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SIYE Time:17:27 on 28th March 2024
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I'll Be There For You
By Kezzabear

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Category: Alternate Universe, Buried Gems
Characters:All
Genres: Comedy, Fluff, Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 311
Summary: When your life's a little bit ... sucky, you can count on your friends. Well, most of them anyway ... well, some of them at least ... maybe just one.
Hitcount: Story Total: 80263; Chapter Total: 9312





Author's Notes:
So many people helped to beta this thing. I literally forget now who did so just thank the general H/G writing fandom for their support :D




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Harry Potter sat in a dark corner of the dingy pub in Ireland, that Seamus Finnegan had chosen for his stag party and nursed his first drink of the evening. Six of Seamus’s Muggle cousins, one of Demelza’s brothers and Dean Thomas were having a drinking contest at the bar. Neville and Ron were singing bawdy drinking songs at a table to Harry’s right and George was dancing on a table to his left with Oliver Wood.

“You’re a bit quiet, Harry,” Seamus said as he slid into the chair beside Harry.

“Long day,” Harry shrugged.

“You say that every time we get t’gether fer a pint,” Seamus said good-naturedly.

“He works too much!” Ron called.

“Needs a bird!” George added, raising his bottle of Firewhisky in mock salute and sloshing it over Oliver. The Puddlemere Keeper merely grabbed George’s bottle and took a swig.

“I’m perfectly happy,” Harry said. “I don’t need a … bird … to be happy.”

“You don’ know what yer missin’,” Seamus said wistfully. Dean had evidently given up on the drinking contest and wandered over to Harry’s booth.

“What’s ‘Arry missin’?” Neville asked belatedly.

“A woman,” Ron said with a slur. ”Harry here hasn’t had a girl fer … George?”

“Last time I saw him with a bird …” George affected a thoughtful expression. “Was … with Ginny! Yesterday!” He raised his Firewhisky triumphantly and smirked.

“She doesn’t count!” Ron said impatiently.

“I saw him with Hermione at the Ministry on Wednesday,” Dean said.

“Doesn’t count,” Neville said helpfully. “Hermione’s taken.”

“Didn’t you go out with that little Hufflepuff … Susan?” Oliver asked, climbing off the table and sitting heavily in the seat opposite Harry.

“That was … at Easter, wasn’t it?” Ron said, his brows knit together in concentration. Harry nodded silently and took a swig of his drink.

“That was nearly six months ago!” Dean said incredulously. “Mates, we need to find Harry a witch!”

“I’m fine,” Harry protested as his companions began scanning the pub for possible candidates. Harry shook his head. “Guys, you’re not going to find a girl at a stag party.”

“Barmaid!” Oliver said triumphantly.

“Ooooh, go on, give her a bit of a thrill,” Dean said. “Not every day a chance comes along to go out with the famous Harry Potter.”

“Yeah it does,” George snorted. “Mum sets him up with every single witch she comes across.”

“She tries,” Ron said darkly.

“Exactly,” Harry said. “She tries, and I don’t need you lot doing it as well.”

“Offer’s there, mate,” Seamus said. “We’ve all got a woman, they have plenty of sisters and friends and whatnot.” Harry just grunted but was saved from further comment by a giggly outburst from the door.

“Well blow me,” Seamus breathed, “they found us.” He leapt up with a whoop of delight and swooped on Demelza, kissing his fiancée soundly.

Harry watched as Ron pounced on a pink-cheeked Hermione and George grabbed Angelina around the waist. Dean drifted over to his heavily-pregnant wife and Neville smiled shyly as Hannah Abbott slid into the seat next to him. When the pair began snogging heatedly, Harry stood up and moved over to the bar, ordering a Firewhisky from the barman.

The barmaid turned up the wireless and the couples surrounding him began to sway to the strains of Celestina Warbeck. Harry realised that everyone Seamus had invited to the weekend-long celebration of his wedding had brought their wife or girlfriend. His own invitation had read ‘Harry Potter and friend’ but he’d been working right up until his Portkey left for Ireland. The last girl he’d taken out had ditched him in the middle of dinner after a rather alarming old witch had begun fawning all over Harry. She’d asked for an autograph and accidentally spat her false teeth into his date’s soup.

No, dating Harry Potter wasn’t all Dean cracked it up to be. Harry had decided early on not to risk bringing a date to Seamus’s wedding. It probably didn’t matter anyway, he reflected wryly. Pretty much all the women he knew, a lot of whom he’d dated in the past, were here with someone else. Harry sighed and thanked the barman for his Firewhisky. It was like he’d gotten up too late and missed all the girls. He was reminded of something Fred Weasley had once said: If you wait too long, all the good ones will be taken.’

Harry wondered where he’d been when all the girls were available. Asleep?

“Do you ever get the feeling you missed the romance boat?” asked a voice from his elbow. Harry turned to see Ginny Weasley holding a Firewhisky and grinning. She hopped onto the barstool next to him and turned to survey the room. Her skirt rode up to expose her shapely legs as she crossed them, dangling one red shoe gracefully from the end of her slender foot. She leaned back on the bar, eyeing Neville and Hannah critically.

“I think Neville isn’t far away from completely covering her face,” Ginny said dispassionately. Harry grimaced and threw back his Firewhisky, wincing as it burned its way down his throat. Ginny tipped her own drink back and continued talking, apparently not bothered by the alcohol.

“How far gone are you, Ginny?”

“I was talking to Ron and then he just started kissing Hermione’s neck,” Ginny whined. “It was disgusting.”

“Maybe you’re just jealous, Weasley,” Harry teased, signalling for two more glasses of Firewhisky.

“Ew! No!” Ginny shuddered. “I don’t want Ron kissing me!”

“Well not him!” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “But, y’know … someone. Wouldn’t you like, sometimes … just to …”

“Snog someone?”

“Yeah,” Harry said wistfully. Ginny shrugged and downed her Firewhisky in one go.

“Who would I snog?” she asked. “It’s like I woke up and all the good ones were taken.”

“Didn’t go to well with Derek?”

“Derek’s a dim-witted, dorkheaded, doofusbrain.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Harry said dryly.

“He came over on Sunday,” Ginny continued. “I think Mum overwhelmed him the minute he walked in the door. Then Dad gave him … something — I think it was a ballpark pen — and when the poor fool had recovered from that … George turned up.”

“Oh no,” Harry frowned sympathetically.

“He was a canary within minutes,” Ginny nodded. “Percy asked his intentions over pudding. I think he left in record time.” Ginny eyed Harry’s Firewhisky and he handed it over wordlessly. She knocked it back in one swallow.

“You’re going to have a terrible hangover at the wedding tomorrow,” Harry commented neutrally. Ginny shook her head decisively.

“I’m planning to stay drunk,” she said with a grimace. “I’ll have to be to deal with The Dress.”

“Worst one yet, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Ginny muttered. “Demelza hasn’t got a tasteful bone in her body.”

“I’m sure you’ll look fabulous no matter what,” Harry said reaching out to tuck an errant strand of vibrant red hair behind Ginny’s ear.

“Dance with me, Harry,” Ginny said suddenly, hopping off the barstool. She swayed precariously until Harry reached out and steadied her. Ginny looped her arms around his neck.

“I think you’re drunk,” Harry said.

“Oh, I know I am,” Ginny said with a giggle. “Dance with me, Harry.”

Harry shook his head slowly as he hauled himself to his feet. Ginny was pleasantly warm as she hung around his neck and Harry looked down at her flushed cheeks as she pressed herself closer.

“It’s a fast song, Ginny,” he said softly. She grinned up at him cheekily.

“I don’t think I can stand up by myself.”

“How much have you had to drink anyway?” Harry asked, guiding them away from the bar and over to a corner of the pub.

“Um … a lot?” Ginny answered with a slight giggle. “We were at this Muggle bar before and I think I had … six um … of those little tiny drinks, in the little tiny glasses.”

“You are so very drunk,” Harry said. Ginny just nodded and laid her head on his chest.

“Dance wi’ me,” she mumbled.

Harry felt the warmth of the Firewhisky creep over him as they stood there swaying. He was afraid to step back because she would definitely fall over if he let her go but there was another part of him that simply didn’t want to let her move away. Her hair smelled fantastic and she was so soft and warm, he could feel the curve of her waist under his fingers and the way her breasts pressed against his chest. These things didn’t normally grab his attention, but he hadn’t normally had two Firewhiskies either.

The song on the wireless changed and Harry realised Ginny was humming a slow ballad under her breath. Her breath tickled his neck as she looked up at him and he could feel the vibrations of her hum as he began to revolve slowly on the spot.

“I love this song,” Ginny said. “It’s about kissing. I like kissing. Do you like kissing, Harry?” Harry looked down at her with amusement.

“I do,” he said with a chuckle. “I think most people do.”

“Oh,” Ginny said seriously. “That’s good.” And then, suddenly she reached up and pressed her lips to his.

Ginny was seriously drunk, thought Harry as her lips moved over his. She smelled like Firewhisky and chocolate and Harry, unable to stop himself, opened his mouth so he could taste her.

This was nothing like kissing Susan, he thought dimly as he slowly moved one hand into her hair and pulled her closer. Distantly, a part of him wondered what in Merlin’s name they were doing, but the part in control of his lips assured him it was absolutely necessary that he kiss Ginny Weasley.

She pulled away after a few moments and grinned up at Harry. He had an undeniable urge to lower his lips to hers again, but she turned at the sound of Demelza’s voice.

“Let’s go girls! Big day tomorrow!” Ginny giggled and slipped out of Harry’s arms. She vanished into the throng of women heading for the door and Harry stared after her wistfully. That was the best kiss he’d ever had.

It was a pity she was drunk. There was no way that was happening again — when she was sober. They were friends.

Just friends.
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