FIC--When You Figure Out You, Come Back to Me, chapter one

[ficsbydeenas]

Title: Add That to the Mix and See What You Get
Rating: PG13 to R
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Harry/OFC, Zacharias/Ginny
Written for: ithinkamlost at takingitinturns In Motion Challenge
Words: approx.2500
Summary: Accrued vacation time, an injury and two people who never really got over each other make for an interesting scenario.
Betas: queenb23more

When You Figure Out You, Come Back to Me

"What are you doing here?"

Harry awakened to find a large roast beef sandwich on the table to his left and a calm and serene Ginny lying next to him on his right. His hunger quickly faded upon noticing how right it felt to have her by his side. There was so much he wanted to say to her but he didn’t know where to begin.

"I missed you." Her voice was soft and gentle, yet there were tracks of tears that had dried long ago.

"I…I missed you, too."

She reached out and brushed the hair out of his eyes.

"You didn't say goodbye."

"I'm sorry. There wasn't any time."

"And you were dead." Tears began to well up in her eyes. "And then you weren't."

"I'm sorry." He hated apologizing to her; it made him feel inadequate for some reason. "I had to do it."

"If I'd lost you, too…" She turned away, apparently trying to hide her tears from him.

Harry wanted desperately to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he just watched her cry silently.

"You didn't lose me. I'm here."

She turned around. "For now."

"What?" He began to panic.

"You're going to go off and be an Auror. You're going to save everyone else again while you ignore what it is you really want." Her tears had dried and her jaw was set, taking Harry's hopes away as easily as she'd stopped her tears.

"Not necessarily, Ginny." He tried to smile and sound convincing, but deep down, he knew she was right.

"I know you better than most people. There's no stopping you when you set your mind to something." She sighed and took his hand. "I'm going to stop waiting. I did that all this past year and it's my turn. It's my turn to live for myself, something I've never done before and something you should do as well."

Ginny leaned over and kissed his cheek, a perfectly platonic kiss that evoked none of the thrilling sensations of every other kiss that they'd shared. Harry watched silently as she left the room, her hair swaying behind her. When the door closed, it felt as if his own heart was shut away. Turning to the sandwich, he groaned, having suddenly lost his appetite.
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"Potter! Need to speak with you!" Reginald Mayhew, the new head of the Auror Corps struck an opposing figure and was not one to be trifled with.

Harry excused himself from his conversation with Terry Boot and Ron, leaving them with a wave as he turned to his boss.

"Yes, sir? What can I do for you?"

Harry liked Reg. He was a firm leader with good instincts for battle. He was also a seasoned fighter, having served with the American Aurors in the Middle East and South America.

"Take some time off. You haven't taken any time off in two years, and Kingsley's beginning to think it's my fault.

Had it really been two years? Harry thought. He had taken a week off to mind Teddy when Andromeda went on holiday; the boy had been two at the time.

"I took time off for Ron's wedding." He winced, having spoken before thinking.

"You rearranged your day off with Simpson. And that was last year." Reginald crossed his arms and looked impatiently at Harry. "I don't want you burning out."

"I'm fine, really. There's just too much to do." Harry shifted uncomfortably under the other man's gaze.

Reg looked around and put an arm around Harry's shoulder, leading him toward an alcove.

"They're all in Azkaban, Harry." There was no explanation needed as to who 'they' were. "You put nearly 8o percent of them there yourself. You've been going non-stop for four years, Potter. While I admire your tenacity and dedication to the job, everybody has their limits. Even Harry Potter." He paused, looking Harry straight in the eye. "As of right now, you're on vacation."

"Wha—what?" Harry's eyes widened in shock. "But what am I supposed to do?"

"Doesn't matter. I don't want to see you here tomorrow."

"But I've got that court appearance—"

"That Boot is more than capable of handling." Dorset drew up to his full height, all six feet nine inches of it, indicating the seriousness of the conversation. "He was there, too. You're not the only one who can give testimony to lock somebody up." He took his pocket watch out and flipped open the cover. "I've got a meeting now, so you'll have to excuse me. I'll see you in five weeks."

"Five WEEKS!"

"That's how much time you've accrued."

"But what am I supposed to do?" The question was childish, but he didn't care.

"That's up to you. Get a girlfriend. Get drunk. Get a tattoo. Go to a Quidditch match. I don't care." He patted Harry on the shoulder. "Just don't let me see you until September."

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The next morning, the alarm went off as usual at 5am. Harry had already showered, dressed, and made tea before he realised he wasn't actually going to work today. Or the next…or the next.

"Bollocks!" his shout echoed in the small kitchen as he flung his mug against the wall, unconcerned that it had shattered into tiny pieces. He collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs and stared at the ceiling, going over the ideas his boss had mentioned yesterday.

Get a girlfriend.

No chance of that happening.

He'd given up on dating once he found Sylvia with her mouth wrapped around Julian Fortescue's cock. Harry reckoned that was about the time he'd completely thrown himself into his work.

He hadn't given much thought to Sylvia Hannover in a long time. They'd met at a Ministry function and hit it off right away. She wasn't like all the other women who just wanted Harry Potter, the Chosen One; she was interested in him, the person. In retrospect, she was a lot like Ginny: straightforward, athletic, and hilarious. The similarities between them didn't register until they broke up. When they were together, Harry looked forward to the end of his shifts and his days off, often meeting her at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Shop for a treat after work. It was one such day, when after getting off of work early, that Harry had discovered exactly what was going on. After that, ice cream never had the appeal it once had.

Get drunk.

Harry had been drunk exactly three times in his life. The most recent was at Ron's Stag Night at Feu Rouge Club on the outskirts of Paris. Bill had thought it prudent to take Ron out of the country for a night of debauchery; one could never be too careful when Hermione Granger figured into the equation. That night, Harry drank too much whisky and too much vodka and had too many lap dances from witches hoping to score with Harry Potter. Even with a hangover and a sour stomach, Harry went to work the next morning.

The first two times Harry got drunk, he wanted to forget but never really could. The second time was at The Burrow and the Weasleys were celebrating George and Angelina's engagement, four months after their son was born. Wine, ale, and Firewhisky flowed freely, yet he hadn't drunk a drop until she walked in with him. Sylvia's betrayal was only a few weeks old, and having to watch Ginny and Zacharias Smith making goo-goo eyes at one another finally drove him to drink. Up until then, Harry had held out hope that something could be salvaged between him and Ginny. Bad luck, however, was constantly following him around, prevailing once again.

Near one in the morning, Harry was singing very off-key and muttering to himself, whining about his life, and bemoaning the fact that Ginny was with someone else.

"Harry, Harry, Harry." Ron placed a patronizing arm around his shoulder. "There were plenty of chances for you but you never took 'em. I don't exactly like Smith, either, but he makes Gin happy and treats her right." Ron had to take Harry home via Side-Along Apparation and deposit him into his bed.

The first time Harry was drunk had led to the biggest mistake of his life. He, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had gone out to mark the beginning of the girls' final year at Hogwarts. While things between him and Ginny were sometimes strained, they managed an easy friendship, which often involved tormenting Ron and Hermione about public displays of affection.

"Ron, there are other people at the table, you know," Ginny teased while her brother was busy snogging with Hermione.

"It's no use, Gin. A half decade of sexual tension just doesn't go away because they've started shagging."

"Ewww! Thanks so much for that information. Obliviate me, please?" Ginny asked dramatically, causing him to laugh aloud.

"Well, payback's a bitch, isn't it?"

"We were NEVER that bad," she reminded him.

Harry grew silent, as he always did when he was faced with reminders of that time with her at Hogwarts.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Sure."

The line at the bar was longer than he'd anticipated and when he was finally back at the table, carrying a beer for him and a glass of red wine for her, Ginny was no longer alone. She was chatting up some bloke who looked entirely too much like Draco Malfoy.

Thankfully, it wasn't.

Ginny turned to him. "Harry, do you remember David Farley? He was in Ravenclaw, a year ahead of you."

He stared at David's proffered hand and shook his hand. "No, I don't."

He set the glass of wine on the table and turned around, looking for Ron and Hermione. He knew it was rude, but at the time, it didn't matter. He downed his beer in four gulps and walked away to find a place at the bar.

Several beers and a few glasses of Firewhisky later, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Thinking, and somehow believing, it was Ginny, he turned and grabbed the woman round the waist and pulled her onto his lap. He breathed deeply, furrowing his brow when Ginny's familiar scent didn't drift into his nose. It didn't matter, really. She was in his arms.

"Missed you," Harry slurred, running his hands through her hair. He hadn't noticed that she'd cut it.

"Have you?" Her voice was a little different, but Harry chalked it up to his being drunk.

"Let me show you how much." Harry pulled her close and eagerly captured her lips. This kiss was different than all the others they had shared, but he wanted it to be different. He didn't want innocent, stolen kisses anymore. He wanted her, really wanted her. Their hands roamed freely over each other and soon Harry found himself throbbing between his legs.

"Come with me."

She took his hand and silently led him through the crowded pub to the ladies room. Once inside, she went straight for his fly as they kissed frantically. Less than a minute later, she had her legs wrapped around his waist and he was thrusting erratically inside her.

Harry couldn't think straight; part of him knew it was wrong to take advantage of Ginny like this but she was so willing and so close and so tight around him that it didn't matter in the least anymore. With a groan, he threw his head back as he came, his eyes fluttering open to stare at the water spots on the ceiling, trying to come up with something to say.

Several things happened at once, making the next thirty seconds feel like an eternity.

He sighed and moved his head to look at her.

"Romilda!"

The door to the loo opened.

"Oh! Excuse---Harry?" Ginny stood in the doorway with her hand over her mouth.

"Hey, Harry," Romilda purred, wiggling herself against his deflated and spent cock.

He unceremoniously dropped her onto the floor and redid his trousers, heading out the door after Ginny.

"Ginny…wait!"

It was too late. The last thing he saw was a swish of her hair as she Disapparated.

Getting drunk, therefore, was out of the question.

Get a tattoo.

Well, he'd done that already. A few weeks after the incident with Romilda, Harry'd got a Muggle tattoo on his right shoulder. It was a red-maned lion, meant as a constant reminder that he'd lost Ginny and should never have been put in Gryffindor.

Go to a Quidditch match.

Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a match and the idea actually sounded appealing to him. Ron had invited him to several of the Harpies' games once Ginny began playing for them. However, he always came up with an excuse for bowing out. If he would have gone, there would no doubt be a post-game dinner at The Burrow which would mean time in the cramped house with Ginny and Zach no more than ten meters away from him. Harry wasn't sure if the two of them were still together or not, but the last time Ron talked about them two weeks ago, Harry got the message that Smith had moved in with her.

With a sudden burst of inspiration, Harry ran to the Floo and called the ticket office for the Quidditch League.

"Ticket office. This is Archie Manheim. How can I help you?" Archie was a balding man with square glasses and hadn't looked up from his newspaper.

"Er…when's the next Harpies’ game?"

"Saturday the twentieth."

Harry's heart sped up a bit. "Are there any tickets left?"

"Some. Expensive ones near the top box." Archie turned the page of his newspaper.

"I can afford it. I'll take three." Ron would love watching the game from that vantage point. The family seats weren't near as good.

The man looked up and his cheeks reddened. "Y--yes, Mr Potter. Anything for you, Mr Potter."

"Thanks. And it's Harry. Can you take the draft from my Gringotts vault?"

In between stamping tickets, Archie looked up. "Yes, yes of course. Vault number?" He reached for a quill.

"Just ask for the Potter vault. And I'll want a notarised receipt." Harry wasn't comfortable giving out his bank information, and frankly, the man shouldn't have asked.

"Oh, yes. So sorry, sir. Shall I send them owl post?" His quill was poised once again.

Again, giving out that information would only invite a throng of people onto his doorstep.

"Just send them to the Ministry, care of Ron Weasley."

"Of course, sir. Very well, sir."

"Thank you." Before the ticket agent could continue, Harry closed the connection on the Floo and sank onto the floor.

Now what am I supposed to do for the next five days?

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