Wow. When my muse comes back she comes back with a vengeance! I can't seem to get her to shut up these last couple of days, but I am certainly not complaining. I've been toying with the idea of this pairing for a while now, but it was only recently that I figured out how I wanted their story to play out. Now, I'll shut up and let you read. DISCLAIMER: Any thing, one, or place you may recognize belongs solely to JK Rowling. Enjoy!

Ginny

"Ginny! Please it's not what you think!" Harry called after her as the fiery redhead stormed out of the bedroom. She spun, pinning him to the spot with a glare that struck fear in even the bravest of men. Harry froze midway through zipping his pants up. If looks could kill he'd have been dead and six feet under yesterday.

"Not, what I think? Really, you're trying to pull that bullshit on me?" The icy calm of her voice was worse than if she had just hauled off and yelled at him. "Because I think I just found you my boyfriend of the last six and a half years, bleeding shagging that bloody bimbo waitress from the pub down the road in our bed. So don't tell me it's not what I think, because it bloody well is." As if sensing she was the current subject of conversation, said bloody bimbo waitress came out of the room properly dressed now. She visibly flinched under Ginny's steely gaze.

"I think this is my cue to leave," she said trying to maneuver her way past the arguing couple. Ginny slammed an arm in front of her, cutting off her escape.

"Oh no, please stay. Don't let me spoil the fun. I was just leaving, something I should've done a long time ago." Ginny turned to leave, but Harry grabbed her arm to stop her. She glared down at the hand on her elbow.

"Take you bloody hand off me or I will hex you five ways to next Sunday."

Knowing she was fully capable of carrying out that threat, Harry let her go. Ginny had just made it to the door when he lashed out.

"Fine! To be honest I wasn't getting any satisfaction from you lately anyways. Who can blame me, who can love a frigid bitch who's always working and never home. Don't blame me for looking for some company."

Before he could react Ginny pulled out her wand and aimed it at him. A second later he was surrounded by an angry swarm of bats. The bimbo waitress screamed.

"Fuck off Potter," Ginny said yanking the door open and storming off into the night. As soon as she was able, she apparated with a loud crack, the reverberating echo sounding like a door permanently slamming shut.

When Ginny arrived at her apparent destination, it took her a moment to realize she was in Diagon Alley. Everything came slamming home to her then and the impending tears that had been threatening to spill over finally came. Ginny ducked into an alley between Ollivander's and the Owl Emporium, leaning against as the wall as huge, gut-wrenching sobs wracked her body. She didn't know if she could bear the pain that was searing through her body at the moment. She had never felt so hurt and angry and betrayed in her entire life.

Once the sobs subsided, Ginny wiped her eyes as her pain was slowly replaced with anger. The only thing she could think of doing was to forget the bastard, forget everything for awhile. So she headed for the Leaky Cauldron, where she installed herself at the bar and got herself a pint to drown her sorrows in.

Oliver

Oliver was supposed to meet his team's manager, Chad Donahue, at the Leaky Cauldron to discuss business, but Puddlemere United's money nazi never showed up. Oliver had arrived fifteen minutes before the designated arrival time of eight and grabbed a table to wait. Two pints and half an hour later he finally gave up on the man. Chad may have a brilliant mind for business, but for everything else he was about near worthless. Oliver was just debating whether or not to leave when a loud voice coming from the direction of the bar drew his attention.

A fiery-headed young woman sat at that bar, animatedly exclaiming to one of the bartenders about some bloke. Her wildly gesticulating hands were in perilous danger of knocking several of the glasses in front of her off the bar. Oliver had a nagging sensation in the back of her mind that he knew her from somewhere. He glanced at the collection of beer mugs and shot glasses in front of her in surprise. How is she even sitting upright right now? She must be three sheets to the wind, he wondered in amazement. Oliver shook his head and decided to call it an early night. He drained the last of his pint and went to the bar to settle the tab.

As he got closer, Oliver began to catch more of the conversation. Of course at the volume the redhead was shouting, it was impossible not to unless you were completely deaf.

"Can you believe it? I gave him six and a half years of my life and what does he do? He goes gallivanting off and sleeps with the first floozy who bats her eyelashes at him and fluffs his pompous, overinflated ego and thinks that damn lightning scar of his is dashing and rogueish," the woman spat. The mention of the scar clicked another piece of the puzzle together in Oliver's head, but he still couldn't place where he knew the woman from. At that moment Tom came over to take his money.

"Mr. Wood, that was a fine game you all played against the Canons on Saturday," the barkeep said ringing him up.

"Thanks Tom, I thought the team was in pretty good form, not to mention the Canons certainly aren't quite up to par this year," Oliver agreed. A loud thump that vibrated the bar, made him jump. He looked over to see that the source of the noise was the angry woman. She had drained the last of her most recent pint and slammed the glass down on her bar. A few of the other patrons who were seated nearby gave her annoyed glances. Oliver had to agree with them, it was a little early on a Tuesday to be getting that smashed.

"Ms. Weasley if you continue to be intent on destroying my bar, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Tom warned her. Oliver looked up at the mention of the name Weasley. It couldn't be surely. Then it came to him. Of course, the man with the lightning shaped scar, the fiery temper, the infamous flaming red hair? The woman was Ginny Weasley, the youngest child in the Weasley clan. It was no wonder he hadn't recognized her. The last time he had seen her, she had been twelve. She had grown a considerable amount since then. Oliver reckoned she had to be around twenty-four by now. Ginny glared at Tom then looked at Oliver.

"What are you bloody looking at?" she sneered before turning back to the bar. Apparently Ginny Weasley was a mean drunk. She caught the attention of the other bartender and motioned for another pint. At this rate she was in danger of giving herself alcohol poisoning. Apparently the bartender thought the same thing.

"I'm sorry miss, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut you off for the night." Oliver saw Ginny coiling up for a fight.

"What do you mean cut me off? I'm not even drunk!" she exclaimed, her words slurring together. Oliver snorted, that was the understatement of the century. Before Ginny could go any further in making an embarrassment of herself, Oliver stepped in.

"Ginny you really should take the man's advice." She snapped around and fixed him with a withering look. To Oliver's credit he stood his ground.

"Shove off, it's none of your damn bloody business."

"Oh, but seeing as I know your brothers I think it is. They wouldn't appreciate seeing you like this."

"Who the fuck do you think you are? My mother?"

"No just a concerned friend trying to help."

"Well, I don't need your help."

Oliver grabbed her shoulder to try and pry her off of the chair. Her fist connected with his jaw so fast he didn't even see it coming until he was sprawled on the floor of the bar. By now the whole bar was watching the spectacle. Fed up with playing nice, Oliver stood and pulled out his wand.

"Ginny, I'm really sorry about this," he said before casting a full body-binding curse on her. He stepped forward and grabbed her before she fell off the chair. Tom looked at him gratefully as Oliver slung Ginny's inert form over one shoulder.

"Thank you Mr. Wood, I really didn't want to have to resort to having her bodily removed."

"Not a problem, I know her brothers and they would've skinned me alive if I'd left her here in such a state," Oliver replied before settling her tab and then heading out the door. He could feel every pair of eyes in the bar following them out. He shifted Ginny on his shoulder once he was outside before apparating them both back to his flat.

When they arrived at his flat, Oliver discovered that Ginny seemed to have finally passed out and he removed the body binding as he walked down the hall to his spare guestroom. He gently set her down on the bed, settling her head on the pillows. The redhead was completely dead to the world. He took her jacket and shoes off and pulled the covers over her before turning out the light and leaving the room. As he prepared to go to bed himself, he thought that having a drunk, passed out Ginny Wealsey as a guest was not how he thought his night would turn out.

A/N: As always I would love to know what my readers are thinking, leave a message below.~Naomi