Pathetic Me

By darkmosmordreheart

Summary: D&H. Bitch GinnyDrunk HarryHot Draco and fun times. After DH.

Warnings: This story contains language, slash, and sex, which means that there will be extremely hot boys rubbing up against each other at some point or other and they most probably will be naked and they'll be cussing as they're doing it. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, I woke up this morning, looked into my bathroom mirror and discovered that I was not, in fact, J.K. Rowling. Sadly, I have to wake up to this fact every day.

Author's Note: I had absolutely no problems with the Epilogue that was presented to us . . . Well, one. She gave Draco thinning hair at the age of 36. Yes, I know that men can begin losing hair at ages earlier than that, but this is Draco-freaking-Malfoy we're talking about, here! So, just because I highly disagree with that point of the Epilogue, I'm deliberately giving Draco a three feet crown of shining, thick platinum glory! -DMH

Dedicated to pathetic-me.

To Hogsmeade

Ginevra Potter had finally had enough. Her husband was never at home and when he was, he spent all his time with the children. He spared not one glance to the wife he swore to love and cherish. Only whenever they were in public together would he fawn over her. He barely touched her anymore, not just lack of intimacy, but also a lack of small caresses; a hand on the small of her back, a finger mindlessly twirling her fiery red hair, not even a pat on the shoulder to thank her for making his dinner. She missed her husband. She missed talking to him. She missed loving him. And most of all, she missed being loved by him.

So she came to a decision.

She spent over an hour pacing back and forth in the small foyer of the Godric's Hollow home she shared with her three children and husband. She took deep breaths to calm herself and she repeated what she was going to say in her head over and over again. He would come home, ask after Lily, since James and Albus were away at school, and before he could walk around her to check in his daughter's room, she would calmly explain that she had sent their youngest to stay for a few days with her brother and sister-in-law. He would ask why and she would calmly explain how she would not be around the house to watch Lily for the next couple of days. He would ask why and she would calmly explain . . .

She had to have jumped three feet into the air when she heard the front door creak open. Her pacing halted, her breathing stopped, and even her brain seemed to have frozen. Then he walked in. She was expecting the same tired man who had been walking into this house for the past five months to appear from behind that door, but . . . this was the Harry Potter she remembered from her school days.

His vivid eyes twinkled like emeralds, his smile was shockingly white compared to his smooth golden skin, and he even had his old stride back. Before she could even open her mouth to greet him, she was swung up into the air, into his arms, and pressed against the nearest wall.

Her husband was kissing that spot on her neck and she was whimpering and he smelled like wood smoke and man and she was melting into the linoleum and all her thoughts turned to how fast she could maneuver them to the bedroom and . . . No!

No, this was all wrong! This was all different! Not at all what she planned! She attempted to tear herself away, but failed at that, seeing as her husband had a good forty . . . er, fifty pounds on her, so she opted for a different strategy.

"Oww, Ginny! You just kneed me in the---"

"I know, Harry, but I had to get away from you!"

"What the bloody hell?!!" her green-eyed husband let out, bent over to reduce the pain her bony knee had caused. "Why can't you just speak up like a normal person? You're so violent!"

"Well, sorry," she snapped back, not really much sorry at all. "But my mouth was otherwise occupied by a certain someone's tongue."

"You seemed to like the kiss just fine with all the moaning and such." He hobbled over to the kitchen and leaned over the nearest counter as he pulled out his wand and magicked an ice pack from the fridge into his hand. "Why'd you have to go and kick me there? Now we'll probably never be able to have a child ever again."

"Lily is over Ron and Hermione's."

"What?" the brunet asked as he carefully climbed onto a stool and pressed the ice against his groin.

"I dropped Lily over Ron and Hermione's house today," she repeated slowly, mentally encouraging him to ask her why.

"I know, Ron told me. Does she have a play date with Hugo?"

"No." Ask me why, you twit!

"No? Well, that's what Ron hinted it was, but he also hinted something else . . . that I can't do now since someone kicked me in the---"

"God! I said I was sorry about that!" the redhead snapped as she threw her hands into the air and walked from the room. A quizzical look passed over her husband's face as he gingerly hopped from the stool and limped after her.

"What's wrong?!" he called to her, briefly stumbling over a few suitcases in the hall towards their bedroom.

"Nothing, Harry. Nothing and everything as always" she shouted as soon as he walked into the room. She opened her drawers, snapping the already emptied ones a moment after she opened them and pulled out a thick stack of parchment. She threw it on the bed between them and stared at the man expectantly. "Well?"

"Well what, woman?"

"Read them!" she screeched, stalking around the bed, pushing past Harry and out of the room. He hastily snatched the parchment up and followed after her.

"Ginny! Tell me what's the matter!" he ordered, tripping---yet again---over the bags in the hall. "What's this bloody luggage doing out here?"

"Did you even read what I gave you?" she practically growled at him as she turned to face him, her face almost as red as her hair under golden brown freckles.

"This?" he asked, holding up the parchment as he kicked away a particularly heavy bag.

"Read it," she told him, crossing her arms over her indignantly puffed up chest.

He scanned the papers briefly before the message was finally engrained into his mind. "You're . . ."

"Divorcing you, yes," she answered for him, taking the paper from his shaking hands.

"And all these bags?"

"I'll be moving to Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?"

"Yes."

"Shit . . . Hogsmeade . . . Shit," he said again, leaning back against the nearest wall as the entirety of the situation hit him all at once like an epiphany. "You're leaving me."

"Yes."

"You are leaving me."

"For Neville Longbottom," she confirmed with a firm nod.

"Oh . . . Well, that's nice for Neville, I guess."

Yes, this bar seemed to be the perfect place to piss away any brain cells that might cause him to remember this horrible day ever again.

It was dark, it seemed clean, and there was alcohol; thank the Lord.

He moved to the bar as quickly as he could without pulling out his wand and blasting the room full of people out of his way.

He ordered a ridiculously large glass of firewhiskey and settled onto a barstool, readying himself for a long night.

"Why, hello there, Potter," a very drunk voice whispered into his ear. The brunet jumped at the intrusion of his personal space and turned to face a man he hadn't seen for three years. His eyes widened at what a sight it was.

The man seemed to be even taller than he remembered, granted Harry was only an inch or two shorter, but, damn, he thought the other had stopped growing in their seventh year of school. His long, lean body was casually lounging on a barstool right beside Harry's. He was holding a thin glass of champagne that had obviously been refilled several times and a goofy smile shone bright on his pale, slightly pointed face. He seemed to have grown into the sharp lines of his features; his nose, still pointed, appeared patrician now, his pointed chin strong and confident. His eyes still shown a light grey, really more like mercury over silver, but the cold Harry was accustomed to seeing in them was missing. The blonde wore his hair in a ponytail that was roped into a long braid that was hanging over his shoulder and settling in his lap. In the dim bar lighting, it shone like a beacon of moonlight.

Harry almost smiled at the sight of his---now amazing---old school rival.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he asked carefully, looking into the bottom of his glass.

"Oh, just celebrating the fact that the bitch I married has finally liberated me from the hell I've suffered through for the past seventeen years." The blonde smiled and lifted his champagne flute sardonically. "To Pansy."

Harry eyed him for a moment before lifting his own drink and tapping it against the other. "To Ginny."

"Ah, so we're in the same boat tonight, eh, Potter?"

"So it seems," Harry grumbled, downing his firewhiskey in a single gulp. He turned back to the other man only to see silver eyes watching him intently. "What?"

Draco shook his head, another smile growing on his pale pink lips, and he turned to the bartender. "Excuse me? Can we get something a bit stronger over here for the two of us?"

Harry Potter woke up with the taste of a foot in his mouth.

Then he opened his eyes and realized that there was, in fact, a foot in his mouth.

He jerked back, releasing the toe from between his lips with a soft pop. He stared at the foot. It was long . . . fine boned. The toes were . . . perfect. Perfectly proportionate to the slender foot which lead to a perfectly slender ankle which lead to a perfectly slender shin and calf . . . But what Harry noticed the most was the very smooth and very pale skin. He lifted the blanket that covered him to his neck up to look at the rest of that smooth skin and, a moment later, replaced the cover.

He was in bed with a man who was not his wife.

And they were both naked. Very, very naked.

Should he dare to peek under the blanket once again to further investigate or should he risk facing the problem---literally---head on? He sighed deeply because his body seemed to have already made the decision for him and he was steadily peeking over the cover. He was never one for cowardice, but his emerald eyes widened and he shrunk back from the sight that greeted him.

Draco Malfoy was leaning back against a large, ornamented headboard, his arms crossed behind his head, and a wide smile on his face as he looked to the cowering man at the end of his bed.

"Well, good morning, sunshine!"

Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to begin this story for you, pathetic-me. Please forgive me. -DMH