Rain

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE WORLD OF HARRY POTTER. THAT BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING. I MAKE NO PROFIT FROM THIS, I VIOLATE NO COPYRIGHT LAWS.


A/N: THIS IS FOR ERICA, WHO I PROMISED A HARRY/GINNY FIC.


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Chapter One: A World Apart



Harry awoke in his fourth floor studio apartment in New York City. Glancing at the clock he cursed the 5AM commuters. He turned to the form next to him. Ismelda he thought was her name. He couldn’t be too sure anymore.


This had become pattern for him ever since he completed his auror training nearly three years ago. He went out with these women, and they always ended up in his bed, even though he could barely remember them the next morning. This was definitely not where he imagined he would be when he was twenty five years old, he thought to himself as he got out of the bed, leaving Ismelda, or Endora, or whatever the hell her name was. He walked to the small bathroom and turned on the shower.


He rubbed his eyes and looked in the mirror. His black hair, ever untamable, hung lankly across his face. He rather liked the male shag look he had adopted in his later years at Hogwarts. His eyes were still as green as polished jade, and his scar was still vivid on his forehead.


Harry stepped into the shower and let the hot water cascade over his body for several minutes before moving to clean himself. He dried quickly, and got out of the shower, half hoping that the woman in his bed would be gone when he reentered the room.


He saw her form still entangled in his bed sheets and knew his shower had not even roused her. He did not care. He needed to ready for work and he would go whether she had awakened or not. His apartment had wards on it, and everything of value he owned was set with an anti-thievery charm. He had learned his lesson with Kate, the muggle he had brought to his place a couple of years ago, when he was still in Auror School in London.


He had intended to hit her with an obliviate in the morning, after he said goodbye to her, but the wretched bitch had left early, taking several things with her, including the remembrall Neville had bought for him for his twenty-first birthday. He managed to find her in a pawn shop, attempting to sell it. He had obliviated the both of them, and resisted the urge to hex the woman, knowing it would land him in a heap of trouble; and he was already in enough trouble as it was. Some of the items were not recovered, and paperwork had to be filed for them.


This was Arthur Weasley’s department, and while he had lectured Harry about the importance of discretion, he later commended his ability to refrain from hexing the woman. After that, Harry cast the anti-thievery charm, and vowed never again to bring a muggle back to his place.


The woman on his bed stirred, and Harry moved to dress faster. He actually rather preferred it when the woman was still asleep when he left. It saved from any awkward conversation and promises of a call he knew he would not make. Harry grabbed his wand and headed out the door, not even glancing to see if the woman had in fact awakened.


Harry walked briskly down the street. He could easily have just apparated to the building where he worked, but he rather preferred to have a walk first, and take the floo from his favorite café, The Magic Bean, in The Village, near his apartment. He worked in a building in Brooklyn which to the muggle eye, appeared to be a rundown and abandoned warehouse. In the streets of New York these were in great abundance, and any unsuspecting muggle would, as with the Ministry of Magic, suddenly remember something that would lead them away, should they happen to stumble into it.


This building was affectionately called “The Barn,” a term borrowed from American muggles, as its main function was to house Aurors. There were a few offices here and there that were extensions from the Ministry itself, but for the most part, it was not unlike a muggle police station.


Harry entered the coffee shop, and made his way over to the counter. He was always heartily welcomed there, and offered free coffees, even though he insisted on paying. After the war ended, Harry had been awarded Order of Merlin, First Class, and in the eyes of many was regarded as a hero.


“Heya, Harry!” the counter girl, Becca, greeted him.


“Good morning, Becca,” he answered politely. She really was a pretty young witch, but Harry had politely declined every offer she had made for dates. He liked her, but he liked the comfortable atmosphere of The Magic Bean even more.


Becca made his coffee just the way he took it every morning. A Belgian dark roast with raspberry liquor, topped with whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle. She placed it on a tray with a chocolate dipped biscotti and handed it to him.


“Thank you Becca, you’re a goddess at making coffees,” he told her. The owner of the café had insisted Harry not pay for his coffees, and instructed the servers not to accept any money from him. Harry, familiar with the practice, knew he could get around this by putting the amount into charming little tip cauldron by the cash register. He always added a few sickles for Becca, and took his seat by the window, overlooking the busy street outside.


When Harry finished his routine breakfast, he stood up, brushed off his cloak, and winked flirtatiously at Becca as he made his way to the back room, where the large fireplace stood. Even though he wouldn’t take her out, it did not hurt to flirt with her, he thought as he stepped into the fireplace and proceeded to take the floo to his office.

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Ginny Weasley tossed her purse on the chair as she walked to the kitchen in her flat. She had just got off a long day at work, and wanted something to drink. She removed a glass from the cupboard and an amber liquid streamed from her wand into the glass. Normally she did not have a stiff drink after work, but some days you just needed it.


Ginny worked at St. Mungo’s, on the fourth floor, in the Spell Damage department. She was in her first year as a healer, and she could not believe how many of her patients were admitted for things they themselves had caused out of stupidity. Today, a woman believed that by casting a shrinking spell on her clothes, she could appear thinner. The woman did not have the sense to remove the clothes first, and they had shrunk to the size of infants garments.


It was actually quite funny, Ginny thought, snorting into her glass of scotch. They’d had a real time of it, and ended up having to shrink the woman herself to remove the clothes, and then return her to her previous size, much to her dismay.


Ginny kicked off her shoes, and sat on the couch, curling and stretching her toes. Tomorrow she finally had a day off; the first in over a week. She knew being a healer would be grueling, but she had known it was what she wanted since before she left Hogwarts.


She set her drink on the table beside her, and reached up, removing the band that held her long red hair in a high ponytail. Sinking lower into the couch, she massaged her scalp, feeling relieved the day was over and she could relax.


After a few moments, she reached over to the cushion beside her and grabbed the post she had haphazardly thrown there when she had come home. The Daily Prophet, a letter from her mum, and a letter in writing she hadn’t seen in years.


Ginny,
It’s been years it seems. I am going to be in town for a few days for a conference. I am working for the Daily Prophet now, and mostly my work has been abroad, so I haven’t been in London much. I had heard you were working at St. Mungo’s as a healer, and if you are not seeing anyone, I would love to take you to lunch sometime while I am in town. Owl me an answer, ok? I’m staying at the Leaky Cauldron in room 101.

Warmest Regards,
Dean


Ginny stared at the letter for a few moments. She hadn’t spoken to Dean since her fifth year at Hogwarts, when she had told him she would never be his girlfriend again, because she had started going out with Harry. Harry. She hadn’t thought of him in a little while. Part of her still loved him, and she had been heartbroken that he hadn’t come back to her after the war ended, and Voldemort was vanquished. He hadn’t even spoken to her.


The last time Ginny saw him was two years ago at her brother’s wedding. He’d brought a date with him to Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and Ginny had assumed she was his girlfriend. Their eyes had met, and she had melted inside, but neither spoke a word. Ginny shook her head. “Snap out of it,” she said aloud. “He’s moved on; it’s over, get a grip!” she chided herself.


“You need to get out more, talking to yourself like that,” the mirror in the hall said reproachfully.


“Oh, piss off,” Ginny retorted. What had Hermione been thinking giving her that mirror?


Ginny picked up the letter again from Dean. It couldn’t hurt to have a lunch with him, she thought. She grabbed a notepad from the side table and scribbled a reply.


Dean,
So nice to hear from you, and congratulations on the job! No, I am not seeing anyone right now, and I would love to have lunch with you. I know it’s a bit short notice and you probably have other plans, but tomorrow is my only day off. I know, I know, I’m a workaholic, but I love my job. Let me know if tomorrow is okay.

Thanks,
Ginny


Ginny finished the letter and whistled for her owl, Eros. She tied the letter to the leg of the warm brown owl, and sent it off through the window. Ginny put Harry out of her mind and focused on what tomorrow might bring. She headed to the bathroom for a hot bath, and while she was changing into her nightgown, Eros tapped on her bedroom window, with a letter attached to his leg.


“Wow, Eros, that was fast, he must be here already,” Ginny remarked as she removed the scroll from the owl’s leg.


Ginny,
Tomorrow sounds great! Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at noon.

Until Tomorrow,
Dean


Ginny grinned as she set the letter on her nightstand and climbed into bed. With a wave of her wand, she extinguished the lights, and settled into bed.