Rating:
PG-13
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Ginny Weasley Harry Potter Hermione Granger Ron Weasley
Genres:
Drama Darkfic
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 09/12/2006
Updated: 09/12/2006
Words: 3,057
Chapters: 1
Hits: 592

Not Drunk Is He...

Kelsey Potter

Story Summary:
"He is not drunk, who from the floor Can rise again to drink some more.......... But he is drunk who prostrate lies, And cannot drink --- and cannot rise!" ~Irish toast

Posted:
09/12/2006
Hits:
592


Ginny heard the phone ring in her sleep. Still barely conscious, she rolled over and reached for the receiver. "H'llo?" she mumbled.

An unfamiliar voice answered her. "Are you--uh--Ginny?"

"Yeah," Ginny answered sleepily. "Who're you?"

"Um...I'm the bartender at the Hoarshead Pub," the voice answered. "Do you know a...um...a Ron Weasley?"

Ginny groaned. "He's my brother. What's he doing now?"

"Um--lying in a stupor on the floor. I wondered if you could--y'know--come and get him? Nobody else knows where he lives, and..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Gimme a minute or two."

Grumbling, Ginny got up, dressed quickly, grabbed her keys, and left the flat. She wouldn't be able to Apparate home, not with Ron, so she figured she'd drive. Her second-hand Ford Prefect sat in the garage where it usually was; she climbed into it and drove towards the Hoarshead Pub.

The pub was crowded, even this late--a glance at her watch told Ginny it was two in the morning. On a sigh, she entered the dusky building.

The bartender walked over to her, wiping out a glass with a rag. "What'll it be, miss?"

"My brother, if you don't mind." Ginny held out her hand. "I'm Ginny Weasley."

The bartender shook her hand. "Sam O'Nielly. Night barkeep...your brother's over there."

Ginny walked over to where Sam pointed. Sure enough, Ron lay in a kind of slump on the floor, looking drunk out of his mind.

Ginny sighed and dragged him to his feet. "Come on, you...sorry about him, Mr. O'Nielly."

"Nah, he's fine. Not the first time I've had to call someone to take a customer home. Thanks for coming...sorry I woke you up."

"Hakuna Matata. 'Bye."

~~~

"So I told him I was going to the party, and he could go to--hold on, Hermione, I've got a call on the other line." Ginny pressed a button on her phone--it had taken her two years, but she finally learned how to use the contraption. "Hello?"

A tired-sounding voice came from the other end. "Ginny? It's Sam. Could you come and pick Ron up again?"

Ginny sighed. "Okay, I'm on my way, hold on." She switched back to Hermione. "Hermione? I'm going to have to call you back. Talk to you later." She hung up, grabbed her keys, and ran for the door.

"Evening, Ginny," called one of the barflies as she came into the bar.

"Evening, Doug. Seen Ron anywhere?"

Doug waved towards the back of the bar. "Same place he always is."

"It's a Level Six tonight, Ginny," Louie mumbled into his beer.

Ginny suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Thanks for the warning, Louie."

This wasn't the first time she'd had to pick her brother up from this bar, and it likely wouldn't be the last. It had reached the point where she was on a first-name basis with the bartenders and the regular patrons.

As she headed for her inebriated brother, a newcomer blinked up at her through filmy eyes. "Hey, gorgeoush," he slurred. "What'sh a clash act like you doing in a plash like thish?"

"Pick-up," Ginny answered, grabbing Ron by the collar and hauling him upright. "Let's go, Wobbly."

As she headed towards the door, she heard the man ask the bartender, "Who'sh that?"

"His sister," Sam's voice answered. "Picks him up when he's too slammed."

"Lucky guy," the drunkard mumbled as the door swung shut behind her.

Ginny pondered that statement as she levered her brother into the passenger seat and fumbled about with his seatbelt. Was her brother a lucky guy? He had her...a loving, kind, remarkably patient sister who would come get him no matter the time of day. He had a job that paid well...his favourite brother was still around...he wasn't lying homeless in a gutter.

And yet...She slid into the driver's seat, but didn't start the car yet. Yes, he had her, but he rarely saw her unless he had a hangover...which he often did. Yes, his job paid well, but he hated it. Yes, he still had Percy, but both their parents were dead. Yes, he wasn't lying homeless in a gutter, but he was one step away from it...he crashed at Ginny's flat, at the Burrow, at one of his friends' houses or flats.

Three years ago he had had two best friends; now he had an ex-girlfriend and no best friend. Hermione had broken up with him for the very reason Ginny was now carting him home: he had developed an alcoholism problem. Harry had just vanished after the final battle with Voldemort. Most thought he was dead; part of the traditional Triumph Day celebrations included a candlelight vigil and memorial service for their fallen hero. Ginny usually spent the day with Hermione, reflecting on everyone who had died and praying for Harry, wherever he was; Ron usually spent the day getting absolutely smashed at this little pub.

Sighing, she turned the key and pulled out of the parking lot. Better get him home and start the coffee brewing.

~~~

"Here we are," Ginny said brightly. "Chicken a la Weasley. The secret is in the--"

Rrrrring! Rrrrring!

Ginny snatched the phone off the hook, shrugging apologetically. "Hello?"

"Hey, Gin? It's Sam again."

"Oh, hi, Sam," Ginny said, twisting the phone cord around her finger. "What's up?"

Sam sounded resigned. "We've got a Level Nine here."

Ginny's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "How long has he been there?"

"I don't know, I only work nights," Sam's voice answered dryly. "I think since about noon."

Ginny suppressed the urge to sigh. "Okay...I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks. See you in a few."

"See you." Ginny hung up the phone and turned to find Hermione smirking at her. "What?"

"Boyfriend?" Hermione asked, gesturing at the phone.

Ginny shook her head. "Bartender."

"Huh?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Sam's the night bartender at the Hoarshead Pub. I've got to go scrape my brother off the bar floor...want to come along for the ride?"

Hermione stood and took her coat. "Is this the first time this has happened?"

"What, Sam's called to get me to come peel Ron off the floor? Good heavens, no. This has been pretty regular for the last...oh, four years or so." Ginny locked the door to her flat and led Hermione down to the parking garage. "We'll take my car, it's got a backseat...It's not always Sam who calls, either. He gets off every so often and the guy who runs the day shift covers for him...a guy named Lonny." She shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry...I didn't invite you over to help me get my inebriated brother home..."

"So he's still drinking heavily?" Hermione said quietly.

Ginny nodded. "It's just been getting worse. He's been fired twice for coming in to work drunk...Hermione, I'm really worried about him. He's going to kill himself one of these days."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said softly. "I couldn't stay...if I'd thought he was going to get worse..."

"It's not your fault," Ginny said curtly. "You did right to leave him. I ought to cut him off--I feel like I'm enabling him--but he's my brother. He's destroying himself because he's mad at himself, not because of anything you've done."

"Why is he mad at himself?" Hermione asked in surprise.

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know, but that's what Percy keeps saying. We've been looking into de-tox programs, but none of them have a guaranteed success rate...here we are."

Ginny led Hermione into the little bar and back to Ron's preferred table. He was collapsed across it, an unfinished beer by his hand.

"Does he owe anything?" Ginny asked Sam.

Sam shook his head. "Nah, he paid for 'em as he got 'em. Good thing, too, or I'd have no idea how much he owed."

"Thanks, Sam." Ginny hauled Ron to his feet. "Come on, and keep away from open flame."

Hermione glanced back at him as Ginny strapped him into the backseat. "Did...Sam...tell you it was going to be this bad?" she asked in a small voice.

"In so many words. This is certainly a Level Nine...and I know Sam rounds high, so if he'd thought it was a really severe Level Nine he'd've called in with a Level Ten."

"You guys have a coding system?"

"Sure, we developed it a year or so ago. Level One means he's had a few drinks and he's a little shaky, usually Sam just calls to tell me Ron's gone Level One and taken a cab. Level Two means he doesn't think he's got the money for a cab and took the bus...Level Three means he had no leftover money and is walking. Level Four usually means he's asked Sam to give me a call because he doesn't think he can walk all the way back here...Level Seven means he's been drinking beer for a couple of hours...Level Eight means he's been drinking mixes of beer and cocktails for probably about three hours, cocktails for two, or beer for about four. Level Nine is what you see here--he's been here since about noon, so that's about seven hours, and probably drinking just beers since he got here. Level Ten means he's been drinking straight shots, probably of tequila, and fell off the barstool he was so drunk. Level Eleven means he's been drinking White Russians for quite a while...Level Thirteen means he's been drinking unusual concoctions that have had an adverse effect on him...Level Fifteen I hope we never get to, but it means he's soused out of his mind and got into a bar fight."

"Er...you skipped a few. What happened to Five, Six, Twelve, and Fourteen?" Hermione asked.

"Those all go through to Percy," Ginny answered. "Five means Sam couldn't get hold of me for a Level One through Four, Six means Ron specifically asked for Percy, Twelve means Sam couldn't get hold of me for a Seven through Eleven, and Fourteen--which we've never had either, fortunately--means Ron's so drunk he's threatening me."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. They drove the rest of the way to the flat in silence.

~~~

Harry glanced down at the paper in his hand. He'd been scrounging about all day, trying to find any of his friends. Finally, he'd managed to find someone who'd seen Ginny and Hermione in this area; someone in the neighbourhood had given him Ginny's address. Double-checking to make sure he had the right apartment number, he knocked on the door.

The door opened a second later, exposing a tall, slender young woman with red hair drawn back into a high, sloppy ponytail. She looked familiar, but Harry was sure it wasn't anyone he knew. He frowned at the piece of paper. "I'm sorry, I must have the wrong flat. I'm looking for Ginny Weasley?"

"I'm Ginny." The woman peered at him closely. "Do I know you?"

Harry was stunned. In the six years since he'd seen her, she had gone from a gangly teenager to a stunning young woman. "Ginny?" He reached up and pulled off his hat. "It's me."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "Harry...? Harry! It's you, you're back!"

A second later she had attacked him, hugging him tightly around the neck. Harry laughed and hugged her back, lifting her off the ground and twirling her around. "You're back, I knew you'd be back, I just knew it..." She let go of him and stepped back, her brown eyes shining. "Come on in...Hermione and I were just getting ready for a nightcap. What do you drink?"

"I don't," Harry answered quietly. It had taken him ninety days of constant group meetings and a lot of willpower, but he had finally reached the point where he was all right. "I'll have coffee if you've got it."

"Sure." Ginny led him into a small dining room. "Hermione, look who turned up."

Harry blinked in astonishment. Was that really Hermione? She had changed too; she was older, more mature. Harry noted a couple of deep lines in her forehead, crows' feet radiating from her eyes. But she saw Harry, and somehow seemed younger.

"Oh, Harry! You're home!"

Home. Harry relished the sound as he hugged her too. The small two-room flat he had resided in for the past few years had been just that--a residence. It wasn't home. Home was where all the people he loved were: Hermione and Ginny and...

It suddenly occurred to Harry that there was someone missing. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said slowly.

Ginny shook her head. "Like I said, we were just having a couple drinks."

Harry eyed the large glass in front of Hermione and bit back a severe lecture. Just because you had a problem is no reason to assume they will. "What were you drinking, or should I ask?"

Hermione grinned sheepishly. "Mudslides. They're pretty good."

"Sure you don't want one?" Ginny added.

Harry half-smiled. "I'm sure." He looked around the kitchen. "So...er...do either of you know where Ron is?"

Ginny scowled and pushed a cup of coffee at him. She opened her mouth to fill him in, but the ringing of the phone cut her off. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed at it.

"Speaking of..." she grumbled slightly. "Hello?...Yes, that's what I thought."

As Harry and Hermione watched, Ginny's face changed, looking pale and frightened. "He's what? Oh, God...I'm on my way, I'll be there as soon as I can. Yes, thank you, goodbye." She hung up the phone and leaped for the closet. "Oh, God...oh, God..."

"Ginny? What's wrong?" Hermione asked urgently.

Ginny spun. "I was right--that was Sam. It's Ron. He's gone Level Fifteen."

"Bloody hell," Hermione breathed.

Harry looked from one girl to the next. "What?"

"Come on. I'll explain on the way."

Twenty minutes later, Ginny (who had forgotten to explain) pulled up in front of a small brick building and slammed on the brakes. From within came shouts and crashes.

Ginny burst through the door, Harry and Hermione hot on her heels. "Sam!" she squeaked.

The man behind the counter turned and moved towards her. "He's in the back corner. He came off the worst. Sorry I scared you like that, but damn..."

"It's okay," Ginny said softly. She pushed through the room, nodding to a couple of people as she passed them, and finally reached a small corner where a lone man sat.

His hair was long and matted, darker than Harry remembered. His face was haggard and pale, his freckles few and faint, his eyes filmed over slightly. But Harry still recognised him...and it hurt like hell.

Ginny spoke his name softly. "Ron?"

Ron slowly raised his head to look up at her. Harry noticed that he had a black eye. "Wha?" he muttered. "'M not leavin'..."

"Come on, Ron, you need to get home and sleep," Ginny coaxed. "Ron, look who showed up..."

"I'm not done!" Ron roared at her. Ginny recoiled, tears in her eyes.

Harry couldn't stand it. He took two steps towards Ron and grabbed his shoulders. "Ron Weasley, look at me," he said, his voice firm.

Ron raised his head. His rheumy eyes widened in wonderment; a little of the old Ron seemed to come back. "Harry?" he murmured.

"Yeah." Harry sat down in front of Ron, still holding his shoulders firmly. "Listen to me, Ron. I've been down this road you're on, and it won't take you anywhere you want to be. You need help and you need it now."

Ron shook his head slowly. "'S too late for me, mate."

"No, it isn't," Harry said softly. "In one of my meetings, I met a man who'd been an alcoholic for thirty years. He was on the last step--he was almost cured. If he can do it, so can you."

"You mean it?"

"Of course." Harry stood; Ron stood as well but wobbled violently. Harry caught him and helped him stand, then turned to Ginny. "Come on. Let's go home."

~~~

Ron sat hunched over a cup of coffee the next morning. Harry sat opposite the small kitchen table from him; Ginny and Hermione sat on either side. Ron had a black eye and a nasty cut on his cheek. For a long moment, none of them spoke.

Finally, Ron raised his head and looked at Harry. "Harry...last night, at...at the bar...you said something about being down this road...about your meetings."

Harry nodded. "I did."

"Well...what did you mean by that?" Ron pressed.

Harry looked around the table, then sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I had an alcoholism problem myself. I was in America, trying to figure out how the hell I got there and how the hell I could get home, and I hit the bottle kind of hard."

"When did you realise you needed help?" Ron asked.

"About a year ago," Harry said quietly. "I was in Chicago...drunk out of my mind, of course...and I didn't have the benefit of friends or family who worried about me and tried to make me stop. April twenty-third of last year is the day I turned my life around...I'll never forget it."

"Wh-what happened?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

"I was so drunk I fell off a subway platform...right into the path of an oncoming train. I'll never forget the screams of the onlookers, the lights of that train, the hands pulling me back...it was sobering, let me tell you. I found an Alcoholics Anonymous group, got help, and I haven't touched drink since then."

Ginny gasped. Hermione clutched her face in horror. Ron paled. "Wasn't...I mean, wasn't it hard?"

Harry nodded. "Hardest thing I've ever done," he said honestly. "Ninety meetings in ninety days is what they told me when I first joined the program. It's the only thing guaranteed to work."

"I'll do it," Ron said resolutely. "I'm tired of having to call Ginny out at midnight to scrape me off a bar floor...I'm tired of waking up sick and sore...I'm tired of scaring the people I love...I'm tired of being ashamed of myself."

"I'll help," Harry promised.

"Me, too," Ginny added.

"And me," Hermione said quietly. "I know I shouldn't have left, but..."

Ron shook his head. "I'm glad you did...if you'd stayed I might have hurt you." He looked up at Harry and smiled. "I can do it...with you guys helping me."

---------------------------------

Alcoholics Anonymous: http://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org/?Media=PlayFlash

Al-Anon/Alateen: http://www.al-anon.alateen.org/