Light... Pain... Turn it off... Thirsty... Ouch!
Ginny Weasley opened her eyes very slowly. Her drinking spree that lasted probably the entire previous night was very evident, considering the extreme dicky feeling she was experiencing. She stared at a glass of water that stood on the nightstand by her bed, and wanted nothing more than to take a sip – if only she were able to convince her body to move.
Turning onto her back, she tried wetting her lips with her dry tongue, only to sigh at the failure of the action. WHY did I have to drink that much in one night? She put a fist against her forehead while scolding herself.
She let her arm fall at her side and focused on the wall opposite her. After a few seconds she sat up with remarkable speed and winced at the headache that was tearing at her skull from the inside – she had realised that this wasn’t her cozy little bedroom, but a rather empty one, except for the stack of boxes in the corner of the room.
WHERE THE HELL AM I? She asked herself. Oh no, did I cheat on Dean? Anxiety flooded through her being. She looked under the blanket she was covered with and felt very relieved to find that she was still in her jean and top from the previous night. She smiled to herself and took a sip of the water, sighing at the relief her throat experienced. After finishing the entire glass of water, she tried to piece the previous evening together.
The Harpies had gone out to celebrate her becoming their new chaser – that much was clear. They had peppered her with free shots of Firewhiskey and some muggle drink that she vowed to never drink again. After a while they had discussed their nonexistent love lives and turned to hers. Apparently she let Dean treat her like a child, and should stand up for herself more – rubbish in her opinion, as Dean loved her and was only looking out for her best interest, right?
She could only think that much, before she gave it up as a bad job as she couldn’t remember anything else. She instead turned her attention to the matter at hand. Why wasn’t she in her own bed? She heard movement behind the door separating her from the living room, and pulled the blanket up to cover her entire body.
Who is that! She started panicking and felt for her wand. Realising that she should have expected another person because of her surroundings, she calmed down just a little bit. They couldn’t be that bad if they’d let her sleep in their bed? She reasoned with herself.
Unable to shake her fear, she stood up from the bed and stalked her way over to the door with wand in hand. She turned the knob and slowly swung the door open.
Harry sat in his kitchen late that morning, reading the Daily Prophet and drinking his cup of tea. Ruddy hell, he thought while shaking his head. His favourite quidditch team had lost in their first match against the Arrows.
His father and his best friend – Draco – would be laughing at him this very moment. Harry had been rooting for the Chudley Cannons alongside his mother for as long as he could remember, and though they never won ANY match, he couldn’t see himself changing sides to any other team. Guess I’m loyal... or stupid, or something.
Harry had just started reading the next page when he heard a floorboard protesting behind him. He turned around in his chair and smirked at the young woman who was standing there, eyes huge. “And so, the dead awaken!” he chuckled.
She looked flabbergasted to say the least. Her mouth was gaping slightly and her cheeks resembled the colour of a very ripe tomato. “H-Harry?” she stammered. “What are you doing here?” she thought for a second and then added, “On second thought, I have a better question. What am I doing here?”
“I live here, Ginny... As to why you’re here,” he shook his head, “I have no idea.”
She was still blushing and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, MERLIN!” she paused for a moment. “I hate to ask you this, Harry,” she sounded as embarrassed as she looked, “but did I... did we... you know?”
Harry laughed at her reaction. She looked through her fingers at his shaking form. “No, we didn’t, Ginny. I, like most men my age I believe, prefer to have sex while the other person is receptive, or at least conscious.”
She quickly dropped her gaze to her feet, looking mortified. “I PASSED OUT? I’m such a marshmallow!” she covered her face again with both hands.
Harry found her extremely attractive with her face all flushed, but he had to break the silence, as his thoughts were beginning to drift dangerously in the direction of his bedroom. He cleared his throat, “Cup of tea?” he inquired softly.
She nodded and muttered a muffled “Yes, please,” and walked over towards the little table. Harry went into the kitchen and prepared her a cup.
“So, any reason as to why you were that drunk?” he asked her as he sat across from her at the table a few minutes later, handing her the cup of tea.
She snorted and took a sip of the tea. “I wasn’t that
drunk,” she wanted to laugh, but Harry’s raised eyebrows must have changed her mind. “Fine; I was celebrating.”
Harry chuckled at her disgusted look as she said ‘celebrating’. “You call drinking yourself into submission celebrating? Something big must have happened, then?” he took a sip of his own cup.
Please say you broke up with Dean, Please say you broke up with Dean, Please say you broke up with Dean, he caught himself wishing.
She smiled brightly, and nodded. “You know the Holyhead Harpies?” she asked.
“Of course, the all-woman British Quidditch team!” he answered, trying to mask his disappointment.
“Well, I’m their new chaser!” she said with a smile.
“No bleeding way!” Harry exclaimed. “Congratulations!”
Ginny giggled at his response. “Easy there, Potter. No need to bite your arm off!”
She was feeling loads better than she had when she woke up, which struck her as confusing seeing that she could barely sit up earlier, and she was now laughing and not wincing at Harry’s exclamation.
“Draught of Refreshment, I put some in the water by the bed.” Harry said while smiling at her.
“Pardon?” she seemed confused.
“You touched your head and frowned after I’d gotten all excited. If I were to risk a guess, I’d say you were wondering how you were managing sitting up straight, never mind not crying at loud sounds. I put some in your water, exactly for that reason.”
Ginny, quite entertained at Harry’s observation, smiled thankfully at him. “Thank you,” she touched his hand, “for everything.”
Harry suddenly stopped smirking and looked at her hand. He swallowed the lump from his throat and shakily said “Not at all.” Once she had removed her hand, Harry’s couldn’t stop tingling.
A few hours later found them laughing on Harry’s old faded blue couch. Ginny had been telling Harry of her father’s irrational love for muggle objects and the time her brothers had stolen the car that he had charmed to be able to fly.
“...and so my mother said ‘You could have DIED, you could have been SEEN, you could have lost your father his JOB!’” Ginny concluded the story, clutching at the stitch in her side.
Harry wiped the tears from his eyes that had started to stream down his face from all the laughing.
While looking at Ginny, he thought of something. “Hey, Ginny?” he asked.
“Harry?” she looked over at him, smiling. He couldn’t get over the fact that he couldn’t help but smile whenever she did, especially after she had said his name.
“I’ve just realized that I don’t know your surname?” He blushed as he said this – Here the girl sat, telling stories about her family when he didn’t even know their last name.
“Really? I thought it would be obvious?” she seemed puzzled.
“Why would it be obvious?” asked her.
She raised her eyebrow at him, “Oh, I don’t know. Red hair... freckles...” her voice trailed off.
He chuckled at her remark. “Do all gingers have the same last name?”
She laughed at him. “They do in our world.”
Harry’s stomach made a back flip when she said this. We have a world? He thought to himself. No obviously we don’t have our own world; she must mean the wizarding world. He froze, finally being able to put two and two together.
“You’re a WEASLEY?” he felt his eyes become wide.
She frowned at his reaction. “Of course I’m a Weasley.” She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Does that bother you?”
Harry quickly shook his head, “No! It doesn’t!” She looked unconvinced. “I’m just... surprised is all,” he said in an attempt to clear the air.
“Why would you be surprised, Potter?” she asked. She looked very defensive as she said this, and Harry realised that he was treading very dangerous water. He was only called ‘Potter’ when he was about to be scolded or was visiting his Uncle Vernon, which was pretty much the same thing, come to think of it.
“Well... You’re...” he blushed at what he wanted to say.
“I’m what? Spit it out!” she was getting a tad angry at the stuttering man in front of her and had started to feel for her wand. I’m going to hex the living daylights out of you, Harry Potter, she thought to herself.
“Beautiful,” he said simply. “I’m surprised because you’re beautiful!”
His response had taken the wind out of her sails completely. A few seconds ago she was getting ready to release a crippling Bat-bogey hex, and now she was blushing beet red. After a few moments, though, she said: “You think I’m beautiful?” and smiled a very shy smile.
Harry wanted to bury his head and die out of embarrassment. “Yes! From the moment I bumped into you in that shop, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and you being a Weasley... Well it kind of took me by surprise!”
She was biting her thumbnail as she smiled at him through her fringe. Never had anybody referred to her directly as beautiful. Except maybe Dean, but that was maybe once back in fifth year.
He continued, “You see, whenever I imagined a female Weasley, I saw your brother Ron with longer hair – a description not even remotely accurate to suite you.”
She momentarily forgot all about Dean and found herself imagining herself with Harry. Him being the one to accompany her to family dinners or the one she would kiss when she got home from practise. Her last thought was of herself busy unbuttoning his shirt in his bedroom when he asked, ‘Ginny? You alright?’ with a worried expression on his face.
Ginny quickly shoved all of those thoughts into a drawer and locked it tight, vowing to never think that way again. How could she do that to Dean?
“Y-Yes I’m fine, Harry.” she said, suddenly stiffening. “I should probably be getting home, though.”
Harry didn’t want this to happen, even though she lived next door, so he quickly suggested another cup of tea. Ginny shook her head and stood up immediately, muttering something about Quidditch practise early in the morning.
“Alright, then,” Harry couldn’t disguise his disappointment at her leaving, but he started to lean in for a hug nonetheless.
Ginny wanted to return the hug with every fibre of her being, but she stuck out her hand towards a very confused-looking Harry whilst pushing a stray bit of hair behind her ear.
He took her hand and shook it rather awkwardly.
After she had hastily rushed out the door and left Harry standing in the doorway, looking a bit confused for being refused a hug, Ginny apparated immediately (which struck Harry as very strange – considering she lived next door).
Harry shook his head in disbelief and closed his front door. This day had been the best of his life, so he couldn’t for the life of him think of a reason as to why Ginny would want to leave his apartment so abruptly. Maybe she didn’t enjoy it at all, his mind snarled at him.
He shrugged and started to unpack his boxes. In the back of his mind, however, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had taken his complement as an insult – although it certainly didn’t look that way. He supposed that he had gone too far with the ‘beautiful’ comment, her having a boyfriend and all, but he couldn’t NOT tell her the truth.
If the Sorting Hat back at Hogwarts had taught him one thing, it was that he was a Slytherin – and Slytherins use ANY means to get what they want. Right now, all he wanted was a certain red-headed witch named Ginny Weasley.
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