porch down to the beach where I wanted to be. Before Remus could stop him, Sirius had taken off leisurely down the stairs, and slipped, just in the manner that Remus was afraid I would.
“Dumbarses,” I heard Remus mutter, as I was dropped lightly to the ground beside where Sirius was laying in a heap.
“Up!” I commanded of Sirius. He stood up slowly, swayed, and then regained his balance. I threw my arm around his waist and leaned on him as we made our way across the sand towards the giant bonfire that we sent off nightly.
I smiled nostalgically at the way the sand crunched under my feet. It rather reminded me of all those times I’d spent at the beach over the summers of my adolescence, though the brilliant white sand of the Greek beaches was much softer.
Stay away from the fire, said a voice in my head, extremely reminiscent of Remus.
We got closer to the fire to see that there were very few people out. In fact, only Darren, Stephen, James and Peter were out there with us.
And Darren was way more drunk than he was when I last saw him.
“Anna! How are you, love? T-t-top of the mornin’ to ya!” Darren tripped as he made his way over to us.
Stephen galloped up next to him and slung his arm around his new best mate’s shoulders. “Hello! Anna, Sirius! How's the fucking going?”
Oh, bloody hell. I think they’ve set a new record for ‘level of drunkenness without being dead.’
“Oh, it’s great, thanks,” I said, humoring my drunken friend. “It’s even better when we use handcuffs."
Okay . . . Perhaps I was still a bit smashed, as well, even though I’d sobered up a decent amount.
Sirius nodded eagerly in consent . . . He was still probably a bit drunk, as well.
Hey, hey, devil!
The devilish part of my brain responded immediately. What?.
I have an idea.
Okay, enlighten me.
Those two are so smashed, that you could get them to snog
Bad idea . . .
Come on! You know you want to! Those two are creepily close as it is, it would take only a suggestion to get them snogging.
. . . Alright . . . What do I do?
Just follow my lead.
“Hey, Sirius.” I turned to my beau, threw my arms around his neck, and lifted up on my toes, snogging the hell out of his face.
Now, me and Sirius had gotten ourselves into a special relationship. Sometimes, we’d cuddle and hold hands . . . Most of the time, we wouldn’t. The majority of our relationship constituted us just acting like best mates as always. The other portion, not taken by the occasional snuggle or the regularness was the incredibly hot sex and such. We had both gotten good at that quickly.
Since we didn’t really flaunt our relationship, snogging in front of people was a little weird, but in our drunken state, it wasn’t really any different than normal.
Cat calls came from our four companions outside, and there were two cries of surprise and laughter came from Darren and Stephen. In their over excited state, they fell to the ground.
At that point, I cut Sirius off, and pulled him to the ground with me. Instead of snogging him again, I lay back against him.
For nearly a half hour, I tried to trick Darren and Stephen into snogging, but nothing would work. The tricky little devil in the back of my brain was totally running out of ideas.
Finally, bored with the whole thing, I left Sirius with the boys to do some bonding and made my way back to the house. At three in the morning, the party was just beginning to die down, and wouldn’t be fully over until around four, if this was a normal night. Sometimes, we’d be partying until dawn. Other times, most people would be gone by one.
I walked upstairs, much more steady than I had been when Remus released me nearly an hour earlier. Upstairs there was only a bedroom and small bathroom. In the bedroom, I found Remus, dozing on the armchair.
“Remus?” I said, quietly. “Remus.”
He was obviously still sleepy. “Dora?”
I looked sadly at him, shook my head and left the room.
I was walking down the stairs when my eyes focused in on what awaited me at the bottom. It was what I had been trying to do for nearly a half hour earlier. Darren Wood and Stephen Carol were snogging. And, bloody hell, was it creepy.
My cry seemed to drag the two apart. Well, drag was a bit of an understatement. It was more like the two were severely repelling magnets that had been aided by a shock of electricity.
“Ahhhhhhh!” Both boys screamed, turned, and ran in the opposite direction. In a hurry to find out and torture each boy about what had happened, I began to hurry down the stairs.
But, as the spinning of my head reminded me, I wasn’t as sobered up as I thought I was, even three hours after the puking incident. I slipped and slid down the rest of the stairs on my butt, much like Sirius had earlier. I bumped my head on the last step and stayed there for a while. “Oww.”
But I was back on my feet in no time, and ran over to Darren, who was curled up in a ball in the corner. Feigning ignorance, I concernedly asked him, “Darren, what’s wrong?”
He shook his head incessantly. “No . . . No . . . Snog . . . Stephen . . . Connie . . . Bye.”
And, without another uttering, Darren jumped off and sped to the kitchen. I followed my drunken, stumbling friend. He grabbed Floo powder off the ledge and yelled Connie’s address into the fire, before jumping in.
He stumbled back out nearly ten minutes later.
He sighed, looking slightly less horrified than he had when he’d left. He put his arms out and waved him around. “It’s okay. It’s okay! I’ve just gone and snogged Connie . . . Though, now that I think about it, she wasn’t all that happy with me . . . Oh, well ”
Darren trotted off like nothing had happened.
Oh, when he and Stephen wake up tomorrow, I am making so much fun of them.
“Oh. Oh, no.”
When I woke up, I was a very unhappy camper. Aside from waking up with a pounding headache that was only increased by the curtains that someone had opened, I sort of felt like I’d gotten hit with a truck the night before.
However, none of my ailments were what caused Sirius to say, ‘Oh, no.’
No, it was much more serious than that. The cause of Sirius’ cry was the Headline of the Daily Prophet (which the Marauders were having delivered to the beach house during our stay.)
“Oh, no!" he cried again, this time more worried. I was barely conscious when Sirius began to shake the bed I was sleeping in violently. “Wake up!” he whispered violently. “Will you bloody wake up!?”
I grumbled, not taking my head out of the pillow. My head pounded, my stomach felt like there was ten pounds of lead in it, and all of my extremities were unhappy that they were currently being hit.
“What do you want?” I groaned, though it probably sounded nothing like I intended it to, muffled against the pillow.
“Read this! Read this!” Sirius whispered frantically, shoving the newspaper into my face.
My eyes were barely open yet, and were fighting especially hard to remain closed due to the light. At that point, I couldn’t see what had Sirius’ wand in such a knot.
However, a minute later, I mostly gained use of my eyes and read the black, bold letters on the front cover. ‘Young Hogwarts Student Goes Missing.’
That headline was disturbing enough, as it was. Even more so was the name under it: ‘Nymphadora Amherst.’
“Oh, bloody hell,” I whispered.
Sirius and I looked at each other, briefly, before we both got up and ran from the bedroom. Our mission? To stop Remus from reading his own copy of the Prophet until we could adequately prepare him.
Unfortunately for me and my hung-over stomach, the smells of breakfast hit me before I could reach my target. The doughy, buttery scent of waffles, the distinct, savory smell of eggs, bacon and sausage combined together with the sweet, tingly smells of fruit and sent my already-upset stomach straight to the bathroom, where I vomited even more violently than the night before.
Fuck everything. Stupid shitty alcohol.
I’m never drinking again.
Before I ducked away to make friends with the porcelain bus, I had told Sirius to handle Remus without me . . . I can’t say that I was overly upset. I love Remus dearly, but dealing with one upset teenage boy per six months was my limit.
After I cleared away all signs of my sickness, I brushed my teeth extra long and then jumped in the shower. There was something about waking up with the worst hangover of your life that just made you want to take a shower. I stayed in there a good thirty minutes, sitting on the floor, letting the hot, hot water fall down on me in a pleasant way.
Afterwards, I felt much less disgusting (though still slightly sick to my stomach, and extremely ailed by my head,) and climbed out of the shower. I toweled off quickly and poked my head out of the bathroom. I heard nothing.
In my towel, I walked back to the bedroom that Sirius, James and I were sharing. I threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and bounded back out to the sitting room, where I found only Damon.
“Remus got a bit upset and left. James, Sirius and Peter followed him. Stephen was absolutely mental this morning and left to go clear his head, and Darren's still snoring away.”
I nodded, my question having been answered. “So . . . Besides the getting up and leaving, how did Remus take it?”
“Well, as well as anyone in that situation could take it, I suppose. He kept going on and on about clues, and her telling him - something of that sort.”
I shook my head sadly. “Remus will be a mess for days . . . And he’s strong, too. Oh, this is a disaster.”
The fact that Dora was missing was, in itself, a disaster. Although I’d spent less time with her over my Seventh year than I did over my Sixth, she was still someone I would consider my friend, and as more and more people that I know died and disappeared, there would be less and less to be joyful about.
Damon and I sat quietly for a few minutes before he quietly spoke. “Anna . . .”
I cocked my head questioningly to the side. “Yes?”
“What exactly was . . . Last summer?”
I knew immediately that he was talking about - last summer. I scrunched my nose at the memories. (Not that they were bad, of course.)
“It’s . . . Whatever you want it to be,” I answered slowly, not exactly sure what last summer was at all. “I’m with Sirius now, but last summer . . . Last summer was last summer. I mean, I don’t regret it, and I don’t think we should forget it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Damon nodded, crossed the sitting room, and sat next to me on the couch I had taken over. He leaned over to me, and for a moment I thought he would kiss me. But, I should have known better. Instead, he whispered into my ear, “I told you so.”
“Damon, have you got a Muggle ID? I haven’t gotten around to getting one yet . . .”
In light of the missing house-mates, Damon and I had decided to go and visit the Muggle city nearby. On the way out, Darren had woken (extremely hung-over, and extremely wary of anyone who wasn’t the opposite sex,) and insisted that he come along.
So, around one in the afternoon, we set out (Darren and I having downed some Aspirin and water,) to walk.
Neither Darren, nor I had one, either. “No matter; we have magic. We can just confund the clerk.”
“Why are we going to buy Muggle alcohol, anyway?” Darren asked. Not being of any direct Muggle heritage, Darren had never been exposed to the cornucopia of Muggle liquor. Vodka, beer (not of the butter variety), white and red wine, gin, whiskey, rum. And, one could not forget all the delicious combinations one could make with those and various fruity syrups.
“Because there’s more than one kind,” I explained. “I’m already getting tired of Firewhiskey, and we’ve still got another three weeks in the house. Besides, this is around where I used to live . . . I was to see if I recognize anyone.”
“Anna, you can barely recognize the people in our year at school,” Darren pointed out.
I defended myself. “I’ve gotten better in the past year ”
Darren nodded. “Ah, a liquor shop . . . In we go.”
So, we walked in. Three teenagers looked quite conspicuous, especially Darren who was so obviously hung-over in appearance.
I wasn’t sure what the legal drinking age in Greece was, but in the U.K. is was eighteen. “What’s the legal age, here, anyway?” I asked Damon.
“Seventeen,” he answered, with an inconspicuous glance towards the clerk. The clerk was glaring at the three of us.
“Well, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed . . . Okay, guys. Let’s go.”
So, Darren, Damon, and I spent the next ten or fifteen minutes hoarding alcohol, and stockpiling it at the front counter. Finally, when the last case of beer was piled on top, we went to pay.
Damon - the smartest out of the three of us - had remembered to bring along a good amount of Muggle money. He asked the clerk to ring it up, but she shook her head.
“Er, why not?”
She pointed at me and said something in Greek.
“Uh . . . I can’t speak Greek.”
“Not seventeen.” Her accent was extremely thick, much, much heavier than Damon’s. But I suppose I was lucky that she spoke English at all.
I nodded my head. “Yes. I am.” Darren and Damon backed me up.
The woman - who couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five herself - shook her head again. “Too small.”
Oh, what a load of crap. I'm short, but not that short. Besides, the rest of me looks old enough!
I suppose Damon must have sensed and argument coming on (though it wouldn’t have gotten me very far, likely,) so he stepped in and began to speak rapid Greek with the lady.
Finally, after getting visibly agitated, he sighed and said, “She says that you look too young, ‘in the face’ and ‘in the height.’”
“Listen,” I said, glaring at the annoyance while I spoke in a controlled voice. “I don’t have the time to go through this. Well, actually I do. But right now, I just want to get home, and make sure Remus is okay. So, Damon if you can just explain to this twit - Wait! Just confund her!”
I was talking so rapidly, I’m sure she had no idea what was coming next. I slipped my wand out of my pocket every so slightly and confunded her. Before we knew it, we’d paid and were on our way back to Damon’s.
When we got back to the house, Stephen was not yet back, but the Marauders were all sitting in a circle on the floor. “No party tonight,” I whispered to Damon and Darren as we were approaching the circle.
“Remus?” He looked up at me. His blond hair was windblown and bed-mussed. His blue eyes weren’t rimmed with tears, but the look of complete distress was easily conveyed. “Oh, Remus.”
I dropped down to my knees and threw my arms around his neck. “Remus,” I repeated. “Remus.”
He still didn’t cry, but his already vice-like grip tightened. “She’s not gone,” I insisted. “She’s not. I can just feel it, and I’m always right.”
“I really hope so, Anna.” Remus’ voice was even, but it was easy to tell he was forcing it so. “I really hope so.”
It was perhaps a week or so before things were completely back to normal. Remus was quite the same for much longer, but the rhythm of the house, ever-so-creatively deemed, ‘The Party House,’ fell back into its natural state.
One would have thought that I would’ve learned my lesson, especially after I concluded that I would never drink again.
Yet, a week after I promised myself that, I found myself just as drunk as before.
“Whooohooo!” I had found a permanent marker in one of the draws in the kitchen. I don’t know why Darren had it laying around, but from that moment on, it became my instrument of fun. I gallivanted happily all over Damon’s property, writing funny things like ‘your mom’ deragatory names for body parts all over people’s faces.
It was one of my tendencies to adopt the humor of a five-year-old when I was drunk . . . Not that I didn’t already have that type of humor . . .
And, my alcohol-driven brain also forgot some of the topics that were taboo as of late . . . Such as the Dark Mark. I took much joy in drawing quite realistic-looking Dark Marks on anyone who was too far gone to notice.
I drew on Darren, James, and three other random people. Remus wasn’t quite back into partying mode yet (understandably,) and Sirius was being extra careful after my drunken escapade a week earlier. So he wasn’t completely smashed, either.
I scanned around the sand, looking for a new victim - one who had fallen freshly unconscious. I giggled evilly when I saw Peter lying flat on his back. Tittering drunkenly, a skipped over to where he was and dropped to the ground.
Looking around and making sure no one else witnessed my covert operation, I pulled up Pete’s sleeve and got ready to mark him up.
Oh . . . Look’s like somebody’s already beaten me to the punch . . .
So, content that at least someone had given Pete the ‘Dark Mark’ I sauntered happily away, slipped going up the stairs, and fell unconscious.
“I mean, bloody hell, there were two of us sober this time and we couldn’t even stop her from hurting herself.”
Once again, that terrible, terrible hangover feeling hit me.
At least I didn’t puke last night . . .
Yet, my stomach was all wretched again, along with my pounding head. Honest to Godric, it felt like someone was having a blast hammering at my temples and the back of my head.
I groaned, letting whoever was in the room with me know that I was alive.
My eyes still wouldn’t open, but I heard a few pairs of feet travel over to where I was laying down . . . It took me a few moments to realize that I was on the floor.
And everything hurt. I mean every single body part.
“Why do I always wake up feeling like I got hit by a truck,” I groaned.
Someone snickered. I think it was Remus. “That’s because you did. Or, at least, you got hit with something the equivalent weight.”
At that point, I finally managed to open my eyes, I saw Sirius looking guiltily at the ground, and Remus glancing between us, smirking.
Well, at least he’s smiling about something again.
“Yeah, Sirius was the big truck-like thing, in case you couldn’t tell.”
Sirius mumbled, looking at the ground. “I was trying to help.”
And then he launched into a story about how he saw me slip on the stairs and fall. He then went running down them himself to try and save me, consequently tripping and falling down them and landing in a heap on top of me. The bloody lug was almost double my weight, and he was on top of me . . . Well, in a different sense of the word . . . The other kind was rather nice.
After Sirius finished his narration, I requested some Aspirin. “Want some breakfast, too?”
I shook my head vehemently. “No. No. I feel sick enough to my stomach already, I don’t need the smells of food to help me upchuck.”
As Sirius left the room, I muttered to myself about ‘bloody hangovers’ and ‘puking.’ I suppose hangover symptoms varied in everyone. For Sirius, it tended to be a splitting headache - so bad that he can’t even get out of bed without passing out, until he’s had a fix of Aspirin, or a heavy-strength potion.
James always got really bad neck aches, and Peter never got really bad hangovers . . . The bastard.
And me. I always got a funny tummy. I didn’t know why, because out of all of the terrible aches and pains that come with a hangover, stomach issues were my least favorite. And, of course, that’s what I got.
I closed my eyes and slipped my arm over my head, trying to block out the misery. Unfortunately, luck was not for not being a very nice lady.
“Good mornin’ m’lady! Breakfast!”
Darren, the brilliant little fucker, brought a full tray of breakfast. I mean, he obviously had good intentions, but the smells of the food upset my nausea. And all the junk I’d eaten the night before (and the alcohol I’d consumed) ended up out of my stomach.
“Thanks, Darren,” I mumbled after I finished heaving into the toilet (to which I had jumped up and sprinted to, much to the protest of my pounding, dizzy head.) “Now do me a favor, and go take a long walk off a short pier.”
That’s when Sirius walked in, holding a tall glass of water a few Aspirin. “Okay . . . What did I miss?”
Later on, after I’d swallowed the Aspirin and a few glasses of water, brushing my teeth, showering, and dressing in a soft pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, I was feeling much better. Well, better enough to be a fairly pleasant human being as I sat around the sitting room, eating cookies with James, Remus, Sirius, Darren, Damon and Stephen.
Cookies were the only thing that my stomach could hold down before around five in the evening, as a general rule. Perhaps it wasn’t the best thing for my body, but it was only temporary.
“Hey, guys, where’s Pete?” I asked, noticing that there was one missing from our usual number.
Sirius, who was sitting next to me, and who was my leaning-post at that time, answered, “Oh, well, he ran out this morning, stuttering about something or other . . . I think those goddamn Death Eaters scared the crap out of him, poor bloke.
“He did say that he’d be back in a few days, though.”
I nodded. With my hangover mostly gone, that terrible feeling of post-drunkenness was gone, and the only idea associated with alcohol I had was the fun that you started with, so I was ready to party. “Well, until then, PARTY ON!”
A/N: First off, I would like to thank littlemissgreeneyes for the positively brilliant idea of the Dark Mark sharpie thingy. :D
A/N2: Oh, by the way, just so I’m not being a bad influence . . . I in no way encourage anyone to party hearty like Anna and the Marauders do, especially if you’re on medicine, or the desginated driver, or pregnant. And especially don’t party all those days in a row. ‘Cause you’re going to ruin your livers. (This has been a public sevice anouncement by me.) :D
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