"Someone was out late last night," Ames said, opening the blinds.

Liv groaned and covered her eyes. "I'm not ready to get up."

"Too bad, love," he said. "We've got a wedding to get ready for."

She grabbed the pillow and covered her head with it. "Fucking Finnegan."

Ames laughed at her, but she didn't find it funny. She just wanted to sleep more. A quick peek at the clock said it was only ten. She could afford another hour or two of sleep and still look acceptable for the wedding.

"C'mon, love," Ames said, getting back on the bed and moving on hands and knees towards her. "I don't want to tickle you.."

"Do. Not." she said, leaving no mistake that she was not in the mood. She pulled the pillow off her head and sat up before he could get to her.

He ruffled her hair and kissed the top of her head before pulling her close to him. "And what was my girl doing that she was out so late last night?"

She was hesitant to tell him that she had spent all night drinking with Harry, because she was afraid he wouldn't understand why she was in need of such company. "Some coworkers and I went out for drinks to celebrate closing out that case."

"Sounds like fun. Should've let me know, I would've joined you for a post game drink."

"It was pretty impromptu. I don't think you would've liked it."

He shrugged, and leaned in to kiss her. She got caught up in the embrace for a moment, enjoying the minty taste of his lips and the smell of his aftershave…

"I have an idea," she said.

"I'm listening…"

"You," she said, poking him in the chest. "Go make me some breakfast, and I will go take a shower."

Ames chuckled. "I'm not sure how I benefit from this idea."

"Well, your date tonight won't have dirty, crazy bed head."

He nodded. "Alright, I guess you've talked me into it."

She showered, ate breakfast, and began to get ready. All the Quidditch girlfriends and wives would be there, which meant she needed to look her best. She didn't usually spend much time on a beauty routine.

She sat at her vanity, which was usually a decorative piece, rather than functional one. A quick coat of mascara, a light dusting of blush and setting powder, and a bit of dark red lipstick made her look polished. She took the time to curl her hair, tying the top half up so it would cascade down her back. Then she took out her perfume, the one she saved for special occasions, and spritzed some on her wrists and collarbones.

"Almost ready?" Ames asked, returning to the room to get dressed. He opened the wardrobe to gather the pieces of his suit.

"Just got to put my dress on," she said, sliding the dressing gown off. She picked a strapless bra out of her lingerie drawer and fastened it. "Hand it to me? It's in the garment bag."

He handed it to her, and she unfurled the knot at the bottom of the bag to reveal her choice for today's festivities: a silky, light pink dress.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?" Ames asked, in shock.

"I thought it was pretty!" she said, defensively.

"It's beautiful," he said. "But just a departure from… navy blue and purple."

"Oh shush," she said, slipping into it. He'd asked for something seasonal, and that's what she'd picked. While true, most of her gowns were jewel tones, she could take night off from them. She turned around, her back towards him. "Zip me in, will you?"

"You look great, love," he said, pulling her to him.

She smiled and looked down. He moved in to kiss her, but she backed up. "I don't think you want to show up to the wedding with lipstick all over your face."

He sighed. "Pick a tie for me?"

She opened the wardrobe and thumbed through his plentiful ties, plucking a navy blue one with pink accents. "This will do nicely."

He was waiting for her to do it for him, so she stood on her tiptoes and tied it around his neck. He looked incredibly sharp in his suit. "Are you sure we've got to go to the ceremony? We can't just show up at cocktail hour?"

"Now," she said. "If you'd let me sleep late, it might have been an option."

Ames rolled his eyes. "Simon's meeting us here anyways."

Ames went into the bathroom to fix his hair, while she packed a small purse. She heard the rattling of the Floo, and stuck her head out of the bedroom. "Hi Simon!"

"What are you wearing?"

"That's a great pick up line," Liv said. "You should definitely use that on every single woman you meet tonight. Guarantee it's a success."

Simon laughed. "I'm just not sure I've ever seen you wear pink, that's all. Jacoby, you seen this?"

Ames had finished slicking his hair back and had joined them in the living room, and his only reaction was to laugh. "I had the same reaction you did, mate."

"Have we got to go the wedding ceremony?" Simon asked, half-whining. "Open bars and single women are the only good part of weddings."

Liv rolled her eyes, herding the men towards the Floo. "C'mon you two, or we're going to be late."

He spotted her from across the large room full of people. She looked beautiful, her long, dark hair loosely curled so it framed her pale face. The dress she was wearing—with its thin straps that dove into a plunging neckline, before flaring out, looked like it was made for her.

She was with two blokes—the taller of whom was definitely her boyfriend. He had his arm around her as the three of them walked to the bar. The tan one with curly hair said something to her that made her roll her eyes in a way he was very familiar with.

Once she was at the bar, her company joined the group of Quidditch men gathering around it. This was certainly the start of a multi-hour, alcohol fueled party for them. He was familiar with the ritual. She gave it a few moments, before quietly leaving her boyfriend and getting a drink of her own.

The way her dress moved with her body was stunning, and he found himself entranced by his new friend. There was something about Liv that intrigued him greatly. Although he was too far away to approach her now, he began to think of a way to approach her later. She captivated him in a way he had not felt for a long time.

"Who've you got your eyes on?" Hermione asked, smirking.

Ron followed her gaze. "Oh god, not her."

Hermione glanced at him, inquisitively.

"This absolute ogre that works in research," he explained.

"She is not an ogre," Harry said, putting his hands up. "She's a bit rough around the edges. Once you get to know her, she's really quite..."

"Do you fancy this girl, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "She's in a committed relationship."

"That's not what I asked," she said, knowingly.

"You should keep away from her, mate," Ron said. "Kensington might have your head."

"Probably right," Harry said. "But- I could use a drink."

Liv worked the crowd, saying hello to all the girlfriends and wives of the players she knew. She got stuck in a group of about four women at one point, as Paisley Pappell was in the middle of a story Liv had stopped listening to a few minutes ago. She forced a laugh as the rest of the women laughed along with Paisley.

This was the place to be tonight. Half the Quidditch community was there, if not more. The hall was decorated exquisitely, with fairy lights all over, washing the hall in a romantic glow she found charming. Waiters in suits walked around with hors d'oeuvres on trays, offering guests bites of fine foods. She grabbed a mini-quiche as one walked past, popping it in her mouth.

Across the very full hall, she locked contact with a pair of familiar green eyes and smiled. He tipped his head in her direction, then to the bar. "I mean, can you believe it? I'm standing there, in the middle of the shop, dress half sewn on, and—"

Liv excused herself from what was surely a very interesting story from Paisley. Nearly every atom in her body would rather make small talk with Potter than listen to the Quidditch wives bitch about everything.

She made her way to the bar, meeting him there. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I was a classmate of Finnegan's," he explained. "Good guy. How'd you get invited?"

"He and Ames play together," she said. "But really, I'm just here for the cake."

"Ah," he said. "Where is this boyfriend of yours?"

"Probably up to no good with the rest of 'em," she said. "No date for you?"

"Nah, I never bring a date to things like this," he said. "Why give you something to read about in the paper Monday?"

She chuckled.

"Want anything to drink?" he asked.

"I think I drank enough last night for the entire weekend," she declared. "But cranberry and soda water would be lovely."

He ordered for them both, as they leaned against the bar and chatted. All of the sudden, Ames and about six other men from his team charged the bar, looking for a bottle of firewhiskey.

"Oh, love," Ames said, pulling her close to him. From the smell of his breath on her, he was already drunk. "Where've you been?"

"I've been working the crowd," she said. "This is Harry Potter, we worked together on that case I closed this week."

Ames stuck his hand out to shake Harry's. "It's a pleasure."

Harry nodded. "Same."

"Livvy, want to come outside and get toasted with the blokes and I?"

She laughed. "Y'know, I think I'm all set, but you have fun."

"Thanks love," he said, kissing her. "Nice to meet you, Potter."

He waved to her as he rejoined his group of oversized children with access to large quantities of alcohol. There was an awkward silence between them for a moment.

"Livvy?" he finally asked.

She scowled. "He's drunk."

"I get the feeling he's going to be quite drunk this evening," Potter said.

"You were a Quidditch spouse for years. You know how it is," she said. "I'll take him home and make sure he brings all his limbs with him and do the best I can to minimize his hangover. Just as a nice friend did for me yesterday."

Potter smiled. "It was nothing, really."

"It means a lot," she said.

"I just would never hear the end of it if Kensington knew you'd splinched yourself in my presence."

She groaned. "I don't want to hear a single thing about the Ministry tonight."

A waiter passed them, and she plucked two pieces of bruschetta off, offering one to Harry. "You're here with your friends, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said. "Ron and Hermione are both here, we were all classmates with Finnegan."

"Well, please don't let me keep you from them," she said. "I can keep listening to the Quidditch wives complain about things. I've nearly perfected my sympathetic nod."

Another waiter came by, offering them flutes of champagne, which she couldn't resist taking. "Probably less terrible than listening to how many Quidditch husbands were cheating on their wives."

Her eyes widened. "How awful… You never…?"

"Absolutely not," he said. She figured he hadn't, and felt slightly rude for asking. "But Ron and Hermione are fine by their own. They know loads of people here. Plus, I'd hate to subject you to listening to how the house elf is leaving fingerprints on the silver again."

"Appreciate it," she said. "And I'm sorry I asked."

He shrugged, and genuinely smiled. "Nothing to worry about at all."

For a moment, she just took in the chaos around them, as the Quidditch men were certainly up to no good, in and out side, and their women were patiently ignoring their husbands' behavior while chatting in small clusters throughout the bar area.

In the main hall, the band started up, and people generally shifted towards it. The slow music filled the entire glass hall, as the lights dimmed. The twinkly lights overhead cast a warm glow on the hall, and Liv couldn't help but smile at how beautiful it all was. The dance floor slowly began to fill.

"Care to dance?" he asked.

She was a bit surprised to be asked.. "Y'know, this is the part of the evening I'm usually quite glad my boyfriend's up to no good, because I'm not entirely sure how."

"It's okay, I'll lead," he said. "Or you don't have to…"

"Let's do it," she said. She put her empty champagne glass on a passing waiter's tray and joined him on the dance floor, clasping her right hand in his and resting her left hand on his shoulder.

"You've got it," he said, cupping his hand around her bare shoulder. "Now just follow me."

They moved in a square shape for a few turns so she could get comfortable, then began to move around the dance floor. "You're surprisingly good at this."

He laughed. "So aren't you."

"He fancies her," Hermione said, from across the dance room.

"You think?" Ron asked, scanning the crowd for him. Towards the edge of the group on the dance floor, he was slowly dancing with Wellwood.

She watched the way Harry was touching her, gingerly. The spoke softly to each other, far too soft for them to make out, but his eyes were happy. "Without a doubt."

"She walks around the Ministry like Crookshanks after a bath," he said.

"She's looked perfectly pleasant this evening," she reminded her husband. "Give her a chance, Ron. He hasn't expressed interest in anyone since Ginny, and it's been years."

He grumbled something quietly to her, then pulled her off in search of another salmon puff.

Liv enjoyed dancing with Harry. He was a good lead, and kept things at a pace she could follow. She didn't even mind being so close to him. She stopped keeping track of the music, and just followed his lead when it was time to switch things up.

"May I cut in?" The question startled her, so she broke the pose with Harry and turned around.

"Simon! Of course," she said. "You don't mind, do you, Harry?"

"Not at all," he said, backing away. "I'll catch up with you later, Liv."

She smiled at him as he walked away, before she resumed dancing with Simon. Almost immediately, the music picked up, but Simon tried to lead her through the fast paced song.

"Where did you learn how to dance like this?" she asked him. It was far more advanced than the simple waltz she'd enjoyed with Harry.

"Remember that girl I was dating two summers ago? Mia?" he asked. "Or maybe Carenna. I forget which one. She was into this sort of thing."

She laughed. "I can only remember about a year's worth of your girlfriends at a time, Simon."

He spun her around, and caught her to end the dance. She didn't particularly like being airborne for a few seconds, so she backed away. "I think that's enough dancing for now."

"I was just getting started," he said.

"Maybe you can find a nice single girl to dance with and take home," Liv reminded him.

"You're a better wingman than your lesser half, Liv."

"I won't tell him that," she said.

"Well, it's hard to help a bloke out when you're plastered before dinner."

She groaned. "He's going to be so hungover tomorrow."

"You're free to send him back to my place," Simon offered. "I'll tell him to quit being a pussy and suck it up in the morning."

She laughed. "You think that's going to work out well on Ames?"

"Nah," he said, and they both laughed.

"Where is he, anyways?"

"Last time I saw him, he was outside with the rest of his team," Simon said.

She glanced around the room and noticed that a few of Ames' team members had rejoined the party, yet he was nowhere to be found.

"I'm going to go look for him," she said. "Just see what he's up to. Why don't you go hit on… that girl."

She gestured towards a short blonde woman that had been hanging around the bar for a while. Simon's eyes lit up. "Good taste, Liv."

She went out the French doors onto the patio. There were a few people out here, but she spotted Ames at the end of it, holding onto a bar table but not looking too steady.

"How're you doing?" she asked, approaching him. He leaned over and vomited what appeared to be straight firewhiskey. She cringed at what had splashed onto her feet, trying not to gag herself.

"I don't feel so good," he said.

"Where'd the other Quidditch blokes go?" she asked, upset. "Who decided to just leave you here like this?"

"I told them I'd be fine," he said, holding his nose. "It burns."

"Alright, let's get you home," she said, sighing. She had really been looking forward to the large cake that had been sitting in one corner of the main hall, but it was more important that Ames didn't make a fool of himself in front of his colleagues.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just give me a little more time out here, I'll be ready to go inside soon."

"Ames," she said, sternly. "You've got vomit all over your suit. You've got vomit on me. This isn't a question, we've got to get you home."

"I told you, I don't want to go home," he said, loudly. The people on the other side of the patio turned to look at them, and she felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment. Luckily, the clinking of glasses inside meant their attention was diverted and they moved towards the commotion.

"Please," she pleaded, grabbing his arm.

He thwacked his arm free from her grip, but his drunken lack of coordination meant his hand collided with her cheek and she took a few steps back to steady herself. She saw the shock on his face, and didn't care one bit.

The instinct to flee overcame her. She bolted off the patio, not wanting to make a scene but wanting to get the hell out of there. She clutched her stinging face for a minute, but then realized how odd it would look and just dealt with the pain until she could get to the fireplace to Floo.

She landed on the floor of their flat, unable to even keep herself upright. She took a deep breath, trying to decide if she was going to cry or not. She didn't want to cry over this. She couldn't let herself be that person.

She stood up and charmed the Floo sealed, so Ames wouldn't come home tonight. She knew he wouldn't apparate drunk. Someone else, probably Simon, would make sure he found somewhere warm to sleep. She couldn't focus on him anymore tonight.

She slipped off her nasty smelling, vomit covered shoes, chucking them in the rubbish bin as she walked past. It was tricky to get the dress unzipped by herself, but she managed, and threw it immediately in the washer, praying the stains would come out. She felt rather beautiful in that dress, and wanted to wear it again. It needed to be associated with better memories.

She wrapped her silk dressing gown around herself, and opened the door to the patio. She felt no guilt over chain smoking tonight. Faint light from her bedroom streamed out, illuminating the swirls of smoke against the dark London landscape.

It took her a good half hour to calm down to any sort of functional level, at which she decided it was time for a shower to wash this day away. She turned the water as hot as it would go, and stepped in. It felt good, especially against her sore and swollen face. She let the steaming droplets of water drip down her back until she couldn't stand it another second.

Ten minutes later, Liv was sitting on the couch in her dressing gown, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do. She had no friends to turn to. Harry was at the party. Her friendship with Holly was a lost cause. It was unfair to call upon Simon when he was Ames' best friend.

She had no one.

She poured herself a small glass of white wine out of the open bottle in their fridge, and fiddled with the radio dial, trying to find some sort of distraction.

The Floo rattled, and she was worried for a second. However, it didn't sound like the force of a human coming through, so she nervously opened it. A small white box appeared.

She immediately sealed the Floo again, and picked up the white box with caution. She opened the lid, to see a generously sized piece of cake from the wedding, all boxed up just for her.

She knew exactly who had done that for her. At first, she felt shame for Harry knowing she left the party and guessed he had a good guess as to what happened. But she was incredibly grateful of this kind gesture, and dove into the cake immediately, eating every single bite in the box.

She eventually fell asleep, all entrances to the flat locked, which made her feel safe.

Author's Note: An extra-long chapter to boost your humpday blues! Many thanks to the world's best beta, potter-reading-coastie. Enjoying the fic so far? I'd be delighted if you left a review! Next chapter will be up Friday morning.