There sat Hagrid, messily drunk once again. Hermione sighed, resigned to once again try and help sober up the man.
“Hagrid, come on. You’re a professor now. You should really be a little more… temperate.”
“Wha?” Hagrid responded, “Nothin’ wrong with a lil’ beverage or two after work. C’mon, sit down an’ have a cuppa’ tea. I think I got some biscuits ’round here too.” He stumbled towards the fire with the kettle, but succeeded only in knocking several teacups to the floor.
“Let me get that Hagrid,” Hermione sighed, magically repairing the shattered cups and returning them to the counter. “And I’m taking the rest of your rum too,” she informed him.
“Ya can’t take my rum,” Hagrid fumed.
“And you can’t keep drinking yourself into oblivion when things get rough. This is for your own good!” the young witch scolded him.
“Now listen here missy!” Hagrid began, advancing on her.
Hermione sighed.
“You brought this on yourself, *stupefy!*”
The stunning spell hit him right in the crotch, causing him to fall back hard on the bed, which groaned in protest, but held. She turned to leave him to sober up on his own, but a massive hand wrapped around her wrist.