Summary: Ten years after the war, no one has the life they thought they wanted when they won the final battle. With Harry and Ginny living as muggles, Hermione trapped in an unhappy marriage, and Draco fighting to regain his wealth, how will they all decide on the values that will guide them back together? Ginny/Draco, Hermione/Percy, Harry/OC(male)

A/N: We're starting out muggle, but I promise we're heading toward the Wizarding world! Lots of unusual pairings in this one, so it may not be your cup of tea (or coffee). Rated M for swearing, domestic violence, and sex.

Standard disclaimers and apologies here.

Chapter 1: Just a couple of muggles here

"Oh for the love of-" Ginny snorted, juggling the folders in her arm as the heel of her shoe refused to remove itself from a storm grate. Growling to herself, she slipped her foot out of the shoe and bent down to retrieve the troublesome item while trying not to make contact with the disgusting San Francisco sidewalk. 'I don't have time for this,' she thought, resuming her trot into the foyer of her office building. She saw a dark head of hair emerge from the men's room a few paces ahead of her and signed in relief.

"I honestly wasn't sure if you were going to make it to work," she called, moving to catch up to her roommate. "Didn't see your gross coffee cup cluttering the sink, so I assumed you hadn't woken up on time."

"Ginny, don't laugh," Harry Potter moaned, running a hand through hair that was messier than usual. "I was so out of it this morning that I drank straight from the pot and now I have to go to the loo every bloody thirty minutes."

"That sounds like a personal problem and you'd better get it together before the pitch meeting in five minutes, can't wait to watch you squirm in front of the partners," Ginny joked, not for the first time feeling happy she didn't party. At the thought her lips turned down slightly; muggle partying wasn't worth it without potions to reanimate her the next day.

"Oh stop, you harpy," Harry grunted. "I didn't laugh at you when you went around for a whole day with two different shoes for a whole day after we finally tried those mai tais in Chinatown."

"HARRY-" Ginny shrieked in a fair imitation of her estranged mother, but she stopped herself when other people turned to look at them as they strode toward the conference room. "You sore you would never bring that up again, you traitor!" she hissed as Harry smirked at her. "Who do you think you are, exactly?"

"I'm the Boy Who Lived, obviously."

"Prat."

"Cow."

"WHAT-"

"Oh and look at that, we've just arrived. Looks like I got the last word, Ginny." Ginny grumbled under her breath as she paused to smooth her blonde hair, Weasley temper, and game face in place before taking a breath and following Harry inside.

They were the last to arrive, settling into place at the end of a row of seats occupied by more senior Yorke and Ramsay representatives. The partner they reported to, Jack Yorke, nodded at them as they sat, his rotund, jolly demeanor doing nothing to relax the three nervous men who stood at the podium watching a fourth fiddle with the projector. Harry, always quick to fill any pause with caffeine, fidgeted in his seat for a few seconds before springing up to pour two cups of coffee from the carafe that always stood in the back of the room. Ginny preferred to stare down the team that was about to pitch to them, noting that they looked like they were in their mid-twenties although two of them were wearing college jumpers. At least they looked freshly laundered, she thought, which already put them in the top fiftieth percentile of people who pitched their firm. She would never understand why engineers preferred an unwashed aesthetic; even after nine years of living as a muggle, she had a hard time determining whether this was a muggle thing, an American thing, or a specifically San Francisco thing.

"Harry, would you just-"

"Ginny! Put it down, I can handle it!"

"You can not, just look at what a mess you're making! Honestly, five years of parenting and you still don't know how to put together a bloody sippy cup."

"I know how to put a top on a fucking cup, it's just that when I'm holding your heavy son-"

"My son? I'll thank you to remember he's yours too!"

"Only when he's behaving."

Ginny rolled her eyes in frustration, snatching the cup away from Harry and deftly fitting the top on before putting it in the fridge. Harry watched her ruefully, holding James in his arms as the toddler snoozed away, despite the argument. Ginny's frustration melted as she looked at the boy.

"Honestly, he's a heavy sleeper just like his mum," Harry snickered. "I know he's adopted, but this is a clear point for nurture versus nature." He laid the five year old down on the couch; James promptly flopped out like a long-limbed starfish and let out a snore. "My god, he snores like you too! Bet his housemates won't like that when he goes off to-" Harry suddenly stopped talking and looked down.

Ginny sighed. "It's fine Harry, I slip up too sometimes. He can still have a good life even without Hogwarts. We've met tons of happy muggles who didn't have to have a Sorting or butterbeer or house elves in order to grow up properly."

"I know, it's just that we left that all behind and I hadn't thought about anything magical for years, but now that he's getting bigger I keep thinking about all the things we could show him if he was-"

"Well, we couldn't, really," Ginny pointed out, trying to interrupt this maudlin train of thought. "He's a muggle, so even if we were still magical we could never take him to Diagon Alley."

Harry grunted, unusually quiet. They didn't often talk about the wizarding world anymore, but sometimes Harry would reach for his wand -which remained securely with Kreacher back at Grimmauld Place- if something startled him and Ginny sometimes asked Harry if he'd de-gnomed the garden of their townhome if they were rushing to tidy up before friends came over. Old habits and memories died hard.

"Do you ever regret it?" Ginny asked softly. "D'you ever want to go back, just pretend like we never ran off, blame it on childish emotions after the war?"

"'Course not," Harry snorted. "What do I have to go back to? Here I have you, we have James, I have a great job, and my chief defining characteristic is being the most caffeinated person in any room. At this point, I've been out of the wizarding world for longer than I was ever in it." Seeing that Ginny still looked dejected, Harry threw his arm around her shoulders and waggled his eyebrows, "Hey, remember streaking through Dolores Park singing God Save the Queen last Christmas? And how the drag queens joined us? Think we could have gotten away with that in wizarding London?"

Ginny's face picked up a little. "Yeah, I can just see what Rita Skeeter would have written and can you imagine the Howler we would have gotten from Mum? They'd think you were going mad again."

"Honestly, one more shitty headline and I would have shown them some madness," Harry grumbled. "And how many gay wizards did we ever meet over there anyway? The blokes over here are fit and plentiful and no one's going to sell my dick measurements to the Prophet." He was smiling, but Ginny was too familiar with her old friend to miss the glint in his eyes that belied his bitterness. They'd been living together, clinging to one another for so long that their moods were synced - there had been long stretches of time in the beginning, right after they'd moved to the States, where they'd been depressed for weeks until they fought to claw their way back up. She was determined that this wouldn't turn into one of their bad days.

"Look, you, what do we always say?" she asked, sticking her bottom lip out, hoping she could bully Harry out of his brooding. Reluctantly, Harry blew out a breath and chorused along, "The ones who care don't matter and the ones that matter don't care. I know Gin, I know. But still-"

"But nothing, Harry Potter. Do you think you're somehow inferior because you're gay and a celebrity who wants to be a hermit?"

"Well, no, but-"

"And who does, the sodding Ministry? Your old friends? The Public?"

"Yes, and-"

"And since when has the great Harry bloody Potter allowed himself to be influenced by a bunch of idiots?"

"Never? I mean at least not since third year-"

"Damn straight!" Ginny announced triumphantly, pointing her finger in Harry's amused face. "Besides," she added, tossing her hair and sticking her nose up in the air, "you know that I'm the only one who really matters, and if I don't care about what a weirdo you are, well, that's really the end of it, isn't it?" Harry's bad mood crumbled in the face of her haughty righteousness and a real grin spread across his face.

"Still the same obstinate Ginerva Weasley, eh?"

"Shh, don't teach James that terrible name! We agreed it would be Virginia here because what kind of self-respecting muggle has the name Ginerva?"

"Now, now, Gin," Harry crowed. "The ones who care don't-"

"Oh shove it, you twat," Ginny mumbled, slapping his shoulder.

"This is abuse!"

"This is Sparta!" she barked, punching him on the other shoulder.

"Mer-God, I never should have started showing you muggle cinema," Harry complained, rubbing his shoulder.

"It's times like these that it's clear that you grew up without an army of brothers," Ginny said archly as she headed toward her room. "What can I say, I love to win."

Harry bent over the couch to pick James up again, looking at his little face thoughtfully. "Do you miss your brothers?" he asked quietly.

"Some of them. The twins, Charlie. Bill's faded more into an abstraction, I never knew him as an adult. I didn't really know Percy well enough to miss him, and I'm sure he's different now anyway. Not Ron."

Neither of them missed Ron, that almost went without saying. Still, she was petty enough to state it for the record.

"Reckon they're still searching for us?" Harry asked. "Or do you think after ten years they've given up?"

"I doubt it. Do you think Molly Weasley has ever given up on anything in her life?"

"I'm not having a laugh, I'm serious. It's been ten years. Do you think we should-"

"No, Harry."

"I'm not talking about moving back, just maybe contacting your family to let them know we're okay."

"No, Harry."

"Look, I know they always thought we'd end up together but-"

"Drop it."

"Maybe if we just explained that we're happy, it would be okay."

"You know it wouldn't!" she tried to keep her voice low to avoid waking James, but her face grew flushed and the telltale signs of an impending bollocking made Harry raise an eyebrow, carry James to his room, and shut the door quietly before returning to face the firing squad in the living room. They sat down at the table across from one another in a well-practiced formation.

"Look, we've been over this time and time again," Ginny said wearily. "I won't let my family tell me what to do, not at 19 and not at 29. They'll always see me as a bloody 11 year old who made a stupid mistake and almost ruined her whole life. The fact that Ron almost got killed loads more times than me, the fact that the twins dropped out of school, the fact that Bill is practically a werewolf, no one talks about any of that shite like they talk about the mistake that I made. Was I supposed to live the rest of my life with that looming over me?" She was furious to realize that she was starting to tear up.

"I know, it's completely fucked," Harry soothed her. When one was down, the other rose to the occasion, always trying to keep the balance. The fact that Harry had been the more distressed of the pair just ten minutes before was forgotten - when Ginny needed him to be strong, he always was. "And you're right, Molly always treated you like an extension of herself that didn't quite seem to work properly. I mean, I felt the pressure when we were dating, but not in the same way you did. I remember being horrified by it when I was 20 and I hate the idea of exposing you to it again now. I just think about James and how I want him to have a proper family so badly and, well, I guess I get to thinking about how much family you left behind. But if you don't want them, then it's simple."

"I know I'm not a hag," she sighed, dabbing at her eyes. "It's just that it feels like they were trying to marry me off to you and if they'd known you didn't want me, they'd all try to figure out what I'd done wrong or how I didn't have what it took to be a good partner-"

"Well, technically, Gin, you don't have-"

"Okay, you berk, I know I don't have a dick, that's not what I meant." She chuckled despite herself, thanking fate for Harry Potter, the best friend in the world. "Harry, I'm not ready to go back yet. Because as soon as I step foot through that door, I'm exposing us to the same shite we had to go through years ago. I'm not going to put you out that way and I'd never let them at James. I never want you to have to expose yourself to protect me."

"And I'm sure I never want to hear anyone badger you for not trying hard enough to ensnare me with your womanly wiles," Harry said lightly, although Ginny knew he was serious.

"Right then," she said, "So since we're both so bloody hung up on protecting one another, we have no choice but to stay here and become fabulously successful and wealthy."

"And the coffee is better here, anyway. I don't know that I could go back to only drinking tea."

"And, okay, maybe James won't go to Hogwarts. But he also won't have to worry about Rita Skeeter stalking him."

"No chance of getting a vomit-flavored jellybean."

"No having to fend off pranks from the twins."

"Or Ron," Harry said grimly, his hands folding and tightening on top of the table. Ginny remembered how the two former best friends had separated and frowned. "Yeah, the git would probably accuse us of stealing James to force him into a house of perversion, as if it would have been better to leave him in the system than to have him raised by a ponce."

Ginny contemplated this and decided it might not be too far off the mark. Ron was ever one for theatrics and he'd say anything in a fit of rage. She couldn't even condemn him too badly, since she was the same way. 'How could I bring James back into that firestorm,' Ginny thought. 'I won't let them control him, too.' Setting her jaw firmly, Ginny decided to put her thoughts of the Weasley clan behind her for the time being. She'd go back when she was ready, and if ten years wasn't enough, then maybe twenty years would be. Either way, she wasn't going to let Harry torture himself over the thought anymore; no one was going to hurt Harry ever again on her watch.

Unfortunately, she couldn't always protect Harry from himself.

'Sunday,' was the first groggy thought that crossed Ginny's mind when she cracked her eyes open. 'No work. What time is it?' The clock laughed at her, cheerily displaying the time to be 7:30. 'Godamnit, why can't this ever happen on the weekdays?' Ginny moaned internally, resigning herself to getting up early.

It was on mornings like this, Ginny supposed, that she really missed her wand. Shuffling to the bathroom, she imagined the Warming Charm she'd put on the tile so her feet didn't freeze, wistfully thought about whispering Accio to bring her shampoo and conditioner to her instead of rifling through the cabinets to find fresh bottles since Harry had clearly used up the last of the old without replacing them - just like a goddamn man. She fantasized about using a Drying Charm instead of the infernal blow dryer that she would never, ever accept as an improvement because it still made her arms tired to hold it up. 'Oh well,' she huffed, stepping into the shower. 'The stranger the muggle world is, the less likely anyone we know will venture into it to find us. Ten years as a muggle and I'm getting the hang of it. At least I don't get headaches from using a computer anymore.'

Glancing down at the water running down her legs and onto her manicured toes, Ginny frowned and poked at her stomach. 'Gross. Probably shouldn't have eaten all that risotto last night.' Grinning wickedly, Ginny turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. 'Although the flip side is that I can eat whatever I want without six brothers grabbing it all first. And even if I'm puffy today, there's no mum to point it out to me, just my own semi-guilty conscience.' Breathing deeply, Ginny looked at her naked figure in the mirror, sobered by the thought of her brothers for the second time that week. She was slightly irritated with Harry for bringing them up and slightly guilty for not missing them more than she did and slightly sad that she didn't know them well enough to miss them. But it was also slightly nice to be able to date without an overprotective gaggle of brothers breathing down her neck, too.

"Let's have a look at you then," Ginny said aloud to her reflection, sucking in her tummy and lifting her chin slightly. "Hips are wide, boobs small, arse flatter than a table." Turning sideways, she continued to eye herself critically. "Small nose, no curves, thick thighs, yes, it's just about official then. You're definitely housewife material." Heaving a sigh, she finished toweling off and slipped her robe on. "Ginny Weasley, you are many things, but a beauty is not one of them," she confronted the mirror. Feeling decidedly downcast, she glared at herself. "Oh, chin up there, that's a lot of loser talk," she said, trying to be convincing. "You've got, er, personality, and spunk, and-and you're not stupid, that's a good one…" Her failing speech was interrupted by hurried tapping on the door.

"Ginny!" Harry's harsh whisper came through the door.

"You can wait, I'm almost done with my affirmations," Ginny called, only to be met with furious shushing.

"Gin, let me in! Please, just open the door!" Raising her eyebrows, Ginny flicked the lock on the door handle, only to be trampled by Harry in his rush to get in. Shoving it closed again, Harry locked it and collapsed against the wall looking ruffled, frantic, and unusually alert for 7:42 in the morning on a weekend. Or any day.

"What in the world is wrong with you?"

"I messed up, I messed up really badly," Harry moaned softly, beginning to pace in the limited space available to him. "I didn't mean to, I mean, I wasn't that interested, really, but it was just-he was just-"

"Harry James Potter, you stop this right now and listen to me," Ginny said, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at her roommate. "Would you kindly get your shit together and try to make some sense?"

Harry tugged at his hair for a bit, biting his lip. "So you know how I went out with some of the guys from the gym last night?" Ginny nodded and Harry threw an arm over his face in a pose of utter despair. "I think someone put something in my drink."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "You what?" she cried. Harry lunged across the foot of space separating them and wrapped his hand over her mouth.

"Shh, be quiet!" he whispered. "I dropped James off at Jae's house before I went out and met up with the guys. Everything was fine and we went to the same places we always do. Jae texted me and said he wasn't going to church in the morning so I could pick James up later, so I told the guys we could stay up late and we ended up at Barbarossa-"

"Oh my god, that dump? Why?"

"Barbarossa is not a dump, how dare you!"

"Every time I have been there, every time, there has been some kind of brawl. It is entirely populated by seedy old men trying to sleep with nineteen year olds."

"It is not- shut up, let me keep talking because it gets worse. So there was this guy that was kind of coming on to me, big bloke, dark hair, very fit looking. We were chatting and then we were dancing and I started to get so hot-"

"Yeah, because Barbarossa has, like, no ventilation-"

"Shut up! And then he bought me a drink or two. The first few were good and I felt fine, but then I had to go to the bathroom and when I came back he had shots waiting." Ginny's eyes grew wide and she stepped closer, peering into his face.

"Are you some kind of idiot"?" she stage whispered, feeling her face heating up. "Everyone knows not to drink something unless you've seen it made for you." She spluttered, looking for words to properly convey her disgust and dismay. "You're a bloody father now, you can't be making these stupid, fucking, teenage mistakes!" In that moment, she looked more like her brother Ron than she would ever admit (and Harry, valuing his manhood, would never point it out).

"Let me finish," Harry insisted. "By that time I was kind of buzzed so I just drank it. Next thing I know," and here Harry gulped, looking down, warning Ginny that the worst was yet to come, "I'm waking up in bed with him, we're both starkers, and I feel like I've been run over by the Knight Bus."

"Before I lay into you good and thick for being a total nob, let me just ask how the hell you managed to get yourself home," Ginny said, trying to control herself.

"Er, Ginny, what I was trying to say is that I wasn't in his bed, I was in mine. As in, here. As in, he's still here." Ginny's face melted into a mask of shock, horror, and revulsion.

"Bloody hell," she managed to get out before sinking to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

"I know," Harry muttered, sitting on the floor facing her. "We've got to think of something to get him out of here. I don't think he knows about you, I don't think I told him anything about a roommate. My god, I don't think I even know his name."

"It doesn't sound like you were doing a whole lot of thinking last night and we will be revisiting that at some point later today," Ginny whispered fiercely. "But for now, let's just…let's just calm down and think about this for a second."

"Why don't I go back in, pretend to be sleeping, and you just burst in and - er - demand that he leave immediately?" Harry looked hopeful and pitiful and Ginny knew then that she would do this outrageous ask because it would give her the moral high ground to tear Harry a new one later that afternoon. And also because she loved her friend. And because if she gave this to him now, she might be able to get him to tell her why he had been taking more and more risks for such dubious rewards. (And when she kicked open the door, startling the naked stranger out of bed, the eyeful she caught, but not asked for or wanted, confirmed that it truly had been a dubious reward for Harry).

A/N: I started this story a full FIFTEEN YEARS ago and never finished it. I find myself with a lot of time on my hands these days so I, like my characters, am searching for a sense of purpose as I write this. I have 25 chapters planned and sort of outlined, and I will finish this story even if it takes me another fifteen years (but I'm really hoping for more like 24 weeks).