After

“Minerva, my dear friend, you’re looking a little drunk over there,” Pomona teased, finishing off her fifth gin and gingerale, and beginning to feel a bit tipsy herself

“Pomona, m’dear friend, feck off,” Minerva answered, very unprofessionally, “I could and will outdrink you any day.”

“Oh, in that case, shall we have a sixth?” Septimia challenged, knowing the answer despite being unable to read Minerva’s expression because her vision was swimming.

“God no,” Minerva said emphatically, slouching uncharacteristically against the back of her chair, all her posturing from before long gone now.  “I shouldn’t have had a fifth.” She hadn’t felt this tipsy in… well the year and a half since she gave up drinking. “I’ve not been this drunk off five drinks in decades. God, I’m a lightweight again.”

“Sure are,” Filius laughed, knowing that Minerva before wouldn’t have felt a damn thing yet.

“No,” Poppy rebutted, shaking her head, she had quit after two and switched to Butterbeer. “Drinking five double shots of whisky in little more than an hour is still fucking ridiculous. Don’t encourage her,” She scolded.

“What’d you know ‘bout it anyway?” Hagrid chuckled, “I’ve never seen you drink anything stronger than butterbeer.” 

“Some of us don’t have the body mass to handle alcohol, my giant friend, one-tenth of what Minerva’s had and I’d probably be in the hospital wing,” Filius answered smilingly, the turned to Minerva and teased, “I’m the end all of lightweights, and it takes one, to know one.”

“Oh well,” Minerva sighed resignedly, “it’s cheaper this way.”

“Proving all the Scottish stereotypes tonight, aren’t you Minerva?” Pomona said cheekily, feeling flushed as the drinks finally caught up to her. “if you can’t be good at being drunk at least you can still be a cheapskate.” 

“Mona, you’re in serious danger right now,” Minerva threatened jokingly. 

“Violent too, you’re really ticking off the whole bingo card tonight, Minnie,” Septimia said, sharing a laugh with Pomona

“Remind me; why do I like any of you?” Minerva asked dramatically, “I deserve better friends than this. I have lived too long, and been through too much, to settle for… this.” The others laughed and Minerva rolled her eyes, thinking that there were no better friends to be had, though she kept that to herself.

“What time is it?” Minerva asked, checking her own watch before anyone could answer. “Dear Merlin, and we have classes tomorrow.” 

“Yes well, we’d better sober up quick because we still have to walk past our eighth years and I should hate to let them think we’re human enough to get drunk,” Pomona said with a laugh, peeking in between other patrons to get a look at their returning students. “Never mind, I don’t think they’d notice if we stumbled by singing,” She laughed, causing the other professors to lean and crane their necks for a look.

“Oh dear,” Minerva said, trying not to laugh at the kids, half of whom were practically lying on the table. “I had thought that Rosmerta was joking when she told us what they ordered. They’re going to be right out on the roof.” She shook her head and tried not to look so amused.

“Ugh, the fact that I know what you mean by out on the roof shows I spend way too much time with you,” Septimia complained. Hagrid looked at her, questioningly, “It’s a Minerva-age way of saying someone’s drunk.” 

“Aye, gud, I was startin’ te wonder why they’d be going up on the roof,” Hagrid said with a laugh at Septimia’s explanation.

“Septimia stop trying to reclaim your faded youth by calling me old,” Minerva retorted, “It doesn’t work. Just because I’m older than you doesn’t mean you’re not old.” 

The smirk slipped off of Septimia’s face, “Ouch. that was uncalled for. You know I’m touchy because Charlie and Astoria keep making fun of us.”

“Yes, all of us…they make fun of all of us - get over it,” Pomona answered.

“Speaking of getting over things,” Poppy cut into the conversation, reaching into magically enlarged pockets, then asked, “Who wants to get over tomorrow’s hangover right now?” With that, she placed a large bottle of a reddish liquid on the table.

“What is that?” Filius asked, seemingly like he had already guessed.

“Poppy Pomfrey’s Patent-Pending Pepper-up Potion!” Poppy answered with a bright smile. She’d been working on something like this for a few years before the war began, it seemed that she’d had the time to get it right this time. “I know you’ve all tried my previous attempts at such a thing… with, erm… widely varying results, but this time I’ve got it,” She reassured. “And it really is Patent Pending, I took it to the Ministry Department of Potion Regulation and they’re considering my patent.” She was doing everything she could to keep from beaming with pride.

“And it’s…. A hang-over cure?” Septimia asked skeptically. “You did all of that work for a hangover cure?” 

“Well no, it’s not just a hangover cure, it’s a bit of a cure-all really,” Poppy replied, a little affronted. “But if you want to be hungover in the morning, be my guest.” She poured a few drops into her own glass.

“I have my fifth-year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors first thing, so I’d better take you up on that,” Pomona said, sliding her glass to Poppy. “What a crew. It’s lucky they don’t end up in the hospital more often than they do. There’s too many to keep an eye on them all at once.” 

“Next year, I swear it, Mona, I will get you an assistant professor,” Minerva said, surrendering her glass to Poppy. “Just please, Merlin, don’t quit on me.” 

“With my greenhouses in this state? I could never leave them like this, I wouldn’t want another professional Herbologist to come in and judge me on that basis,” Pomona replied, horrified by the very idea. 

“Well, at least you don’t have to start your day with N.E.W.T students,” Filius cut in, shaking his head, “don’t get me wrong, they’re all wonderful and I am very fond of them,” He said dismissively, “But my goodness they ask such questions - and at 830 in the morning - I can barely come up with words to string together and they’re asking me about Corning-Former’s fifteenth principle of memory charms. I don’t know how they do it.”  He magically pushed his glass across the table to Poppy, “I may not have had anything to drink but I still better at least try and have my wits about me.” He and the rest were used to being Poppy’s test subjects and he knew he would not be exempt from this latest trial.

Hagrid shook his head and passed his mug along as well, “Ets not the students I’m worried about, mind, but it’s better te have yer head on straight when ye’ve gotta talk to the centaurs.”

Poppy was all too glad to oblige and poured a double amount for their half-giant friend.

Septimia, still hesitant from the last time she tried a test batch and nearly breathed fire (She’s a bit dramatic about it, it was really only a few sparks), sighed and said, “Oh, go on then. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

But even when Septimia’s glass was returned to her they all hesitated. The ‘varying results’ that Poppy had mentioned had been generally bad, and they were all a bit wary - even Poppy herself.

“Well, here’s nothing,” Minerva said, taking the potion and putting the glass down again. She looked at Poppy quizzically as nothing had yet happened. 

“Just wait for it,” The Mediwitch answered, taking it herself. Hagrid followed suit and shrugged. 

The other three waited for the results before trusting another of Poppy’s concoctions. 

Minerva suddenly exhaled sharply, almost as if she’d been hit in the chest with something heavy. Poppy looked a little worried but started having her own reaction and couldn’t express any concern.

Minerva gasped for a second and then regained composure in a brief moment, exhaling smoke as if she’d just taken a drag of a cigarette (which she had not done since 1928, and did not enjoy then). After a brief moment of regaining her wherewithal, Minerva turned to a gasping Poppy Pomfrey and said, “What the hell is in that?”

The effect finally caught up to Hagrid and he coughed loudly and shook the table before Poppy could form an answer. 

“Well. I’m glad I waited,” Pomona said, pushing her glass away and shaking her head. 

“No,” Minerva stopped her, “You misunderstand. It’s unpleasant as all but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t work. I feel perfectly clear-headed.”  She seemed almost disappointed by the fact, “If I had thought that one of your crack-pot concoctions was actually going to work as advertised I’d never have taken it.” She shook her head in Poppy’s direction, “All that whisky - wasted.” 

That was enough of a recommendation for Pomona and Filius who raised their glasses to each other and then drank what they’d been given. 

Septimia was the only one left with anything in her glass. She sighed and shook her head as Pomona and Filius both coughed sharply, then she decided she might as well join the group. 

After they’d all finished having their reactions Pomona wondered aloud, “I can’t believe that worked.” 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Filius said in equally surprised tones.

“Thank you for your votes of confidence, I’m glad you all have such faith in my abilities,” Poppy intoned sarcastically, putting the bottle back in her pocket. 

“Oh, come now, Pip,” Minerva said with a small smile, “Don’t pretend like there have never been any - shall I say less than satisfactory prior attempts.” 

“Like the time I nearly breathed fire,” Septimia said, equally pleased and shocked that the newest iteration worked. 

“Sparks, there were a few sparks, get over it,” Poppy complained sourly.

“Or the time I couldn’t stop exhaling smoke,” Filius added with a slightly chastising look.

“It was only for twenty minutes, stop being dramatic,” Poppy retorted.

“Or the time I nearly died for lack of breath,” Pomona said lightly.

“Nearly died? Are you joking? You were fine with a couple of quick lung clearing spells.” Poppy rolled her eyes. 

“And what about what happened to me four summers ago?” Minerva asked with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk. “You tried to send me to St. Mungo’s, and I was without my voice for a week.” 

Poppy frowned and averted her eyes from Minerva’s superiour expression. “Alright, yes, that was a bad reaction, but that’s because you were a hundred years old and although you will doubtless disagree with me, much frailer than you look.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment to my skill with glamour charms,” Minerva said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.  She felt no need to defend herself from accusations of frailty, she’d quite literally dueled Voldemort himself, not more than five months ago. She was many things, old included, but frail was not on the list.

“Well anyway, I’m very glad it worked because we have to get past the eighth years so that I can get to bed,” Pomona said, finally making a move and standing up from the table.

The others followed suit, feeling better than they had walking into the pub. They said their goodbyes to Rosmerta and a few of the other regulars in the slightly crowded pub before coming to the table where the eighth years sat, or rather, slouched over the table. 

“Having fun, you lot?” Pomona asked with a chuckle. That got her a dirty look from Neville which only made her laugh more. 

Harry, sarcastic as ever, said, “This is what we get for trying to emulate our professors.” That almost made Minerva laugh out loud. 

“You youngins mighta stuck te Butterbeer if ya knew what was gud fer ya,” Hagrid said, his chuckling reverberating through the floor. 

“Hagrid, whatever gave you the impression that we know what’s good for us?” Ron asked, sitting up again with his head held in one hand and his elbows on the table. 

“I will reassure you, Mr. Weasley, I have never gotten that impression from you,” Filius teased with a smile. 

“Thanks, professor,” Ron answered sarcastically.

“Miss Granger though, I am surprised with you.” 

Hermione looked a little queasy though that might have just been the liquor.

“Oh Filius I can’t see why,” Minerva said, trying not to smirk too much, “I have no doubt she started it.” 

Hermione shook her head disappointedly, then nodded in answer. 

“Miss Granger?” Septimia asked with a raised eyebrow and almost laughing.

Minerva wore a distinct look of pride when she said, “Oh yes, she’s more trouble than you all give her credit for.” 

The Professors started towards the door again. Minerva turned back briefly,“Remember, you lot, you only have until one o’clock,” Minerva warned, knowing they would be along as soon as they felt they could stand up again.

That was met with a collective groan from her students and she tried not to laugh too much on her way out the door. She heard Harry swear quietly behind her.

Poppy hung back a moment longer and advised, “Drink some water before bed and come to the hospital wing before your first classes tomorrow.” She shook her head at them and followed her colleagues through the door. 

Outside, on the path back to the castle, the professors all laughed lightly and shook their heads, swapping comments about their students and their classes tomorrow. They made it to the entrance hall, said their goodnights and headed in their separate directions. Minerva apparated directly to her desk, she wasn’t drunk anymore so she didn’t have an excuse to stop working.

The eighth years dragged themselves out of the pub a short while later, complaining about their professors and their classes tomorrow all the way back to the castle. 

“I can’t stand them, any of them,” Justin said melodramatically and facetiously, “I don’t know why I came back to this school, was a mistake.”

“I can’t believe I have to walk into professor Flitwick’s class first thing tomorrow morning. I overestimated my ability to feel like an adult here,” Hermione complained, finally no longer feeling nauseous now that they were out in the cool night air. 

“Well, we are only technically adults,” Ron joked in response, taking hold of her hand.

“When do you think they’ll think we’re really adults?” Neville asked, genuinely, walking side by side with Hannah.

“Never,” Luna, Harry, Hermione, Hannah, Ron, Padma, and Pavarti answered simultaneously.