Title: The Truth in the Bottom of the Bottle
Author: loony4lupin
Rating: R for Ginny's language
Content: Language, drinking, a bit of angst, a dash of crack, some slash and minor doses of fluff.
Summary: Sometimes, there isn't a big moment of revelation or one catalyst to end the suffering of broken hearts. Sometimes, it's just expensive liquor, good friends and true love that come out on top in the simplest ways.
Author's notes: This was written for hpgw_otp's Fortune Cookie challenge, based on this quote: The night life is for you. A big thanks to luvscharlie and _starcrossed_ for the betaing and handholding, especially from Shannon. Thanks! Now, onward to the OTP of my fandom heart.
Ginny Weasley stepped out of the loo, wet from her shower with a towel wrapped atop her head. Her flat was fairly quiet, the soft sounds of the Muggle singer, Joni Mitchell, were floating through from the living room but it was otherwise silent.
"Oh my God, MY EYES!"
Ginny screamed and whipped around to face her bed in a defensive stance, only to find her once boyfriend, Dean Thomas, shielding his face and writhing around on the bed, apparently in mock pain.
"Shite, Dean, way to scare the hell out of me! What do you expect? It's my fucking flat." She put her hand on her hip and glared; he peeked through his fingers and started to cackle a bit. Ginny flipped him two fingers, crossed the room and dug through her bureau for a pair of knickers. She didn't bother to cover herself; his eyes be damned.
What did he think was going to happen? She had been living alone since she signed her official contract with the Harpies. There was no reason for her to put on clothes all the time. It was the best part about not living with Hermione. It was also fantastic not to worry that she might see her brother in some state of undress around every corner. Additionally, the frequent displays of public affection, especially in their shared kitchen were obscene. Ginny cringed and thanked Merlin again for finding her own flat, even if Dean was a nosy bastard who always showed up unannounced, but normally not unwanted. He really was a sweetheart; she just wasn't in the mood.
She continued to dig through her drawer, wondering how and when she had acquired so many damn knickers.
"No," Dean said as she finally had found her Harpies' shorts and started to pull them on. She just raised her eyebrow at him, one leg in the boxers. "Those will not do."
"And why the fuck not?"
"You're swearing an awful lot as of late."
"I've had a rotten day."
Ginny eyed Dean warily as he approached. He looked good, dressed in pin-striped trousers and a thin, charcoal grey turtleneck. His hair was shorter, but the stubble shadowing his jaw made him look older and more appealing. He was wearing the shoes that he usually reserved for art events. Ginny narrowed her eyes as he put one hand on her elbow and leafed through her underwear drawer.
"How does that explain your language?" He continued to look through the drawer and Ginny glared at him. Dean was a sneaky bastard.
"Training was shite, Hermione Floo'd in before my shower to bitch about Ron and I'm single and terribly alone and will probably live forever that way with the only love of my life, Rufus." Ginny paused her monotonic rambling and looked around. "Where is Rufus?"
Dean dismissed her ranting and Rufus, her Great Dane, with a flick of his wrist. Ginny thought it was an especially homosexual gesture for him, so she glared harder.
"I fed him and took him to your crazy neighbour's across the way. You know, the one who keeps telling you to bring Rufus over for a play date with her Pomeranian."
"And what in your daft and extremely infuriating mind, made you do that?"
Dean looked up, a pair of lacy, black knickers in his hand.
"Because you're going out."
"What? No!" Ginny groaned and walked to her closet, flinging the door open and pulling out a rather unattractive t-shirt and equally worn sweats. "I'm staying in, eating ice cream and enjoying my night. Tomorrow is my only day off in weeks!"
Dean simply shook his head.
"Dean, please… why are you doing this to me?"
Again, Dean shook his head and smiled. He walked towards her, bringing the knickers and bra with him. He looked her up and down, appreciatively, before shoving her with a wide, chocolate palm towards and onto the bed. Ginny groaned and thrashed a bit, enjoying a moment of tantrum before Dean's stern- 'don't mess with me because I'm gay' attitude kicked in. She didn't even understand where that attitude came from, but it was the hell that ruined her quiet nights when she could mourn the loss of her love life (which was a euphemism for Harry Potter) and read trashy romance novels she borrowed from her mother.
"Trousers or no?"
"I'm not going!"
"I'm thinking a dress. Do you even own a dress?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm not going!"
"Oo, this is nice," Dean cooed as he touched something Ginny couldn't see from the bed. "Too formal. You don't want to seem desperate."
"Desperate for what? I'm not GOING!"
Another flick of Dean's wrist and something inside Ginny snapped. She stood up and shoved him away from her closet, he flailed his arms, trying to regain his balance as he fell to the ground holding a brown and yellow floral dress. She stood over him and tried her best to look menacing… as menacing as she could look while starkers. "You have exactly ten seconds to explain yourself before I kick you out… violently."
Dean raised his eyebrows and held up his hand. Ginny took it and pulled him off the floor. He dusted off his trousers and handed her the dress. She waved her hands in irritation.
"You have to come because it's opening night for the pub."
Oh fuck.
"Seamus would kill you. Hell, Seamus would kill me and I'm sleeping with him, if you didn't show up." Dean leaned closer, towering over her in his lanky frame. "Please, Gin? Just a couple of drinks and you can leave."
Ginny sighed. How had she forgotten? Seamus and Dean were her life. They cooked her dinner and helped her eat vats of ice cream on the bad days; they forced her to be social and kept her from falling completely apart after Harry. They were her lifeline. She had to go. The two of them had been the first to jump on Aberforth's offer when he wanted to retire, and they worked even harder to turn the Hog's Head into a place where people would actually want to go.
"Plus," Dean said jovially as he walked over to Ginny's small jewellery box. "I have a surprise for you."
"What kind of surprise," she asked warily. She tugged the lacy, black knickers up and over her arse. They were comfortable, but she wasn't sure she really needed to wear sexy underwear to Seamus' pub opening. She'd probably be serving drinks all night anyway.
"A very good one, but I will tell you once you get dressed and make yourself look less like a Hag."
Ginny chucked a pillow at him.
She relaxed as he chatted about Seamus, the pub, and random gossip that never failed to make her laugh as she got ready. Dean was a much better friend than he was a boyfriend, mostly because he was a much better gay.
<3<3<3
The pub was packed with people, some Ginny recognised as friends, both old and new. Others were complete strangers. Seamus had her working the bar, so he could mingle with his first customers. Well, working the bar was probably a bit much. Ginny was simply sitting on a comfy bar stool, pouring ale after ale from the tap because that seemed to be what everyone wanted. Ginny was no bartender. She left all the actual drink making to the incredibly attractive barman, Luca.
Said bartender smiled as she looked his way. Ginny returned the smile taking the opportunity to admire his tall, tan frame and his enticing arms. He really did have nice arms. His smile wasn't bad either.
"Oi, bar wench!" Ginny looked up, ready to annihilate an incredibly unlucky drunkard, only to find Dean smiling down at her from the other side of the bar.
"You call me that again and I'll make sure you aren't able to sit for a week."
"Ray of sunshine, you are! Aren't you having fun?" Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded in the direction of Luca, who was currently flexing his biceps as he shook a martini mixer. Ginny shrugged and poured another ale, minding the foam as best she could. The truth of the matter was that she actually was having fun. Her spirits had lifted when she had arrived to see the whole pub bursting with people, who were heavily plied with alcohol induced happiness.
Ginny grinned at Dean. "How smashed is Seamus?"
She and Dean looked at the light-haired man who was standing in a large crowd of customers, apparently telling an amusing story. His cheeks were flushed, more sharply contrasting his freckles and the general paleness of his body. Seamus looked happy, finally having opened his bar, tossed back a few drinks himself and was in the company of great friends. Ginny looked back at Dean, who was looking at Seamus in a way that made her insides ache with a mix of joy and jealousy.
It was not so long ago that someone had looked at her like that. She, however, had been too stubborn to see it for what it was and had pushed him away, broke his heart and effectively severed any chance she had at living the happily ever after she had promised herself during the war by practically forcing him give up on her and see someone else.
"Oh fuck," Ginny cursed as the ale she was pouring overflowed onto her dress and her good mood quickly dissipated. She choked down angry tears as she reached for a bar towel. It was time to make a quiet exit. If Hermione or anyone else who knew her saw her like this, she would never forgive herself.
"Oh no ya don't," A very cheerful, deep voice vibrated behind her. Ginny turned on the barstool and into the very warm chest of Seamus. He hugged her tight, and she relished the safety of his embrace for a few seconds before pulling away. Well, she tried to pull away, only Seamus had kept a very firm hold on her and she was beginning to suffocate.
She could hear Dean laughing.
"Suzie," Seamus screamed. Ginny thought she heard a response, but was too busy trying to manoeuvre herself into a better position so she could kick Seamus' arse. But he was a burly son-of-a-bitch, and no matter how her strength had increased since joining the Harpies, she still had short arms.
"Need ya t'take o'er da bar. Lil' Red needs a good dose of drunk!" Again, Seamus screamed over the hum of the bar, and Ginny felt herself flush. She cursed into his chest.
"Hurry! Pour the ginger a shot!" Seamus released her, only to spin her around on the barstool. Half the bar was staring at her as Luca poured her three shots of a suspicious looking, clear liquid. She took a deep breath and glared at Dean's smiling face.
"Aww, ickle Ginny doesn't want to take the shots," Ron yelled from atop a table. Ginny could see Hermione trying to pull him down, and apologise to Ginny with her eyes at the same time.
Ginny raised her eyebrow at her obviously inebriated brother, nodded and took a deep breath. She held her breath and took the three shots in a row. The liquid blazed a sweet, fiery trail down her throat and pooled into a warm centre in her belly. She quickly took a swig of ale from the tap to wash the nasty taste of tequila from her mouth and prevent her from gagging.
"Aye aye!" Seamus yelled from behind her and clapped her on the back with his large, freckled hand. The crowd cheered. Seamus steered her from behind the bar and into the crowd, where someone handed her a drink.
Tonight was as good a night as any to get good and pissed, she mused as she found herself taking another shot with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood in a corner booth. She had completely forgotten about Dean's promise of a surprise. Unfortunately for her, he had not.
<3<3<3
Ginny decided to stop taking shots and moved on to ale after her tenth. This ended up being one of the most intelligent decisions of the night because shortly after her tenth shot, approximately halfway through her ale, Dean's lovely fucking surprise showed up.
"Always late to the party," Seamus yelled across the practically empty pub and it echoed inside Ginny's head since he was sitting right next to her. She looked up, her vision wonky as she tried to focus on the door and the approaching form. It was fuzzy but familiar.
Slowly, but inevitably, the distinctive figure of Harry Potter came into focus. Ginny frowned, her face feeling quite numb and gulped down the rest of her ale. He smiled at Seamus, who was sitting next to her entangled with Dean's gangly limbs. Ginny motioned at Luca, who was trying to get Luna to go home with him, to pour her another ale. Her hands felt tingly and overtly hot as she grasped her empty tankard.
Harry seemed taller than the last time Ginny saw him, which was probably a little over two months ago at the Burrow. She had begged off with a headache when he had shown up with his pretty, little girlfriend, who was insanely perfect, and Ginny had no reason to hate her because even Hermione insisted that there was nothing wrong with Harry Potter's girlfriend.
Ginny was having trouble remembering her name. It could be because she was top-to-bottom drunk, entirely too wasted for her own good and didn't feel like stopping, especially with their new arrival to what was supposed to be a celebration. It felt more like a funeral to her.
But she had a feeling the reason she couldn't remember perfect Harry Potter's girlfriend's bloody fucking name, was because Harry had also gotten more attractive in the two month absence from Ginny's life. His hair was messy and wild, looking as if he had just crawled out of bed in the most delicious sense. He was taller and broader across the shoulders. Even in the haze of Ginny's drunkenness, she could see the way the muscles rippled in his back and arms as he took off his jacket, his shirt rucking up to reveal a trail of course black hair and hip bones that had Ginny salivating.
Well fuck.
Luca arrived with her drink and she greedily accepted the comfort of the cold ale. The temperature in the room seemed to have risen by several degrees, and Ginny was not happy about it. Stupid Potter with his stupid, perfect body and his sexy mouth, what the hell was he doing here?
"Hey Gin!" Harry greeted her, with his stupid smile and his twinkly green eyes, as he slid into the booth across from her. Ginny scowled and took a couple more pulls from her glass.
"You'll have to excuse the missus here," Dean said, as he practically leered at her from the tangle of limbs Seamus and he had settled back into after greeting Harry. "She's a bit pissed out of her mind."
"Oh fuck you, Dean." Ginny cursed, wishing Harry's eyes would stop glowing at her; it couldn't be natural.
"She's a feisty wench," Seamus added as Luca brought Harry a tall glass of ale. Ginny watched his hands, really pretty hands which seemed a bit like a crime, boys shouldn't have pretty hands. Bastard.
"How was the party?" Ginny downed the last of her ale and almost signalled for another, but Luca had already brought her one. The boy was growing on her.
"Wonderful," Seamus said just as Dean said, "Drunken."
Ginny laughed into her ale and it came out her nose. She had officially lost feeling in her hands. This was Harry's fault. He kept smiling at her, like he had any right to smile at her when his pretty, perfect girlfriend was waiting for him at home in skimpy lingerie, ready to get hitched and bare his children.
"Ginny!" She jerked her head away from staring at Harry's left ear (it was taunting her), to Dean. He looked shocked and a bit embarrassed.
"What?"
"You're thinking out loud." Ginny downed the rest of her ale and slouched in her seat, hating Harry Potter even more, but forgetting to glare at him properly or to be concerned that she had voiced a highly inappropriate thought, which she would regret painfully (only because it made her pinning so terribly obvious). It was getting harder and harder to hate him when he was just sitting there, smirking. She always did love his laugh.
No. No, she didn’t. He had a stupid laugh.
"Actually," Ginny shifted her body toward Harry's voice, "Sarah and I are no longer together."
The words floated through her head several times before they made any sense.
"No shite?"
"No wonder you're still single," Seamus muttered next to her, and Dean laughed along with him. She tried to glare at him, but she probably only looked goofy because for some reason she didn't feel surly and drunk, but actually quiet giddy and drunk.
"You," she pointed at Dean, watching her finger waver back and forth, "have no room to talk. You didn't even know youliked boy bits."
The entire booth laughed. Ginny lifted her hand to demand another drink from Luca, the man with the arms, but he seemed to be occupied by Luna's tongue. Traitor.
"I'm sorry. She was such a lovely girl." Dean winked at Ginny as he said this, barely even looking at Harry in sincerity. Ginny glared back. Well, she tried, but for some reason her eyebrows refused to move upon command anymore.
"Yeah, she was all right, but it just wasn’t working out."
Dean and Seamus nodded over their drinks. Ginny just continued trying to scowl. She was torn between braving the floor for another ale or just going home to her warm bed and quiet flat. She had been around Harry long enough to be polite, but her drunken mind was starting to remember things she had long forgotten, like the feel of his hands against her skin and the way he said her name…
"Gin?"
"No, another ale though."
The table laughed. Ginny looked up from her hands, Harry was grinning at her, relaxed and looking comfortable sitting around the table with Dean and Seamus. She had the sudden feeling that she had been set up.
She needed another ale.
She slid out of the seat as gracefully as possible on legs that were made of jelly and steadied herself, her eyes fixed upon the bar and her goal. Ginny took approximately two steps before the world turned upside down and the floor came rushing up to meet her. Luckily, she didn't feel anything, as she was numb all over and she hardly even recognized the detail of the hem of her dress being around her arse, displaying her fancy knickers to the bar (Harry). Ginny smiled up at the ceiling in drunken, ignorant harmony.
"Been drinkin' and sittin' 'round, not knowin' how drunk ya been!"
"Oh I think she knows exactly how drunk she is." Dean replied to Seamus' comment. Ginny traced the patterns on the ceiling of the pub with her eyes, but didn't move from her place on the floor. It was quiet a comfy floor.
"Oi, Harry, be a mate and drag Ginny home?" Dean continued. Ginny scowled again and thumped her hand on the ground, looking for something to throw in his direction, feeling too heavy and blissful to actually get off the ground and throttle him. Last time she hit him, Seamus hadn't spoken to her for a week; something about disturbing their sex life by bodily injury.
Suddenly a warm hand was cradling her neck, tracing delightful patterns on her flushed skin and pulling her away from gazing at the ceiling. It took Ginny a minute to realise someone had sat her up.
Her fingers curled around the soft cotton of Harry's polo, cursing the way her body seemed to disrespect her mind's notion that Harry was the enemy. A part of her mind felt like she should explain herself, or at least insult him while this was going on. She wouldn't want him to think that she's been pining for him all this time… even though that is exactly what Dean and Seamus have been calling what she's been doing.
"Don't carry me, you prat." Harry ignored her, simply lifted her up in his stupidly strong arms and her body left him. In fact, she practically folded and melted into him like some giggling little girl. Again, she felt the need to insult him.
"Can get home on my own you-you, caveman!" Her voice didn't hold much protest though, because her mind was slowly getting clogged with the clean, earthy scent of Harry and the way his warm body felt so nice pressed up against hers.
"Thanks for da help, li'tle wench."
Ginny was going to respond back to that bastard of an Irishman, but Harry was chuckling into her ear and Apparating at the same time. The squeeze of Apparation did not feel as pleasant as her muddled mind predicted. She clutched Harry feeling safe, trusting and content. Then she regained her dim personality and opened her mouth.
"How do you know where I live?"
"Which floor, Gin?"
"I mean, we don’t even talk."
"Which floor?"
"You're only here because you don't have a perfect little-"
"Ginny!"
"I'm tired."
She snuggled into Harry's neck, breathing deeply. He did smell fantastic. The stupid arse. He wasn't supposed to smell fantastic; he was supposed to be ugly and lonely and not wonderful to her even after everything they had been through. She had been such a spectacular bitch when she ruined their relationship with her anti-damsel-in-distress-syndrome (it matched his knight-shining-armour complex).
"What floor do you live on?"
Harry's voice was all frustrated sounding and kind of husky. She snuggled more deeply into his neck, trying desperately not to lick his neck, because even in her inebriated state that didn't sound like the best idea. But it sure was tempting.
"GIN!"
"712."
There was a soft curse and she smiled into him. He hardly ever cursed unless it was sex or her stubbornness. She curled tightly around him as he started to move. Ginny wondered if Harry ever cursed with his perfect ex-girlfriend. 'Ex' sounded delightful in her head, there might have even been a small symphony playing as it sounded inside her head. Harry didn't have any sort of girlfriend, all he had was an ex.
Cue symphony.
"All right. We're here."
One of Harry's arms left her and she clung harder to him, feeling a bit childish but not wanting him to let her go. He felt nice and she missed him.
No. She missed physical contact. Not him.
"You really should improve your wards." He muttered and suddenly they weren't standing outside in the hallway but inside her wonderfully cosy flat. She tried to tell him to bugger off, but her mouth felt really tired all of a sudden.
"Did you just moan?"
"'Uggr off."
"There you are, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do when you're not insulting me."
Ginny snuggled closer to him, curling her nails into the back of his neck. The hairs there at the nape were soft and he had always loved to be touched there. They continued to move through her apartment, but she had closed her eyes. Her head was fuzzy, her skin was tingling and Harry was holding her. She was going to ignore everything but this for just the moment.
"Hey," Harry's voice was soft now, and Ginny tried to lift her head from his neck, but sleep was invading her mind and all she wanted was her bedding and to possibly stay in Harry's arms for the rest of her life. But she was ignoring that bit because that would make her a pathetic drunk and an even more pathetic person.
Harry laid her gently on her bed, but Ginny couldn't bring herself to let go of his neck. She opened her eyes, but they wouldn't stay open all the way. She felt lovely and warm, but part of her thought it might all go away if Harry left. Bastard always seemed to have some sort of unwanted effect on her independence.
"Do you want me to stay?"
Ginny sighed. His eyes were kind, his face lined with something she couldn't place. She did know he looked like he wanted to stay. She barely noticed the way his hands traced her sides, long fingers with calloused pads. Ginny would always remember the way his hands felt on her body.
She might regret it in the morning, but she didn't want him to leave.
"If I say no will you still stay?"
"Um, yes?"
"Then no."
He held her gaze before nodding. Ginny closed her eyes and relaxed back into the pillow. She could hear the dull rustle of clothing, but her eyes were too heavy to open.
"Hey, sit up." Ginny opened her eyes. Harry was sitting next to her on the bed, a small, steaming cup in his hand.
"Don't wan' any tea." She tried to turn over, but Harry grabbed her shoulder, his fingers running a shiver down her arm. She let him sit her up.
"Drink. It's Hangover Potion." She tried to take the cup, but nearly dropped it. Her limbs were so heavy. Harry chuckled. "You'll thank me in the morning."
Harry tipped the cup to her lips and she drank it all, ignoring the searing feeling of the hot potion down her throat and the awful taste. She flopped back down and turned into the bed.
She frowned down at her body through squinted eyes. She had somehow lost her dress and gained her sleep clothes. He was a sneaky bastard. Ginny gave a slight thank you to Dean for making her wear sexy knickers. Not that she remembered Harry actually seeing them, but hell, it must have happened at some point.
There was another dip in the bed, and Ginny felt herself being pulled underneath the crisp sheets of her bed. She shivered at the contact. They were cool against her flushed skin.
"Will you hate me in the morning if I hold you?"
Ginny opened her eyes. Harry was wearing a white t-shirt and boxers. But he still looked delightful and comfy and insanely sexy. She had come this far though, she might as well get as much out of it before she woke up and realised how embarrassing she was the night before.
"I hate you now."
He laughed and dragged her across the bed. Harry's eyes were bright in the moonlight, and Ginny had the distinct urge to lick them, but ignored that thought. Her limbs found their own way around him, her head tucked underneath his chin and her legs tangled with his. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist.
"Your hair still smells like strawberries."
"Merlin," she sighed into him. "I hate that you still feel like home."
Ginny took a deep breath and buried her face in his collar bone, taking in the smell of him all around her, the comfort of his arms and the way they just fit. They belonged. But tomorrow, she'd likely blame the alcohol for her sappy love.
Hate.
Bugger.
The bed shifted as they got comfortable, but she was already half asleep when he responded to her.
"I still love you."
