Work Text:
"Come on, Hermione! Live a little ! what could go wrong?" Ginny whined.
If those weren’t the most famous last words. And as it were, a lot could go dreadfully wrong, actually, but her friends did not seem prepared to take no for an answer.
Hermione had spent the better part of her life getting dragged into her friends’ (mostly Harry’s) hare-brained plans. But this? This one might just take the cake. And this was coming from someone who had once indulged in an ill-advised bout of arson and set a teacher’s robes on fire.
In her defense, it had all started innocently enough. In an effort to introduce her friends to the wonders of Muggle entertainment, she had taken Ginny, Pansy, and Luna to the movies. A harmless outing, really.
Except the movie in question had been Magic Mike.
To say her friends had enjoyed themselves would be an understatement. Pansy; in the most un-Pansy like way, had nearly short-circuited from excitement, Ginny had spent half the film fanning herself with a popcorn bucket and the other half cackling like the mad woman she was, and Luna, in her usual dreamy lilt, had suggested that the art of male stripping might be linked to ancient fertility rituals.
That could’ve been the end of it, but Pansy, spoiled pureblood princess that she was, had decided that merely watching through a screen wasn’t enough. She wanted the real thing. The full experience, if you will. And of course, she wanted it as soon as possible.
Which led to Hermione’s second mistake: casually mentioning that Las Vegas had an entire show dedicated to the very... refined art of male performance they had just witnessed on screen and a plethora of strip clubs.
And that is where she lost all control of the situation. Before she knew it, plans were being made, portkeys and hotels were being booked and cover stories were being created. And Hermione? Well, apparently, she was going to Vegas whether she liked it or not.
Never mind the teeny tiny detail that none of their very possessive husbands had been informed of this little excursion.
While Blaise and Theo were likely to Apparate straight to Vegas and hex every performer within a five-mile radius if this got out, and Harry would definitely forbid it on principle, all righteous indignation and moral high ground, there was no telling what Draco would do with his flair for dramatics. Hermione’s best guess was that he would go into his “I’m-going-to-kill-someone-so-fucking-dead-for-this” mood and tear through the city like a platinum haired tornado, leaving chaos in his wake until Hermione was back at his side, collateral damage and Statute of Secrecy be damned.
So here she was, sitting in the living room of Grimmauld Place, facing the expectant—and slightly maniacal—expressions of her so-called friends.
“A lot could go wrong, actually,” Hermione protested, though even she could hear how weak her argument sounded. She was fighting a losing battle, and they all knew it. “And what exactly are we supposed to tell them? We can’t just disappear for twenty-four hours and hope they don’t notice.”
“Easy, Granger, I’ve got that part covered” Pansy drawled, lounging against the armrest like she had all the answers because, apparently, she did. “We’ll tell Harry, Blaise, and Theo that we’re spending the night at yours because Draco is away on a work trip and you wanted some quality girl time. And you’ll tell Draco the same thing, that we’re having a girls’ night at one of our places. Simple, elegant, and foolproof.” She smirked. “I doubt they’ll even think to check in with each other. It’s rather genius, really.”
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, willing herself to ignore the glaring holes in this genius plan. The biggest one being that their husbands were, in fact, all friends. It wouldn’t take much, a single offhand comment, a casual invitation to drinks, or Merlin forbid, an unexpected run-in, for the entire charade to collapse like a bad soufflé.
“And what if they run into each other?” she asked, leveling them with a pointed look.
Pansy waved a dismissive hand. “They’ll probably be too busy talking Quidditch to do any actual thinking.”
Ginny grinned. “Or we just make sure they’re too distracted to talk to each other at all.”
Hermione had a sinking feeling she didn’t want to know what that entailed.
"I don't like it. This has all the makings of a disaster. Can't we just go to the spa or something?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms in what she hoped was a look of firm refusal.
Pansy groaned dramatically. "Ugh, Granger, please. A spa? What are we, eighty?"
"A spa does sound relaxing," Luna mused thoughtfully. "But I’d rather see half-naked men dancing for our enjoyment. It seems more... spiritually enriching."
Ginny snorted. "That's a lot of big words just to say "fun "! Come on Mione, we always do the responsible thing. Just this once, let’s be reckless!"
"Yes!" Pansy pointed at Ginny in triumph. "We deserve a night of debauchery! And don’t pretend you don’t want to go, Hermione—I saw you eyeing that blue eyed one in the movie.”
Hermione gasped, scandalized. “I was not!”
Pansy smirked. “Oh, you absolutely were. You had that look, like when you find an obscure book in the library and get all hot and bothered over footnotes.”
Ginny and Luna burst into laughter, while Hermione turned crimson. “You are insufferable,” she muttered.
“And you love me for it,” Pansy said breezily. “Now, be a doll, pack something sexy, and let’s go to Vegas and watch some very fit men take their clothes off for our entertainment.”
Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples. "Let the record show that I am still convinced this is a bad idea"
Ginny grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe. But it'll be a bloody fun one."
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“So the show starts at ten. I propose we go to our rooms, freshen up, change, and meet back here at seven for dinner before heading there,” Pansy announced in her usual brisk, no-nonsense tone, already into full planning mode. Years of experience hosting soirees and charity galas would have that effect on a girl.
Hermione, meanwhile, was still trying to process the sheer insanity of what they were doing. They were in fucking Vegas. And their husbands were none the wiser.
Because yes, the first part of their plan had gone off smoothly. Shockingly so. She’d told Draco she was spending the night at Grimmauld Place with Pansy and the girls while Harry was away on an Auror field mission. He had barely batted an eye, kissed her goodbye, and told her to have fun before heading to the ministry where he had business to attend to. The others had given similar cover stories, and before she knew it, she and her friends were standing in the Manor’s drawing room, around a Portkey disguised as an overpriced bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion and touching down in the neon-lit madness of the Las Vegas Strip.
And now here they were, standing in the luxurious, glittering lobby of the Bellagio, key cards in hand, while uniformed valets whisked their luggage away to their suites.
“I still don’t understand why we didn’t just shrink our bags,” Hermione muttered, watching their suitcases disappear up a marble staircase.
Pansy turned to her, looking personally offended. “Because, Granger, haute couture and shrinking charms do not mix. Do you have any idea what a poorly cast charm can do to acromantula silk?”
Hermione opened her mouth, then promptly closed it. She did not, in fact, have any idea what a poorly cast shrinking charm could do to silk, but she had a feeling Pansy would be more than happy to educate her in excruciating detail.
Ginny patted Hermione’s shoulder. “Don’t fight her on this. I once tried to shrink one of her designer handbags so it could fit in our luggage, and she hexed my hair neon pink for the whole trip.”
“And I stand by that punishment,” Pansy sniffed. “Some offenses are simply unforgivable.”
Luna, who had been quietly admiring the lobby’s grand floral arrangements, suddenly turned to them with a dreamy smile. “Do you think the fountains are enchanted? They seem like the sort of thing a water spirit might inhabit.”
Hermione sighed. “You know what? I don’t even care anymore. Let’s just get to our rooms before I start regretting all of my life choices.”
.
For all her grumbling, Hermione fell in love with her room the moment she stepped inside. It was spacious yet cozy, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the Las Vegas Strip, the neon lights twinkling like a thousand fallen stars. The plush king-sized bed was draped in crisp, luxurious linens, and a deep soaking tub sat invitingly in the marble bathroom. But the best part? The Muggle appliances. A television, a coffee machine, even an electric hairdryer—things she never got to use at Malfoy Manor.
She loved the manor, there was no doubt about that. Over time, its vast halls and gilded decor had become her home. But every now and then, she missed the little conveniences of Muggle living—the hum of a fridge, the ease of flipping a light switch instead of casting Lumos.
Unpacking was quick, given that they were only staying for one night and planned to leave at the crack of dawn before their husbands uncovered their deception. A shower followed, warm and refreshing, washing away the lingering nerves from their madcap plan.
Then came the dress. Or rather, the weaponized piece of fabric that Pansy had stuffed into her suitcase. A golden silk shift dress that barely reached mid-thigh with ruffles along the hem. The dress was sexy and flirty and showed off her toned legs in a way that she wasn’t entirely sure she was comfortable with. But when she caught her reflection in the mirror, she had to admit that it did look damn good.
By 7 PM, they reconvened in the lobby as planned, an entrance worthy of the most glamorous witches in Britain.
Ginny, ever the firecracker, wore a deep red, off-the-shoulder dress that showed off her athletic figure, her auburn waves tumbling down her back. Pansy had draped herself in a sleek black number with a slit that left little to the imagination and Luna wore a sparkly silver dress that somehow managed to be both ethereal and undeniably sexy, the material catching the light like a starry night sky.
“Now this,” Pansy declared, surveying them all with an approving smirk, “is how you make an entrance.”
They stepped out onto the Strip, the electric buzz of Vegas wrapping around them like a spell. Their destination: a highly acclaimed steakhouse that Ginny had insisted on. The restaurant was dimly lit, exuding the kind of quiet luxury that catered to high-rollers and celebrities. Their waiter, a handsome man with a charming smile, took their drink orders—dirty martinis for Pansy and Luna, a whiskey sour for Ginny, and a classic red wine for Hermione.
“To reckless decisions,” Ginny said, raising her glass.
“To bad influences,” Hermione countered, eyeing Pansy pointedly.
Pansy smirked. “To half-naked men dancing for our entertainment.”
Luna beamed. “To old friends and new experiences.”
Their glasses clinked, and just like that, Hermione found herself giving in to the thrill of the night. What was the worst that could happen?
…Famous last words indeed.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Back in London
Blaise swirled the amber liquid in his crystal tumbler, eyes sharp as he studied Theo over the green felt of the poker table. “You’re bluffing,” he drawled, lazily leaning back in his leather chair.
Theo smirked. “Am I?” He tapped his fingers against his cards, looking entirely too smug for Blaise’s liking.
Harry snorted, taking a sip of his Firewhisky. “If he is, he’s damn good at it. Man’s got a face like a bloody statue.” He eyed his cards skeptically, “are we sure this isn’t just an elaborate ploy to rob me blind?”
Blaise smirked from across the table “Potter, if we wanted to rob you, we wouldn’t waste time with poker.”
Theo chuckled. “Besides, you were the one who owled us.”
Harry rolled his eyes but said nothing. It had been a while since he had enjoyed a night out with friends. Ron travelled most of the time for his Quidditch games and his own auror duties kept him busy so when his wife told him she was having a girl’s night at Malfoy's he had reached out to Theo and Blaise.
They were tucked away in the private lounge of the exclusive gentlemen's club that Blaise and Theo frequented, an opulent yet understated establishment filled with dark wood, leather chairs, and the quiet murmur of high-stakes conversations. The air smelled of expensive cigars and aged whisky.
None of them noticed at first when Draco Malfoy walked into the club, closely followed by his father.
Theo, mid-sip of his whiskey, nearly choked. He did a double take, staring as Draco made his way toward the bar with Lucius in tow.
Blaise’s eyes flickered up from his cards, looking for the reason for Theo’s sudden shift in mood. His brow furrowed when he spotted Draco “Is that—?”
“Draco,” Theo muttered, setting his glass down a little harder than necessary. “Isn’t he supposed to be on a work trip ?”
Harry’s brows pulled together in confusion. “Pansy did tell me that he was travelling for work and Draco’s parents were in France”
Blaise exhaled sharply. “Right. And our wives said they were at Malfoy Manor for a girls’ night because Draco was out of town.”
Silence fell over the table. Then, in perfect synchronization, the three of them turned toward Draco.
Theo waved him over. “Oi, Malfoy!”
Draco glanced up, brow furrowing. He murmured something to Lucius before making his way toward them, sharp grey eyes scanning their faces like he already sensed something was off.
Lucius followed at a more leisurely pace, an amused glint in his eye as he studied the younger men.
Draco slid into the empty chair, gaze flicking between them. “Didn’t expect to see you lot here. Thought you were all busy tonight.”
Theo didn’t even blink. “And we thought you were on a work trip.”
Draco stilled, his expression cooling. “That’s what Hermione told me about you guys” his eyes shifted to Harry. “And you were supposed to be on an Auror mission which is why they were having a girl’s night at Grimmauld.”
Harry folded his arms. “Funny, because Pansy told me they were at your place for the night. And I can guarantee you they are not at Grimmauld because I have just come from there”
Blaise’s jaw ticked. “And Ginny told me the same.”
Theo exhaled, rubbing his temples. “So did Luna”
The weight of realization settled over the table.
Blaise leaned forward, voice low. “Alright, so if Draco is here… and Potter is here… then where the fuck are our wives?”
Lucius, who had been listening with barely concealed amusement, finally spoke up, swirling his whiskey lazily.
“Oh, they’re in Vegas,” he said airily, looking positively gleeful.
Four heads snapped toward him.
Draco’s eye twitched. “Excuse me ?”
Lucius smirked, still entirely too pleased considering the current situation. “Las Vegas, son. You know, that delightfully garish Muggle city with all the flashing lights? I overheard Hermione mentioning something about ‘Chippendales’ before she left. They took a portkey a few hours ago, right from the Manor’s drawing room”
A muscle in Draco’s jaw jumped. Blaise muttered a curse. Theo however looked mildly impressed.
Harry, on the other hand, looked horrified. “Wait, you said Chippendales ?— as in male strippers?” He shot up from his seat so fast that his chair nearly toppled over. “Fuck ! I knew Pansy was up to something!”
Draco’s grip on his glass tightened, his voice deceptively calm. “So let me get this straight. Our wives are not at Grimmauld place, nor are they at the Manor. In fact they are not even in fucking London. They are, instead, across the bloody Atlantic, in Las Fucking Vegas, watching muggle men take their clothes off?”
Lucius took a leisurely sip of his drink. “I must say, I didn’t think Hermione had it in her. This is a pleasant surprise.”
And damn if the man didn’t look proud. Draco, on the other hand, looked about three seconds away from leveling the entire club.
Theo exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let’s not overreact.”
Blaise gave him a flat look. “Tell that to Draco, he looks like he’s about to burn Vegas to the ground. And I might cheer him on if he decides to”
Harry had already pulled out his wand. “So are we going after them or—?”
Draco stood, rolling his shoulders like a man about to go to war. “We’re leaving. Now.”
Lucius watched them rise, clearly entertained. “Oh, do try not to be too dramatic about it,” he drawled. “Wouldn’t want to make a scene.”
Draco’s glare was murderous. “Not. Helping. We’ll talk about the fact that you knew where my wife was and didn’t bother to inform me later”
Lucius merely smirked, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Give Hermione my regards.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The energy in the club was electric. The bass thrummed through the air, mingling with the excited shrieks of women all around them. Hermione wasn’t sure if it was the wine she had at dinner and the subsequent cocktails, the adrenaline, or the sheer absurdity of what they were doing, but she couldn’t stop laughing.
“This is amazing,” Ginny shouted over the music, eyes gleaming with delight as she clutched Hermione’s arm.
“I told you!” Pansy declared smugly, sipping on her cocktail like a queen surveying her kingdom. “There is simply no substitute for the real thing.”
On stage, six incredibly fit, ridiculously handsome men were in the middle of an elaborate routine, all rippling muscles and wicked smirks as they moved in sync to the beat. Their outfits - if they could even be called that - were strategically designed to be removed piece by piece, and by now, most of them were down to nothing but tight black briefs that left very little to the imagination.
Hermione took a generous sip of her Cosmopolitan. “This is absolute debauchery, we should be ashamed of ourselves” she muttered, though the grin on her face gave her away.
Luna, who had been watching with an expression of pure academic fascination, tilted her head. “It’s rather impressive, actually. The way they isolate their movements takes an incredible amount of muscle control.”
Pansy cackled as she stuffed dollar bills into the waistband of the dancer who was currently gyrating sensually in front of her. “Leave it to Ravenclaws to turn male strippers into a scholarly discussion.”
As the song reached its crescendo, one of the dancers, a bronzed Adonis with chiseled abs and a devastating smirk, locked eyes with their table. Hermione felt the collective shift in energy as he made a beeline toward them, quickly followed by a second one.
“Oh. Oh no,” she murmured, realizing his target.
“Oh, yes,” Ginny squealed gleefully, shoving a stack of dollar bills in her hand.
Before Hermione could protest, the dancer slid effortlessly onto their table’s platform, hips rolling in a way that should have been illegal. The cheers from the crowd around them grew deafening as he zeroed in on her, placing a strong hand on the back of her chair and leaning in close.
“I hate you all,” Hermione muttered under her breath as her so-called friends cheered and clapped.
The dancer grinned at her, mischief dancing in his dark eyes. Then, with a wink, he shifted closer, his toned chest inches from her face. “You look like you need to relax, gorgeous.”
Hermione felt her soul leave her body.
Pansy all but howled with laughter, Ginny had tears in her eyes from cackling so hard, and even Luna was grinning.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake—” Hermione squeaked as the dancer ran a hand down his abs in slow motion, making sure she got an up-close view.
The next few minutes were an absolute blur of muscle, sweat, and dollar bills being slipped into various nooks and crannies. By the time the routine ended and the dancers finally sauntered away, Hermione had drained the rest of her drink in one go, her face hotter than Fiendfyre.
Pansy wiped away a tear. “That was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands.
Luna patted her arm, smiling serenely. “I think Draco’s going to love hearing about this.”
Ginny snorted. “The day Draco hears about this is the day every single performer here ends up buried in a mass grave in the middle of the Nevada desert”
Pansy smirked, swirling the last remnants of her cocktail. “Which is precisely why he’ll never find out.”
“Honestly, I think I need another drink just to recover from that.” Hermione sighed
“The night is still young, Granger,” Pansy declared, standing up and adjusting her dress. “And we’re in Vegas. I say we hit the clubs. Let’s go dance and be reckless !”
Ginny perked up instantly. “Now that is an idea I can get behind.”
Luna hummed in agreement. “Somebody told me there’s a place with a spectacular light show and drinks that come in glasses the size of a cauldron.”
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. “Why do I feel like this is about to spiral even further out of control?”
Pansy looped her arm through hers, grinning wickedly. “Because it absolutely is.”
With that, they downed the rest of their drinks, grabbed their purses, and made their way out of the strip club, stepping into the neon-lit chaos of the Las Vegas Strip. The city pulsed with energy, music drifting from every direction, promising a night of excess, recklessness, and terrible decisions.
And terrible decisions were made.
The first being following Ginny and Pansy into an exclusive night club, where a strategically placed confundus hex allowed them to bypass the line that went around the block. “Do I look like someone who waits in line for anything ?” Had been Pansy’s justification
The next terrible decision had been to order the infamous cauldron sized drink Luna had mentioned. Though, in the moment, with the music pulsing around them and the mass of dancing bodies, it had sounded like a brilliant idea.
The first sip was harmless enough. The second was downright delicious. By the third, Hermione had stopped keeping track entirely.
The club was a whirlwind of strobe lights, heavy bass, and bodies moving in sync to the beat. It was exactly the kind of hedonistic chaos that should have made Hermione second-guess every life choice that had led her here. Instead, she found herself laughing as Pansy dragged her onto the dance floor, already swaying like she owned the place.
The drinks flowed freely, and with each passing minute, their inhibitions slipped further away. Ginny, ever the Gryffindor, somehow managed to charm a group of strangers into offering up their VIP section. Within moments, the girls had claimed a booth, a new round of absurdly large cocktails in hand, and an unspoken agreement that this was the best night ever.
And then came the dancing on tables.
“I hate to sound like a broken record,” Hermione shouted over the music, gripping the edge of the table as Pansy and Ginny climbed up beside her, “but this is definitely a terrible idea.”
“Oh, live a little, and climb up here Granger! Besides I don’t know what a record is and why you would sound like a broken one” Pansy tossed her hair back, raising her glass in a toast before downing the rest in one go. “We’re already in too deep we might as well see it through”
Luna, who had somehow procured a feathered boa from Merlin knew where, gracefully twirled on the couch before joining Pansy and Ginny on the table. “This is quite freeing, don’t you think?” she mused, balancing precariously on the table in her heels.
Ginny whooped, throwing an arm around Hermione’s shoulder. “Admit it, you’re having fun!”
Hermione, her head pleasantly fuzzy from the alcohol and the sheer absurdity of the night, was having fun. She wasn’t worrying about paperwork, or creature rights, or the fact that her husband would probably go ballistic if he ever heard of this.
So, with a deep breath and a reckless grin, she kicked off her heels, downed the rest of her drink, and climbed up onto the table.
And that was when things really got out of hand.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The air buzzed with magic and the telltale whoosh of portkey travel as Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Harry arrived in a shadowed alley just off the Las Vegas Strip. Having an auror on hand had come in quite handy to obtain an emergency Portkey to America. The neon lights cast an eerie glow over their faces, but none of them were in the mood to appreciate the city’s infamous nightlife.
Draco’s jaw was locked, and irritation simmered just beneath the surface. He had replayed the conversation in the gentlemen's club over and over in his mind—how all four of them had been fed the same ridiculous lie about a cozy girls’ night, only to discover that their wives had collectively disappeared.
And now, here they were. In Vegas. Like all Malfoy wedding rings, Hermione’s wedding band was imbued with a myriad of protective enchantments, including a tracking spell that was meant to help locate her if she ever went missing or found herself in danger. They had had a row of epic proportions when he had first told her about it, but after a lengthy explanation and a pinky promise that he would only use it in case of emergency, she had eventually relented.
And if this did not constitute an emergency, he didn’t know what did.
“They better still be at this bloody club,” Theo muttered darkly as they stalked toward the strip club’s entrance.
Blaise let out a humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Ginny’s idea of restraint is not setting something on fire when she’s drunk. With our luck they’re somewhere doing body shots with a bunch of male strippers”
Harry, arms crossed, was notably quieter than the others. But the hard glint in his eyes betrayed his anger. “Let’s just get them and go. Before we all do something we regret.”
Draco, who had every intention of doing something he would not regret, namely finding his wife and spanking her hot little arse red for pulling this stunt before making her scream his name all night. He shoved open the doors of the theater and strode inside. The show was still going, and the lingering scent of cologne, sweat, and overpriced cocktails hit them immediately. A few scantily clad servers milled about near the entrance.
Theo grabbed the nearest staff member—a perky blonde with a clipboard and a headset. “We’re looking for our wives, british accent, a blonde, two brunettes and a red-head, ring any bells ?”
The woman looked at them, a faint glint of interest in her eyes. “And… you are?” she purred, her gaze lingering on Draco.
“Not in the mood for this shit,” Draco said flatly.
She frowned. “Sir, we can’t just give out patron information—”
Blaise rolled his eyes, flicked his wand under his coat, and muttered a quick Confundo . “We’re their husbands. Their very concerned husbands.”
The woman’s eyes glazed over slightly, and she nodded. “Oh… right. Well, they left about half an hour ago.”
Draco exhaled sharply through his nose, barely restraining himself. “Where?”
“I don’t know. But—” She hesitated. “They did have a good time, though.”
A beat of silence.
Then Theo narrowed his eyes. “Define ‘good time.’”
The woman gestured toward a nearby security guard. “You might want to check the surveillance footage.”
Another Confundus later, they were in a cramped security office, watching a grainy but very incriminating video.
And what a show it was.
The footage flickered as the security guard zoomed in, revealing their wives—front and center, drinks in hand, screaming in delight as a group of muscular, shirtless men danced mere inches away.
The four of them stood in shocked silence as they watched Pansy lean forward to tuck money into a dancer’s waistband, Ginny high-five another, and Luna nod in apparent approval as she swirled her drink.
Draco’s eye twitched as he watched his wife, flushed and wide-eyed, with a hand pressed to her mouth—giggling—as one particularly enthusiastic dancer thrust his hips mere inches from her face.
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
Harry rubbed a hand over his face. “I cannot believe this.”
Theo let out a humorless laugh. “I can.”
Blaise, for all the smooth talker he usually was, was for once at a loss for words. “I—I have no words.”
Draco, meanwhile, had seen enough. He turned on his heel. “We need to find them before they do something insane”
“You mean more insane than skedaddling off to Vegas to watch some random guys strip ?” Harry snarked
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Hermione, Pansy, Luna and Ginny were having the time of their lives and giving a show, and the crowd around them was eating it up. Cheers and whistles erupted as Hermione, emboldened by alcohol and sheer peer pressure, let loose. Ginny and Pansy danced like they were born for this, twirling and laughing as they pulled Hermione along with them. Luna, had somehow convinced a waiter to hand over a tray, which she was now using as a makeshift tambourine, shaking it in time with the beat.
“Hermione Granger, dancing on a table in Vegas,” Pansy cackled, raising her arms above her head as she swayed. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
“Shut up,” Hermione shouted back, flipping her hair dramatically just to prove a point. “I am perfectly capable of having fun.”
Ginny snorted. “You say that, but you’re still dancing like you’re at a bloody Yule Ball.”
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake—” Hermione took another gulp of her drink, feeling the warmth spread through her limbs, and threw caution to the wind. She let the music take over, rolling her hips like she’d seen the performers do earlier that evening.
“There she is!” Pansy whooped.
After that, she officially stopped caring about the consequences, helped in that by the warmth of the alcohol, the pulsing energy of the club, and the sheer ridiculousness of it all. She laughed as Pansy and Ginny tried to outdrink each other whole Luna—Again, Merlin knows how—produced handfuls of glitter that she scattered into the air like some kind of ethereal party nymph.
It was chaotic. It was exhilarating. And it was so much fun.
Right up until when, across the room, Hermione spotted a flash of very familiar platinum hair, stopping dead in her tracks mid-twirl.
Their decidedly unamused husbands stood a few feet away, by the VIP section’s entrance, cutting through the flashing lights and swirling bodies like a thundercloud rolling in on a bright summer day. Draco was front and center, his grey eyes locked on her with a look that sent a shiver down her spine. Blaise and Theo flanked him, looking equally murderous, while Harry, standing slightly apart, had his arms crossed and was shaking his head in silent disappointment.
Hermione froze, her stomach making a free fall inside her body, which considering the amount of alcohol she had consumed was not a good thing.
Oh, shit.
Pansy, still blissfully oblivious, tossed an arm around her shoulder and swayed. “See, Granger? You can be fun when you try.”
“Pansy,” Hermione hissed through clenched teeth, her smile quickly turning into a grimace.
But her friend didn’t notice. She was too busy clinking glasses with Ginny, who was in the middle of some triumphant toast about the joys of recklessness and bad decisions.
Hermione tried again, louder, pulling on her dress sharply. “Pansy.”
“Hmm?” Pansy turned to her, swaying slightly.
“We have a problem,” Hermione said, voice low, eyes darting meaningfully toward the entrance.
Pansy, still grinning, followed her gaze…and promptly choked on her drink.
“Oh, fuck,” she coughed, scrambling to straighten up. “Ginny, Luna, code red.”
Ginny, mid-dramatic hair flip, frowned. “What?”
Luna, who had just started twirling again, giggled. “Noooo we can’t leave yet. I haven’t even danced on the bar !”
Hermione, still frozen, shook her head. “We’re not leaving, Lu’. They are here.”
It took another moment for the information to penetrate their alcohol-fogged brains, but when it did, the effect was instantaneous.
Ginny paled, following Hermione’s gaze. “Oh… oh, bollocks.”
Luna however smiled a dopey smile at the sight of her husband “Hi Theo ! I wondered when you’d arrive.”
Of all their husbands,Theo seemed to be the only one who was not seconds away from setting something on fire. “Hi angel, having fun ?”
Pansy groaned, running a hand over her face. “Okay, okay. No sudden movements. Maybe if we just—”
“PANSY POTTER,” Harry’s voice carried over the music.
Pansy winced, her shoulders sagging. “Or maybe we just accept our fates and prepare for a very painful morning. The jig is up girls”
Harry looked like he was debating between hexing someone and giving a full Auror interrogation. Theo had the most infuriatingly calm expression, as if he’d known all along this would happen. And Blaise… well, Blaise had the resigned look of a man whose wife had clearly dragged him into another mess.
“Erm. Hey guys.” Hermione swallowed. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Draco arched an eyebrow. Oh, we’re doing this, then ?
Ginny, who was still perched on the table, swung her legs idly and grinned at her husband. “Blaise! Love! What are the odds?” She took a sip of her drink, blinked when she realized it was empty, then frowned like she was deeply offended by this betrayal.
Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ginevra Caroline Zabini.”
“Wow, full government name? That’s a bit aggressive, don’t you think ?”
“You’re in Las Vegas.” he deadpanned
“Well so are you,” she pointed out brightly. “Funny how that worked out huh ?”
Theo just shook his head. “Luna. Luna .”
“Yes, darling?” Luna smiled serenely, utterly unbothered by the situation.
“Care to explain how you’re supposed to be having a ‘quiet’ girls’ night at Malfoy Manor, yet here you are, standing on furniture, very obviously not in Malfoy Manor? and what the hell is that feathery thing around your neck ?”
Luna hummed. “Well, technically speaking, I was at Malfoy Manor earlier. And this is a boa, though I’m not sure why it’s called that it looks nothing like an actual boa”
Theo sighed, rubbing his temples.
Hermione, desperate to regain control of the situation, turned to Draco and cleared her throat. “Alright darling, before you get all… you about this, just—”
Draco tilted his head, gaze sharp. “All me ?”
“Yes, all you. All glowering and brooding and—”
“—justifiably furious?” Draco interjected.
“That’s a bit much,” Pansy mumbled.
Harry slowly turned to his wife. “Don’t even start”
At a loss for words, Hermione turned to Pansy “A little help here ? This is all your fault you know ? I hate to say I told you so but I did fucking tell you that your plan was dodgy at best ”
Pansy shrugged “Throwing me under the bus, Granger ? Not very Gryffondor-y of you. Besides, it was a good plan, a great plan, even, right up until we got busted””
Harry stared at her. “Are you even hearing yourself?”
“Constantly,” she said. “And I’ll have you know that I have an excellent internal monologue. Very witty”
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to will some level of coherence back into this conversation. Which in itself seemed an impossible feat considering the amount of alcohol in her system. “Okay, Draco look. I know this looks bad, but—”
Draco exhaled through his nose, trying to find the infinitesimal amount of patience he had left in him “Bad ?No, sweetheart, bad is forgetting to tell me you’re working late and missing a dinner date. You’re in Fucking Vegas ! and you’re all absolutely sloshed. Bad doesn't even begin to cover whatever the fuck is”
Blaise sighed. “Hate to point out the obvious but you lot are definitely too drunk to travel back to London by Portkey.”
Harry muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like I cannot believe this is my life.
“So,” Theo said, “looks like we’re all spending the night in Vegas.”
Ginny whooped. “See! This is why you’re my favorite, Theo.”
Theo smirked. “I know.”
Draco, however, was still focused on his wife. “We’re going to have a long conversation about this tomorrow.”
Hermione sighed, patting his cheek. “Looking forward to it, my love. Can you carry me back to the hotel though ? I don’t think I can walk all the way back”
Fighting a smile despite his lingering irritation, he caught her wrist before she could pull away. “You’re lucky I love you Granger”
Pansy, meanwhile, was peering at her husband. “Harry, darling, why are you still frowning? I said I was sorry.”
“You literally never said that” her husband replied
“Oh. I didn’t ? Oh well. You know I am”
Harry just stared at her, exasperated. “Pansy. Get down here. Let’s get you to bed before you do something that will land us all in muggle jail”
It took another forty five minutes to convince the tipsy quartet to leave the club “but we're having so much fun ! Who are you, the fun police ?” had protested Ginny. That time may as well have been three hours for all the mayhem they managed to unleash in that short period. It took the combined efforts of all their husbands to finally convince them to leave, after Ginny came close to starting a riot and Luna attempted to crowd surf.
The journey back to the Bellagio was eventful, to say the least.
With their wives too drunk to walk properly (and in some cases, even stand), the men had taken matters into their own hands. Literally.
Ginny and Pansy were draped over Blaise and Harry’s backs in what could only be described as reluctant piggyback rides.
“I swear to Merlin, Pans, if you vomit in my hair—” Harry grumbled.
Pansy let out a dramatic sigh. “Come off it, Potter. I have far too much class to vomit.” She paused. “I might gently expel a little, though.”
Harry groaned.
Meanwhile, Hermione and Luna were being carried bridal-style by their respective husbands. Theo looked unbothered, probably used to Luna’s antics, Draco however looked one slight inconvenience away from pulling out his wand and hexing people indiscriminately.
“Put me down, Draco,” Hermione grumbled, though she made no actual attempt to wiggle out of his grasp.
“Not a chance, Princess.”
“You do realize I can walk, right?”
Draco arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And I suppose you just chose to trip over your own feet back there?”
“That curb literally came out of nowhere.” Hermione huffed “Very rude”
Draco just exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip as they entered the grand lobby of the Bellagio. As soon as they were inside, the girls (mainly Pansy and Ginny) called for an emergency huddle.
“Alright, ladies.” Ginny slid off Blaise’s back with all the grace of a newborn hippogriff. “Crisis management time ! We need a game plan. How do we handle this ?”
The four women leaned in, heads together, whispering in what they thought was a hushed tone but unfortunately for them, alcohol did not make for subtle strategizing.
“I think,” Hermione slurred, squinting at her friends, “that we should just play it off like it’s not a big deal.”
“Ooohh Gaslighting, love it !” Pansy nodded with enthusiasm. “Act casual. Confident. We did nothing wrong.”
From behind them, Draco scoffed loudly. “You literally lied and fled the country like criminals.”
The girls all turned, glaring at their husbands for intruding on their very private huddle.
Ginny spun back around. “Okay, new plan. We ignore them.”
Luna nodded sagely. “Yes. If we don’t acknowledge them, maybe they’ll go away.”
Theo sighed. “We won’t.”
Undeterred, the girls continued their whispered conversation—still at full volume.
“We need a distraction,” Hermione murmured.
“Ooooh, I have an idea” Ginny whispered loudly, her eyes lighting up.
“No,” Blaise said immediately.
“You don’t even know what it is yet!”
“If it’s coming from you, it’s a no.” her husband insisted
Ginny pouted. “Fine.” Then her face suddenly brightened. “Oh! What if we…” She gasped. “Go skinny dipping in the fountains? That should help us sober right up and then we’ll know how to handle the fun police over there”
Absolute silence fell over the group.
Then, simultaneously:
“NO.”
“Hell NO”
“Absolutely fucking not”
“Over my dead fucking body”
Ginny crossed her arms, looking scandalized. “Boooo ! You guys are boring.” then she turned back to the girls with a scheming smile “think we can outrun them ?”
“Nope. Not in these heels, we can’t” Pansy sighed looking absolutely dejected
“I don’t think the heels are your main problem right now, sweetheart” Harry quipped, “I’d be more worried about the fact that you can’t stand straight”
“Piss off Judgy McJudge”
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe we should go to bed and put an end to this before we all get arrested”
“Agreed, you’re done” Harry said firmly.
Theo stepped forward, easily scooping Luna up again. “Come on Moonbeam. Bed. Now.”
Pansy blinked up at Harry. “Are you going to carry me?”
Harry gave her a flat look. “Pansy, you literally just climbed off my back and said you could walk on your own.”
“Yes, and?”
Harry sighed, hoisting her up again, while Blaise simply threw Ginny over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, in response to which she shrieked indignantly but didn’t protest any further.
Draco turned to Hermione, raising an expectant eyebrow. “Do you really want to argue?”
Hermione sighed dramatically, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “No. But just so you know, I am totally going to win whatever argument we end up having tomorrow.”
Draco snorted. “Of course you are, love.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Hermione woke up feeling like she’d been hit by a rogue Bludger.
Twice.
And then possibly trampled by a herd of rampaging Hippogriffs for good measure.
She groaned, burying her face into the pillow, but even that small movement sent a sharp, punishing throb through her skull. Her mouth was dry, her limbs felt like lead, and she was fairly certain she could still taste tequila.
She had only a second to process her misery before an arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back against a familiar, warm body.
“Good morning, princess,” Draco drawled, his voice infuriatingly smooth, infuriatingly smug .
Hermione winced. “Lower your voice. Or better yet, don’t talk at all.”
Draco chuckled, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I take it you’re feeling the consequences of your brilliant decision-making?”
She cracked one eye open and immediately regretted it. The Las Vegas sunlight was an unrelenting menace, streaming through the curtains with no regard for her suffering.
“I hate everything,” she muttered.
“Understandable.” Draco propped himself up on his elbow, gazing down at her with amusement. “Although, personally, I quite enjoyed last night. Not the part where you absconded to another continent without telling me of course, we will be having words about that, but your drunken escapades were truly entertaining”
Hermione frowned, blinking sluggishly. “You enjoyed watching me make a fool of myself?”
Draco smirked. “Immensely so.”
Hermione groaned, throwing an arm over her face. “Merlin, just kill me now.”
Draco hummed thoughtfully. “Tempting, but I think I’d rather keep you around. Who else can give me high blood pressure on a random Friday night ?”
She let out a dramatic sigh. “How bad was it?”
Draco’s smirk widened. “Let’s see, where to begin?” He shifted closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Was it when you tried to convince the bartender that you were actually the owner of the club and therefore had every right to order all the bottles of tequila they had in stock ?”
Hermione winced. “...I did that?”
“Mhmm. Or maybe when you grabbed Theo’s tie, looked him dead in the eye, and said, ‘You’re my favourite Slytherin. Don’t tell Draco.’ while I was standing right there”
Hermione let out a mortified groan.
“But my absolute favorite part was when you dramatically announced ‘Draco Malfoy is the prettiest wizard in the history of wizardry and he’s all mine’”
She grabbed the pillow and pulled it over her face. “No, no, no. I refuse to accept this reality.”
Draco, the absolute menace, laughed.
She peeked out from under the pillow, squinting at him. “Not gonna lie I kind of expected you to tear through Vegas if you found out”
Draco shrugged, looking far too comfortable as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “ It was tempting, but no. If I were truly mad, Granger, you’d know.”
She bit her lip, watching him.
“I am, however, endlessly amused,” he continued, eyes glinting mischievously. “I mean, let’s be honest—did you really think you could get away with this?”
Hermione huffed. “It was worth a shot. Ugh. I shouldn’t be talking about shots. I never want to see a drop of alcohol for as long as I live.”
Draco chuckled, pressing another kiss to her temple. “Come on, love. Let’s get you some breakfast before you actually die from your bad decisions.”
Hermione exhaled dramatically but let him pull her up.
“And for the record,” he added, smirking as he helped her out of bed, “you were right, I am the prettiest wizard in the history of wizardry and I am all yours. Forever.”
Hermione lifted her chin, mustering up the last ounce of dignity she had left. “Well, obviously. I’m always right. Brightest of her age, remember ?”
Draco laughed. “Merlin, I love you.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Several doors over, Luna was slowly coming out of her half comatose state to the soft hum of a very familiar magic in the air and the distinct scent of bergamot and cedarwood—her favorite.
She sighed contentedly, stretching like a cat beneath the plush sheets, until—oh.
Oh . Her head hurt .
Not in a normal, ‘I stayed up too late reading’ kind of way, but in a ‘my brain has been removed, shaken like a snow globe, and rudely stuffed back into my skull’ sort of way.
She blinked blearily at the ceiling, vaguely registering that the room was definitely spinning, and groaned. “Oh, dear,” she murmured, pressing her fingers to her temples. “That’s unfortunate.”
From across the room, a deep chuckle rumbled. “Good morning to you too, moonbeam.”
Luna cracked one eye open and spotted Theo leaning against the doorframe, holding a steaming cup of coffee. He looked maddeningly fresh, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tattooed forearms, his expression one of lazy amusement. Unlike her, who was currently fighting for her life.
She squinted at him. “Are you real ? or have I finally ascended to the spirit realm?”
Theo smirked, pushing off the door frame and walking into the room. “Very real, my love, I assure you. Unlike your sense of propriety last night.”
Luna frowned. “Now that’s just unnecessarily rude.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is it? Because I seem to recall a certain someone trying to crowd surf across the club, insisting she was ‘ one with the cosmic tide .’”
Luna blinked. “Shit…That does sound like something I would say.”
“Oh, it gets better,” Theo continued, his voice rich with amusement. “At one point, you climbed onto a table, twirled in a circle, and announced that the stars had revealed a great truth to you.”
That actually made her perk up. “Oh? What truth?”
He fought back a smile. “That I, and I quote, ‘have the most biteable jawline in all of Britain.’”
Luna hummed thoughtfully. “Well. That is completely true and I stand by it. I mean I would if I could actually stand”
Theo let out a short laugh. “Do you also stand by the part where you attempted to perform a palm reading on a bunch of exotic dancers?”
Luna gasped. “Oh, that was actually important! One of them had a very suspicious aura. A murky green with tinges of deceit.”
Theo shook his head. “You told her she was ‘suppressing her true artistic calling’ and then tried to convince her to move to Paris to pursue pottery.”
Luna frowned. “And why didn’t you stop me?”
He smirked. “Are you kidding? I haven’t been that entertained in years. My only regret is not having one of those muggle cameras to capture the whole thing”
She groaned, burrowing under the covers. “I regret everything.”
Theo leaned down, pressing a kiss to her temple. “No, Angel, you don’t.”
Luna smiled, despite the pounding headache threatening to put an abrupt end to her life. “You're right. I really don’t.”
He chuckled. “Thought so.”
After a moment of comfortable silence, she peeked up at him. “You’re not angry?”
Theo tilted his head, considering. “Should I be?”
“Well.” She pursed her lips. “I did disappear to Vegas without telling you.”
Theo exhaled through his nose, expression wry. “Yes, you did . But honestly, I knew when I married you that you could give me heart attack on any given day, so I can only blame myself, really”
Luna arched a brow “Is that regret I’m hearing, Mr Nott ?”
“Not all all, Mrs. Nott, quite the opposite in fact”
“Good. Because you’re kind of stuck with me” she grumbled, pulling the pillow over her eyes to stop the Vegas’ sun attempt to permanently blind her
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Moonbeam”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
One floor below, Pansy wasn’t faring any better than her friends. Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat, her mouth felt like she had swallowed an entire desert, and worst of all—she had the creeping suspicion that she had made several poor decisions the night before.
The first of which, she realized, was assuming she could outdrink Ginny. Ginny, of all people .
The second? Believing, even for a second, that Harry wouldn’t find out. The man was an Auror for Salazar’s sake. Finding shit out was literally what he did for a living.
Groaning, she turned over in bed, hoping to delay the inevitable. Unfortunately, the universe was not on her side.
Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived to Be a Nuisance, was standing over her, watching her with the kind of amusement that made her want to hex him into next week.
“Morning, little viper,” he greeted, far too cheerfully.
Pansy scowled, dragging a pillow over her head. “No. Go away. I’m dead.”
Harry chuckled from somewhere in the room. “Not feeling so great, are we?”
She threw an arm out blindly, grasping for a pillow to throw in his general direction. “Shut up, Potter.”
A warm weight dipped the bed beside her. “Potter, is it? Not darling husband , or sweetest love of my life ?”
She turned her head just enough to glare at him. “I was going to call you something much less flattering, but I’m too dehydrated to be creative right now.”
He smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Shame, I love when you get creative.”
Pansy scowled and sat up—then immediately regretted it as the room spun around her. “Oh, fuck .”
Harry handed her a glass of water, which she accepted with a grumble. “So,” he said, watching as she took a slow sip, “want to tell me why I had to track you down across an entire ocean?”
Pansy sighed dramatically. “I don’t want to, no. But while we’re on the subject, how did you track us down ?”
“Lucious saw you leave from the Manor’s Drawing room and spilled the beans—gleefully so might I add. Then Draco used Hermione’s wedding band to track her” Harry explained
Pansy sighed, “Damn pureblood heirlooms and their tracking spells. How could I forget ?”
Harry crossed his arms, his expression far too smug for her liking. “You were probably too busy thinking about all the dollar bills you were about to stuff into random male strippers’ underwear. You know I watched the footage, right?”
She froze mid-sip. “…Footage?”
“The security footage from the strip club, Pans’.” He leaned in. “I saw everything .”
Pansy lowered the glass. “Be more specific.”
“Oh, you know,” he said casually. “Just you getting a lap dance from a very muscular, very oiled-up man in tear-away trousers.”
She winced. “Okay, in my defense, that was Luna’s fault.”
Harry raised an unimpressed brow. “Uh-huh. And the part where you tipped him extra to do a body roll?”
Pansy huffed. “Listen, we were merely appreciating the athleticism—”
Harry snorted. “Athleticism?”
“—of the male form,” she finished, lifting her chin. “It was art , Harry.”
He shook his head, biting back a grin. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”
She sighed, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. “I know.”
Harry chuckled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Pansy peeked up at him. “So I’m not in trouble?”
“Oh, you’re in a world of trouble, my love” he said, smirking. “But right now you’re hungover and kind of pathetic, so I’ll save it for later.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s cruel, even for you.”
Harry laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Welcome to marriage, little viper.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Ginny Weasley Zabini had woken up hungover before—but never like this .
Her eyes blinked open to a wall-sized window framing the Vegas skyline, sunshine slicing through the curtains like a dagger straight to her skull. Her mouth was dry, her head was pounding, and there was something sticky on her arm that she couldn’t—and didn’t want to—identify.
She groaned and rolled over. “If I’m dead, this is a very weird afterlife.”
A low voice came from the armchair across the room. “You’re not dead. Though you did flirt with death when you tried to outdrink Pansy of all people, last night. The girl's been raised on Fairy Wine and Firewhisky”
She squinted at the voice. “Blaise?”
“The one and only.” He was lounging, fully dressed, a cup of espresso in hand, legs crossed, exuding his usual brand of calm judgment. “You know, for someone who used to play professional Quidditch, your coordination was appalling last night. I don’t think I have ever seen you that clumsy”
Ginny sat up, immediately regretting it. “Don’t talk so loud, I can hear your judgement echoing in my skull.”
He smirked. “Good. Let it settle in. Maybe it’ll battle it out with the tequila.”
She groaned again, flopping dramatically onto her back and throwing a pillow over her face. “Okay, fine. I fucked up. I led a secret stripper pilgrimage to Vegas and got spectacularly drunk in the process. Happy now?”
“Oh, ecstatic ,” he said, setting his coffee down and standing. “You think I’ve ever had the opportunity to use the phrase ‘ my wife is table-dancing drunk in another country ’ before last night? I was positively delighted.”
“Are you cross with me ?”
Blaise raised a brow. “I carried you back to the hotel after you almost started a riot in the club, listened to you serenade a valet with half of the Weird Sisters’ discography, and had to physically stop you from hexing a neon sign for ‘blinking at you funny.’ Not to mention the part where you tried to go skinny dipping in the fountains”
“…So yes?”
He snorted, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. “Not cross; Cara. Mostly entertained. Maybe a little exasperated.”
Ginny gave a small, sheepish smile. “Can only blame yourself though, you're the one who married chaos in a hot body. Your words, not mine.”
Blaise leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Yes, but I had hoped—foolishly—that the chaos might come with a warning system.”
“Nope. Full surprise attacks only,” she said, grinning.
He chuckled. “Well, get dressed, Mrs. Zabini. The gang’s meeting downstairs for breakfast.”
Ginny groaned and pulled the covers over her head. “Tell them I’m dead. Or better yet, kill me”
Blaise stood, shaking his head. “I would, Amore, but I don’t think I can outdo what your current state is already doing to you”
“I hate when you’re right,” came her muffled voice from under the blankets.
“But you love me,” he shot back, smirking as he left the room.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Hermione stepped out of the elevator, leaning heavily on her husband as they made their way into the luxurious poolside café. She took one whiff of the ambient air and immediately regretted every single one of the life choices that had led her here.
The smell of coffee and sizzling bacon should be made illegal and punishable by at least five years in Azkaban. It should've been entiving, but instead felt like a personal attack on her very existence. She groaned, pressing a hand to her temple as they made their way toward the table where her friends were already seated.
The scene before her was grim.
Pansy, Ginny, and Luna were each slumped over the table, oversized sunglasses perched on their faces, looking like the poster children for hangovers. Ginny was clutching a cup of black coffee like it contained the meaning of life while Pansy was methodically stirring her tea, though the vacant look in her eyes suggested she had no plans to actually drink it. Luna had decided that she could not do clothes today and had simply wrapped herself in a hotel robe and was currently staring at the plate of toast and eggs in front of her in deep contemplation.
Draco pulled out a chair for Hermione and she dropped into it with all the enthusiasm of a corpse. “Morning.”
She received three groans of acknowledgment in response, and various greetings from husbands that sounded entirely too chipper for the circumstance.
Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Harry sat across from them, looking utterly amused at their wives' suffering. Plates of food were in front of them, untouched, as if they had all agreed to savor this moment.
Blaise smirked at Hermione. “Ah, look who finally decided to join us.”
Hermione scowled, looking at the pot of coffee as if hoping it would levitate and start pouring itself. “Please don’t talk to me. Your voice is offensive right now.”
Draco took pity on her and poured a cup of coffee that she took gratefully when he handed it to her.
Blaise leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling. “You all look fantastic, by the way.”
Ginny lifted her middle finger without looking up.
“Now, now,” Theo chided. “Is that any way to behave after such a dignified night out?”
Pansy groaned. “I hate you. All of you”
“You hate yourself more,” Harry said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Silence fell as the women nursed their drinks and their regrets. Then, as if remembering something, Theo turned to his wife.
“Did I tell you about the part where you tried to bribe a bouncer into letting you swing from the chandelier because ‘the song said so’ ?”
Luna perked up slightly. “Did it work?”
Draco snorted. “No, Lovegood, it did not.”
Pansy groaned again, rubbing her temples. “Can you all stop talking? Your voices are stabbing my brain.”
Harry grinned. “And that’s what you get.”
Silence fell again, save for the sound of sipping coffee and regret hanging heavy in the air.
"I can't believe that not a single one of you thought to bring some hangover potion" Ginny grumbled when she finally seemed to reunite with her will to live. A clear sign that the caffeine was making its way into her system?
"Well maybe we because we were all preoccupied by the fact that our wives had pulled a collective disappearance act to go halfway around the world watch random men strip" Blaise shot back
Finally, Hermione sighed, setting down her mug. “Alright. We admit it. We may have made some poor decisions. Can we stop mentioning it ?”
Draco smirked. “Understatement of the century.”
Ginny scowled. “We get it. We suffered enough. No more mocking, please.”
Blaise grinned. “Oh, sweetheart. We are never letting any of you live this down.”