Fix You

A/N: Well, school started, Mum banned me from the computer, I got one of my front teeth knocked out playing basketball, I got the first three seasons of The OC on DVD… I've been rather busy… And just so you do know, I wrote half the last sequence before seeing the OC NYE season one episode… They're just really similar. If you want to imagine Harry, Ron and Hermione's flat, think Monica and Chandler's on Friends.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure that I've stolen the term bridezilla from somewhere/someone, but it seems to work so if I got it from you sorry! And a brief cameo from everyone's favourite Quidditch fanatic!

Pipedream

Daily Prophet, December 30th, 2001

Hunting Harry

Don't let it Claim Our Saviour

In the wake of He Who Must Not Be Named's bout of terror, half of the celebrating youth have been caught in the careless lifestyle of the young party witch and wizards. As The Daily Prophet has reported several times in recent times, these people are not only throwing away their own future, but the future of our world too. And as seen by the opposite picture, it seems that this vampiric lifestyle has claimed the best. You read correctly, Mr Harry Potter, the Chosen Boy Who Lived has been taken by this venomous lifestyle.

Potter was seen partying earlier this week at The Leaky Cauldron best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger who were celebrating their recent engagement. Also at this party were Weasley's twin brothers and younger sister, though Potter was seen to have little contact with these three above slight waves through the night and a rushed conversation.

Some may ask the question of why it is such a bad thing for our saviour to have a little fun; he did save us all after all. However, there is a significant difference between a young man enjoying himself and a rampaging youth. Upon leaving the party, heavily intoxicated, Potter saw fit to damage several press cameras after photos were taken of him. And according to several of Potter's fellow partygoers (who obviously wish to remain anonymous), this is not unusual behaviour for the boy who lived.

"Ever since the war ended, Potter's turned up at these things relatively regularly," one said. "I've heard that he's been seen at some party, Muggle club or pub every night. And he gets blind drunk every time."

Since the defeat of You-Know-Who, Potter has been offered a bevy of employment options, from his childhood dream of becoming and Auror, to professional Quidditch (a long time passion of his), and even a traineeship here at The Daily Prophet. At the current time, he remains unemployed. It seems quite obvious to this reporter what is happening to our young hero. He is on a self destructive bender, fuelled by grief and depression. It happens to even the best it seems, and we can only offer our support.

"Wow," Harry said to Ron, turning the page of the paper. "A self-destructive bender, that's a new one." Ron squirmed quietly in his chair.

"It's not as bad as some have been in the past, not as bad as fifth year at least," Harry went on as Ron ate his toast. It was a Saturday morning, and Harry and Ron were sitting eating breakfast in the flat that they shared with Hermione. It had magically enhanced high, vaulted ceilings and was mainly made up of one big room, a kitchen-cum-dining room-cum-lounge. A fireplace sat in the kitchen, a stark contrast to the large Muggle TV that both Harry and Hermione had insisted on. Five doors left off from the main area, three bedrooms (one with an ensuite, which Ron and Hermione had felt compelled to give to Harry, "He did pay after all," Hermione had reasoned), one to another bathroom, the last to a little windy balcony, which (after the correct concealing spells) you could fly a broom off.

"Where's your missus anyway?" Harry asked Ron.

"Um, well," Ron said awkwardly, checking his watch. "She'll be back any minute now, and she's brining Ginny."

"Ginny won't come," Harry said, shaking his head into his coffee.

"She doesn't know you'll be here," Ron smirked.

"Does Hermione want to start a fight or something?" Harry asked disbelievingly. "Or does she just think it would be funny to see the Bat-Bogey Hex inflicted on me?"

"What happened there anyway?" Ron asked quietly. "With Ginny I mean."

"Aerrgh," Harry groaned moodily, "She was all like 'I'm coming with you,' so I told her no. But you know what she's like, stubborn and all."

"And?" Ron prompted after a brief silence where Harry downed the rest of his coffee.

"Well, she obviously didn't take no as an answer," Harry told him gruffly. "So I said some pretty bad stuff to her to make her not want to be anywhere near me."

"It seemed to have worked," Ron smirked. "Surely by now she would see that you were just trying to protect her though?"

"That's what I thought too!" Harry exclaimed. "I knew she'd be angry, but she should be over it by now, after everything that's happened. I mean, my plan worked, she's still alive."

"Don't worry too much, mate," Ron told him wisely. "All girls are mental."

"And you're the one marrying one," Harry pointed out. "The second most crazy one I know. Behind Loony of course." Ron snorted with laughter. "Anyway, I'm having a shower."

Harry turned on the hot water as he heard the front door open and the obvious arrival of two female voices. He had an extra long shower; as he knew when he got out he would have to face Ginny. And he really didn't want to. When she saw him, she got angry. And when she got angry it was not a pretty sight for the person who she was angry at.

But surely she could see by now? She knew he wanted her, she knew that he loved her. Of course she could just take him back, couldn't she? Harry had knew that she most certainly would be angry, but as he had told Ron, after the war he figured that she'd just be happy to see him alive and would just drop all the fighting. She would just accept that he was a noble prat and love him for it. Apparently she thought differently. Harry was just going to have to work harder for her forgiveness.

"Help me," Ron mouthed as Harry entered the kitchen twenty minutes later. Hermione, grinning broadly and slightly red in the face had several piles of wedding books scattered on the table between the condiments left from breakfast. As she scuttled around and picked up a pile, she revealed a scowling Ginny. It seemed she was just as enthusiastic as he brother, though perhaps for different reasons.

"Harry,' Hermione rounded on him as he sat next to Ron, opposite Ginny. Hermione held up two large squares of fabric. "The blue or the pink?"

"Er, why?" He asked her cautiously.

"The theme colours for the wedding!" Hermione exclaimed. When he looked dumbfounded, she rolled her eyes and continued. "You boys are hopeless, honestly! The colour of Ron and your ties, Ginny's dress, all the tablecloths and in general everything. Blue or pink?"

"Er…"

"I know, the blue is a little bright," Hermione went on rapidly. "And the pink is likely to clash with the Weasley hair. I need your help Harry, this is a vital decision."

"Why don't these two?" Harry asked warily. "Ron should get a say, it's his wedding too."

"But he suggested orange," Hermione groaned as Ron grinned at Harry. "And Ginny wants black, but you can't wear black to a wedding." Harry looked at her, but she was staring determinedly at the light fitting.

"But why do I have to help then?" Harry asked hopelessly. "I might choose something equally as horrible!"

"Oh, no you wouldn't," Hermione told him, flipping through a book expertly as Ron lowered his head into his arms on the table. "You always choose the best ink colours. And Ron," she started on him, "If you're not helping you can at least pack up the other mess here. Put the butter away or something."

"Yeah, you better put the butter away," Harry told him. "We wouldn't want any butter related incidents here now, would we?" If looks could kill, Harry was dead several times over.

"Well, Harry?" Hermione demanded as Ron cleared the table. "The colours!"

"Um, I really don't know, Hermione," Harry said wearily. "Like a greyish-purpley colour or something? Or light green?"

"Green like avocadoes," Ron said dreamily. "Like that shop that sells those really good chicken and avocado sandwiches. I could go one right now. You coming Harry?"

"Sure," Harry said quickly, not wanting to be in the same room as either Ginny or Hermione for too long out of the fear of doing something that would warrant a good curse.

"Oh, no you don't!" Hermione yelled huffily and Ginny smirked and shook her head at her brother. "These are vital decisions we are making here, and you two need to be helping! We can't plan anything until after we choose the colours, so-" She was cut of by two pops of apparition.

"Hello," Fred said warily, looking at Hermione's bridal magazines in disgust.

"Poor things," George said to his twin, nodding towards Harry and Ron. "The thought of Fleur like this still gives me nightmares."

"That was a scary sight," Fred complied. "Though give Hermione a couple of weeks and Veela or not, she could give Bridezilla Fleur a run for her galleons."

"Fleur was pregnant too, though, don't forget that," George pointed out.

"Merlin knows we won't let her," Ginny added in mockingly.

"It'll be a close call," Fred said as if he were talking about an upcoming Quidditch game. "We can't underestimate our Hermione here."

"Bridezilla Phlegm will be a lot worse than Hermione will be." Ginny said pointedly.

Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and held it for a moment before exhaling. "Why are you two here?" She asked wearily as Ginny sighed and started flipping through a magazine on cakes.

"Well, we're here to ask Harry out on a date with us," Fred said, fluttering her eyelashes at a bemused Harry.

"We ran into Oliver Wood yesterday," George explained. "We're meeting him for lunch in half and hour at the Leaky Cauldron and were wondering, Harry, if you'd like to come with?"

"Sure," Harry said, smirking at Ron.

"Can I come too?" Ron pleaded him.

"Have you been listening to anything Hermione has been saying?" Harry mocked sternly. "These are important wedding decisions being made here today." Hermione glared at him.

"You should stay too, Harry," Hermione told him reproachfully. "You need to help as well."

"I'd only stuff something up," Harry told her. "Apparently I'm quite good at that. And besides, I haven't seen Oliver in ages."

"You'll never guess who he's dating," George smirked at Harry. "Good ole Cho Chang."

"Cho Chang?" Harry asked incredulously. Ginny scowled and turned a page in her magazine.

"Yeah," Fred said, searching the kitchen cupboards for food. "They came into the shop together."

"Oh, then let me guess," Harry said sourly. "He went on and on about Quidditch and she cried into his shoulder."

"Yeah," George said. "Minus the crying part though."

"Bingo," Fred said, pulling out half a bottle of Firewhisky and a packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. He necked the bottle then swallowed a couple of beans. "Mmm, vomit, Firewhisky, celery and sand. Perfect mixture."

"Put it away," Harry scowled at Fred.

"Why?" He asked Harry. "Saving it for your next drunken bender oh tragic hero?"

"We saw the paper this morning," George said, answering the unasked question. "I'm quite proud, that's like our fourth mention in Hunting Harry. You got one this morning too, Ginny."

"What?" She sparked up, dropping the magazine and looking alarmed. "I don't want to be associated with that rubbish they print in the stupid newspaper. Why am I in there anyway?"

"Because we're related to Ron," George said unhappily.

"Oh yeah," Ron said, nodding his head happily. "No longer that Weasley kid whose brothers are those funny twins or the guy whose sister has the painful hexes; you guys are related to Ron Weasley."

"That's pathetic," Ginny said. "Fame because you're friends with someone who has glorified themself to the media-"

"Stay civil, please," Hermione cut across tiredly as Harry opened his mouth to retort angrily.

"I'm going to lunch," Harry spat, standing up and he Apparated with a soft pop after a glare at Ginny.

"You didn't mean that did you?" Hermione asked Ginny annoyed. Ginny smirked happily as Ron shook his head at her.

"No, not really," Ginny said. "I just knew it would annoy him."

"What's going on here?" Fred asked, looking confused as George looked from his sister to where Harry had been two seconds ago.

"I'm going home," She said, dropping the magazine she had been reading and she also stood up and Apparated away.

"Well, it was an improvement," Ron pointed out as Hermione sighed despairingly.

"They are both so infuriatingly stupid!" Hermione exclaimed. "And far too stubborn for their own good."

"Um, repeating what Fred said," George began, looking at Ron and Hermione curiously, "What in the name of Dumbledore's flying Thestrals is going on here?" Ron looked at Hermione, who shrugged.

"They're both madly in love with each other but refuse to get along because they had some big fight," Hermione said exasperatedly. "But don't tell anyone."

"Harry and our baby sister?" Fred exclaimed in a mixture of shock and anger. "Little Ginny? Since when?"

"Um, sixth year was it?" Ron asked Hermione, who nodded. Fred and George's mouths were wide open in shock.

"Oh, long before that, he just didn't realise until then," Hermione smirked. "It was so cute when they got together."

"What, how he grabbed her and snogged her in front of the entire house?" Ron snorted, turning to her. "It was sickening."

"Harry what?" Fred asked, looking at Ron angrily. "And you did nothing, Ron? You just broke the Weasley brother's code!"

"Well better Harry then some other smarmy bloke," Ron told the twins. "Better then stupid Dean Thomas or Michael Corner."

"Point," George said and they sat in brooding silence around the table for a moment. "So why are they fighting?"

"Well, she wanted to come with us, so Harry was a real prick to her to make her stay away," Ron said. "That was at Bill and Fleur's wedding."

"And now instead of having a proper conversation they insist of bickering incessantly." Hermione said.

"Sounds like you two,"

"I resent that," Ron said to a chortling Fred.

"So what did her say to her?" George asked. "Do you guys know?"

"Nup," Ron said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yes but I'm not telling you lot," Hermione replied sneakily.

"What?" The three Weasley brothers yelped at the same time.

"C'mon, I tell you stuff," Ron whined to his fiancée. Hermione shook her head at the three expectant boys.

"If I told you you'd probably do what Voldemort never managed to and top him."

"That bad?" Fred asked.

"They'll get over it," Hermione said, not completely believing what she was saying.

"I hope they do soon," Ron said, taking some of the Bertie Bott's that Fred had dropped onto the table. "All the complaining is really starting to bug me. Four years of Harry whining about Ginny hating him is really starting to get on my nerves."

"Ha, I just had a thought," Fred said. "Imagine what Mum'll be like when we tell her."

"She wanted to marry Ginny off to that poor bloke from the moment she saw him on the train platform," George laughed.

"You can't tell her though," Hermione said forcefully.

"Where's the fun in that, Hermione?" Fred said as George muttered "spoilsport."

"Well, because Ginny would hate us all," Hermione started. "Harry would leave the country to avoid the magnitude of the red-heads all wanting to hug him. So you can't until at least after the wedding."

"So on like February 27th then?" George said.

"Sure," Ron smirked. "Tell everyone in the world if the two idiots haven't got their act together by then."

"That's like three months away though," Fred complained.

"You can tease them as much as you want," Hermione said. "Just don't let anyone else know or I'll make you pay and Ron won't really care, Harry will make you pay and Ginny most certainly will do something to make you regret spreading it around."

"Merry New Years," Harry said, raising a glass of suspiciously alcoholic liquid into the air. Ron, Hermione and the twins all met his with a little chink of glass.

They were at Oliver Wood's New Years Eve party. After meeting with him the previous day for a Quidditch fuelled conversation, he had invited Harry and the twins to the party, telling them to bring friends too. It seemed he had told everyone that; the house was packed like hippogriffs in a barrel. They were sitting in Oliver's fancy living room; being a professional Quidditch player seemed to pay. Loud music was thudding through the walls and the masses of people, the air thick with voices and the distinct smell of alcohol and sweat from all the clammy bodies pressed to each other in the crowded, dim room.

"What's the time?" Fred asked and Hermione peered at her watch.

"Quarter to midnight."

"Having fun?" Oliver drawled, stumbling over, slightly drunk.

"Yeah, for sure," George replied, draining his own glass.

"How many people are here?" Harry asked him.

"A couple of hundred," Oliver shrugged, leaning so close to Harry that he could smell the Firewhisky on his breath. "But between me and you Chosen kid wonder, I don't know half of them. Most of them are from our Hogwarts time though."

"Are Katie, Angelina and Alicia here?" Fred asked him. "We can have an old style Quidditch reunion."

"They're here somewhere," Oliver said. "I'll go find them." He made to spin around, in the process tripping and falling on Harry.

"You stay here," Harry told him, managing to manoeuvre Oliver into the chair where he had previously been sitting.

"Thanks Wonder Kid Who Chose!" Oliver laughed heartily to Harry began to push his way through the crowd on the look out for the three former chasers.

He made his way into a large, but equally crowded kitchen. The people were spilling out into a crowded garden where Harry could see a throng of people dancing wildly. He scanned the room quickly for the three former chasers, but instead spotted some one else.

"Neville! Dean, Seamus," Harry pushed through the crowd towards his former roommates Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, swaying slightly and wondering himself how much he had had to drink.

"Harry! Happy New Years!" Neville said, clapping Harry's shoulder. "How are you?"

"Fine," Harry said plainly. "Taking it easy. What about you guys? Dean, Seamus, I haven't seen you guys since we were all sixteen! How are you? What are you up to?"

"Ha, we're good," Seamus said to him, grinning broadly and tipping a suspicious looking liquid into Harry's near empty glass. "Compared to how you've been anyway. Off saving the world and all that jazz?"

"Yeah, I s'pose I have been," Harry said vaguely. "Do you guys have jobs or what?"

"I'm planning to open a pub," Seamus said. "Just starting the plans now."

"I draw up the adverts for Nimbus," Dean said shortly to Harry, not looking at him.

"I'm working for Grace's Greeneries," Neville told Harry. "We grow all the plants then sell them to apothecaries."

"That sounds like something up your tree Neville," Harry laughed to himself. "Geddit? Tree?"

"Hilarious, Harry," Seamus said to him, sipping his drink. "What about you, now that it's all over?"

"Well," Harry deliberated. "I have a flat at the top of a really tall Muggle building. Ron and Hermione live with me. They're work all day and are getting married, I have no job and I do nothing. It's fantastic. Although," he added, shaking his head, "apparently that makes me a desperate alcoholic with no hope."

"I read that," Neville told him. "Did you really smash up a camera?"

"They just shoved it in my face and started taking pictures," Harry mumbled. "What was I meant to do?" His former roommates laughed.

"So Ron and Hermione are really getting married then too?" Neville asked him curiously.

"Yeah," Harry smirked.

"When did he finally get on to asking her out then?" Seamus asked him. "It's just that us and a couple of the other DA members had a pool going."

"Like a month after school," Harry laughed. "At his brother's wedding."

"Looks like Ginny won then," Seamus said. "But she would have known back when it happened, so if she doesn't want to collect, it doesn't bother me." Dean, who had been previously avoiding Harry's gaze looked up and glared at him.

"What?" Harry asked him, only briefly confused. "Oh, I know. You still hate me because you think I took Ginny off you or something. If it's any consolation, she hates me now; we had some massive, horrid row." Even so, she'd been close to the first thing on his mind for the past five years.

"Everyone knows that you two had a bad break-up," Seamus said, rolling his eyes. "Or everyone who knew you two were ever going out anyway."

"So none of the Weasleys," Harry blushed.

"We kinda figured that something had happened there," Neville explained. "Given her current behaviour anyway."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, trying to fit this piece in with everything. "She still seems like the same little Ginny that I left behind, she just won't even talk to me."

"I just want to know what you did to stuff her up so badly," Dean said, scowling slightly at Harry.

"What do you mean stuff her up?" Harry asked him angrily. "She's not some toy that can be broken or something."

"Well," Seamus deliberated for a moment. "She's not the same little Ginny that everyone loved back at Hogwarts." Harry rolled his eyes; they clearly didn't know her very well.

"What do you guys know anyway?" Harry asked them. "Nothing. I know her a lot better than the three of you put together!"

"We're the ones who have seen her over the past couple of years," Seamus told him. "We've seen her change while you've been gone."

"And she's changed a fair bit, Harry," Neville told him sadly. Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, clearly not knowing how to respond to this. He shook his head.

"Why are we having this conversation?" Harry said aloud, more to himself then to Seamus, Dean or Neville. He looked up at the ceiling, breathing deeply.

"Look," Harry told them defiantly, turning to face them again. "I really don't know what you three are on about. She's still funny and stubborn and strong, and she's still got all those little things that make her Ginny. All those loveable little quirks or funny mannerisms or however you want to put it. So I don't really understand how she's changed that much or how I've apparently stuffed her up." He spat the last part at them.

"Oh, of course she's still the same person," Neville said quietly. "Most the time anyway. Some times she seems to get really depressed and quiet, and then she…" Neville dropped off mid-sentence, avoiding Harry's eyes determinately.

"Then she what?" Harry pushed.

"Er, Harry, I don't know quite how to put this," Seamus said awkwardly. "But you should know."

"Just say it how you see it," Harry said impatiently. "You lot are talking rubbish anyway."

"At these sort of things, Ginny often gets really quiet and then she drinks herself into a stupor and leaves with some guy," Dean said plainly. "So you're right, she hasn't changed much, just now she gets blind drunk first."

Harry's face fell. He had heard the sarcastic malice in the second comment, but his mind was still reeling from the first. A boyfriend. Ginny had a boyfriend. Somehow, Harry hadn't expected to have to deal with that sort of problem. He knew when he returned she'd be angry, and boy she was, but he hadn't expected this sort of problem. A boyfriend. It felt like his heart had fallen straight out of his chest and Ginny was stomping all over it in stilettos. He hadn't expected this at all. He had thought that when the war was over, if he survived, that they would just fall back together and have a normal, ecstatically boring life together. Get married, have a heap of kids and live in a house with a white picket fence. Every Sunday they would go to the Burrow for lunch. The kids would play Quidditch with their cousins and Harry would sit with his arm casually draped around Ginny's waist, hand resting on her stomach, protective of their unborn child. Hermione would yell at Fred and George as they tried to trick the kids into eating Canary Creams. Ron would laugh at the whole thing and call his wife mental as Ginny would give Harry a brief, soft kiss on the side of his mouth while Mrs Weasley doted on her grandchildren and her husband tinkered with their new Muggle car. He would stop being Harry Potter: saviour; he would transfer into Harry Potter: husband, father, son-in-law, uncle, happy. It was what had kept him sane through the war, that there was a slight chance for something in his life. A small chance for something better, and it had all revolved around Ginny. She was his everything, and with Voldemort gone, he thought that could happen. He wanted to keep her warm through cold nights; he wanted to hold her pretty red hair out of her face when she was sick. He wanted her to yell at him when he was wrong, cry into his shoulder when he was sad, and then he'd wring the neck of whoever caused her tears. He wanted to see her brown eyes light up when she laughed; he wanted to be the one who made her happy. He wanted to kiss her in public and let everyone know that they were each others and to hold her tight, to touch every inch of her body and to whisper in her bejewelled ear that there was no way anyone else could ever love someone as much as he loved her. He looked up at Neville, Dean and Seamus in the dark room. All the colours seemed surreal, harsher yet plainer. It was then he realised that she was right all those years ago. He had never only wanted her, he had needed her always. Some part of him told him that she was the only way he'd ever truly be happy. It now all seemed a pipedream, sending the kids to their first year at Hogwarts, her tears as they said their vows, happiness in his life.

"Who… who is he?" Harry asked defeatedly, his voice catching. If he couldn't be happy, at least knowing that she was would give him peace of mind. "Ginny's boyfriend. Is he a good guy?" The lump in his throat was painful, and her name in his mouth only made it worse. He could never have her, and it hurt knowing someone else did.

"I wouldn't say she has a boyfriend," Neville said quickly, as if it was slightly more bearable to tell Harry quickly. "An assortment of one night stands is a better description. I'm sorry Harry."

He didn't know if this was better or worse, but it certainly hurt more. There was no boyfriend; Harry really didn't have a competitor other then himself for her affections. It was good for him. But Harry knew that he'd rather be miserable with Ginny happy then to see her upset in anyway. She deserved someone to be her happiness. And now she was, hurting and it was his fault. Dean had said that Harry had stuffed her up. It seemed he was right.

"Is… is she here tonight?" Harry asked them. "I need it from her. I need to know for sure." Deep down he knew it was the truth. "I just need to see. Please."

"Hey," Seamus said loudly after examining Harry's crestfallen face for a moment. He tugged a man who he obviously knew over from a few meters away. The man pushed through the masses and joined their little huddle.

"Hey Seamus, Happy New Years man." Her nodded to Dean and Neville and looked at Harry curiously.

"Jake, do you know if Ginny Weasley is here tonight?" Seamus asked him quietly, pulling the mans gaze off Harry.

"Yeah, out back somewhere," The man laughed. "I wonder who she's taking home tonight.

Harry had torn of blindly before he had finished talking. The room began the countdown to bring in the New Year.

"Ten, nine,"

Harry pushed through the crowds, not bothering to apologise when he accidentally knocked a witch into the punch bowl. Why did so many people have to be here?

"Eight, seven, six,"

Harry burst out into the chilly night air. He looked around wildly for the telltale Weasley hair.

"Five, four,"

Spotted. Harry was sickened to see her nestled up in the crook of some guys arm. She looked beautiful. Harry didn't spare a moment for the guy. It didn't matter who he was or what he looked like; by the sounds of it, she wouldn't stick around in the morning anyway. All that mattered about the guy was that he wasn't Harry.

"Three, two,"

She had seen him staring. He stood on the back door stoop, looking over the heads of the crowd. As she met his eyes, it felt like she was seeing straight through him, the old blazing look. His feelings and emotions always had lived on his sleeve.

"One."

A smirk escaped her lips as she saw his face. Shock, pain, anger, and in general, loss.

Revenge.

"Happy New Years!"

People went wild. Harry was unresponsive as he was hugged by strangers twice. He never broke the eye contact. She raised her eyebrows, mocking him with the slight movement then turned away. She brought in the New Year with a kiss from the man whose arm she was under, and when she turned back he was gone.

A/N: I hope the length makes up for the wait! Reviews are loved! And I hope you enjoyed the little character cameos!