A note- I ended up writing this just as I was about to suggest a prompt to my muse. I don't own much. I saw a pub called Lockhart somewhere and so bitter!drunk!Hinny sounded ideal.
It was a secluded booth at the Lockhart's pub where Harry Potter sat there fiddling with his wand.
He had a scowl on his face and his hair had reached a new level of bedraggled. His glasses had been cleaned with no great caution if the scratch marks were anything to go by.
Out of seemingly nowhere, a redhead appeared at his side. Ginny Weasley didn't look at the top of her form either. And yet she held the bottles with an enticing smile on her lips, looking every bit the coquette she was supposed to be.
"I have firewhiskey!" She trilled, as she set the bottles down in front of her.
Harry smiled and took his wand out to conjure a couple of glasses for them as Ginny settled beside him. He languidly sneaked his arm around her shoulder.
"Where are we?" Asked Ginny, bemusedly staring at the overcrowded place.
"Lockhart's pub," Harry smirked as Ginny gave out a short, sharp laugh.
They eased into a comfortable silence as Harry poured out the first glass of the fiery drink. A couple in the corner shot them a filthy look. They assumed the two to be drug addicts, with their loose muggle clothing and glassy eyes.
"How are the happy couple?" Asked Ginny, flipping her hair and inspecting her nails.
"I'm pretty sure that they're trying to repopulate the world. They'll compensate for the losses of war. The world must be, peopled."
Ginny let out another sharp laugh.
"That bad?!"
Harry nodded, his green eyes momentarily flitting up as he subconsciously rubbed his forehead. His scar didn't pain him anymore, and it probably never would in the future. He adjusted his glasses and pulled his face into a grimace.
"Worse. They're using me as a substitute for a baby! Hermione's sent me three portions of lamb I have no use of and Ron's always inviting me to Quidditch. Quidditch doesn't bother me but him trying to correct me does! What next?"
"Oh they'll force you into a high chair and start calling you 'young man'!" Ginny grimaced as she accidentally took a gulp too big. Firewhiskey was a potent beverage but the Weasley knew how to hold her liquor.
"Luna and Neville a worse I bet."
"Oh they ended it!"
"Really? They sounded far too perfect together."
"Summer fling, Potter. The heat of the war's gone and the romance cools down!" Ginny corrected, extending the 'down'.
"We are like couples therapy, y'know."
"There are no couples here."
It had been a great surprise when Harry and Ginny hadn't gotten together after the war. Excuses were thrown about. Harry was an auror, Ginny training for her team but nobody guessed it right.
The war had made them bitter, cynical. They weren't running about shagging like their friends had. Shagging ones troubles out wasn't the greatest coping mechanism.
So two to three times a week, they met up at darkened booths in crowded muggle bars, drinking their hearts out. Firewhiskey and cynical humour were more appealing than crying over spoilt potion.
"It's couples therapy by proxy then!" Harry mockingly raised his glass and Ginny raised hers in suit.
"How many days 'til we have to hear you address our world when you receive that order of Merlin?"
"It's not bringing dead house elves back but the answer would've a week."
"D'you expect anyone to kiss you when you kiss Kingsley's arse with that mouth?"
Harry snorted. He and Ginny loved the same macabre jokes that caused the entire wizarding population to gasp shun them away. A war is over, we won. Yay?
Ginny seemed like the only person who could hear him out. She was the only one who didn't mind his callous comments. She in fact, reciprocated his sentiments. They didn't like being shushed up, so they stuck together.
"D'you think we can call this as dating?" He asked.
"Well we look like hell, the place is crowded and you've gotten me drunk. I'll say yes."
"D'you want to date me?"
"Like I said we look like hell, Muggles stare at us and we don't know when to shut up."
"And that implies what?"
Ginny grinned and pulled him down for a kiss. It was rather wet, open mouthed, and utterly shameless. Harry's glasses fell on table, right into the glass of firewhiskey. He couldn't stop, not even to catch his breath. Ginny agreed as she agree aggressively grabbed his shirt collar, leaned further into his lap.
Dating by proxy. Sounds like a plan.