Swearing loudly, Ron shoved his chair back and took off after Hermione. The last thing he needed was for her to run off and do something stupid. Maybe if she wasn't so dosed up on the alcohol he'd have let her go, but this was different. "Bloody effing hell," Ron grumbled with a scowl. He rammed into a wizard that was around the same age as himself and they exchanged glares with one another before Ron pushed his way past him and quickly started off toward Hermione. It was hard getting to her, what with the crowd and all, but he did manage it. His larger frame gave him the advantage against some of the people that were there, and while most of the time he felt awkward and uncomfortable about the way he was built, Ron suddenly found that he was grateful for his size now.
"Hermione!" He moved around her and stepped in her path. "Where are you going? Don't be -- look, just come back to the table, all right? You're being really stupid right now." That probably wasn't the right thing to say. But since when did Ron ever say the right thing, anyway?