Disclaimer: Sadly, I'm just a broke high school student with too much time on her hands.

A/N: Hope everything is going well for all of you out there in reader land. Sorry the updates for this are so slow. I've got a lot of stuff going on right now and it's quite hard to sit down and have actual time to update anything. My biggest apologies!

Xoxo

gene

It was pretty safe to say that at half past eleven PM, Harry Potter was way past the stage of tipsy and into full-blown drunkenness. He was unable to stand up straight, each step was a near stumble to the concrete, and he was unable to speak without inserting a huge slur.

For the most part, despite the fact Harry rarely touched alcohol; he could hold his liquor relatively well. But he'd lost track of how many shots he'd had and that's when things got fuzzy. Somewhere in the sober part of his mind, Harry knew that drinking wouldn't solve any of his problems. He would wake up with a terrible headache and Ginny would still be engaged. Nothing would have changed. Well, except for the splitting headache part.

But despite this, Harry drank so much that for the first time in his life, he was kicked out of a pub for disorderly conduct and obnoxious demeanor. Amazing, really, that The Boy Who Lived would be thrown out of a bar because he'd had a little too much alcohol. Was it really his fault that the clumsy drunk next to him had nearly spilt beer all over his shirt? Then again, at that point, Harry was no better than the drunken stranger, either.

Luckily, no one he knew had been present. He could have sworn he saw one of the Weasley twins, Fred or George (or maybe it was both), but didn't bother following through with his inference.

As he scowled at the closed door of The Leaky Cauldron, he shoved his hands in his pockets and began aimlessly walking down the streets of Hogsmeade, completely oblivious to anyone in his way. He'd intended to drink a bit to forget about Ginny for awhile. But it didn't get him anywhere. She seemed to be the only thing on his mind now…haunting him…memories of the past lingering too close for comfort.

When people drank, some turned into raving lunatics. It brought out a violent streak a mile wide. When other people drank, they got noisy and obnoxious, laughing at everything and anything that sounded remotely like modern English. When some people drank, they retreated into a shell, quiet and appearing depressed, as though all the energy were drained out of them.

Harry discovered he was more so the last one. Maybe it was because he had already been in a terrible mood but he didn't feel like laughing or smiling at all. His heart ached and his head hurt and all he wanted to do was successfully pretend for a moment that the girl he was supposed to marry wasn't going to be walking down the aisle with Dean Thomas.

He thought about popping over to Ron and Hermione's but then thought better of it. He really didn't feel like listening to Hermione lecture, no matter how right she was, or witness a temper tantrum from Ron. All he wanted to do was lie down, maybe have another drink and then drown in extremely melancholy muggle "emo" music. Squinting his eyes to focus, he fumbled in his pocket for his wand. A few minutes later, he had apparated to his flat.

He muttered a spell and with the tap of his wand, the lights flickered on. The house was quiet and still, to the benefit of Harry. He dragged his feet to the kitchen and got out a bottle of water. Taking a few sips, he shoved it on the counter, nearly spilling the bottle's contents. He shrugged and figured he'd clean it up later, when he wasn't tripping over his own two feet. There probably was some spell to help with those whole "morning-after" side affects but Harry didn't feel like looking it up. What difference would it make anyway?

His life had been flipped upside down.

Clutching onto the wall for support, he struggled into his bedroom and threw himself onto the cool, soft mattress. When did things get so complicated? Oh wait…when he had discovered Ginny was getting married…that's when.

In a way, he felt somewhat guilty for her actions. What if he had written her, telling her that he was indeed alive and well? What if he had gotten home sooner…would she still be engaged to Dean? He groaned, as the light blinded his eyes and sent a shooting pain between his temples. The combination of harsh florescent light and over thinking was too much to bear.

"Bloody hell…I'm not drunk enough for a friendly game of 'What If'," Harry mumbled to himself.

He pointed his wand at his Sony stereo system. To his relief, the sounds of "Konstantine" by Something Corporate flooded through the speakers. There was nothing better than some depressing music for a depressed drunk.

He frowned…Should he give up on Ginny once and for all? She still must have some sort of feelings for him…even if they were diminishing by the second. It just couldn't be over for good.

All of a sudden, a loud "POP" caught his attention. It sounded muffled, as though it were right in that very room but in a distance. But this could be because his face was stuffed into the sheets and the pillows were cascading over his head.

"Harry? You all right?" a female voice wondered.

With much effort and stamina, Harry rolled over to his left side and was meet with three images of a blurry Ginny Weasley! Harry lazily took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and then placed the spectacles back on. The three blended into one and he sighed, wondering why of all people, she had to be there.

"Ginny…whadda want?"

Ginny looked as though she'd just witnessed someone getting hit by a double decker bus. Though she wasn't horrified by his display of intoxication, she definitely was worried and…was that a hint of guilt he detected on her face? Harry didn't bother trying to figure it out. She could be consumed with guilt, for all he cared. It wouldn't change anything.

She hesitantly approached the bed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" she flatly observed.

Harry chuckled, though it was hollow and sarcastic. He remained in his set position, eyeing her warily.

"Really? How'd you know?" he sardonically snapped.

He wasn't in the mood for someone to criticize him, even if it was Ginny.

She sighed and rubbed her temples, as though bothered by a colossal headache.

"Harry, did you do this because of what I said, earlier? That I can't marry you? Is that it? Because believe me, it was an awful thing to say but I just had to. You were going to propose and I had to let you know before…anything happened."

She loomed over him, a shadow blocking the light. The words went in one ear and out the other. Harry wasn't fully paying attention to her, though he had heard everything she'd said.

"Gin, could ya please speak a little softer? You're yelling," Harry croaked out, slurring the words.

Ginny scowled, placing her hands on her hips.

"Harry, honestly. Did you even listen to a word I said? I'm sorry, you know. But what else was I supposed to do? Let you propose and break your heart when I rejected?" she persisted with annoyance.

At this curt statement, especially the sentence about breaking his heart, Harry suddenly gained newfound energy. Or maybe it was the fact that an adrenaline rush mixed with too much Fire Whiskey caused a weird chemical reaction.

Whatever it was, Ginny jumped back a bit as Harry sprang to his feet, towering over her. She wasn't afraid, though very surprised and studied him with caution.

"Oh, so now you think you were doing me a favor? You think that by contradicting yourself it's saving me the heartache? Well, news flash, Ginny, you're breaking my heart by just standing there," he spat out, with malevolence.

Ginny glared up at him, having no tolerance to fight with a drunken Harry, but willing to engage in the action if it were the only way to get through to him. Fred and George had mentioned to Ron that they'd seen Harry at the Leaky Cauldron, guzzling drink after drink like a sponge.

The two twins had taken a lunch break from working at their joke shop and were surprised to find The Boy Who Lived in a tipsy state. Ron, of course, had mentioned this to Hermione and Hermione had gotten it to Ginny. Ginny was worried that Harry had gotten drunk because of their conversation earlier that day and as soon as she was free, had rushed over to Harry's place.

But the tone of his voice stung and she found her outer vigor a mockery of her crumbling inner strength. She'd never meant to hurt him…God no, that never was her intention. Things had just sort of…happened so quickly that she'd been forced to deal with the situation before she really knew what was going on.

"No, I didn't think I was doing you a favor, Harry. I was thinking in your best interest. Think about it, would you have really wanted to propose and then have me say no? Isn't it better that I told you sooner?"

His eyes flashed with frustration and indignation.

"You sure as hell changed your mind about that, when you kissed me," he seethed.

Ginny's mouth fell open in shock.

"I kissed you? I think it's the other way around!" she shot back.

She wasn't sure if this was entirely true, but didn't care.

"Who the bleeding hell cares who kissed who! The point of the matter is that we didkiss and it did happen, all right? And you can't tell me you didn't feel anything because that's a total lie," Harry growled.

"Yeah, ok, we kissed. So what? How do you know what was going through my mind at that moment? The kiss was a mistake, Harry, a mistake. I'm sorry if I led you on but you have to understand…I waited so long for you to come home. I never gave up hope. But I realized I had to move on. I couldn't let my life pass me by," she answered, her voice growing softer.

This only spurred on Harry's anger.

"Oh, so you just gave up, is that it? You just decided I was a lost cause, huh?"

Harry knew he was totally missing the point of Ginny's confession but he didn't care one bit. He was too enraged.

"I waited for you for a YEAR and a half, Harry! I couldn't wait forever!" Ginny yelled.

Harry sneered at her.

"Well, it sure didn't take you long to get over me, since you're getting married to our good old pal, Dean Thomas."

Ginny's face went from red with anger to pale with shock. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"How'd you find out about that?"

"What, think you could keep it from me, could you? Thought that I was too dumb to figure it all out? I was in Hogsmeade, today. I saw you and Dean come out of that bridal shop. I saw the fucking ring on your hand, Ginny. You can't make up any excuses now!"

Ginny resisted the urge to break down into tears. She felt completely horrible. It was as though everything and anything that could go wrong, was going wrong.

"Harry-I meant to tell you…I really did. But you had just gotten home and everything and I didn't want-"

"Oh save it, Ginny! You only thought about saving your own skin. Admit it; you didn't give a damn about what I'd think. You wanted to make sure your perfect wedding would be God damn perfect. My homecoming was an inconvenience for you, wasn't it?" he heatedly hypothesized.

Ginny hastily wiped away a stray tear, her Weasley temper getting the best of her. Her face contorted from grief to rage all in a matter of seconds.

"How can you say that? It's always been you, you know that! You've always been a friend to me, first and for most. Why in the world would I forget that? I didn't want to tell you because I knew you were expecting me to be the girl you left behind. But I'm not, Harry."

"Things have changed, ok? You can't bloody leave me for nearly two years and then expect to pick up where we left off! It was utter hell for me, living without you! Don't you even care? Don't you even understand what it was like for me, clinging onto a hope that was breaking by the days?"

His sneer turned to a glare. It had been utter torture for him, as well. But that didn't mean he had decided to go out and marry someone else. He had thought if she loved him, she would hold on. Looks like dreams and hopes never worked out the way people wanted them to.

"So that means you can go and get married to someone else?" he inquired.

Ginny shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"It means that I couldn't keep holding on forever. How was I supposed to know you were alive? You never answered my letters…I wrote one nearly every day. You gave off the illusion that you were gone forever, Harry. What else was I supposed to believe?"

Harry was silent for a moment, pondering all of this.

"Why'd you come here tonight, Ginny? So you could make yourself feel better? Because it's only making me feel like shit. I know that you couldn't hold on forever…I didn't expect you to. But I thought you loved me and I thought that was enough, ok?" he hoarsely confessed.

Ginny grew soft at this, gazing up into his brilliant eyes that had lost their sparkle. He looked very tired all of a sudden, but not the kind of tired that comes from deprivation of sleep. It was the kind of wanted sleep that only a traveler from a distance land experienced, the kind of sleep that isn't cured by a nap or a night's rest.

It was the kind of necessary sleep that was from seeing too much destruction and not enough optimism. It was the kind of needed sleep that was from viewing too many starry nights and never a clear path home. The kind of fatigue that seeped into your very bones and never went away.

"Harry…I don't know what to say," she trailed off.

Harry's ruthless smirk returned as quick as a flash.

"Go home, Ginny. Go back to your perfect life with your dream wedding and your dream husband. You probably never loved me anyway, right? It was probably all one big sympathy act…one big act of pity. Oh look, there's Harry with no parents and a mean Aunt and Uncle and Voldemort after him. I feel bad for him! I guess I'll go out with him. He'll probably feel better. Said yes out of pity, right?" he viciously leered.

And without warning, Ginny's hand shot up and slapped Harry across the cheek. Though it stung, Harry was immune to it. He was too drunk and too angry to feel the pain. Ginny's eyes were wide with fury, her hand trembling. Her cheeks were flushed with a strawberry hue, her freckles standing out even more. Her lips were twisted into a frown, though she looked like she would burst out into tears any minute.

"I never want to hear you say that again. I never went out with you just because I felt bad. That thought never crossed my mind. I thought you only saw me as Ron's little sister. So I was beyond happy when you asked me out, you see? If you're too blind to see that I was desperately in love with you, then I feel no regrets about slapping you," she slowly explained, her voice shaking.

By now all of Harry's energy had been zapped. All he wanted was for this argument to be over. He didn't even know why he'd gone off about Ginny feeling sorry for him. He had never thought that, anyway. That garbage had just popped into his head and spilled out of his mouth.

He didn't know why he kept hurting her with things he said but maybe it was because just by looking at her, she was hurting him. Now the tables, it seemed had turned. Harry had been the untouchable; the one guy Ginny had wanted but couldn't have. And now Harry was in that position. Ginny was the only woman he wanted…hell, needed, but she was unreachable.

It was very ironic.

"Ginny…"

He reached out for her hand and surprisingly, she didn't pull it away. Her other hand found the side of his cheek that she had slapped, gingerly running it over the spot.

"Oh, Harry. I didn't slap you too hard, did I?" she whispered.

He was unable to tear his eyes away from her. He was hypnotized. He shook his head, his eyes glued to her. He could remember the way she would laugh when he would try to tickle her…or the way she would playfully hit his shoulder when he'd tease her.

It seemed so long ago…

He put his other hand over her hand that was on his cheek, then slowly brought it down and wrapped his arms around her waist. What was going on? When did things go from a heated argument to some weird unrequited love scene? He was powerless over his emotions and dipped his lips to meet hers, capturing them in a lust-filled kiss.

She kissed him back, her hands wrapping around his neck, pulling his head closer and closing any space between them. His hand traveled down her back and she shivered. As if she'd come out of a coma and just realized what was going on, she forcefully pulled back.

Her expression was pained and he sighed. So this is how it would have to be. A kiss or two here…and nothing ever more.

She shook her head, her voice scratchy.

"Harry please…don't."

He put a finger to her lips. He was so tired of fighting.

"Do you still love me, Ginny?" he whispered, his lips barely moving.

She looked stricken with fear.

"Harry, I'm getting married in less than a week," she uneasily reminded.

He didn't even blink.

"That wasn't my question, Ginny."

"This isn't our summer, anymore, Harry. I'm not sixteen anymore."

He shrugged.

"What if…you weren't getting married. What if you didn't…love Dean? Would things be different? You do love Dean, don't you?" he quickly added, peering intensely at her.

Do I love Dean? Wait...what kind of question am I asking myself. Of course I love Dean. I wouldn't be marrying the bloke if I didn't love him. Right? Right?

Ginny's thoughts were in a tornado. She couldn't believe she was even thinking something like that. Of course she loved Dean…of course…but the answer seemed fuzzy, like an old record on a phonograph, the more she gazed into the depths of Harry's eyes.

Recollection of the past summer and other moments came back to her…messy hair and jade eyes and whispered promises and late night broom rides when no one was awake. For the first time since Harry had arrived, Ginny was seriously considering postponing, if not canceling, the wedding.

She was afraid to answer, as though if she said 'yes', this moment would all be a dream.

"Yes, of course I love Dean," she automatically replied.

"Well, if you didn't. Would things be different?"

She didn't have to give that one too much thought.

"Yes….I'd probably be still waiting around for you," she confessed with a sad smile.

He wanted to smile but he couldn't. The seriousness and disconsolation of the situation didn't allow smiles.

He leaned down and pressed his cheek to her, his lips close to her ear.

"Stay with me tonight," he begged.

"Harry, don't do this. You're drunk."

He pulled back, his lips brushing her cheek.

"Please. I'm not hinting at anything. I'm just saying to keep me company for a bit. Just like that night of my graduation, when you snuck up to the dorms. Please?" he pleaded.

She looked at him, then to his open bedroom door then back at him.

And to his surprise, she agreed.