Waking up to the grating sound of Ron's snores was not an unusual occurrence for Harry; he'd gotten used to his best mate's loud sleeping habits over the six years they'd roomed together at Hogwarts, not to mention the year they were on the Horcrux hunt. Even now that they had their own bedrooms at their flat, Ron was sometimes loud enough that Harry could hear him through the shared wall. It usually didn't keep him awake though; he didn't even bother with silencing charms unless Hermione happened to be sleeping over as well.

But hearing Ron snoring loudly only two feet from his pounding head at 6 o'clock in the morning after a night of heavy drinking was a bit much for Harry. It felt as if Fred and George had taken up their old Beaters' bats and had spent most of the evening hitting him around the head. And that he'd afterwards spent a good hour or two in the Floo network, spinning dizzily all over England. Turning over, he realized that Hermione had managed to sneak back up to the room at some point and was now also lying only two feet away, barely dressed – with a naked leg wrapped around Ron's sleeping form in a way that Harry's bleary eyes and rolling stomach couldn't really handle right now. Bathroom. He definitely needed to get to a bathroom.

That of course meant that he needed to stand up first, and make his way down three flights of stairs. And hope that no one else's hangover had led them to already claim the Weasley's single loo. Harry supposed that if he was really desperate, he could Apparate back to his flat, but Apparating while hungover was nearly as dangerous as doing it drunk. Even if you didn't splinch yourself the chances of vomiting everywhere upon arrival were nearly 100%, at least in Harry's experience. He sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position.

The room spun crazily for a second and Harry pressed his hands against his temples and seriously considered lying back down. But his mouth felt like it was full of cotton and he really needed to pee, so he swallowed hard and reached for his glasses and wand and then slowly stood up, trying to ignore the sprawled bodies of his two best friends in the bed next to him.

The three flights of stairs down to the bathroom had never felt quite that long before, and Harry had to pause to get his bearings before pushing the door open and going in. After having a pee and splashing water into his mouth and on his face he felt only marginally better, but the thought of two more flights of twisting staircase down to the kitchen for a proper glass of water or tea was too daunting. He walked back out to the landing and considered just laying down there for a while. Someone would have to trip over him eventually, he supposed.

But the door to Ginny's room, just across the hallway, stood open, and it occurred to Harry that if Hermione was up in Ron's room then the camp bed would be free. Perfect. He walked as quietly as he could across the landing and peered in. Ginny was balled up in a corner of her bed like a child, mouth open, breathing heavily as she slept. The camp bed was nowhere to be seen.

Damn.

Harry was suddenly so tired and dizzy he didn't want to keep standing. Without really thinking about what he was doing he took one step, and then another, into Ginny's room.

Fuzzy images from the previous night, of the two them talking, flitted through his aching brain. What had she said to him? About being there, with him? Had she told him she liked it? It hurt his head too much to try to remember. Other memories were even more faint, of another day, laying together in Ginny's room. There had been only one bed, that time, and Harry had no idea what they had been talking about. But they were laughing, of that he was sure.

Ginny rolled over in her sleep and the blanket Harry had placed over her the night before slipped off. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist and Harry could see pretty much everything below it. Almost on instinct, he darted all the way into the room and pulled the cover back over her; the last thing she needed was for Molly to walk in and see her practically naked in bed.

After he covered her, Harry let his hand rest for probably longer than was necessary on Ginny's hip. In the tiny part of his brain that wasn't pounding like a herd of rampaging giants sat the thought that it would be more than nice to pick the blanket up again, lay down next to Ginny, and tuck it around both of them, preferably for three or four more hours.

But that would probably be against the rules.

He tried to convince himself that he only wanted to stay because he was feeling too ill to try to walk the three flights of stairs back up to Ron's room, especially with Hermione there. And his nausea and headache were nearly enough to justify pretty much anything, at that point. They hadn't specifically discussed what the rules allowed in cases of extreme emergency – and the way he was currently feeling definitely qualified as one, as far as Harry was concerned – but something stopped him from taking that final step to actually lie down on the empty half of Ginny's bed and pray that he could somehow fall asleep again.

It was that tiny little bit of brain, the bit that was not currently screaming at him to never drink again, that was stopping him. That part of his brain knew that he wanted to lay down with Ginny for a reason completely unconnected to his hangover. Not sex – Harry's stomach rolled at the thought – but just because it would feel good to be there. Right, even.

But it's not right. Not now.

Harry sighed. Laying down together for something other than sex would definitely be off limits at any time, but especially here, after all of Ginny's instructions to make sure no one in her family figured out what was going on. Even though she'd teased him mercilessly the night before (and he'd returned the favor), and he was rather shocked that even Fred and George hadn't called them on it, Harry knew that Ginny really did not want to have to explain to her family why she was currently having sex with her ex-boyfriend, but no, they were not getting back together.

Harry backed away from Ginny's bed so he could lean tiredly against her doorframe. Things between them were actually quite good right now, and he didn't want to rock the boat. His job was allowing him to keep an eye on her, she was playing spectacularly and they were having bloody fantastic sex, and plenty of it, without all the pressure and guilt to be together he was sure he had caused a year before. In fact, it was probably the absence of that pressure that was relaxing her enough to play so well. Ginny was really happy. And that makes me happy, too, he thought automatically. If only I didn't need to lie down so badly right now. . . She'd probably understand, it's not like I want to do anything with her besides . . .

Harry's mental war hadn't ended when Ginny shifted in the bed and opened her eyes. Almost immediately, she closed them again, groaning. Harry stopped in the doorway, unsure of what to do when Ginny put her hand on her head and opened her eyes just a crack.

"Harry?" she croaked.

"Umm, yeah," he said. She's going to wonder why you've been standing there watching her sleep, you dolt! He scrambled to come up with a plausible excuse but all he could think was, because it was nice.

But Ginny didn't seem interested in whether Harry should be in her room or not. She had rolled onto her back and was rubbing her eyes with both of her hands, taking small, short breaths. Harry wondered if she'd even heard him answer.

"Umm, are you okay?" Dumb question, Potter! She drank as much as you and look how you feel!

"No," she whimpered. "I feel horrible."

"Maybe your mum has a potion that would help." And he could snag some for himself too.

But Ginny shook her head delicately, even the slight movement making her wince. "There's no potion here," she whispered. "One of my mum's rules to keep us from drinking too much. If we need hangover potion we have to floo to the Apothecary and get it ourselves."

Harry swallowed hard at the thought of flooing anywhere in his current state. "Have you ever . . . ?" He couldn't finish the question.

"Fred and George did, once," she said, her eyes closed. "The shopkeeper sold them the potion and then made them stay and clean up their mess. Charlie actually made it there and back before he got sick all over the kitchen." She shuddered. "Now we all try to drink anywhere but at home."

"Now you tell me," muttered Harry. In the back of his mind he'd assumed there would be a bottle of hangover potion available when he really needed it, and finding out he'd have to Apparate or floo to get relief made his head pound that much more insistently.

The room got quiet. Ginny rolled back onto her side and curled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. Harry thought he should say something else, but he wasn't sure where to start.

"Umm, last night was fun," he began hesitantly.

Ginny didn't answer. Her eyes were still screwed shut and the look on her face was pure misery.

"Do you, uhh, want me to leave?" he asked.

"Don't care," she muttered.

Harry knew she wasn't really upset with him, it was just the hangover, but he couldn't help but feel a little stung by her words. Maybe it would be better if I just left. I have the day off, I can go back to my flat and sleep until this afternoon.

Harry was just going to tell Ginny he'd see her back at the Harpies stadium on Monday when her eyes flew open and she lurched to a sitting position, her pale face rapidly turning a sickly shade of green.

"Loo," she managed to gasp before stumbling to her feet and pushing past him into the hallway.

Harry followed, watching as Ginny collapsed over the toilet in the bathroom and began retching; she didn't even manage to close the door first. He stood frozen, steps from the door, wondering what to do.

He and Ginny had gotten drunk together several times after the War, and always spent the following day together, nursing each other out of their respective agonies. But she had just told him she didn't care if he stayed, and Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. Should he go in? Would she want him to help?

In front of him, Ginny moaned and sat back against the bathroom wall, wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. She was trembling all over.

The trembling decided him. They were friends, dammit. And that's what Ginny needed, right now.

Harry stepped over Ginny and into the loo just as she leaned over the toilet and began vomiting again. He closed and locked the door and set silencing charms, all the while ignoring the churning in his own stomach. When Ginny finally leaned back again, Harry was waiting with a wet washcloth and glass of water. He brushed her hair away from where it stuck, sweaty, to her face and silently handed her the cup.

She took it just as silently, rinsing her mouth and then taking several hesitant swallows.

"Thanks," she finally said, her voice rusty. "That took me by surprise."

"Me too," he said. "I'm just glad you made it to the loo."

Ginny gave the barest snort and then winced. "I need to lie down."

Harry put his hand on her arm. "Here? Or would you rather go back to bed?"

Ginny considered for a second. "Bed, I think. But maybe with a dustbin nearby."

Harry helped her to her feet and back to her bedroom, suddenly feeling a strong sense of déjà vu from the night before. Even in her dizzy state, Ginny must have felt it too, because she looked curiously at him as he pulled back the covers on her bed. "Didn't we just do this?"

"Kind of," Harry replied. "I'm surprised you remember."

Ginny shook her head. "Me too," she said, almost to herself. "I thought that was one of the . . ." her voice trailed off and she looked nervously at Harry. "Never mind," she said quickly.

She had been about to say something more, but Harry didn't push her. Not feeling as terrible as she obviously did, right now. And there was something else. Something about this room and how comfortable he felt there. It had been obvious last night, even though his memories of what they had talked about were hazy. For an instant, the desire to recapture that feeling overwhelmed him and once again he hesitated at the edge of Ginny's bed.

If he just got in, with her, it would all be all right.

But the urge left as soon as it came and he shook his head to himself. There wasn't anything that needed to be made all right -, everything was all right already. And Ginny would definitely not appreciate having to share her bed right now. She'd probably vomit on him or something.

Harry tucked the blankets around her and then stood awkwardly, watching as she closed her eyes again. He was turning to leave the room when she spoke.

"Harry?"

He turned around. "Yes?"

Ginny swallowed. "Will you stay? For a little while? Just until I fall asleep."

His answer was automatic. "Of course."

I'm sorry I was cross, before. I just didn't feel good at all."

Harry chuckled. "I know. I've been there myself." He grimaced. "Actually, I am there myself."

Ginny opened her eyes. "Oh, you must feel horrible too!" she said. "And I . . ."

"Don't worry about it," he said hurriedly. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Friends, right," she said quietly. She looked at him. "Are you really sick?"

Harry shrugged. "I'll survive." He looked around her room. The chair that normally sat at her desk was gone, no doubt it had been removed to make room for the camp bed. He began lowering himself to the floor, intending to lean back against Ginny's bed and close his eyes himself.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"D'you want to . . ."

Harry opened his eyes and looked back at Ginny. She was sitting up on one elbow and biting her lip. "Do I want to what?"

"Umm, do you want to . . . take one of my pillows? You know, to sit on. I'm sure the floor . . . well, it's hard."

"Thanks, Ginny, that would be great." Harry took the pillow and sighed quietly to himself, leaning back against the bed. Above him, Ginny sighed too and closed her eyes.

HPHPHPHP

Ginny lay in bed having a mental war with herself. She had no right to have asked Harry to stay with her, but the words had slipped out before she could stop them. And of course, he'd agreed. He hadn't even protested sitting on the floor of her room even though Ginny was certain he felt nearly as terrible as she did.

She'd come very close to asking him to lay down with her, and the selfish part of her brain was still considering it. Harry had always been a very comforting presence when she was sick or upset and she wished she could justify her need for that comfort right now. But she'd already asked too much of him. He was already protecting her as an Auror and from what she could remember, if it wasn't for him, she would have probably spent most of last night sleeping in hallway. And he'd taken care of her when she was sick just like he would have when they were dating, even though they were only friends now.

The last thing Harry needed was for her to confuse things by asking more from him. Because he would give it to her, she knew. He'd hold back her hair if she got sick and get her fresh water or tea and toast, and even climb into her bed and stroke her hair until she finally fell asleep, and it would be too easy for Ginny to start relying on him for things she had no right to, and interfering with his work, and adding pressure he didn't need.

Ginny sighed. They were in a good place now. Harry was surpassing even more experienced Aurors at work; her father had told her there was even talk of him moving up to be Kingsley's second in a year or so. She couldn't miss the way his eyes lit up with excitement as he patrolled the Harpies' stadium (or wherever the team happened to be) or when he faced some new danger or investigation in this whole Quidditch mess. He loved being the one to try to unravel the mystery, and just because Ginny was currently reaping the benefits of having him around more didn't give her the right to take advantage.

As if sensing her thoughts, Kingsley's Patronus suddenly dropped down in the middle of Ginny's room.

Harry's head jerked up and he straightened immediately into an alert position. From her place on the bed, Ginny could see Harry wince for a minute with the movement, but a second later, he was all-Auror.

"Harry, we have a situation developing. I know it's your day off, so I can ask Meyers to come in instead. But I wanted to give you first crack at it – it's regarding our friends . . ."

Ginny shuddered and put her hands over her ears as Kingsley's voice suddenly changed to an incomprehensible screech. Harry kept nodding as if he hadn't noticed anything at all and Ginny realized the sensitive parts of the message must be charmed so that only Harry could hear them. A minute later, Kingsley's voice returned.

". . . floo me in the next ten minutes with your decision." The Patronus faded away.

On the floor, Harry sighed and rubbed roughly at his eyes and then kept his face hidden in his hands. Ginny could hear him breathing heavily. "You heard that?" he finally asked.

"Well, part of it," she replied. "Before it got bungled."

"Right. Something is going on in Diagon Alley with a group of men I've been watching. One of our informants said they are meeting again, but not at their regular pub. Kingsley thinks they know we suspect them."

"Do you have to go?" Ginny kept her voice neutral.

Harry sighed. "I don't have to go, strictly speaking. It's my day off, and I feel like crap and Meyers is on call and could handle it . . ." he trailed off.

"But you want to go." Ginny supplied. She knew him too well to think he'd let someone else take the assignment for him.

"I don't know, maybe." Harry sounded oddly non-committal. Ginny assumed it was the hangover. "I should be the one to go. I'm most familiar with the suspects and their habits. And Meyers . . ."

"He's not that good?"

"No, no, nothing like that," said Harry hastily. "It's just that his wife had their first baby about a month ago. I'm sure he'd like to stay at home today."

"So you should go," said Ginny firmly. She forced her voice to sound light and teasing. "I mean, you've already done your duty here by holding my head while I was sick. I don't need you to watch me sleep too."

"But you asked . . . I mean, I though you wanted . . ." Harry didn't finish his sentence.

I have no right to ask him to stay. The thought was there even though Ginny did her best to ignore it. He's got to stop feeling guilty about leaving. She sat up a bit and looked Harry straight in the eye.

"It's fine, Harry. I'm fine. I'm practically asleep anyway. If you hurry, maybe you can convince my mum to give you a bit of her secret stash of hangover potion that she keeps just for herself and my dad. We all know she has a bottle somewhere."

Harry still looked torn. Ginny pushed gently on his back with her foot. "They need you, Harry. And I know you want to go."

Harry gave her a resigned smile. "Well, if you put it that way, I guess I have to, huh?"

He stood up slowly, hesitantly, and Ginny recognized from his movements that he was testing his balance and the settled-ness of his stomach before moving too fast.

"Right, I can do this," she heard him mutter to himself, and felt a stab of guilt that they had gotten so drunk last night.

"Are you going to be okay?" she wanted to be more comforting, but even the small amount of effort to sit up was making her dizzy and she really didn't want to have to go running back to the loo.

Harry grimaced. "I guess I have to be, don't I?" He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll be better once I get some hangover potion and can focus better." He looked at her. "You really think your mum has some? Cause I don't think I can face the floo without it."

Ginny nodded. "Yeah. She probably took some this morning and is now down in the kitchen, way too chipper, making breakfast."

"K, thanks." Harry suddenly leaned closer to her the bed, an odd look on his face. For one wild second, Ginny thought he was going to kiss her. But his hand merely brushed a bit of hair off her cheek before he straightened back up.

"Right then. Well. I guess I'd better go find your mum, and then I'll be off." He gave her a small smile.

"I'll see you back at the stadium on Monday, right?" This time, Ginny couldn't quite keep the tremor out of her voice.

Harry smiled again. "Of course. And I hope we both feel a lot better by then." He gave a sudden smirk. "After all, most of last night was bloody brilliant, and I'd certainly like to do . . . well, most everything, again."

Ginny did her best to return his cocky look. "Only if you're lucky, Potter. Very, very, lucky."

"We'll keep our fingers crossed for luck then, shall we?"

Ginny nodded. "Definitely."

One more smile, and Harry was gone. Ginny rolled over in her bed, considering. She was still lying silently five minutes later when a tiny crystal bottle came whizzing through her door. A note was attached.

I saved you some. Don't tell your mum! Love, Harry

Ginny grinned to herself and gulped down the hangover potion. Taking care of her again. She nodded to herself. It had been right to send him to work.