Darkness Falls
Part IV: Light

The next time Harry opened his eyes, it was to bright winter sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Harry squinted his eyes shut and covered them with a hand, cringing away from it. But then something occurred to him, and he dropped his hand, staring at the golden light in wonder. It had been such a long time since he had slept through the night. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd awoken to sunlight. It was always to darkness.

Harry looked at the other side of the bed, and there was Ginny, sound asleep. Although she was situated on the very opposite edge of the mattress, her back towards Harry. She obviously wasn't feeling very keen on cuddling with the way things had ended between them last night, but at least she had come to bed at all and hadn't decided to sleep on the couch instead. That was something.

Harry sat up, and he was surprised with how much ease he was able to do it. He didn't even have his usual headache that always started whenever he woke up after a long night of drinking and began moving around. God, was this what it was like to not be drunk or hung over? It had been so long since he'd been this sober, he'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

Looking to the bottle that was still sitting on his bedside table, Harry felt just a little bit disgusted with himself. Was that what he had been devoting his life to these last few months - nothing but bottles? He'd been neglecting his girlfriend and his godson and for what? For a poison he'd been pouring into his body. No wonder Ginny had been so angry with him.

Everything that had happened the night before still seemed so clear to him, even though he had been drunk out of his mind for most of it. Perhaps that was the turning point for him - it was the blissfulness of being able to forget that made continuing to drink so easy. He couldn't even do that anymore.

Harry could remember his fight with Ginny, almost word for word, and then coming upstairs to drink until he passed out. And then…

Jesus, what in the hell had happened? Harry still remembered it so clearly, but his mind ran through about a million different possibilities. Had he really been dreaming? Had Remus really been standing in his bedroom? Harry glanced across the room, to the spot on the carpet where Remus had appeared just last night. It was completely empty now. Not that Harry had been expecting to see Remus again; rather, he was trying to figure out if he was losing his mind.

Had he truly seen Remus? Really? He didn't know, but he supposed it didn't really matter. All of Remus's words, their entire conversation seemed to hang with perfectly clarity in the center of Harry's mind. Remus had done what he'd come to do, Harry supposed.

Throwing one last glance back at Ginny, Harry reached out for his bottle of Firewhiskey. Even at arm's length, Harry could smell it - a vicious odor that burned his nostrils. Had he really been drinking that? He couldn't imagine even being able to tolerate it when the smell of it was currently making him feel ill.

Making a decision, Harry got up and strode towards the door. He didn't even notice that Ginny herself had awoken, watching Harry leave the room with bottle in hand.

Following the path that Remus had led him on earlier, Harry headed down to the kitchen. It was empty now, completely devoid of any evidence that there had been a dinner there the night before. Ginny could never go to bed if there were any dirty dishes in the house, so as always, she'd cleaned them and put them all away before heading upstairs for the night.

Harry set his bottle down on the counter next to the sink. Then he bent over, opened up what had become his liquor cabinet, and withdrew the last bottle of Firewhiskey he had left in the house. He set it down next to the first one and opened it. Again, he was surprised by how much easier this was when he wasn't the slightest bit inebriated.

Once it was open, he picked up both bottles, one in each hand. He stepped over to the sink and turned them both upside-down. He watched the amber liquid pour out and swirl around in the basin before disappearing down the drain. He knew it was a waste of money, to throw it out without even consuming it, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to keep it in the house as a temptation any longer.

Surprisingly, instead of feeling afraid of losing his one and only crutch, Harry began to feel free. With every ounce, every drop of Firewhiskey that the drain carried away, Harry felt like a tiny part of his current vice was falling away, releasing him.

When the bottles were both empty, Harry set them back down on the counter. He stared at them for a while, wondering what in the hell he should drink now if it wasn't Firewhiskey. Not that he wanted alcohol anymore. Quite the contrary. He was just so used to drinking something, it felt a bit strange to not have a beverage of any sort. Perhaps the first step to sobriety (other than getting rid of the alcohol) was to find a suitable substitute.

Harry glanced around the kitchen for ideas. On the other end of the counter sat their teapot and coffeepot right next to each other. Harry didn't exactly feel like tea at the moment, so he set about making coffee.

He hadn't had coffee in a long time. Ever since he'd started drinking, he had come to hate it, because it had the complete opposite effect of alcohol. But the truth was, he'd loved coffee once upon a time, so perhaps it was time to rediscover it. Besides, he knew he needed the energy for his first day of sobriety in months ahead of him. That one was always the hardest, wasn't it? Not that Harry would know, but he suspected he might be right. It made sense to him.

When it was finished brewing, Harry took his first cup of coffee in months upstairs with him. First, he headed to the study where he had something very important waiting for him.

It had been sitting on his desk for months, pretty much since the war had ended, forgotten and ignored - his application to the Auror Academy. Actually, a lot of things had been forgotten and ignored lately. Important things that he had no right to neglect in the way he had. Things that he'd been taking for granted for a long time.

Harry decided that if he was really serious about trying to improve his life from this point on, then his first order of business should be trying to get a job. His dream, once upon a time, had been becoming an Auror, but that too had been neglected. Harry realized that he still wanted to be an Auror - he couldn't imagine doing anything else - but it had just been overshadowed by the demon that had grown to consume him.

That was what his alcohol had become - a demon. Just like his depression had swallowed up a lot of things in his life, so had the booze. It had taken away his friends and his family, forcing him into isolation, because he hadn't been fit to be around them lately. And that was the alcohol's doing, not the depression. Up until Christmas, he had still been socializing at least a little bit. But since then, the alcohol had taken on a life of its own.

Just like he needed a substitute drink, he needed a substitute occupation. Instead of drinking himself into oblivion every day, maybe he could be training to catch dark wizards. Auror training was hard, as was the job itself, which would provide the perfect distraction. Perhaps that had been the problem - Harry hadn't had enough to do lately. He hadn't been doing much of anything for months, except drink. No wonder he was depressed.

And Harry realized something else. Yes, he had lost a lot of people in the war, and he was still in pain. But there were - there were always going to be - dark wizards still out there. Hopefully not as horrible and as powerful as Voldemort had been, but as long as human life went on, dark wizards were inevitable. Harry knew he could do something to make a difference, so it was pretty damn selfish of him to wallow in his own self-pity. Perhaps Harry could actually prevent someone else from losing a loved one to evil, and that thought was like a fire erupting in Harry's heart.

He wanted this. For as long as he had known what an Auror was he had wanted to become one, and more so than he wanted to forget his problems. He knew that now, and it was time to go after it.

Harry withdrew a bottle of ink and a quill from the desk drawer and sat down. He spent the next half an hour painstakingly filling out his application, doing so as neatly and precisely as he could. Once Harry was done, he read it through over and over again, making sure that every single thing was answered to the best of his ability. This was the first time in a long time that anything felt important to him, and he wanted it to show in his written words.

With his heart pounding in excitement, Harry sent it off with the morning post owl. He stood at the window, watching the bird disappear into the distance until it was nothing more than a black speck on the horizon. He didn't know if he was more scared or eager at the possibility of become an Auror. All he did know that this was the first positive thing he had done for himself in months and maybe, just maybe, it would change his life for the better.

Trying to calm himself down - he most likely wouldn't hear anything back for months, after all - Harry crossed the hall to the sitting room. He started a fire and pulled up a chair. Coffee cup still in hand, he sat down in front of the glowing warmth, wondering where in the hell his life had taken such a drastic detour.

But he knew. He knew exactly when it had started. Not long after the final battle - perhaps a month or so later, but he couldn't quite remember anymore - Harry had gone out to "celebrate" with Ron and Hermione. It had still been too soon to celebrate, even with the fact that Voldemort was gone. Harry was still grieving so hard over the casualties of the war, but Ron and Hermione had thought that a little celebration was exactly what they needed.

They'd gone out to a pub - the first time Harry had ever been to one - and Harry had gotten a little out of hand. He'd had a few too many drinks and had started sobbing openly and telling anyone who would listen about how much he had lost. It made Harry cringe now to think about it, to wonder what, in all that was holy, those people must have thought of him.

But then the more Harry drank, the less certain things began to hurt. An overwhelming numbness took him over, so he continued to drink more in an effort to perpetuate that feeling. He vaguely remembered Ron and Hermione taking him home, and Ginny helping him to bed, and then…nothing. The rest of the night had gone blissfully black and nonexistent until he'd sobered up.

Once he had, Harry had immediately gone out to buy some more Firewhiskey to recapture that fleeting numbness. Thus a vicious cycle had begun. He'd had a taste of the numbness alcohol could offer him, and he'd wanted more.

He knew Ron and Hermione felt bad about that now, for pressuring him to go out at all now when he clearly hadn't been ready. They'd apologized to both Harry and Ginny for it in the past few months. Not that Harry or Ginny blamed them in the least. They had been trying to help him, and as Ginny put it, Harry was a grown man. No one had forced the alcohol down his throat, just as no one had forced him to keep on drinking. Perhaps it was time to let Ron and Hermione know that - that Harry's descent into madness wasn't anyone's fault but his own.

And then there was the matter of Teddy. Harry had a lot of lost time to make up for. He'd already missed so many milestones in his godson's life, and Harry intended to put a stop to that. He wondered if Teddy would even remember him, but it definitely wasn't too late to turn things around. Teddy was still young, and Harry was going to make sure that he was there for every single landmark that lay in Teddy's future.

"I underestimated you."

Harry jumped. He'd been so consumed in his thoughts, he didn't even notice that Ginny had entered the room. She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked angry, and why shouldn't she? After last night, Harry would be mad at himself as well. In fact, he was.

"Two bottles of Firewhiskey in one night?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Really? God, you must be plastered. Did you go out and get more yet? I'm amazed you can even walk."

"I haven't had a drop," Harry said carefully, making a point of the fact that he wasn't slurring his words whatsoever. "Not since I went upstairs last night."

"Oh, Harry, how stupid do you think I am?" Ginny threw up her arms, letting them drop to her side in annoyance. "Both bottles of Firewhiskey are empty, and I certainly didn't drink it!"

"Neither did I," Harry replied firmly, hoping against hope that she would believe him. He realized how little of her trust remained in him. "I poured it down the drain when I woke up this morning. All of it."

Ginny stared at him in disbelief. She frowned, her eyes going from his face down to the empty mug on the floor at his feet.

"It was coffee," Harry said. He suddenly got to his feet, deciding that perhaps it was time to prove it to her further. He slowly crossed the room to her, but once he was within arm's reach, she turned away from him. She covered her mouth with her hand, like she was about to be ill.

"Ginny." Harry reached out, gently wrapping a hand around her wrist. He slowly turned her to face him, looking deeply in her eyes. "Do I look drunk to you?"

Ginny's eyes went back and forth across his face, searching him, watching for any sign that he was even the least bit tipsy. She opened her mouth, let out of soft gasp, and then closed it again. She shook her head in confusion and asked, "You're really not?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "I swear I haven't had any since I went upstairs last night. And I don't intend to have any more either."

She kept watching him, like he was the most curious thing she had ever seen in her life. Perhaps he was. It had been a long time since a very sober Harry had stood in front of her. Ginny's mouth kept opening and closing like a fish, and Harry would have giggled if not for the seriousness of the situation.

"What…I don't…understand…" Ginny tried, but stopped. She pressed a hand over and her eyes and finally forced out, "Why? Why now? What's changed from yesterday when you were so determined to continue with this?"

That was the question Harry had been dreading. He heaved a sigh and glanced away in embarrassment. He could feel his cheeks growing warm. "You'll think I'm mad."

"Try me."

Harry fidgeted for a while, trying to find a good way of putting it. "I had…" Harry left out a soft breath of laughter. "Actually, I'm not sure what I had." Ginny didn't look amused, but curious and concerned, so Harry tried his best to put his experience into words. "I think…" Harry paused, afraid of Ginny's reaction, but he made himself go on. "I think…Remus may have visited me last night."

Silence rang out, Ginny's eyes continuing to search his own. She was doing it again - looking like a fish, unable to find the words. Finally, she just asked, "What?" her voice caught somewhere in between shock, disbelief, and awe.

"I know it sounds crazy," Harry admitted. "It even sounds crazy to me, and I'm the one it happened to." He frowned and said, "I don't even know what 'it' was. Whether Remus was really there, or I was dreaming, or maybe even hallucinating…I don't know. All I do know is that whatever it was, it was powerful." Harry said all of this in hurry, because he felt the need to explain it to Ginny before she decided that he really was insane. "But…Remus came to me after I fell asleep last night. Or after I passed out is a better way of putting it. He woke me up and…we talked. For a long time. About of a lot of things."

Harry stopped himself, because he suddenly realized that he didn't really want to talk about his and Remus's conversation in detail. Harry felt rather protective of it, like it had been a special and private moment just between the two of them, and he wanted to keep it that way. Besides, Remus had told him a lot of very personal things, ones that Harry was pretty sure he'd never told anyone else before. Harry didn't want to tarnish Remus's memory by spreading those things around to other people.

Changing gears a bit, Harry explained, "Long story short, he told me that this isn't…the way to be living." He closed his eyes, the memories of the conversation flowing back to him. "That isn't good for me - although I suspect I already knew that - and that I've missed out on a lot of good things. And that if I continue on this path, I'm going to miss out on a lot more, and pretty soon, I'm going to come to regret it."

"That's-"

"-What you've been saying," Harry cut Ginny off gently. He tried smiling sheepishly in an effort to soothe the anger in her that he suspected was building again. "I know. And I'm sorry. I…maybe I needed the shock of seeing Remus again to knock some sense into me. I don't know." Harry's vision began to blur with tears, and his breathing turned a bit ragged. "Or maybe he's one of the only people that would have been able to get through to me, because he was one of the only role models I've ever had."

"Oh, Harry." Ginny gripped Harry's hand tightly and closed the distance between them. She looked up at him, almost like she wanted to kiss him, but she didn't. She was afraid still, Harry suspected.

"I'm sorry," Harry gulped out again. "I'm sorry." He ducked his head a bit, pressing his cheek against the side of Ginny's head. Her hair was so soft again his skin, and it had been such a long time since he had felt it. He couldn't even remember the last time he and Ginny had been this close, let alone hugged or kissed. "I know I've said and done things that have hurt you." He sucked in a sudden hiccup of air, only this time, he was proud of the fact that it had nothing to do with alcohol. "I've been a downright git, and I know it."

Ginny pulled away slightly, glancing up at him searchingly. "You want to quit? Really?"

Harry nodded slowly and firmly. He met her eyes and without looking away, he said, "I really do." He waited for a long time before continuing. Besides, they were both well aware of the truth, which hung in the air between like some horrible dark cloud about to burst. Harry knew he really didn't have to bring it to the forefront - it was already well understood at this point - but he decided that this was something they needed to talk about. It really wouldn't be very healthy to sweep it under the rug and to pretend that it was less of a problem than it really was.

"But I don't know if I'll be able to," Harry finally forced out. He hated saying those words, hated admitting these things. Up until now, he'd always tried to play this off, to try and make it seem must less serious than it was. He and Ginny both knew the truth, however, and perhaps it was time to confront them.

Ginny looked slightly scared and disappointed at his words, even though she had clearly been expecting them. She lowered her eyes from his face and let out a hard exhalation of air.

"I'm going to try," Harry promised, reaching up a hand and pressing a few of his fingers to her cheek. "I am. I'm going try harder than I've ever tried to do anything before in my life. Because I don't want to keep missing out on everything that I have been. I don't. Time with you, and Teddy, and Ron, and Hermione - I haven't seen them in ages either," he sighed. "I don't want to wake up in fifty years old and alone, because I let this problem overtake my life."

Harry paused, screwing up every last ounce of courage he had to get out the next part. He felt embarrassment exploding from his stomach and flaring to consume his body. He'd crawl under the sofa and disappear from the world if he could. "And that's what it is," he said slowly, carefully. "That's what it became despite my best efforts to try and deny it - a problem." He shut his eyes, unable to hold Ginny's glance when he finally admitted, "I have a problem."

Ginny didn't say anything in response, but instead, she threw herself against Harry, nearly knocking him over in the process. Not for the first time that day, Harry was very glad he was sober, otherwise he would have just toppled to the floor. He stumbled a bit, but quickly regained his balance, wrapping his arms tightly around Ginny. She hugged him around the waist and tucked her head under his chin. This was something she used to do a lot when they had first gotten together, but hadn't for a very long time. A position that, despite the toll the past several months had taken on their relationship, still felt completely natural and comfortable, like they were two pieces of a puzzle that had just come together.

"You're not alone in this," she said, her voice slightly muffled against his pajamas. "You never have been. I'll help you. Ron and Hermione will help you." She glanced up at him, tears shining in her eyes and a brilliant smile on her lips. "You know we're always here for you."

"I know." Harry lifted a hand and placed it on the back of Ginny's head, then he laid a gentle kiss to her hair. Just like with everything else between them, it was the first time in months he'd done so, and he vaguely wondered when they'd be able to share a real kiss again. Not one on the other's hair or hand, but an actual kiss where they crushed their lips together like there was no tomorrow. Like they were in love and couldn't get enough of each other.

Harry wondered if even that was true anymore. Oh, he still loved Ginny deeply, and he doubted very much whether that would ever change, but he wasn't so sure she still felt the same way. After all, he'd been trying to push her away, and even though she was still there, it didn't mean her feelings still were. If he was her, he'd be beyond furious with himself, and he didn't know what he could possibly do to make that better for her.

Deciding that the wondering just might make him crazy - if he wasn't already - Harry resolved to try and focus on the present instead. Not what tomorrow or the next day might hold, or even the next few minutes. Just now. Just getting through one minute at a time. That was what he'd already promised himself, wasn't it? Promised Remus?

"That's something I didn't want to see," Harry admitted. "I tried convincing myself that you would all eventually abandon me. In fact, I was doing my best to make you do just that. It would have been so much easier to let alcohol consume my life if you weren't there to try and stop me."

"Harry," she said, pulling away from him so she could look up into his eyes again, "if being the Chosen One wasn't enough to push us away, then I doubt anything is."

Harry supposed that was true. He thought of the hell that Ron and Hermione had been through with him the year before when they'd gone with him to search for the Horcruxes. They didn't have to help him, and parts of Harry thought they shouldn't have. That had been his fight, but they'd chosen to help him, because he couldn't do it alone. He needed them, and they'd risen to the occasion like best friends do. Except for a brief break from Ron, they had been in it together, and Harry knew that Ginny would have been too if she had been able.

"Perhaps not," Harry whispered. He waited for a long time, not sure if he should voice his thoughts further. He'd already admitted that he had a problem, true, but this was going beyond that. This was going into that territory where it was going to be harder to go back on his word. Not that he wanted to. That was the very last thing he wanted right now, but he knew it was a possibility. Just like before, if that time ever came, he knew he'd be looking for the opportunity to eliminate any all obstacles that stood in his way. But no. If he was really serious about this - and he was - then he needed to be honest with her. He needed to come clean.

"But maybe," he said hesitantly, "I should…" He didn't go on for a very long time. He put it off for as long as he dared, but Ginny waited, continuing to look up at him patiently. Harry knew there was no turning back, that it was all or nothing now. He couldn't possibly back-pedal, because all of his words and actions in the last half hour would seem insincere. He needed to take a stand. "Maybe I should talk to somebody. Get some kind of help or something."

Ginny's eyes were still glowing with unshed tears, but now there was something else that was present in her features. It was something Harry hadn't seen from her in such a long time, but he'd recognize it anywhere. It was the same expression Remus had given him only the night before - pride.

"You have no idea how much bravery it took for you to admit that, do you?" she asked him.

Harry didn't reply, because he suspected she already knew what he'd wanted to say. Her certainly didn't feel brave. He felt embarrassed, and ashamed, and useless, and weak, and stupid. Anything but brave. He'd defeated Voldemort for heaven's sake, and now he couldn't even help himself. He'd just spent the last several months in and out of drunken stupors, because he had been too helpless to stop himself. Harry couldn't even remember ever asking for help in his life, even when he knew he desperately needed it, because he'd felt like he had something to prove. And now he couldn't even do that much.

He'd been self-sufficient from a very young age. He had to be, because the Dursleys had left him with little choice in the matter. He'd had to grow up and take care of himself, because no one else was going to do it for him, and now here he was - admitting he needed help when he'd never done so before. What the hell was the matter with him?

"Harry," Ginny said. She had pulled out of their embrace and instead rested her hands comfortably on Harry's upper arms. She squeezed them gently in encouragement. "Haven't you ever heard that admitting you need help is the biggest and most courageous step for an addict?"

"I guess," Harry mumbled. He lifted his foot off the floor and scuffed his toe into the carpet uncomfortably. "I just…I never ask for help. Even when I desperately needed it. I wanted to go off and hunt for those Horcruxes by myself." He shook his head. "I never would have made it a day without Hermione and your brother. I know that now, and I think I knew it then, but…I still wanted to do it myself. Because it was my fight. And I was tired of other people making sacrifices for me. I would have even fought the entire war by myself if I could have. I never-"

Ginny silenced him by pressing a finger over his lips. "The war is over," she said quietly, but there was something in her voice that hinted at the fact that she wasn't entirely sure of that fact. Just the same as Harry, she too must have wondered if it would ever really be over. If they would ever be completely free of the hardships it had brought to them. As much as he hated that, Harry was glad, he supposed, that she realized that too. He didn't think anything would be worse in that moment than trying to gloss over that knowledge.

After pausing for a moment, Ginny asked, "Where's the sacrifice in this? What will I, or anyone else for that matter, lose by trying to help you through this?"

At first, Harry couldn't answer, but he knew he had a reason. He always had an answer for this sort of thing - excuses as to why people shouldn't help him - but this time, he was left fumbling for it. "I-" he tried in an effort to spur himself on, but he lost his train of thought just as quickly. "Because," he finally just settled on, feeling his cheeks growing even warmer than they had been. "It's a waste of your time?" He hadn't meant it to come out as a question, and he nearly wanted to kick himself for it. "You have better things to do with your time than to let yourselves be brought down by my problems. You'd all be much happier." Yeah, that sounded good, he thought, except that it didn't.

"You don't realize, do you?"

"Realize what?"

"That your problems are my problems. That your happiness is my happiness." Ginny smiled, moving the hand that had been on his lips to his neck instead. She cupped it gently, reassuringly. "That's what relationships are about. That's what friendships are about. To be there for each other and help each other, even - and especially - during difficult times. That's what I want to do, Harry. I want to help you through this. Nothing would make me happier than if we got through this together. It would make us all the more stronger."

"I guess," Harry said again, and he sighed. She gave him a doubtful look and he exclaimed, "I do! I know it seems like I'm just saying that, but I'm really not. You know if you had the drinking problem, I'd be jumping through hoops to try and help you through it. And here I am, trying every which way to wiggle out of taking that very same help from you. Or anyone else. I'm a hypocrite, I know."

"And stubborn as a mule," Ginny said affectionately.

"That too." Harry had no problem in admitting that much anyway. It was one of the things he prided in himself, because he thought it was one of the things that kept him going throughout the war.

Ginny buried her head in his chest again, closing her eyes and reveling in the fact that she was having a conversation with her Harry. The Harry that she'd been missing for many months now. She knew that he still had a long road of recovery ahead of him, she wasn't going to deny that, but this gave her a little bit of hope. This was her Harry, the one she'd fallen in love with, poking through the rough and angry exterior that the alcohol had built up around him like a cocoon. He was still in there.

Ginny hugged him again, even more tightly this time, and she said, "Please let me help you, Harry. Let Ron and Hermione help you, and anyone else you need. That's what we're here for you, that's why we're your friends. And let us do for you what you're always willing to do for us, what you have done for us - go to the ends of the earth for us."

Harry knew exactly what she was referring to. She always said that the hunt for the Horcruxes was similar to going to the ends of the earth - trekking all over creation and living in the middle of nowhere for months in order to find those damn things. Part of that had been done out of Harry's own quest for survival, yes, but that certainly wasn't all of it. It was because he wouldn't just lie down and let Voldemort take over the world without a fight. Harry was the one who could stop him, and he was going to do his very best to do so before he killed any more people.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry hugged her back closely. How had he ever gotten so lucky to have someone so damn persistent in his life? Someone who wasn't willing to let him ruin his own life without a fight? It was in that moment that something broke inside Harry. He clung to Ginny like he was holding on for dear life as another sob escaped him.

"Help me," he requested in such a small voice, it might have come from a little boy. He was willingly asking for help for the first time in his life, and he wasn't embarrassed. He didn't know where that fear had gone, the fear that the world might stop if he admitted he needed help, and he didn't care. He just wanted to get through this, he wanted his life back, and his own pride didn't seem to matter so much anymore. Not as much as his very life.

"You don't even need to ask," Ginny said, running a comforting hand up and down his back.

Harry tried to hold the tears back, but he couldn't. They began leaking out of his eyes and down his cheeks to drip on the top of Ginny's hair. He started sobbing in earnest, and try as he might, he couldn't stop. Just like he had with Remus the night before, he was losing all control.

Ginny guided him to the couch and sat down next to him. She kept her arms around him the entire time, holding him firmly and letting him sob into her shoulder. Harry didn't even know how much time had passed, but he was vaguely aware that the shadows thrown by the sun had moved quite a bit across the floor since Ginny had first entered the room. When Harry hadn't even been sure that he'd be able to get Ginny to believe him, and now here she was, holding him as he cried for help. For redemption.

When he'd calmed down enough to pull away, to feel up to the task of sitting up on his own, Harry pulled off his glasses. He wiped at his eyes and at his face, feeling much calmer than he'd felt before. He wasn't even feeling embarrassed any longer about asking for help or about crying into his girlfriend's shoulder. He knew he didn't need to be. Not with Ginny. Not with the woman he loved. Not with the woman he wanted to spend his life with.

Harry started grinning. He'd never really admitted to himself before that that was what he wanted from his relationship with Ginny - to spend his life with her. He supposed that it had been in the back of his mind for a while, but he'd never consciously thought about it before. At least, not when he'd been stone cold sober. It was an exhilarating feeling. God, was this the sort of thing he'd been missing all along?

"What?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Nothing," Harry said, his grin still as wide as ever. He sort of wanted to tell her how he felt, but then again, he didn't. That was a very special thing to admit to someone, and he didn't think this was really the best time to do so. He wanted that occasion to be special, and the morning when he decided that he wanted to be sober wasn't exactly what he wanted them to remember.

In an attempt to divert attention away from this, he ducked his head and ran a hand through this hair. "God, I'm emotional lately," he said, hoping that his grin would pass for embarrassment.

Ginny still had a hand on his back, rubbing at it soothingly. "You've been covering up your emotions for such a long time. Now that you're not numbing them down with alcohol, they're all just pouring out."

"It actually doesn't feel that bad," Harry said, sounding surprised. He laughed softly. "I don't know what I've been hiding from." He frowned in thought. "In a way, this feels much better than being drunk. It's harder, yeah, but…it's realer." That was the only word he could think of to describe it. "Perhaps I was afraid of the idea of feeling things more so than the actual feelings." He placed a hand on her cheek and added, "When I'm sober, I can have a conversation with you. A good conversation, which is something we haven't had in a while."

"Neither is this," she said, and before he could even react, she leaned forward. She kissed him and reached up a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer still.

Harry was startled at first, but just as quickly, that feeling was being replaced by sheer happiness. God, she was kissing him again, something he wasn't sure he'd ever feel again. He'd wanted to kiss her for the duration of this entire conversation, but he'd been afraid, because he didn't want to push her. They still had a lot of issues between them to resolve, and he wanted to let her go at her own pace. They would return to normal relationship forms of affection when she was ready and not a moment sooner. And now here she was, kissing him like she had that first time in her bedroom at the Burrow.

Harry kissed her back, cupping both her cheeks now with his hands. He wanted to convey everything he was feeling but didn't quite feel ready to say - that he wanted to grow old with her. That he wanted to still be with her when they were as old as Dumbledore. That thought sent him into a fit of giggles, causing him to pull away from her.

Ginny stared at him, one of her eyebrows going up in confusion.

"I just love you," he offered by way of an explanation. He hadn't said those words to her in such a long time, and a huge rush of emotions went through him at the same moment. Merlin, how could he have ever preferred being drunk to this? To living life? He really must have been mad.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed. She wrapped her arms around one of his and rested her head on his shoulder. "I love you, too."

Harry let out another cry, but this time, it was out of happiness rather than grief. They didn't say anything more for a long time, but just sat there enjoying each other's presence. That was yet another thing they hadn't done in a very long time. Harry had missed it.

After a while, Harry decided to tell her more about his plans for getting through this. It was nice to get lost in love with Ginny for a little while, but he still had a huge challenge ahead of him, and he knew it.

"I, erm, I sent my application to the Auror Academy."

Ginny brightened again, sitting up straighter and grinning at him. "You did?" She'd been trying to get him to do so since the war had ended. Perhaps she had even seen something like his drinking problem coming, and she had been trying to get him involved in something before it had a chance to take hold of him.

"Yeah," he said proudly. "I filled it out this morning as soon as I woke up. After I poured all the Firewhiskey out. I think it'll help me if I have something important like that to focus on."

Ginny nodded. "I do too. And the application is only a formality. You know they'll take you."

Harry hated even remotely admitting that he was that good, but he'd known that. He'd just killed one of the most dangerous dark wizards that had ever lived. Of course the Auror Academy would want him.

"Maybe that was why I was afraid of applying at first," Harry admitted. "I was afraid of being accepted and then…failing, I guess. Not doing a good enough job to live up to my reputation. A lot of what happened with Voldemort was a bunch of dumb luck, you know. I didn't know what I was doing half the time. I still don't. And most of the time, I had someone to help me."

"You can do it, Harry," Ginny said confidently. "I know you can. I wouldn't be so for the idea if I didn't."

"If you didn't think I was going to get my fool self killed, you mean."

"Harry," she scolded gently. She didn't like to hear him talk like that. Ginny was well aware of the fact that his chosen career path was dangerous, and she wasn't about to fool herself into believing that it wasn't. But she knew that this was what he wanted to do, and they both knew it would make him happy in the long run. That was all she wanted for him - his happiness - and whatever else was in store for them, they'd deal with it when the time came. That didn't mean she wanted to hear him planning his funeral.

"I know," Harry said, "and I know I can do it, too. Contrary to what some people may think, I don't have a death wish, and I wouldn't want to do this if I thought I was going to die. But it's still scary. I mean, this is what I want to do with my life. What if it doesn't work out? What in the bloody hell am I going to do then?"

Ginny didn't reply right away, but a few moments later, she randomly offered, "Become a teacher?"

"What?" Harry burst out laughing. When he tried to imagine himself being a teacher - a teacher like Remus, one of the people he looked up to most in the world - it made his brain feel like it was breaking. He snickered some more.

"Why not?"

Harry stared at her like she had potatoes pouring out of her ears. "After all the things I got up to while I was at school, you ask why not?"

"That doesn't mean you wouldn't be a good teacher," she said confidently. "Remember Dumbledore's Army at all?"

Harry blinked. "Well, yeah, but…that was just a bunch of kids goofing around!"

"It was a lot more than just goofing, and you know it."

Not for the first time that day, Harry felt stunned into silence. He felt the urge to keep disagreeing with her, but he couldn't for some reason. He couldn't come up with any excuses at all. He tried to imagine himself standing up at the front of a classroom just like Remus, and the image even made him smile. Could he really do that? He wasn't quite sure.

"You do," Ginny said knowingly, a hint of laughter in her own voice.

"I just…never imagined that." Harry's voice was distant, lost in thought. He laughed again. "What would Remus say?"

"I'm sure he'd be very proud."

Those words made Harry's stomach squirm in an almost pleasant way. God, that was all he'd wanted for such a long time. As much as Remus tried to insist that he'd never be disappointed in Harry, Harry wondered if that was altogether true. Harry knew Remus wouldn't lie to him, but it was still hard to believe that anyone could be proud of him now. But he was determined to change that. He wasn't going to let this addiction beat him. He wasn't going to let this war claim another victim. He wasn't going to let Voldemort kill him like he'd killed so many other people. He wouldn't! Harry's hands clenched into fists as he felt resolve course through him.

"Harry?" Ginny asked in concern, her eyes going to his fists.

"I'm going to do this, Ginny," he said. He straightened up in his chair and promised, "I'm going to get past this. I'm going to turn my life around. I swear I am."

That expression was back - the one of pride that he was coming to like from her. She tightened her grip around his upper arm. "I know you will. And I'll be here for you every step of the way."

Harry suddenly stood up, pulling out of her grasp. "Wanna come?" he asked.

"W-where?"

"I have some things to put right," he said. "I have a couple of best friends to visit that I haven't seen in a long time, and after that…my godson. He needs me. He needs me in his life the way I needed his father."

Ginny let out a breathless laugh, her eyes filling with tears again. Only this time, they were from happiness. A few of them spilled down her cheeks as she nodded. She wiped them away and said, "Just do me a favor first."

"Hm?"

"Get cleaned up and get dressed first. You look atrocious."

Harry looked down at himself, and he realized he'd been wearing the same pajamas for…quite a while now. He wasn't even sure how long it had been since he'd last changed his clothes or taken a shower. The details were lost in the blackness that he'd been so desperate for just a few days ago. How could he have ever preferred that to this? To his life and to his friends, to the joys that he still had left?

Harry grimaced, rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Yeah, give me a minute."

Ginny watched him leave the room, sighing contently, because there was a spring in his step that she hadn't seen for such a long time. Still, she knew they had quite a journey in front of them, and that Harry had a long way to go, but this was more than she'd ever hoped for. She never thought she'd wake up one day to find her Harry back and intent on turning his life around. It was promising to say the least, and she knew they could do this. And she wasn't giving up until she saw Harry through this.

Upon entering his bedroom, Harry promptly crossed the room to his dresser to get some clean clothes out. He stooped down to open a drawer, but then he froze in his tracks. His eyes had fallen on the picture of himself and Remus sitting out by the lake at Hogwarts, but something seemed amiss about it. When Colin had taken it, Harry and Remus had been engaged in a rather deep conversation, so their expressions weren't necessarily happy, but…

If Harry wasn't imagining things, he thought Remus's expression was just the tiniest bit brighter than had been before. Had it always looked like that? Wizarding pictures moved, yes, but Harry was hard-pressed to remember Remus ever appearing so happy in this picture. Harry had spent hours upon hours staring at this picture. It was one of his favorites, and he liked spending time memorizing the synchronicities of it, but this was something he'd honestly never noticed before.

Was it too much to believe that Remus was already feeling proud of the changes Harry was intent on making? Harry hoped so, because he wanted nothing more than to make Remus happy, to prove to him that he hadn't made the wrong choice in naming him Teddy's godfather.

Remus would never regret his choice, Harry knew that. Remus had already promised he had no negative feelings towards Harry, but Harry realized that maybe it was himself he had something to prove to. To show himself and Remus that he could be a good and dependable godfather.

Harry knew he could do it. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but for the first time, he was determined to see this through. After all, he'd already defeated Voldemort and survived when no one else ever had. It wasn't so hard to believe that he could survive this as well, was it?

The end