Chapter 31
Hermione felt her whole face go red when the five of them had shoved themselves into the loo following their first round of shots to make veils out of the cheap, one-ply toilet paper the bar had. She’d felt less self-conscious as the night went on and she got more drunk. By the end of the first club she’d successfully gotten a bald man’s phone number after singing -- horribly off tune and overly loud -- to him (earning herself six points in the process for this arbitrary game they had going on that she wanted to do better at then she was willing to admit).
At the second club, she’d felt silly talking to a random man for twenty minutes using an American accent before she’d felt invigorated after Luna kicked the jerk in the balls when he wouldn’t stop following her around after she told him she loved him. When they’d lost him in the room she followed Gin and Lune to the restroom. Mione was tipsy enough that she didn’t bat an eye when she relieved herself in the (disgusting) men’s room but wasn’t yet drunk enough to not feel slightly embarrassed when her two companions turned their clothes inside out for the next twenty minutes. She truly believed they’d have continued wearing their clothes that way all night if Pansy had allowed it (the tantrum she’d been starting to throw when Ginny begrudgingly agreed to righten her dress was downright disturbing). After their third round of shots at this club (tequila) ‘A Thousand Miles’ by Vanessa Carlton came over the speaker. She and Gin managed to get all but Astoria up and dancing on their tabletop (the two of them were the only ones singing along from their group but more joined in from the small crowd that gathered to cheer them on). When she got off the table a man with a wedding ring gave her a hotel key with a wink and a phone number. She gladly took the six points it got her and an additional six points when she scrawled it on the men’s room stall with ‘for a good time call xoxo’ next to it.
By the time they left their final destination for the night, she was hammered. The group of girls were falling over themselves, giggling and joking as they staggered to the floo network. She was glad to see they hadn’t missed the cut-off for the Drunk Floo (this one was an elderly wizard with a cheery disposition who manned the floo entrance so drunk witches and wizards didn’t splinch or off themselves in the network). They arrived in a tangled heap on the other side of Pansy’s fireplace, laughing as they attempted to stand up from the mess of limbs and hair.
“Quivilt!” Pansy called as she heaved herself to the plush chaise lounge. A house elf arrived with a loud *POP* that echoed sightly in Hermione’s drunken ears.
“Yes, Mistress? What can I be getting Mistress and Mistress fri-”
“Drinks! I’ll take a Pink G&T. What do you all want?” Pansy slurred as she asked the others.
“A Bermuda Hundred, Miss,” Luna told the elf as she adjusted the veil falling off her head (the others had ditched them between the first and second club).
“Gimmie a Kamikaze,” Ginny demanded, settling herself on the loveseat opposite their host.
“I want a New York Sour,” Astoria threw over her shoulder as she shimmied to the loo, shoes abandoned on the floor behind her.
“Could you get me a Vieux Carré, please?” Mione asked the elf -- ignoring its trembling squeak at her ‘please’ -- lowering herself onto the loveseat (moving Ginny’s legs enough to sit before repositioning them on her lap).
“Quivilt get, Mistress and Mistress friends. Right away!” The elf disappeared again with a loud *POP* and Hermione resisted the urge to cover her ears to block out the ringing.
“Mione you’re the smart one,” Pansy declared. “Here!” Hermione barely managed to catch the stack of flyers they’d been slowly filling out throughout the night. “I don’t feel like doing maths right now.” Mione stared at her dumbfounded for a minute.
“Ummm... What are you asking me to do?”
“Ugh, keep up! I told you to tally the points! Who won the game? Why do you think I handed the score sheets to you?” Hermione grumbled under her breath about them being thrown at her and not handed over but got to work nonetheless. She added each sheet individually; Astoria came in lowest at 38 points (not that she was surprised as the younger girl had been more reserved and uncomfortable about everything than she had been), Hermione following next with 50 points (more than she’d anticipated earning at the beginning of the night but still frustrating that she hadn’t gotten a better grade -er, score).
“Third place is Luna with 82 points, second place is 84 points, first is 102.”
“I assume that I had 102 points,” Pansy smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Hermione bit back a snort of laughter.
“Actually, Ginny won. You had 84.”
“What! Give me that, you obviously added the scores wrong!” Pans cried in indignation. Twenty minutes later Pansy let out an annoyed huff. “You must have cheated somehow.”
“I did no such thing!” Ginny shot back, setting her drink down on the side table, ready to fight the other girl.
“Ginny played perfectly fair, same rules as everyone. You were there the whole time, if you thought she was fudging the numbers you should have spoken up earlier.” Astoria told Pansy from her perch on the chair. “What’s her prize Pans, she won fair and square?” The brunette grumbled angrily as she stormed out of the room before returning with a basket.
“Here’s your dumb prize,” she told Ginny snootily as she plopped the gift down in front of her.
“Woah, sweet.” Gin mumbled as she went through it. It looked like a self-care package from where Hermione sat. She could see lotions, shaving potions, hair conditioners, face masks, a silk robe, and a new set of wine glasses.
“I was going to use those to calm myself down after tomorrow- well tonight, but I guess I’ll have to get more.”
“What happens tonight?” Mione asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.
“Hello! I have to marry that uncouth, oaf in, like, 15 hours!”
“So? You’ll be pampered all day before the wedding, why would you need the stuff in that basket?” Ginny snipped at the girl taking a dig at her older brother.
“Because I don’t want to be locked up for a month and after the potion wears off I’ll realize I’ve shagged the imbecile. And I am not looking forward to how long it’ll take to cleanse myself of him.” Pansy grouched.
“Keep talking about my brother like that and you’ll be needing that washing a lot sooner.” Gin threatened, fingers itching towards her wand.
“Potion? What are you talking about?” Hermione asked, interrupting the stare-down taking place in the room.
“You know, the moribus solutam we take at the reception?” Astoria told her.
“N-o? What is moribus solutam? Doesn’t that mean ‘loose morals’?”
“You would know Latin.” Pansy snickered, earning a closed-mouth laugh from Ginny.
“Don’t we all know Latin?” Luna asked, nearly forgotten in the room’s tension.
“Basically it’s a tasteless, odourless potion we drink over the course of the reception,” Astoria explained. “The ministry mixes it with your drinks until you’ve taken the whole jar. It makes you less overwhelmed and more willing to have sex.”
“They’re gonna dose me with love potion so I’ll shag Malfoy?!” She exclaimed, jumping up and dumping Ginny onto the floor with a resounding *OUFF*.
“No, no, no!” Astoria quickly corrected.
“Puh-lease, you really think I’d take a love potion for Ron Weasley ?” Pansy asked with her arms crossed and a look of disgust.
“It helps prevent inhibitions basically. It won’t MAKE you do anything.” Ginny assured her. “You don’t even have to take it if you don’t want to, but it’s easier for some people to just get it over with. They take it so they aren’t stuck in one room with their new spouse for weeks before they have sex.”
“And it’s most certainly NOT a love potion,” Astoria added.
“Why would they be stuck in a room for weeks? Pansy said something similar, is there something I should know?” Hermione asked her friends with a pit forming in her alcohol-laden stomach. The others shared a look before Pansy burst out laughing.
“Oh my god, you know everything but you don’t know the wedding laws? That’s hilarious!” The girl exclaimed, giggling behind her hand.
“After you leave the reception you and Draco will be taken to your room, whether that be a bedroom or a honeymoon suite or something else,” Astoria explained. “And the room will seal itself once you pass the threshold so that, aside from using the loo, neither the bride nor the groom will be able to leave the room until the marriage has been consummated.”
“Excuse me?” Hermione demanded lowly, unbelieving what she’d just heard.
“That’s why it’s easier just to drink the potion, it makes everything less awkward and you can get at least a semi-decent shag out of your spouse -- you know, provided they have any skills in the bedroom --without the drama or worrying about being uncomfortable or self-conscious. And you don’t have to stay holed up for a long time after the wedding unless you want to.” Ginny told her with a smirk, finishing her drink before it filled itself again.
“Why hasn’t any of this been explained to me before now?” Hermione felt like pulling her hair out. This was ridiculously archaic! She wanted to question how such spells and potions could possibly still exist but then she remembered the whole reason she was even having this discussion. Compared to the Marriage Law this was very on parr for the damned Ministry, she decided.
“I thought you’d have already known. It’s basically common knowledge.” Ginny shrugged.
“Don’t worry Hermione, nothing bad will happen if you take the potion and nothing bad will happen if you don’t.” Luna declared.
“Yeah, you either get to shag Draco without worrying about any of your shared history or any recent faux pas’, or you get to spend time getting to know one another. Seems to me it’s a win-win situation.” Astoria assured her. Hermione disagreed. This was not a win-win situation. It was a new element of her ongoing nightmare.