Author's Note: Usually I try to spread my updates out a bit more, but with chapter seven and eight being more transition chapters, I thought I would update one more today! I know it's a bit more filler, but after this things will begin to pick up once again.

CHAPTER EIGHT: HANGOVER

Ginny rolled over groggily, trying to remember the night before. She had thought she wouldn't wake up in her own bed, for some reason, but this felt like her bed. Testing its size, she poked her leg out from under the blanket and waited to feel the bed drop off. It ended exactly where a twin-sized bed would end, she thought. Opening her eyes caused a sharp shooting pain inside her head, and hastily she closed them.

What the hell had she gotten up to last night?

Had she drank too much potion? She thought she remembered being out of potion. Didn't she need to go to Doru's manor?

The thought triggered a hazy memory, something she only half-remembered. Was it a dream? The wispiness of the memory was slipping through her grip like the details of a dream. She remembered running through corridors in an old-fashioned dress… that had to be a dream, right?

And finding Doru, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. The struggle between them, how his teeth had clamped onto the junction between her neck and her shoulder. That couldn't have happened.

Nevertheless, Ginny's hand made its way to the place where she could now vividly remember feeling his teeth sink into her skin; she could remember the way the pain had sung through her. There was nothing on her neck. There were no blemishes to be found—no bites, no scabs, no bruises. Just a strange ache that made her wonder if it was an after-effect of having such a vivid nightmare.

It had to have been a nightmare, Ginny decided. There was no other explanation.

Ginny, painfully, rolled out of bed and glanced at the calendar she kept, as if she couldn't help herself. She had the day marked as 16 October 2004. Saturday. But she had gone to bed on Thursday night, she had thought.

What had happened to Friday?

Everything within her went silent and still for a moment. No, no no nononono. It couldn't be happening again. Ginny shook herself, pinching her skin hard. It couldn't be. The last time she had lost so much time, large blocks, even days, was when she had been eleven. And possessed by Tom Riddle. Tom is dead, Ginny reasoned with herself. Most likely, she had fallen too deeply down the rabbit hole with the potions she'd been taking.

Ginny felt disgusted with herself. How had she become this person, dependent on something she shouldn't need anymore? How had she allowed herself to become so wrapped up in it that she had allowed herself to lose an entire day? Tears welled up in Ginny's eyes, and she bit her lower lip, willing herself not to cry.

She couldn't even remember the last time she had let herself cry. Before her Quidditch accident, she was sure. Maybe even long before that. Thinking of everything that she had lived through, all that she had survived truly became real, and as she relived those things in the span of a few seconds, it was as if a dam were bursting.

It overflowed, tears streaming down her cheeks, the taste of salt on her tongue. Ginny bawled like a baby, sobbing for all that she had lost, and become, and lost again.

And who was she without a war within her? She wondered, sobs still ripping through her throat as she tried to regain control of herself. Everything she had always done had been for the sake of good, for the sake of safety, but who was she without that steel core? Who was she without something to fight for?

What could she fight for?

Ginny's cries slowed finally, and her breaths came out in rough gasps and hiccups as she recovered. She breathed a deep breath, urging herself to regain control of herself—if she had ever had it in the first place.

The tears began to dry on her cheeks, the skin on her face stiff as she wouldn't wipe them away. She felt raw, new, like any new thought could tear her apart again. Was this what it was like to be alive? Always dying and becoming and mourning what once was?

She wouldn't take that potion again, she decided more firmly than ever before. Even as she thought it, her back was aching. Ignore it, Ginny told herself.

Ginny wondered if she should at least finish the painting for Doru but decided that it would be too much of a temptation to come back for more. Fuck that painting, she thought. And fuck Doru and Morana.

She was done with that life. And she was done settling for less than her dreams, too.

How long had she said she was saving up to become a curse-breaker and get her training? Ever since she'd had her Quidditch accident. She thought back to it, wondering how the time had gone by so quickly and so slowly at the same time—it had been four years since then. For four years, Ginny had been living her life in a limbo: between two dreams, between waiting and real life, between sleeping and awake. She had allowed the potions to numb her for too long, and they had kept her complacent.

No more, she told herself firmly.

She didn't even know how much money she had in her Gringotts account, so she resolved to stop by the bank before finding a new job. If only there was a way to check their accounts from anywhere at all, she thought.

She disrobed her grungy-looking clothes and put on a set of clean robes, painstakingly did all her hygiene charms, and continued to ignore the pain that seemed to be growing within her. It was all in her imagination. Probably.

She wanted to take her flying motorcycle, but there would be no place to park it in Diagon Alley, so she walked to the Apparition point instead, reappearing in Diagon Alley.

The alley wasn't as busy as it normally would be on Saturday mornings, she observed. Maybe it was the chill in the air, marking that winter was on its way. Some shopkeepers were putting Halloween decorations up, and it filled Ginny with both a sense of joy and dread.

As a child she had loved Halloween—the bats, the jack-o-lanterns charmed into funny faces, and the excuse to eat an ungodly amount of chocolate had made it a favorite of hers (second only to Christmas). But as she had grown older, bad things always seemed to happen on Halloween.

Hopefully, with Tom's death, that curse (like the one on the defence post at Hogwarts) had been broken.

Still, she was determined to make her own luck in the world.

As Ginny walked into Gringotts, she got the uncomfortable impression that she was being watched even more than usual. She felt the weight of eyes on her, following her as she went up to one of the goblins working the telling counter.

"I'd like to check the balance of my account, please," she told him.

"Name?" He asked.

"Ginevra Weasley."

He looked up, eyes raking over her. "Hmm, so you are. If you wouldn't mind taking a seat, I'll have Raidgold conduct a count." She wasn't sure if she was being paranoid, but she felt like his eyes were lingering on her neck.

It was just a dream, Ginny told herself again.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness that was enveloping her.

It was only another few minutes before Ginny saw another goblin come up and speak to the teller, and she assumed that he must be Raidgold.

The teller goblin wrote something down and nodded to Raidgold before the second goblin left to wherever he'd come from.

"Your balance is ready, Miss Weasley."

Ginny stood up, feeling slightly lightheaded as she did so, and walked to the counter. The goblin handed her the sheet of parchment discreetly, and as her eyes took in the number, her heart fell. It wasn't even enough to cover rent this month for her flat.

And now she had no job, no money coming in. No way to pay her bills. How would she ever get into curse-breaking school?

"Anything I can help with?" The goblin asked.

Ginny bit her lip and looked at him. "Unless you've got a way for me to go to curse-breaking school for free, I don't think so."

He nodded in thought. "Gringotts has a program that will pay for that schooling, as long as you give a portion of your earnings back to us once you've finished and signed on at the bank as a curse-breaker."

"Really?" She asked, wondering how she'd never heard of this, and why Bill had never told her about it when she'd mentioned she'd been saving up for training. "What's the catch?"

"We charge interest, of course," he grinned.

Ginny, who had been living away from home for several years now, but had barely any loan experience, only slightly understood the term. "Interest?"

"The amount owed grows by a certain percentage the longer it takes for you to pay us back," he explained.

"Is there someone I could talk to about that type of funding?"

The goblin grinned toothily and nodded, motioning for her to follow him.

He led her to the part of Gringotts that she'd only been in to visit Bill. It seemed it was mostly wizards and witches and working in this part of the bank, doing clerical work. The goblin—who she learned was named Wrenrock, from greetings thrown his way—led her to a cubicle with a sharply dressed witch at the mahogany desk. "Miss Walker, this is Miss Ginevra Weasley," Wrenrock introduced. "She'd like some more information on financing for curse-breaker training courses."

Laurel smiled and nodded. "I can certainly help you with that Miss Weasley. Why don't you have a seat, and we'll go over your goals and financial history."

Ginny took a seat and Wrenrock promptly disappeared. She and Miss Walker, whose first name was Laurel, according to the name placard on her desk, began to discuss the logistics of the type of loan that Ginny would need to go to school.

She left the bank an hour later feeling dazed but accomplished. It was the most progress she'd made towards any dreams or goals since she'd made starter for the Holyhead Harpies.

She still needed a job, however, if she wanted to keep a roof over her head. She stopped and got herself a small tea from Serenitea, the tea shop that had been opened the year before by Lavender Brown.

Serenitea was a cute, small place that vaguely reminded Ginny of the Divination classroom at Hogwarts—with more a modern, fashionable touch. Lavender even offered tea leaf readings every Tuesday morning, and every other Sunday afternoon. Ginny had gone once but hadn't participated. She had been in quite a strop about the loss of her career on the professional Quidditch circuit and hadn't cared to know "what the leaves would reveal of her fate."

She sat on the outdoor patio at a small, two-top table and watched the wizards and witches that passed by. The alley was getting busier as the day warmed, and an air of joviality seemed to overtake everyone as they went about their shopping.

Ginny finished her tea and made her way to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, hoping to rely on nepotism for a paycheck.

As she stepped over through the threshold, the bell overhead rang, announcing her arrival. "Ron! Are you hiring?" she called out.

She found that Ron wasn't alone. Hermione Granger was with him, as was Harry. The last person she wanted to see right now after the way she'd left his flat the other night. She'd placed him in the "Forbidden" box that she and Luna had come up with back at Hogwarts—a box that included friends' crushes, ex-boyfriends (or ex-girlfriends!), and people that it would just be wrong to shag or date (like professors, or bosses, and the like).

And, of course, here he was. Harry fucking Potter.

She avoided making eye contact with him as she talked to her brother, and even as Ron made her tea in his upstairs flat.

Bantering back and forth with Ron, she sat down on his manky sofa while flipping Ron off, and immediately regretted it. "Ouch, there's a spring in my bum."

"Sounds like a personal problem," Ron told her.

She flipped him off again, rubbing her bum.

She accidentally caught Harry's eye as she did so, body filling with heat from her core and out. She licked her lips, and if she didn't know better, she could have sworn that Harry's eyes had darkened from across the room.

She averted her eyes quickly as she tried to change the subject. "So, what are you lot doing here?"

"Well, Harry here was following me, thinking I'd committed the crime in the case we're on," Hermione looked at Harry pointedly.

"I'm sorry," Harry sounded exasperated as he apologized for, what Ginny guessed, not the first time. "All the clues seemed to point to you. I can't help that you were acting suspiciously."

"Did he just come out and tell you he was following you?" Ginny asked Hermione curiously, despite herself.

Harry rolled his eyes mutinously and Hermione laughed. "No, but he was being louder than normal. I don't think he's used to suspects knowing what an invisibility cloak sounds like. I've just worked with the Auror's so many times, I know they're standard issue."

"What case is this, anyway?" Ron asked.

"That art theft case I was telling you about," Hermione answered.

"You told Ron about it?" Harry asked incredulously. "We're not supposed to discuss open cases."

Hermione looked flustered as she smoothed out her blouse. "Well, erm, it was a moment of weakness. I didn't mean to tell him about it."

Harry rolled his eyes at her.

Ginny fought the urge to grin but couldn't resist as soon as she saw Harry's own. Her heart palpitated in her chest at the sight. She bit her lip, envisioning her mouth on his neck…

She shook herself of the image, confused but aroused, nonetheless.

As she cleared away her strange, lusty thoughts something else about the conversation struck her. Art thefts?

None of them were looking at her any differently than before, and they didn't look like they suspected anything. A sense of shame filled her—she had resorted to stealing to feed her potion problem. She had never thought through the full implications of it—she had been stealing from the rich, and not for herself. No, you stole for someone who calls himself Master, a nasty voice inside of Ginny's head reminded her. In return for his poisons.

She thought she'd felt shame before, but in that small span of a few seconds, Ginny thought with a clear head of everything she had done, and for who. It had been for a dangerous man who controlled those around him. He'd exerted his control over her, too. Supplying her with a steady amount of her favourite vice, asking small payment for such a big favour. But it had all escalated. And Ginny had found herself numb, not only physically, but also emotionally and morally.

She had sworn to herself that she would never allow herself to be controlled again, and she had broken that promise to herself. Her stomach roiled at the thought, and for a moment, she wondered if she might be sick right there on Ron's manky couch. Ginny managed to push the sensation down and focus back on the conversation flowing around her.

"How's the tea, Ginny?" Ron asked. She'd tuned back in just in time, it seemed.

"It's great, Ron," she told him. He looked taken aback and she couldn't tell why. "Thanks for making it."

"No problem. Do you want anymore? Looks like you're about out."

Since when was Ron a good host?

As she looked between Ron and Hermione, she realized for the first time that his hand was placed lovingly on her shoulder. Was her youngest brother… seeing someone? And it was Hermione Granger? He was looking at her in a way she had only ever seen him look at food—and only his absolute favourite foods, at that.

"You know, I think that was enough for me. Thank you, though, Ron."

She got up from the couch, ignoring the pain in her back, and now her bum as well from that loose spring.

Harry got up from his position at the small table as well and said, "I think I'll get out of your hair. Thanks for clearing that all up, Hermione."

Hermione sniffed, but smiled. "I'll see you on Monday."

He nodded at her silently and joined Ginny as she walked down the stairs and through the shop.

"You alright?" Harry asked her. "I haven't had a chance to get in touch with you since..."

"Yeah, I've been good," she lied. No point in telling him about the potions, or the strange dream about Doru. She felt guilty for omitting it all, but he was an Auror. And, apparently, he was on the case for her crime.

Fuck, Ginny, she thought to herself. What in the bloody hell have you gotten yourself into?

Harry stopped in the street of Diagon Alley suddenly, so Ginny stopped with him. He looked as if he was talking himself into something, she thought.

"I'd like to take you on a date sometime, if you would be willing," he said.

"A date?" Ginny asked, unable to articulate the strange mixture of feelings within her.

"Erm, if you don't want to, we don't have to," he backtracked.

"No, no, I think it would be great!" She said, before she could think through the consequences of her words.

He smiled, and Ginny put her worries out of her mind. "Great. Would tonight work?"

That was rather soon… but it wasn't as if Ginny had any plans.

"What would we do?" she asked.

"We could go to dinner—a proper one! —and then we could go to a pumpkin patch and pick out pumpkins and carve them."

She had never been to a pumpkin patch but had heard about them. When they were kids, her mum had always grown a little patch in their garden and had brought them in when they were ripe.

She smiled despite herself. "That sounds like a great idea. What time should we meet?"

"I could pick you up at yours at five."

"Five sounds perfect!" Ginny gave him her coordinates and flat number and couldn't seem to control herself as she leaned up and kissed his cheek.

As she passed by his neck, she could have sworn she heard the rhythmic flow of something liquid. You're imagining things, she told herself.

She waved goodbye cheerily as she apparated away from back entrance of the Leaky Cauldron (she was too embarrassed to show her face inside quite yet). She looked at the clock in her flat, noting that she had a few hours to get ready.

Why had she agreed to a date with the auror on the case for something she had stolen? Was it truly a good idea? Should she cancel? Her worries plagued her, but as she pictured Harry in her mind, his kindness and goodness, as well as how he made her body feel, she decided she did not care.

Ginny got ready slowly, taking joy in making herself look good. She couldn't remember the last time she'd tried to look good for a man. It had to have been during her Harpy days, she thought.

She decided to wear nice underthings underneath her dress, smirking at herself in the mirror, already imagining Harry taking it off her body.

At five pm sharp, a knock sounded on her door and she opened it quickly to find Harry.

He was dressed in a nice button-down shirt and slacks, and Ginny knew from his lack of robes that she'd made a good choice in dressing like a Muggle.

"You look nice," he told her, smiling.

He held out a small bouquet of flowers to her, and her heart beat hard inside her chest. She had never been given flowers for a date. Only by her mum, crazed fans, or from an apologetic boyfriend. They were beautiful, too. Ginny hated roses, as she usually thought they were cliché, and the smell reminded her of old ladies. She wasn't sure what the bouquet was made up of, but it reminded Ginny of a beautiful sunset—there were reds and vibrant, dark orange flowers and pretty, dark green fern and eucalyptus (she thought).

"Why thank you," she smiled at him, taking the flowers from him. "Let me get a vase for these, and we can leave."

She got a vase from under the sink and grabbed her wand. "Aguamenti," she muttered as water spouted out of her wand's tip and into the vase. She set the flowers in and turned back towards Harry. "You look nice, too, by the way."

He moved in for a hug, and she let him wrap his arms around her, trying to calm down any anxiety or shyness. Listening to the beating of his heart calmed her own, and Ginny let out a deep, calming breath.

Harry pulled away. "Ready?" he asked.

She nodded and smiled.

He grabbed her hand and Ginny felt like a teenager again—giddy to have her hand in his. He led them down the stairs and out to the street.

"So where are we going for dinner?" she asked.

He smiled. "It's a Muggle place in London proper. I passed by it once while on an Auror mission, and I knew I had to try it. I hope you'll like it."

"Don't you know any Weasleys, Harry?" she asked. "We'll eat anything."

He laughed and held onto her elbow as he side-along Apparated them.

When they reappeared into the world and the sickening squeezing was finished, Ginny found herself in a part of London she'd never seen. Everywhere there were people milling about, laughing, and smiling. "I love seeing people at peace," she told Harry without thinking.

"Me too," he replied, green eyes peering into her brown ones. "It's my favourite part of going anywhere. Seeing everyone safe and happy."

"There were so many years where it wasn't like that at all," Ginny commented. "It's good to be able to relax."

Harry nodded, smiling softly. "Now, I know you said you'll eat anything, but I hope you like sushi."

"What's a sushi?"

Harry laughed, and Ginny wondered what she'd said that was so funny.

Looking at her confused face, he just laughed again, and Ginny decided she liked the sound of his laugh.