AN: I'm sticking with the Italian!Blaise and completely ignoring the black Londoner JKR mentioned in HBP. As I said, this isn't entirely HBP-compatible.
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Chapter One -- Best Buddies
Who knew teen wizards could get themselves in so much trouble? Apparently, Hermione Granger can answer that question since she worked in the new department of the Ministry of Magic. The Guidance for Underage Wizards wasn't even a year old yet, but Hermione had already been bombarded with reports that could have filled a file cabinet in five years.
Everyday was the same. Complaints about teenagers doing magic at home and getting in trouble because of some magical reason were what kept her busy day in and day out. Sometimes, she considered taking a week-long break but that meant she also had to leave the teenagers to wreak havoc upon wizarding society…er—households. (What was the difference?)
Just that week, her office was visited four times by the same fourteen-year-old boy who had a knack for doing the Leglocker Curse on everyone who stood below his bedroom window. It was ridiculous.
So it was a pretty hectic week, and it was a silent flat that greeted her on Saturday night. But although it was silent, it sure wasn't empty.
She stopped in her tracks for a minute, closing the door behind her with her back. Her eyebrows raised as she realized that the two figures clutching firewhiskies in their hands while slumped down on the table were her flatmate Blaise Zabini and his friend, Draco Malfoy.
Blaise was facing the other way and apparently was snoring. She knew his snore from anywhere. It was open-mouthed and wheezy. The half-empty bottle was swaying dangerously close to the edge of the table as his hand shifted a bit.
Draco, meanwhile, was facing the door. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, save for the disheveled hair, one hand splayed across the table while the other was holding a bottle. Well, actually, he wasn't holding it. His index finger was inserted into the mouth and stuck there.
Hermione chuckled a bit. They looked so haplessly adorable. She was tempted to run to her room and take her Polaroid camera to snap them, but before she could take three steps, Draco began to stir. So did Blaise.
In a drunken stupor, Draco sat upright. He looked groggy and he was frowning, as if upset to have been woken up. Blaise was sitting up, too, and had set the half-empty bottle down on the floor. He was already rubbing his eyes.
Draco moved to do the same, but yelped when the bottle that was stuck to his finger hit his eye and forehead.
"Fuck!" he exclaimed as he pulled the bottle off, threw it aside (but didn't break because it landed on the carpet) and patted his forehead in pain.
"Good morning, boys." Hermione chose that time to speak. She inched towards the table and pulled up a chair. She tossed her purse towards the couch, which was a few feet away.
Blaise mumbled something and turned his head towards her, his light brown eyes going in and out of focus, before he said, "Hermione? Morning already?"
Draco looked around, puzzled, and consulted the view outside the window. It was still night, and judging by the clock next to the window, it was nearly midnight.
"It's nearly midnight," he announced. He shook his head one last time and pushed his chair back so he could stand.
"Where're you going?" Hermione asked a bit too quickly.
He didn't look at her as he slowly pulled his cloak on. Obviously, he was having a hard time as he kept missing the arm hole. Finally, after a few more tries, he gave up, folded his cloak, and swung it over his shoulder.
"Malfoy, where are you going?" Hermione asked again. She wasn't sure she wanted him roaming the streets in his current state. Nor did she think he'd succeed if he tried Apparating (he'd splinch himself) or using the Floo (he'd probably mutter an unknown location and be lost forever…right…).
He swayed a bit on the spot before steadying himself and said, "I'm going to the Leaky Cauldron. Celebrate!"
"What?" she asked.
Blaise stretched his arms and answered for him. He wasn't as drunk as Draco was. "Pansy broke up with him."
"Finally?" Hermione asked. She regretted the slight amusement in her voice.
Blaise didn't seem to notice and continued, "Yes, finally. Apparently, she 'found happiness in the arms of Greg, something she hasn't totally gotten from Draco', as she put it."
He paused to allow him and Hermione time to snigger.
"And what were you two doing here?" she asked.
Blaise retrieved the half-empty bottle from the floor and set it down on the table. "That," he said, "is the twelfth bottle we've had. I mean, that is my sixth bottle. Draco had seven. Wait, that doesn't add up correctly…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. Well, at least Blaise was still a bit sane. Draco, on the other hand, was now silently swaying by the counter. He was taking a breather, she guessed.
"I'd better be going, mates! Still more bottles to drink! I am a free man!" he exclaimed as he stumbled towards the door.
However, when he completely missed the knob by a few feet, Hermione decided to put an end to his stupid and save him from further embarrassment, which was imminent. She got to her feet and pulled him away from the door and onto the chair she had been sitting on a while ago.
"Alright, Malfoy, time for you to shut up and get some sleep," she said as she cleared the bottles and glasses from the table and dumped them on the sink.
She glanced at Blaise as she poured the last contents of the bottles down the drain, and saw him sitting quietly, staring at the empty table before him. "Blaise, are you okay?"
He nodded. "I'm starting to feel a bit better now."
"Okay, good," she said. "Now, could you carry Malfoy over to the couch so he can sleep? He can't travel drunk."
She began to flick her wand, which made the sponges wash the dishes by themselves. Satisfied, she walked back to the table and grabbed Blaise's arm to pull him up. "Come on now, Blaise. I can't carry him. He weighs like a ton!"
"No, I don't!" Draco snapped, although still a bit unaware of the issue.
"Right, anyway," Hermione heaved at Blaise one more time until he stood up and clutched Draco's arm and easily pulled him up.
Soon, Draco was snoring slightly on the couch as if nothing had happened.
"Okay, now take off his shoes," she ordered. Blaise looked at her incredulously.
"No way. He may be my best bud, but I'm not smelling his feet. That's it for the night," Blaise said, scratching his head and yawning. "I'm off to bed. Night, Hermione." And he practically ran to his room.
Hermione sighed angrily. Why did they have to get themselves drunk anyway? Even if Pansy broke up with Draco, which was cause for celebration since he had been trying to break up with her a dozen times (and each time she thought he was just joking), that still didn't give him the license to act stupid and drink an entire lake of firewhisky in one night.
And they were so bold as to have her clean up their mess and take care of their groggy asses.
They were acting like teenagers…
…which brought Hermione to a stressful state, remembering the details of her day job.
With a heavy heart, she bent to remove his shoes, half-afraid they'd stain the couch covers. She thought she'd pass out by the smell of his feet, but she didn't. In fact, his feet didn't smell like anything at all.
She glanced up at him after she set his shoes down next to his cloak. He was beginning to snore now.
"You're going to have a heck of a hangover, you prick," she muttered as she stood up and studied his face one last time. "Good night, Malfoy."
And with that, she slowly ambled to her room to get a good night's rest.
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…to be continued