I do not own Harry Potter
Ginny knew it was a mistake the second she had allowed Harry Potter to enter her life, and subsequently, her heart. He had done nothing but prove over and over again that she deserved better, someone who would treat her like a lady rather than a flesh-covered hot water bottle.
She sighed and sat up. Her bed was empty, as it had been for the past three nights. Three long nights had passed since she told the raven-haired Casanova to leave her apartment and never return.
She wondered where he was now. Probably on top of some blonde bimbo, she thought miserably. He seemed to prefer the blondes. Ginny subconsciously ran a hand through her red locks.
Throwing the covers off, she shivered. Winter had not yet left them, and Ginny wrapped herself in an old, woolly dressing gown. She shuffled her feet into her slippers and set off down the hall to her kitchen.
Her heart stopped as a shadow flashed across the far wall. Retreating slowly, she edged back to her bedroom, towards her wand.
There was a crash as something landed on her entrance table. She frowned and quickened her pace.
She returned moments later, wand outstretched.
"Put that away, you sexy girl," A familiar voice drawled.
"Potter?"
"Yes, my love?" He grinned, his eyes unfocused.
"Are you…drunk?"
"I might have had a drink with Ronald," he slurred, "Or perhaps ten…"
Ginny sighed, "Come on, I'll set you up on the couch."
"I want to sleep with you, Gin-Gin-Ginny," Harry hiccupped and laughed manically.
"No, come on, the couch is closer."
"With you!" He protested.
Ginny growled, "Fine! Come on, off we go," She dragged a staggering Harry towards her room, and threw him unceremoniously on to the bed.
"Come here, pretty thing," He drawled.
She obliged, knowing she'd regret it in the morning.
Harry sighed contentedly as he wrapped his arms around Ginny.
"I love you, you know that?" He placed a wet kiss on her temple.
Ginny was silent, and a second later Harry was snoring loudly in her ear.
The next morning, Ginny woke with a start, memories of the night before flooding her mind. She reached out her left hand, but it met only cold bedding.
Ginny felt hot tears pricking the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously. There was no point in crying, or being upset over it. There was nothing she could do.
He was long gone.