A/N: I had a busy weekend writing; I'm not sure I'll be able to keep updating both this and Servant of Death so quickly, but we'll see.

Ginny purposely went out to pick up food at the time she thought the Arrows would be leaving for the pub; what she hadn't anticipated was that they would exit through the very public front entrance to the building, or that they'd still be loitering on the walk, signing autographs and posing for pictures, when she returned.

She had to push her way through the crowd just to get near the front door; all the witches (and a few wizards), assumed she was just another fan, trying to get closer to the team. "Watch it, I got my spot at six this morning," one said to her, blocking the path forward. Ginny changed course, only to find herself barricaded by a line of folding chairs filled by a number of witches in matching t-shirts proclaiming themselves to be "Fans Seeking Harry Potter."

Ginny was about to give up and go eat her supper in the park when Dam caught sight of her. He dropped the flowers and box of chocolates that had been pressed into his hands and walked easily down the sidewalk, the crowd parting to let him through. He walked up to Ginny with his arms wide in welcome and a big grin on his face.

"So, Miss Weasley, did you decide to join us after all? We'd love to have you." Around her, Ginny could here the sudden interested muttering of those watching – and wondering – what she'd done to earn such attention. Dam leaned down to speak low in her ear.

"I can't tell you the name of the pub out here – we don't want to be overrun, but I'll have Harry send you a Patronus when we arrive; he's really good at that spell. Mine always go wonky." He ran his hand down her arm.

Ginny batted it away. "I'm going to take advantage of the quiet to catch up on my sleep," she said pointedly. "I woke up unfortunately early this morning."

"And then went for a run, didn't you?" Harry appeared next to Dam. "I saw you when I went out too."

Ginny nodded, unsurprised. She'd seen Harry and then carefully changed direction, as if she'd always planned to take a path through the park as opposed to skirting around the edge of it. She wasn't avoiding him, exactly (well, okay, she was), but not because she didn't want to see him. She just liked to run alone, without trying to carry on a conversation or wonder what the other person was thinking about her pace or form or whatever. That's what she told herself, at least.

While all the Arrows were rather more dressed up than usual – not difficult, given that they generally wore athletic gear – Harry was wearing a silky, electric blue dress shirt that was so fitted Ginny could practically count his abs through it. Objectively, she supposed it looked good on him, but she knew without asking that his attire, like everything else planned for this evening, had been orchestrated by someone else. He was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, a sure sign, Ginny knew, that he was slightly nervous. She had first seen him make a similar move while being introduced to her parents, right after Ron and the twins had rescued him from his aunt and uncle's house the summer before Ginny's horrible first year at school. It was the first time she'd met him, and she didn't understand for several years what his rocking meant – couldn't comprehend that there was anything at all to be nervous about when it came to her family. Getting pranked by Fred and George excepted, of course. But she'd seen Harry rock occasionally since then – before tasks at the Tri-Wizard Tournament, his first lesson for the DA – and gradually came to understand that it was his way of using up the excess energy wrought by feeling like all eyes were on him in expectation, and that he wasn't quite up to task. He'd been rock steady and grounded the night he'd faced Voldemort for the last time.

Harry was picking at the hem of his shirt and Ginny's suspicions about its source were confirmed. She refrained from commenting about it, and instead, patted him on the elbow.

"Have fun," she said. "I'd tell you not to get into too much trouble before you're dumped on my doorstep, but I suppose it's out of your hands."

Harry's goodbye smile was a little forced; Dam's much less so. He clapped Harry on the back. "Nothing to worry about, fun will be had by all!" he said heartily. He turned to the rest of the team, most of whom were still deep in shallow conversations with various fangirls and fanboys . The Seeking Harry Potter group looked rather put out that their hero was not similarly engaged. One rather buxom blonde actually glared at Ginny, who turned away to hide her smile. As the team moved down the walkway and to the nearby Apparition spot, the crowd followed ,and Ginny was able to make her way to the front door. She didn't look back before slipping inside.

Ginny had finished dinner, taken a shower, and was wondering how serious Damacles had been about bringing Harry over later when there was a tapping on her window. Startled for a minute, she realized it was an owl, delivering her copy of the Evening Prophet. Ginny had never been a regular subscriber to the paper – full of propaganda as it had been for so many years – but one of her lecturers had mentioned that it was a good way to track patterns of dark movement, that even inflated or grossly ridiculous stories often had a kernel of truth to them. Today was her first evening delivery.

She quickly read through a front page article warning that an Inferius had been spotted in the greater area – and mentally filed the information under unlikely but bodes checking before delving into the inner pages. Nothing inside seemed particularly relevant; the Evening Prophet was much shorter than the morning edition – and Ginny turned to look at the Quidditch scores when her eye was stopped by a large photograph inside the back page. Even with only half his face visible, and surrounded by cheering teammate's Harry's image was unmistakable. Over and over, Ginny watched him throw his arm sloppily around a witch and pull her in for what appeared to be much more than a friendly kiss. Indeed, the woman's hand snaked around Harry's waist as she pressed herself against him, while Dam, Adam, and Wilder grinned and high-fived in the background.

Ginny looked for an article, but the photo only had a caption, stating that Harry Potter and close friend Katerina Bellows get cozy during a night out with the Arrows at the Burning Cauldron.

"Close friend my ass," said Ginny to herself. She had finally recognized the witch as the same blonde who'd stared daggers at Ginny outside; apparently she'd been successful at prizing the name of the group's destination from one of them.

Hoping that it was merely the alcohol lowering Harry's inhibitions and that no one had slipped him a potion, Ginny folded up the paper and climbed up on her bed with a book, wondering if Harry would just end up going home with that witch, and hoping that she never had to hear about it.

It was past one in the morning, and Ginny was dozing on her bed, having finally decided that she was off the hook, when there was an irregular pounding on her door.

"Oh Miss Weasley, I have somethin' for you. Somethin' . . . some ONE for you." Dam's voice was unmistakable, and unmistakably drunk. Cursing that she was apparently going to be the one to pick up the pieces after Harry had had his fun, Ginny got up and stretched before opening her door.

Dam stood there leering at her, looking rather less intoxicated than he'd sounded. Harry was leaning woozily against him, clutching what looked like a red lacy bra in one hand. He made a feeble attempt to straighten up when he saw her.

"Hi . . . hiya Ginny," he slurred. "Dama . . Dam says yer gonna take care of me now." He hiccupped and gave her a wobbly smile. Ginny sighed and stepped back to let them in.

"Has he at least gotten sick already?" It was much easier to mind her drunk brothers after they'd vomited a couple of times.

Dam shook his head cheerfully. "Nope, not once. He's a lot better of a drinker than I would have pegged him for. Better kisser too, if that witch was any indication." The captain half-dragged Harry into the flat sat him down, none to gently, on Ginny's sofa. "I heard it made the papers?"

Ginny nodded and waved her hand at the Prophet. "He's going to hate that," she said.

Dam picked up the article and scanned it quickly. "Nah, it's fine. Great publicity for us. And Harry certainly didn't seem to be hating it at the time. He can do better in the looks department though." He looked at Ginny. "I take it that you and he never . . .?"

"No, not at all," said Ginny quickly. "He's like . . . another brother. We get along fine, but he's usually treated me like I'm . . . you know, getting in the way of whatever he and Ron were up to. And Hermione." She shook her head. "Ron and I are only sixteen months apart, you know."

"Huh," said Dam. He tossed Ginny's Gryffindor blanket over Harry. "I didn't, but I never got the impression from Harry that . . . well, that he found you intrusive.

Harry shuffled on the couch. "Ginny's not," he mumbled. "She's doesn't . . . she's my friend." He opened his eyes. "Izzat right Ginny? Are you my friend?"

Ginny conjured a bucket and put it on the floor next to the sofa before taking the bra from Harry's hand and pushing him into a more prone position on the sofa. "Sure Harry," she said agreeably, years of experience with drunken ranting behind her. "I'm your friend. Your friend, your little sister, whatever you want."

"What I wan' iz . . . iz . . ." he began. Harry's eyes fluttered shut and he started to snore.

Ginny lowered the lamps and looked at Dam. "I can take it from here," she said. "Thanks for bringing him. He really shouldn't be alone."

Dam nodded. "He'll be out for hours." The man's eyes flicked toward the wall that separated Ginny's bed from the rest of the flat. "D'you want to, maybe . . .?"

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Ginny spoke quietly to keep from waking Harry, but there was no mistaking her tone.

Dam jumped back in mock horror. "Okay, okay, just thought I'd ask." He grinned. "I always have to ask, you know?"

Despite herself, Ginny smiled back. "I have six brothers, I know every move in the book." She smirked. "That wasn't even a particularly good try."

Dam groaned. "I'll try harder next time," he said. He walked towards the door. Just before he left, he stopped. "Do you have any hangover potion here?"

Ginny shook her head. "I don't usually keep it here unless I think I'm going to need it; it loses effectiveness pretty quickly." She raised her eyebrows. "I'd assume that's something you'd have in regular supply yourself though."

Dam grinned. "Oh, it's not for me. I wanted to make sure Harry doesn't get any. It's part of the hazing process. He needs to recover all on his own."

Ginny put her hands on her hips. "And I suppose I'm expected to care for him while he does?"

"That's the plan, yes," Dam nodded. "Tell him I'll see him for a run around . . . three tomorrow afternoon? That should give him time to at least feel somewhat human again."

Ginny doubted that, but she nodded before pushing the Arrows' captain out the door and closing it firmly behind him.

Alone now, Ginny sighed and looked at Harry. He was sleeping deeply right now, breathing heavily through his mouth. She carefully rolled him more fully onto his side and straightened the blanket. "Try not to miss the bucket, okay, Potter?" she muttered. With a flick of her wand, she turned the lamps even lower, leaving just enough light so that she could make out Harry's figure from her spot in bed. She didn't even bother taking off her sweats, but climbed under the covers and curled up on her side, hoping for at least a couple of hours of sleep before she was needed.

In fact, it was nearly six in the morning and light was streaming in from the edges of her shades when Ginny woke up to a quiet groan. She was instantly alert, having not slept deeply the entire night. She grabbed her wand and slid silently off her bed.

"Hey," she said quietly in the direction of her sofa. She waved her wand and lit the lamps, keeping them low.

"Hey," he muttered. He was still lying down, one hand over his face.

"Do I need to ask how you're feeling?"

Harry grunted.

"I'll take that as a no," said Ginny lightly. "Can I get you anything?"

Once, the first time she'd attended to Bill the morning after a raucous night out with his curse breaking friends, Ginny had tried lecturing her brother on the evils of too much alcohol while he was still in the throes of a massive hangover. It hadn't gone well. Now, she confined her comments to the mundane and necessary. She knew what Harry had done, and why he had done it, and there was no need to be smarmy, not now anyway.

"Some water, maybe," said Harry thickly. "My mouth feels like something curled up and died in it."

Like that slag's tongue, Ginny thought to herself. If Harry's teammates had been there, she was certain one of them would have made a similar comment out loud. Instead, she merely hmm'ed noncommittally and walked into her kitchen.

"Did you at least have a good time?" She asked. She added a cooling and refilling charm to a cup of water and brought it over to Harry. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Thanks," he said. He took the cup gratefully and gave it a tentative sip. "It was fun at first," he said. "The pub was a fancy one, and the drinks were great, when I was still sober enough to appreciate them." He made a face. "But the point of hazing night is to get the target as wasted as possible – so they do things they regret and everyone has stories to take the mickey later." Harry gave her a small grin. "When I'm feeling more alert, remind me to tell you what the twins did when they joined the team."

"I know Fred and George, I can only imagine," said Ginny dryly. She glanced at the paper lying on the side table. "Do you remember . . . everything about the night?" she asked carefully.

Harry grimaced. "You mean the witch," he said flatly. "The blonde one." He looked at the side of the sofa and picked up the red lace bra he'd been holding the previous night, grimacing at it

"So you do remember . . . what you did with her?" Ginny hated to ask, but one thing she had learned from Ron was how carefully Harry guarded his privacy. At the least, he deserved to hear it from a friend before being confronted in public.

Harry nodded tiredly and rubbed at his eyes. "I know we kissed, a lot. Dam and everyone were egging me on. And she had her hands . . . a lot of places. Over my clothes," he added hastily. He waved the bra. "She gave this to me. I didn't . . . I didn't take it off her or anything. Ginny nodded.

"I don't think I touched her much at all," he continued. He closed his eyes as if trying to think. "It's what they expected me to do, on my hazing night. So I did - I didn't enjoy it. I don't really even remember what she looked like. She's probably a regular downstairs though." He sighed. "I hate that part."

"What part do you hate?" asked Ginny. "The fawning fans? I'd think that's part of the job, isn't it?"

"It is," agreed Harry, "and that's fine, for the ones who are just crazy about getting close to professional Quidditch players. But . . ." he gave a small hiccup and took another sip of water before continuing. "But some of them . . . a lot of them . . . are more interested in getting close to Harry Potter, no matter what job I have." He sighed. "At least with the Arrows we have security to watch out for the more . . . overly enthusiastic ones. Last year, when I was . . . not playing Quidditch, it was worse. Even from the ones who weren't fans, there was a lot of curiosity about 'What Harry Potter would do now's that he's killed the Dark Lord."

Harry spoke lightly, but Ginny detected the slightest undercurrent of bitterness. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. "You were doing more than just helping Ron and the others with the rebuilding," she said.

Harry gave her a wary look. "What have you heard?"

"Not much," said Ginny. She didn't mention Ernie or Terry Boot's comments. "Just what Ron told me."

Harry nodded and rubbed his eyes again. "He's keeping me up to date about what they say in training. About me, or about some of what I was doing. I guess they haven't discussed it yet, but I'm sure they will. I . . . wasn't quite finished."

Ginny bit back a completely irrational flash of jealousy that Harry had asked Ron, and not her and Ron, to keep him informed about the Aurors. Harry obviously felt terrible right now; this wasn't the time berate him for not trusting that she was also fully capable of communicating to him what was going on. Still, she couldn't stop herself from reminding Harry that she was Ron's equal in this.

"I'll let you know what I hear too," she said.

"Thanks," he said. He leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. "I sometimes forget that that you're . . ."

"That I'm grown up? Not the annoying little sister anymore?" Ginny forced herself to keep her voice light.

Harry shook his head slightly and winced. "You weren't that annoying," he said. "Just sometimes." He swallowed. "But we didn't make it easy for you sometimes I know." He lumped himself easily in with her brothers, Ginny noticed. She remembered the photos on in his bedroom. She nodded, then realized he couldn't see her. But he wasn't finished talking.

"But, yeah. I guess I forgot that you'd want to . . ." Whatever Harry was about to say when a loud thump against the wall shook Ginny's flat. She cursed.

"Damn Bludgers," she said. "I figured they'd want to sleep it off after last night."

"No one else drank as much as I did," said Harry thickly. "And I'm sure they've all taken a hangover potion anyway." He muffled a burp into his fist. "I hope they're satisfied with my performance and I proved whatever it is I was supposed to. I don't want to do this again."

"Dam seemed pretty impressed with your behavior when he dropped you off last night," said Ginny. "Both with the witch and how much you drank. Said he wouldn't have guessed you could hold your alcohol so well. Actually, neither could I. Ron's a proper lightweight."

"Yeah, well," Harry suddenly looked sheepish. "I may have had some help with that."

"What kind of help? Something to help you absorb alcohol? You were still pretty drunk."

Harry shook his head and winced again. He squeezed the bridge of his nose for a minute before looking up again. "No . . . nothing like that," he said. "I felt everything I drank." He swallowed a sip of water. "But there's a spell . . . Dumbledore taught me when we were . . . when he was showing me things. That I might need to know when I . . . when Ron and I, and Hermione . . ." he glanced at her. "When we were away."

Ginny nodded in understanding. Harry took another small drink of water.

"The spell prevents vomiting, it's kind of the opposite of your brothers' puking pastilles." He gave a small smirk. "I think it's meant for less frivolous uses than proving how much you can drink, but it worked just fine here." He grimaced. "At least, it worked for a while. I think it's wearing off." He swallowed, and Ginny saw the color drain from his face. She bent down to push the bucket in his direction, but Harry lurched to his feet.

"Can I . . . use your loo?" He was already walking quickly in that direction.

"Of course," said Ginny. She stood up, not sure whether to follow him. "Do you need anything?"

Harry didn't answer, just disappeared into her small bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door all the way. A few seconds later, Ginny heard the sound of retching and she winced in sympathy. It sounded like Harry was going to be in there a while.

She debated for less than a second. With a glance towards her front door and then another at her bathroom, Ginny grabbed a handful of Floo powder off her mantle and quickly whirled away in a rush of green flames.

When she returned fifteen minutes later clutching a bag from the apothecary, Harry hadn't emerged, but the sounds coming from the bathroom had eased. She called softly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," came the terse reply. A minute later, the door to the loo opened fully and Harry walked out. He was pale and shaky but didn't seem in imminent danger of getting sick again. He sat heavily on the sofa and closed his eyes. "That was horrible," he muttered. He cracked an eye open. "Don't tell Dam or the others."

"If you don't tell them I got you this." She held out the bag.

Harry stared at it for a long beat. "You got me hangover potion?" he asked slowly.

Ginny nodded. "I know you aren't supposed to have any, but honestly, after everything else, that seems cruel." She opened the bag and took out the vial. "I got the single dose kind."

Harry took the vial. "Thanks, Ginny," he said quietly. "I wouldn't have thought . . ." he stopped, and looked down at his hands.

"Wouldn't have thought what? Don't you want it?"

Harry nodded. "I do, definitely. I guess I'm just surprised that you got it for me."

Ginny didn't understand. "You're surprised that I'd go against Dam's orders? I've lived my entire life learning how to ignore and get around the stupid rules my brothers tried to get me to follow. Why would this be any different?"

"Well, that's just it," said Harry. "If it was Bill, telling you not to give Ron a potion, or the twins, you'd have listened to him, right? It would have been funny." He shrugged. "So I'd expect you to do the same with me."

"Oh," said Ginny. She was quiet for a minute. Then she nodded. "If it had been Bill, and we'd all been at home, goofing off, then yeah, I wouldn't have gotten you the potion. But this is different." She peered at him. "Have you even ever been drunk before?"

Harry shook his head. "Never," he said. "There just hasn't really been the opportunity. I know Ron did, this past year, with Seamus and Dean."

"And Neville," giggled Ginny. "After they finished rebuilding a tricky bit at the castle." She bit her lip. "You weren't there?"

Harry shook his head again. "No," he said simply.

"I . . . I didn't like seeing you out of control last night. Knowing it wasn't your doing," she said quietly. "I mean, I know it was expected of you, as part of your 'job' so to speak, but . . ." She trailed off.

"But what?" Harry's voice was very quiet but Ginny didn't think it was the headache.

"But, I get the feeling you don't have control over most things in your life, not right now," she said. "The least I could do is make sure you don't puke in the middle of your run with the team later." She looked at him. "At three."

Harry spun the bottle in his hands. "You're right," he said. "About all of it. It's . . ." He broke off, and Ginny suspected he'd changed his mind about what to say next. "Three, huh?"

She nodded. "I think Dam expects you'll be dragging."

Harry popped open the vial. "I won't drink all of it, then," he said. "If I'm too chipper he might get suspicious. I just need enough to get rid of the worst of my headache and settle my stomach a bit." He drank carefully, stopping when the vial was still half full and leaning back against the sofa with his eyes closed. "Ahhh," he groaned in relief. "Feels better already."

Ginny took the rest of the potion from his hand and Harry opened his eyes. "So you don't get tempted," she explained. She stood up. "And I suppose I don't need to tell you how stupid it is to do a spell that prevents vomiting when you're planning to drink yourself nearly unconscious?"

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "Yeah, I know," he said. "Dumbledore may have mentioned something like that too."

Ginny huffed. "You're all idiots, you know that? I hope you never taught that spell to Ron."

"No, Dumbledore made me promise not to," he said. "Although I think you learn it in the Aurors. "Part of your lessons on annoyance hexes – you know, charley horses, headaches, ringing in the ears, stomachaches. All that fun stuff. I think the spells to control or arrest bodily functions are part of that set of lessons."

Ginny didn't ask how Harry knew so much about the Auror curriculum. She waved at the sofa. "Stay here and rest if you need to," she said. "I'm going out. I need groceries and a few things for training." She also needed some time alone, without feeling like she had fallen right back into the role of caretaking little sister, but she didn't say that to Harry. He was looking much more clearheaded now, though, and Ginny considered what kind of promise or favor she might extract from him in the future as repayment for her minding him.

Harry nodded. "I may have a kip," he said. He grabbed the blanket that had fallen to the floor and pulled it over himself.

Ginny sighed at Harry's apparent ease at making himself quite at home in her flat. "Not sure what's wrong with yours," she muttered under her breath.

Harry had closed his eyes again. "Did you say something?" he mumbled.

"No Harry," get some rest," said Ginny. "I'll be back later."

HPHPHPHP

Outside the apartment building, Ginny saw that the fallout of the previous night extended beyond Harry and her own flat. It looked as if quite a number of fans had stayed put, waiting for the team to return, and had done so with bottles of Firewhiskey and whatnot. Several actual tents were actually erected along the walkway, and Ginny could hear the sound of snoring from one. Another was shaking lightly and seemed to be hosting quite a different activity than sleep, and Ginny wondered to herself just how many members of the Arrows hadn't slept in their own beds last night. She was about to turn left towards the Apparition point when a short figure rose from one of the last chairs in the row and blocked her path.

"Well, well," said the witch. "Don't you have it convenient, now. Did you enjoy your sloppy seconds?"

Ginny stopped. She recognized the witch from her photo in the paper. Even with her lips wrapped around Harry's her face was unmistakable. Ginny played dumb. "Excuse me?" She said."

The woman huffed. "Oh, I know what you did. I heard Damacles Clarke say so himself, that you were waiting anxiously at your flat for the afters." She preened. "Harry Potter chose me first, you know. And we had a lovely time together." The witch flipped her hair. "I don't know what you got, later on, but I assure you, it was nothing compared to what he did for me."

"He did nothing for me," said Ginny shortly. "I've known him since I was ten and he's my brother's best mate. I took care of him, that's all." She could see the woman did not believe her.

"Didn't want you, did he then?" she scorned. "Not surprising. He seems to prefer blondes, you know."

Ginny didn't bother with a reply, just stepped off the path and walked around the witch. As soon as she had passed, she turned around. "And, Katerina," she said sweetly, thankful that she remembered the name from the paper. "I'd certainly know better than to think a bloke chose me for a snog when he was already half out of his mind with drink during his hazing night." She smiled. "Dam talked to me directly. We're neighbors, you know."

While Katerina stared angrily at her, Ginny turned to the Apparition point. "Have a good day waiting out here," she said in parting. "Looks like it might rain."