A/N I wrote this for my friend's birthday, which is probably the worst birthday present ever. I apologize in advance.
"Hello, Rita. Fancy meeting you here," Harry Potter laughed, sending goose-bumps up Rita's arms. He was drunk, that was easy to tell. She wasn't exactly sober either, but he was drunk. He sat in the empty seat next to her, yelling over the noise in the bar.
"Haven't seen you since—what, fifth year? I can't say I've missed you," Another laugh. Rita tried not to stare at him to patently, but she couldn't help herself.
In the years since she had last seen The Chosen One, she had grown rather… obsessed. She had been careful never to come in contact with him again, had carefully refrained from seeing any more of him than his pictures, which she pored over.
"Where's Ginny?" Harry shrugged. This was not good. A drunk Harry Potter was not something to dangle in front of a mildly drunk Rita Skeeter. She never did have any self-control. Harry downed another glass. This was not good.
"She kicked me out," he said after a pause so long that she had almost forgotten the question. "Time to think and all that."
Rita leaned in and kissed him fiercely. She didn't have time to process much—not nearly as much as she wanted to—but his musky scent enveloped her, his lips softer than she could have imagined.
Then, unfortunately, she pulled away. He was bewildered, his glasses knocked askew in a way that, if possible, made him even more endearing. He started to lean in again, but Rita jerked away.
"You're drunk. You're drunk, and you're Harry Potter, and—" Harry shut her up easily by pressing his lips back to hers, drunkenly kissing in a way that was absolutely foreign to Rita. Again, she pushed away.
"Harry, what about Ginny? Ginny Weasley?" He shook his head, laughing at her naivety.
"Ginny Weasley? I never cared about Ginny-I just wanted to get over you." Harry smiled before kissing her again, and this time she didn't turn away.
