Drunken Fool
Summary: When Harry comes to the Burrow drunk one night, Ginny tries to talk him into getting himself a girlfriend. Harry asks her startling question, "What about you?"
Ginny rolled off the couch, pulling the blanket with her with a great amount of force. As she lay on the floor, her crimson hair spilled about her face, she struggled to get untangled from her blanket.
"Bloody blanket," she muttered, kicking her legs every which way. Ginny shivered as the blanket came off her; the house had suddenly gone chilling. Her body shivering, she ventured off the floor of her parent's house to go in search of the coldness.
The instant she stood up, a draft seemed to come up from the floor. Her feet turned cold. She immediately looked down, frowning distastefully at her feet. She padded over to the kitchen door, still looking at her feet, earning a hit on the head by the kitchen door. Grumbling, she grabbed the doorknob. It shocked her. She let go and looked down at it. Ginny touched it again. It shocked her once more.
"Bollocks," she mumbled, pulling off her sock and putting it over her hand. She grabbed the door and sighed contentfully when it did not emit a painful shock. She took the sock off her hand and put it back on her foot. She had a bit of a struggle as she hopped around, but eventually got it on.
Padding through the kitchen, she saw that the door had been swung open. There was a figure sitting at the table, but it was so dark that all Ginny could see was a stooped outline. She tiptoed past it and shut the door. Carefully, without making a noise, she walked behind the outline.
It was Harry. And he looked terrible. Ginny softly tapped his shoulder. He jumped a foot in the air, mumbling incoherently.
"Harry?" Her breath tickled his ear and he turned away. "Harry, are you alright?" He looked up at her, his blood-shot eyes clear in the moonlight. She shook her head sadly.
"No," He stressed the word, drawing it out. "I am not alright." He downed half of the bottle of Firewhiskey in front of him. Ginny made a move to grab the bottle, but he pulled it back. "Ish mine's 'inny."
Ginny snatched the bottle and pulled out her wand. Harry cowered, mumbling incoherent curses. The bottle sloshed over as Ginny placed it forcefully on the kitchen table. Ginny performed a Sober Charm on Harry. He sat very still as Ginny turned on the light in the kitchen. He adverted his eyes, concentrating on the table. Ginny took the place across from him.
Harry's outline became contorted as Ginny's eyes filled with tears. Harry slowly looked up at her.
"Why, Harry?" Ginny's soft voice filled the quiet kitchen. "Why'd you have to go out and slosh yourself, trying to get rid of your problems, when you know it doesn't help? You know you can talk to us."
Harry groaned. "Ginny, don't start this! You're not in charge of me. I'm 20 and I can bloody well take care of myself!" His voice wavered a bit at the end. Ginny stood up, propping herself on the table.
"You can't, Harry! You know you can't take care of yourself. Look at you! Getting drunk every night. Blowing your savings," He began to protest. "No, Harry! Let me talk! You have to stop this! You have to find someone. I'm not sure, but maybe a butler or a maid or a girlfriend even! Find someone that can take care of you!" Ginny's outburst left a ringing silence.
Harry seemed to ponder this all over. The clock in the kitchen gave off three loud rings, signaling that it was three o'clock in the morning. Neither moved.
"What about you?" Harry asked placidly. Ginny's eyebrows knitted in confusion. He smiled, a genuine smile. It was the first real smile Ginny had seen from him in years. She just had to smile too.
Ron walked into the kitchen blearily rubbing his eyes. "Merlin, you wankers! What're you doing up at three in the morning? Some people don't have erratic sleep patterns. Both of you! Stop grinning like idiots!" As Ron continued to lecture them, Harry leaned over and whispered to Ginny, " Would you be my girlfriend?"
Ginny's grin eased off her face. Ron noticed that neither Harry nor Ginny were paying attention to him, and he walked off grumbling, shutting the kitchen light off in the process. The two were left in the dark.
"You must not be completely sober, " Ginny groped for her wand in the dark. Harry's hand snaked across the table and entwined with hers, stopping Ginny's incessant ranting.
"I'm sober, Ginny." Even through the dark, he could see her disbelieving shake of the head. "Really, I swear."
He felt her arm stiffened. He held it tighter. Ginny tried to pull away.
"Let go, Harry," Her voice was controlled, for fear of bursting out. His grip stood firm. "Harry! I mean it, let go!" When he didn't, the seriousness of this situation sunk in.
"Harry! I don't want another 'fling'! I'm looking for a real relationship! I have a date on Thursd-" Ginny was cut off by Harry's lips on hers. They were warm and moist against hers, which were dry and cracked with cold. There was no way to describe it. Harry had grown from the awkward teenage boy to a man. Ginny would not let this get to her. She wrenched her lips off his.
"What was that for?" She exclaimed, her lips tingling. Harry looked down at the table once more. When he looked up, Ginny could see that he was smiling oddly.
"Though I could get you to change your mind," he replied. Ginny's breathing hitched. There was a silence.
"It worked," and her lips were on his once again.