We can't have a normal thread title in the Potter Cottage it's against my morals

Wow. He had a really terrible headache. Not even a headache. An everything ache. Had he been hit by a van or something in the past twenty-four hours? And there was something he was supposed to know, wasn't there? Something stupid. Gosh, was it lesson plans? He hoped he didn't have to teach today. Maybe he could pull a sicky. They'd never know.

But there really was something. Zach frowned, squinting, waiting for his room to come back into focus. It was taking a while; it didn't even look like his room at all at the moment. Deciding he should probably focus on something closer by to get his long range vision back to normal, he groped onto the bedside table, grabbing a picture frame. That was weird. He hadn't realised he'd put the picture frame there. Maybe he'd cleaned up last night in a drunken haze.

The picture slid into focus - and Zach nearly dropped it as three faces, two dark haired and one redhead, emerged, all grinning. "Dear Merlin," he rasped in shock. This was all some vivid nightmare. Never had he wanted to wake up with Loudmouth, Funny Name and Sarky Potters' faces so close to his.

And then everything seemed to come back to him, and he bit his lip, before with great effort, he turned his head to the side, where he saw a sleeping redheaded woman, the mother of the three terrifying faces, lying next to him. Would it be completely immature to wake her up by prodding her with his foot? And the worst thing was, why was there part of him that was completely unconcerned by this?!

There was something trying to wake her up. She didn't want to wake up. She was quite happy in her warm, soft bed, not waking up. Dreams were plesant things. What was trying to wake her up? No stop thinking, thinking will make you wake up. And there's a very large possibility right now that waking up involves a killer hangover.

Ginny shifted, rolling onto her back, towards a source of warmth, trying to will the hangover to go away. Oh dear Merlin they really did get worse with age. What the hell did she drink last night? Most of it just seemed to kind of fade into blackness. But there was warmth, and warmth was good. Warmth was company.

Her eyes shot open, not really waiting to register who was next to her, too busy scrambling as far away from the body as she could, falling out of the bed and pressing her back to the frame. There was someone in her bed. And she was far too unclothed to be comfortable. Where were her pyjamas and why was someone in her bed? And good Godric her head hurt.

She wasn't sure she dared turning to see who it was. Because there was a sickening feeling in her stomach that told her the person was very real, and very not her husband. "This is a stupid question, but what happened last night?" she remembered being with Zach. She remembered managing to get home. Did she really want to hear the voice of who was in her bed?

So the hope that this had all been a second dream and Ginny would turn into a goose or something that would then try to kill him brutally before he woke up in the safety of his own warm bed completely cured of all hangover ails was destroyed as her voice sounded and he groaned, rolling away from her.

"Well, that's the million galleon question, isn't it, Weasley?" he replied, rubbing his head in an attempt to massage it. It didn't work. "I think I remember something about reminding. But I can't remember that and dear Merlin, at the moment I'm not particularly sure I want to."

Well, that wasn't strictly true now, was it Zach? He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, trying to muster the courage to face her, before turning to look at her. Something about her being a tease, wasn't it? She was a tease. "Well," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Redheads."

Sweet Merlin it was Zach. That shouldn’t make her feel relieved. Why did she feel relieved? That should make her panic more. Because that meant that it wasn’t just some stranger that she never had to see again. That meant it was her friend-her drinking buddy, who she saw every time she went out for a drink really, which was fairly often. Who she woke up next to wearing far-too-little.

At least she was panicking a bit now. Especially when he called her Weasley. Because Weasley wasn’t her surname. No, her surname changed when she got married.

Well shit.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by the Hogwarts Express,” her voice sounded shaky to her own ears. And a little raspy. “Something about reminding? And redheads?” what would she remind him about redheads?

“Oh,” she felt her face beginning to heat up as the pieces began to vaguely come together, though the majority of it still was a bit of a blur. “Right. Reminding you about-about redheads,” she turned to face him, running a hand through her hair. Come on, be the brave Gryffindor. Look him in the eye. “Well, that certainly does answer my question,” she glanced at the floor around her, pretending that she wasn’t as red as a tomato. “My clothes aren’t over that side of the bed, are they? You are closest to the door.”

Zach groaned in agreement. He felt like he'd been the iceberg that had broken the Titanic, never mind being mown down by the school train. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and glanced down at his side of the room, smirking at the colour in her face.

It wasn't that he wasn't kind of embarrassed, though he was rather concerned about the fact that he wasn't as concerned as he possibly should be. He grinned slightly at her recollection. Sober/hungover Ginny was a different person to completely smashed Ginny, and she was equally as entertaining, what with her notions of maturity. Gosh Zach, why aren't you feeling more embarrassed? He guessed that was one positive of being a brought up twat.

"They're down here," he affirmed, before raising his eyebrows at her. "Though, the house is empty, isn't it? So, you wouldn't exactly need them for now." He pulled a thoughtful face, a little man in his head groaning at the fact that he had had this idea rather than one of leaving her in dignity or whatever. Oh, like he could pretend to care about dignity.

Ugh. That smirk. Ginny just wanted to hex it right off. Why wasn't he freaking out? Ever the composed one, wasn't he? He was never this composed when they were kids. Then again her memory of him might've been a little skewed. Especially when she was a little irritated with him. That kind of factored into it maybe.

"You're certainly very casual about this," she muttered, not entirely sure how to react to his grin. At least someone was pleased with himself. She was still having very, very mixed feelings about the whole thing. Which she shouldn't have been. She should've been horrified at her actions. Well, she was, but there shouldn't have been that tiny bit of...whatever it was. It was positive. This was not a positive situation.

Ginny didn't have much of a problem deciding how to react to his words, though. Even if the first few moments of that reaction were just floundering in embarrassment. "I was sort of planning on dressing so I could go get some pain draughts or something, actually," when did she get to sound like such a prude? Time to fall back on her usual way of dealing with Smith. "You're such an asshole. Stop enjoying my bed. It's my bed. Same way you enjoyed my alcohol. Mine."

"Casual is my middle name," Zach replied, continuing to smirk, before sighing and lying back. "And I'm not enjoying your bed, Merlin. Everything you say sounds like an accusation, Weasley." But he sat up anyway, watching her as she crossed the room. And pain draughts didn't sound like that bad a plan. His headache was stuff of wonder.

"Your alcohol?" Actually it was her alcohol. Never mind. "I didn't enjoy it. I did my masculine duty of ensuring that you did not have too much to drink, don't you know. I merely shared your alcohol. And it was very good."

Gosh. That had regressed quickly. They were back to normal. And Zach genuinely could not bring himself to feel overly awkward or guilty or feel like he'd made a mistake. Was that bad?

Ginny raised a brow as he lay back, not convinced for a second, trying not to look too pleased with herself at her next words. Everything sounded like an accusation, huh? "Oh, is my bed not good enough for you now that you're sober? I see how it is," she opened a draw, pulling out a couple of potions. "I don't think you deserve this. I think I should keep them both for myself," she probably should attempt to cover herself up more than she had though.

"Well, I'm glad it was very good, even if your masculine duty ended up with you apparently..." oh goodness what was the word she was looking for? "Failing and seducing me," she wasn't sure that was the right word. It made her feel like he'd won something. Why was everything always about competition when it came to Smith?

Pulling her dressing gown on, Ginny headed towards the bed, hovering with the pain draught in her hand, trying to decide how nice she was. She was a mother. Mothers were supposed to be nice. But was she that nice?

"Well, it's not as good when you're out of it," he said with a shrug, before realising what exactly he had just said. "Wow. Since when did I become fifteen?"

He grinned and raised his eyebrows at her as she accused him of seducing her, though he couldn't deny that he felt a little bit of satisfaction at the way she had said that. Which was stupid because Zach was in his thirties and shouldn't be so easily satisfied. Or so he thought.

"Well. I'm sure my failure can be accepted in this incidence. Or something. I don't know. I'm too hungover for this malarkey."

He accepted the pain draught and mumbled a quick thanks, before frowning at the words. He never thanked people, did he? He looked up at Ginny and smiled a little.

Ginny wasn't entirely sure how to react to that. Her first reaction was to cover her mouth and let out a surprised giggle. She really wasn't expecting it. She tried to not look too amused, but knew she was failing miserably. It was kind of cute. In a really not cute way. She would fight this kicking and screaming. "Did you ever actually grow up?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at the look on his face. "No, you never grew up. Figures."

"This malarkey should probably be left to when the hangovers have passed," she decided, agreeing with being too hungover. She just wanted to curl up in bed and not get out for the rest of the day. That was probably a good idea. She was getting back into bed.

"You're welcome," she said, not quite sure what to do about that smile. Before she really knew it she was smiling back, clambering over him and back onto her side of the bed. That was weird. Both sides were her side. It was her bed. Her head hurt. "You're not hungry or anything, are you? Because I'm not sure I can be bothered to go make you it."