Harry and the girl from the club, Ashley? Becky? No, Sara, it was definitely Sara, or maybe that was someone else. Well, it didn't really matter, Harry figured, because he had been called all forms of the name John in the last five minutes and that wasn't bugging him. He took her back to his pad anyway, stumbling along the walk and fumbling with the keys so much that he eventually gave up and silently magicked it open; saviors of the world didn't always need wands for simple things like that, especially when they're too drunk to think about the consequences of messing it up in front of a muggle.

Speaking of whom, he pulled the drunk girl inside and up against the hallway wall as the front door slid closed behind them. He left a hickey on her neck before moving to her mouth, slipping his tongue between her lips. His hands began to slip up her shirt; he could feel her chest moving up and down heavily. He slipped one leg between hers, opening them up slightly and her hands found their way to his bum, pulling him towards her. She moaned and then they both pushed away at the same time.

The girl pushed against his chest as he reeled backwards. Confusion and revulsion split through his brain; Little Harry was there somewhere and he didn't quite understand. Harry did mental exercises and calmed the small child within him, making him forget, and built his inner walls a bit stronger; to keep them solid even in his inebriated state. The girl was puking into his very first house plant. She leaned back and sat on the ground, dazed. Harry picked her up and brought her over to his king sized bed, laying her down and putting and swiftly conjuring a bucket in case she got sick again during the night.

"Mmh, thanks, John," she murmured as he shut out the lights and closed the doors. Harry sighed; it looked like he was sleeping on the couch tonight.

Andrea woke in a strange bed to the smell of breakfast, "What the fuck happened last night," she whispered to herself. She sat on the edge of the bed and thought back, John broke up with me, that's what happened. Her head was pounding and there was a chunky pile of vomit on the floor, some seemed to have splattered inside a carefully placed bucket but most had landed on the once beautiful carpet directly next to it. Well that explains why I can't remember anything else. Groaning, she eased herself off the bed and looked for her purse; her birth control was in it and it didn't seem like she had taken one the night before, she swallowed it dry now, knowing it wouldn't do too much good. God I hope I didn't do something really dumb.

She went to the bathroom and peed, washed her hands and used whoever's tooth brush was in the cup, I probably licked him all over last night, knowing how friendly I get when I get drunk, so using his toothbrush can't hurt now. She noticed a fading hickey on her neck uncomfortably.

She slowly walked from the room, following her nose, her head feeling heavy and the thoughts inside thick. The house was beautiful and luxuriously furnished, the owner of it was at the stove; he had a muscled, tan back and messy black hair; he was only wearing sweatpants, loose enough on his hips so that she could see the black boxers with pink flamingos on it over the rim. I suppose I could have done worse. He turned and looked at her, "Afternoon, Sleepy-head," Harry said, with a smile, "I haven't gotten around to eating myself, so it's still breakfast. We have pancakes, bacon, eggs and toast, just grab what you want. Oh, and here's some remedy for that hangover you must have."

Food and some thick looking slim in a glass was put before her.

"I think I puked in the bedroom," Andrea said; Harry grimaced.

"Lovely, I better get that up before it sets," he grabbed some cleaning supplies for show, went into the bedroom and cleaned it up with a swish of his wand. He waited for a moment or two, again for show, and headed back to the kitchen/dinning room and sat down next to the girl where they shared an uneasy silence.

Andrea gulped down the hangover remedy and felt the effects immediately. She began to eat, hungry after puking twice the night before. When the man came back in and sat down, pulling some toast towards him he began to butter them slowly and meticulously.

"Did we use protection last night?" she blurted out eventually.

Harry swallowed what he was chewing, put the piece of toast he was working on down and fixed his attention on the girl, "Excuse me?"

"Protection, for when we had sex."

"Oh, no," he laughed a bit, "Don't worry about it-"

Andrea cut him off, "Don't Worry About IT! Typical male, you don't have to worry about if because if your sperm swims well it won't be your problem, will it? Because you simply won't take responsibility for it, you just wanted a quick fuck and you got all you want," when she took a breath, Harry cut back in.

"No, no. We didn't have sex."

"We didn't?" she asked curiously.

"Nope, you drowned my houseplant when you were sick in my hallway and passed out directly after."

"You could of done stuff then," she said bitterly, then paused, "I'm sorry."
"For killing my houseplant or for accusing me of knocking you up? Just so we're clear on it all," Harry smiled at her lightly.

"Just for killing the houseplant, the plant I can feel sorry for but guys are all just assholes so it was only a logical conclusion I drew."

"Ouch." Harry lowered his eyes and went back to eating his toast. An uncomfortable silence fell on their mid-afternoon breakfast once more. "You know, if we did have sex, and we did, err, conceive a child, I would take responsibility."

"Yeah, well that's what they all say, isn't it? Up until something goes wrong."

Harry was about to reply, "I could say that about all women too, and then when everything finds its balance they want to be back together. And they always cry and say they'll be there but then there gone again," but the girl began to bawl and he began to suspect something was very wrong. He pulled her to him and carried her into the living room.

"I told John I thought I was pregnant. We had been dating for over two years, and he hung up the phone. So I went to his door but he wouldn't answer. And I'm scared to find out for sure because I don't think I'll like what I hear and I don't want to do this alone and I have no idea how I'm supposed to tell my family and…" she broke off here, sobbing harshly into Harry's shoulder.

"You shouldn't be drinking, and I don't think it would have mattered if I had used protection if we did have sex in that case." he said.

"I know, but I couldn't help myself. All my friends had warned me about John and I just never listened and I know they'd just be so smug about being proven right. I didn't know what else to do, so I decided to pick up a guy because I thought that somehow that would make me feel, I don't know."

"Loved?" Harry put in, he had known the feeling. When Ginny had broken his heart he had fooled around with a few girls until it made headlines in the Daily Prophet, which shammed him sober. The girl nodded against his chest.

"I'm Harry and I'm not going to judge you. If you need someone to hold your hand while you're at the doctors, I'll go with you."

The girl continued to cry into his chest, "I'm Andrea."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm just going to get a shirt and we can go see a doctor. Ok? You'll be fine for a few moments, right?" He asked, and she nodded against his chest. He looked her over, checking her size and style before going into the bedroom, "My ex left some clothes. You seem to be about her size, want me to bring you some?" He shouted out as he magicked some clothes to girls' cuts and sizes and grabbed a shirt, new boxers and some shorts for himself.

"Ok," she said, in control of her tears now, and came into the bedroom just soon enough to catch a full view of Harry's arse. She giggled. He blushed, and quickly pulled up his boxers and pants. "Oh, come on. Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Yes it is," he said grumpily, "It's my arse isn't it. You hadn't seen that one yet. Here's some clothes."

"Hmm, modesty from the man who had the intentions of screwing me senseless last night, that's a new one too; not like your butt is half bad either" Andrea said, while investigating the simple wife beater and shorts, "Why are you working so hard to try to help me anyways."
"Merlin only knows," Harry grumbled. Andrea gave him a weird look.

This is for femaleprongslet, happy b-day, and who ever it is that keeps sending those pm things that go to my email. Sigh. I'm looking for someone to keep me motivated, kinda like a beta thingie, possibly. I'm not too sure. Anywho, R&R