Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing, really! I had the full intent of returning them....eventually.

Just something that came to me when I was supposed to be doing my homework, so naturally I had to stop and write! ^_^

Who needs homework, anyways?

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“You know, when there weren’t any drawing boards, what did they go back to?”


It had been a brilliant idea. Emphasis on ‘had been’. Ron and Harry had planned it for weeks, working out the kinks and making sure they had all the details straight. It was Hermione’s 21st birthday, and in a muggle tradition that Harry had heard about, it was the best friends’ responsibility to take their friend to a bar and get her as drunk as humanly possible. Oh, she was drunk alright. Their plan was spotless. But they didn’t think about one thing.


“Why is it that rain drops, but snow falls?”


No, not that. They hadn’t though about the alcohol’s effect on Hermione’s analytical brain. That had been their greatest mistake.


“If someone gives you a penny for your thoughts, and you put your two cents in, where does the other penny go?”


Ron groaned. Harry had crashed hours ago, and Ginny followed not long after, both tangled together in the most comfortable chair in the flat. Neville was snoring from the couch, his mouth hanging open, drool escaping from one side.


“Ron, are you listening?”


Ron made an incoherent noise, but quickly decided it had been the wrong thing to do when she continued with her questions.


He needed help.


He needed Snape.


“Why are there five syllables in the word monosyllabic?”


The fact that Hermione could still think that word, much less pronounce it in the drunken state she was in astounded Ron. He hadn’t been able to think anything except incoherent thought streams that mostly consisted of ‘shut the bloody hell up, ‘Mione’. Which was why it wasn’t hard to believe that was all he could say.


“Oh bloody hell, please shut up ‘Mione!”


He jerked the pillow out from beneath him, hurling it in the general direction of his friend. Hermione huffed when the pillow soared past her, giving Ron a disdainful glare.


“No, really, if we learn from our mistakes, why aren’t I a genius?”


Ron didn’t answer this time, thinking that maybe she would believe he was sleeping and just shut up. He would never, ever, give Hermione alcohol again. This was worse than Hermione was when she was studying for her N.E.W.T.S.


“Why is minimalism such a big word? And why doesn’t onomatopoeia sound like what it is?”


With that, the snore resonating from Ron’s general direction satisfied Hermione, and she stood. With a smug grin, she summoned some blankets and placed them over all four of her friends.


With a handful of floo powder, Hermione disappeared from the room, with only the roar of the floo network and an echoing ‘Potion Master’s Office, Hogwarts!’ that signaled her leave.


She landed gracefully in his private office and immediately made her way into his private chambers, the wards falling when her fingers closed over the doorknob.


“Did it work?”


She grinned triumphantly, and nodded.


“They never had a clue. I cast the charm before I met them at their flat. They’re used to me moistening my finger in my drinks and tracing the tops of the glasses with it.”


Smirking with arrogance because he had finally bested Potter and Weasley, Snape followed his fiancé into the bedchambers, the door closing silently behind them.