Title: That Disease of Dreamers

Summary: Ginny Weasley has been sent from her home in the weeks following the end of her Fifth Year. She is in New York City, all alone with no one who understands. Until she meets a fellow Witch... Wizard? …who knows exactly how she feels.
Character List: Ginny Weasley, Nita Callahan
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Nita/Kit
Genre: General, Angst
Warnings: Spoilers for Book 6, read at your own risk. (That rhymes. Mostly.) Also, speculation for post-Wizards at War drawn from the sample chapter at as well as some N/K shipping.
A/N: This is probably more of a HP fic than a YW fic because of the point of view it's written in. But I wrote it for the love of YW primarily, and secondarily to earn points in my HP LJ community. I hope the YW fans who are also HP readers love the subtle references I've made -- and understand why I didn't want this to be lost in the monstrous HP section here at ff.n.

Ginny Weasley walked the streets of New York.

She walked the streets of New York in a foul mood. She could feel her eyebrows knitting at the top of her face, and in some far away reaches of her mind she realized that she fit right in with the unfriendly crowd. She certainly wasn't happy and wouldn't be until she could return home, and go back to school, and grow up and have a job. She focused her anger at her mother, who having grown tired of seeing all of the hands of her family clock point to mortal terror, sent her to the only safe place she knew.

Ginny's second cousin twice removed, three steps back with a half back twist (she didn't know and didn't care how she was related), known throughout her family as The Accountant, had accepted her into his apartment, even giving her a key, but didn't accept her into his life. He left her two twenty dollar bills every morning on the breakfast table, and came home long after she went to sleep. So she wandered the streets of New York with her funny paper money spending it here and there, looking for somewhere to be. Not that she wanted to be buddy buddy with her Muggle uncle anyway. But with so many people in her family, she didn't know how to be alone.

She had passed the building with the large stone lions once or twice before. She looked at them through squinted eyes today, trying to see something between them that wasn't there. She climbed the stone steps, and saw above the doors to the building the sign she had not bothered to see from the street. This was the New York City Library.

She pulled open one of the glass doors and stepped inside the dark building. The library wasn't really her thing. Well, it was more her thing than Fred and George or even Ron, but not nearly as much as it was Percy's thing… she stopped that train of thought. She didn't want to think of her family, in England, at home, with out her. She squelched the hate that was rising within her, but she didn't know who that hate was directed at. She tried to ignore it.

The chill of the air conditioning had her rubbing her upper arms and wishing that her red hair wasn't up in a pony tail. The pink top tank and the khaki shorts she was wearing, clothes that Hermione had assured her would allow Ginny to fit in in New York, were obviously not much of a match for the chilly air in the library. Air Conditioning, Hermione would tell Ginny in an airy, superior tone. It hurt to think of Hermione too.

Ginny must have stood in the entry way too long because a woman with a name badge came over and asked her if she needed help finding anything. "Books on England?" Ginny asked on impulse. "Maybe Scotland? With pictures?" She didn't know where the question came from, but she suspected that it was homesickness. Something she didn't want to admit to herself. After the Librarian gave her a look that said that Ginny's accent was cute, the Librarian brought her bodily to the section on landscape art, and pulled out several large books of photos. She helped Ginny bring them over to an empty table.

"These should be what you're looking for," she said. She smiled prettily. "If you need any other help, I'll be at the information desk." Ginny thanked her and sat down.

Ginny Weasley sat at a table in the middle of a forest of shelves in New York City. She wondered if the Enchanted Forrest was like this. She wondered if Har—no, she would not think of Him. That hurt worst of all.

Ginny Weasley doggedly opened the books in front of her, and started to study the landscape that was her home. Not this city. Not this side of the Atlantic Ocean. She hoped that there would be a home for her after this summer. That she would be allowed to go back to Hogwarts. Or at least back to the Burrow. She held her head in her hands and wished herself into the landscapes before her.

"Dari?"

Ginny turned around at the sound of this voice, a voice that sounded surprised. She resented the intrusion. The surprise drained from the girl's face and was replaced with embarrassment mixed with something Ginny recognized but couldn't name.

"I'm sorry!" she said. "I thought you were my sister… you two have the same color hair… and taste in clothes." The girl pushed her hair behind her ear. "And, well…" she looked around, and finding no one, spoke again. "Dai stihó, cousin. I could tell you were a Wizard." The girl walked so she stood in a spot where Ginny no longer had to twist fully around in her chair to see the intruder. "I had a friend once tell me that it was easier to tell a cousin of the same gender, and now I know what they mean."

Ginny stared at this stranger, a stranger with brown hair and wearing a t-shirt and jeans and tried to decide if this Muggle was deranged or not. Or if she was a Muggle at all! She had, after all, essentially identified Ginny as a magical person. "I'm a witch," said Ginny, cautiously. Her hand went cautiously to her bag, where her wand was safely stowed, away from prying eyes. The ministry would forgive her if she had to alter this stranger's memory. Then she realized that, being in the States, they might have different rules. She left her hand on her purse anyway.

A blank look crossed the girl's features. "A witch?" She repeated the phrase as if asking herself if that was possible. She sat down at the table. "I guess you could call us that. But it's not exactly a precise definition." She studied Ginny for a moment and then looked as if she decided something. "When did you take your Oath? Any indications on your Ordeal yet?" She looked down at the books on the table. "Doing research?" She smiled. "That's what I'm here for, sort of."

"Who are you?" asked Ginny, her frustrations with her life compounding upon this strange intrusion. Ginny was just looking for some comfort and this girl here pops out of nowhere and starts asking questions that made no sense!

"Oh," said the girl. "Nita Callahan. Advisory." She held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, what's your name?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Ginny. She held out her hand, but was cautious about it. "Uh… so… you're a wizard?" she asked. She decided to play it cool, and pushed her chair back from the table slightly. Har—She had heard enough stories about gathering information on strange people to do a little bit of information gathering herself.

The blank look passed in front of Nita's face again. She reached out into the open air on one side of the table and a book appeared in her hand. Her face was serious. Ginny gaped. Did this girl just do wandless, wordless magic? "You're not from around here," said Nita. "Where are you from?"

"Ottery St. Catchpole… in England," said Ginny. Well, she thought, you have to give a little information to get a little information. Nita flipped through the book in her hand and then looked at Ginny with steel in her eyes.

"You're not listed in the Manual."

"Manual?" asked Ginny. Something muggly. Something that she didn't understand and she was pretending to. "You're right, I'm not from around here." She was trying to regain control of the situation. "Where did you go to school? Salem?"

Nita's eyes went wide. "Salem?"

"Yeah, Salem School of Witchcraft?" Ginny tried to sound casual, but it became more and more apparent the neither had any idea what the other was talking about.

"No," said Nita slowly. "I'm starting at Bryant University in the fall…"

A muggle school? Thought Ginny. Why would she go to a muggle school? They really were talking about two completely different things.

"Do you have a MetroCard?" asked Nita.

"No," said Ginny. "I've been walking everywhere." This seeming non secquitor was going somewhere, and Ginny didn't like it.

"I don't even want to ask how much of this island you've covered on your feet!" said Nita in the resigned indulgence of a native. "Are you doing anything right now?" asked Nita, standing. "I'd like to get some coffee, and then I was thinking you might like to meet some friends of mine."

"But we just met!" exclaimed Ginny. A terrible thought crossed her mind, and she looked at Nita's wrists. No Dark Mark. But that didn't mean that this girl wasn't in the Dark Lord's employ.

"Yeah," said Nita. "But I want to figure out what you're talking about. Why I recognized you as a Wizard, but why you have no idea what the Oath is – yes, I noticed you avoided the question – and why I was drawn to you. These things happen for a reason."

"Did you get what you came for?" asked Ginny, a thought occurring to her. If Nita hadn't done the research she said she had come for, then maybe while she did it, Ginny could escape. And chalk this whole encounter up to a bad hot dog and American manners.

Nita looked at Ginny and smiled. "You're trying really hard not to come with me, aren't you?" Ginny didn't move a muscle, but Nita must have seen something in her eyes. "Something's hurt you, hasn't it?" Nita asked in a whisper. "You're afraid something is hunting you and you're afraid I work for It. I don't. I swear. I am on the side that is fighting against Him, and I want to help you fight back."

Ginny wondered at Nita, who had sunk back to sitting in the course of her reassurances. Ginny stopped trusting new people after she befriended a piece of the Dark Lord's soul, clinging to those who helped her from that darkness. She could be nice enough, sure, but she didn't trust her year-mates or strangers on the street, she just was friendly with them. Her brother and his friends were the people she'd trust her life with, but at this moment, she was wondering why she couldn't make an exception for this girl sitting across from her.

"Let me help you," said Nita. "I can help you." Ginny noted that the stress on the you felt as if Nita had failed at helping someone recently. Something flared inside Ginny.

"I don't want your pity," she said. "I've gotten enough of that in my life."

"No pity," said Nita. "Just a listening ear and maybe some hard advice." Darkness crossed her face. "Somehow, the advice I give is always hard."

Ginny pushed back from the table and stood. "I can defend myself," she said in a warning tone. "I don't care if the American Ministry tracks me down for unapproved magic use, I'll jinx you from here to London."

Nita raised an eyebrow. "You don't think I can defend myself?" She stood, and started walking away from the table, leaving Ginny grabbing for her purse and scrambling to follow. "By the way, yes, I did find what I was looking for, it was apparently you. I have to stop by the information desk." Nita led Ginny down a flight of stairs and into the center of the massive building where a desk stood, and Nita approached a large cat sitting there, napping.

"Did anyone miss me?" asked Nita. The funny thing was that Nita wasn't speaking in English anymore, but Ginny knew exactly what she was saying.

The cat opened its eyes, and Ginny, a cat afficiado, admired its blue-green eyes. "No, Nita," said the cat. Ginny stared, open mouth. Animals didn't talk! "Who's the kitten with you?"

"This is Ginny Weasley," said Nita. "She says she's a witch, and she needs some help."

"So that's what the research you had to do was," the cat said, yawning. "Your backpack is still behind here."

"Thank you, Ehef," said Nita. "I'll visit you again soon." Nita looked around for any roving librarians and ducked behind the desk, returning with a backpack she slung on. The cat closed its eyes again. "Ehef's a feline senior," said Nita to Ginny in way of explanation. "He advises younger cat wizards, just like I help younger human wizards. I'm not quite as high on the food chain on the human side as Ehef is for cats, though."

Ginny laughed nervously, surprised that this had unhinged her. "Har-" Ginny swallowed this particular weakness and continued her sentence. "Harry used to think it was so weird when the portraits and mirrors in my house talked, and now I can see why… somethings you just don't expect to talk."

Nita gave Ginny an appraising look and said nonchalantly: "I talk to all sorts of things."

"Do they all talk back?" asked Ginny incredulously. She walked out of her magical home and into the Muggle world, expecting the confounding there, but instead she encountered someone who was like her, but unlike her. This excited her… but also freightened her. But it was a good scared. Not like…

"More or less," said Nita blandly. She held open the door to the library and gestured for Ginny to go out. Ginny waited just outside the door for Nita to lead again. "You know," said Nita, "I changed my mind about the coffee. Tom and Carl always have something good to drink at their house anyway, do you mind going straight there?" Ginny shook her head no, realized that Nita wasn't looking at her and then said so aloud. "Good," said Nita. "Now, what we need is a place where people will look past us…" Nita took off down the steps and Ginny hurried to follow, her purse bumping against her leg in rhythm of her steps. Nita turned into an alleyway and asked Ginny to stand to the side. She grasped her bracelet, and on the ground appeared a circle, and Ginny stepped closer to see what was going on.

Nita sighed. "Don't step on it, step over and into it. I need you to ask you a couple questions about yourself so that you don't end up blue on the other end." Ginny blanched. Was she talking about being splinched? Ginny would answer questions to stop that from happening. The questions were strange, about her favorite classes and her favorite foods, and how she went about eating her breakfast, but they didn't take very long and soon Nita pulled a long, thin stick out of her backpack.

"Is that your wand?" asked Ginny, surprised to see something so familiar.

"Yeah," said Nita, who looked as if she was surprised to have Ginny recognize it.

"What's yours made of?" asked Ginny. She put her hand on her purse protectively.

"It's moonlight soaked rowan." Nita bent over her mysterious book, the one she had pulled out of thin air. She started copying strange symbols onto the ground, into an empty space in the circle.

"That has magical properties?" asked Ginny. "I thought you had to have, like, a Veela hair, or Unicorn, or a Dragon heart string… moonlight seems a bit unsubstantial."

Nita looked up from where she crouched on the pavement, peering at Ginny through her bangs. "It gets the job done. It's saved my life before." Nita looked down at the ground once more, closed her book and stood. She studied her circle for a minute or two more. "Ready?" asked Nita. "Normally, I'd have you check this, but you must have no idea what this is."

"It looks like Ancient Runes," said Ginny. "I didn't take that class," she said, feeling unhelpful. Nita smiled.

"Stand still, don't move, don't say a word or make a sound. Be patient, it might feel a little strange." Nita began to talk, again the strange words that Ginny understood but didn't understand. She was asking the universe to fold itself and take them to where they needed to be, but with the other side of her hearing Ginny heard words that made no sense. Soon the outside sounds fell away, power built up around them, and the very buildings in the city leaned towards them as if trying to hear.

The sensation was much like Ginny imagined Aparation must feel like. They were squeezed, and they ended up somewhere completely separate with a bang and a displacement of air. She looked around and there were no more buildings and a lot more trees. Two dogs bounded towards them – Nita shooed them away – and Ginny admired the house. It was large and had an unkempt look about it, and Ginny thought that The Burrow might look like this if it were a Muggle house.

Nita walked up to the back patio doors and opened it as if it were her own home. "Tom?" called Nita into the house. "Carl?" Nita turned and waved Ginny in. Ginny looked down at the ground to step out of the circle, but the circle was gone and she jogged across the yard.

"Nita, is that you?" Carl came out of the other room. "I'm in the middle of a consult; I'll be right with you."

"It's okay," said Nita. "No urgency. I'm just going to get us something to drink, okay?" He nodded and went back into the other room and closed the door. Nita looked at Ginny. "What would you like to drink?"

"I don't know anything about Muggle drinks," said Ginny. "I'll have what you're having." She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, put her purse on the back of the seat, and sat down.

"Coke it is, then," said Nita, raiding the refrigerator. "What's a Muggle?"

"A non-magical person," said Ginny, taking the can. "How do you open it?" she peered at it and poked it. "We only have bottles." Ginny wondered why she was letting her guard down. First, she trusted a stranger. Now, she was admitting her weaknesses in the Muggle world to someone who could just be a clever Muggle – but she was lying to herself on that point, she knew. Nita got a glass with some ice, opened Ginny's can by grabbing the loop on the top, and poured the drink. Ginny took a sip and the bubbles tickled her nose.

"We call them mortals, jokingly," said Nita. "Wizards are far from immortal, but we do have a little bit more knowledge than the average person." She sat down as well, her face dark. Ginny wondered who she had lost. They sat in silence, sipping their Cokes.

"Who is Harry?" asked Nita after a while. Ginny looked up in horror. The one subject she didn't want to talk about and Nita brings it up first! "I saw how you hesitated in mentioning him."

Ginny looked for a simple explanation. The boy she trusts? The boy she loves? The boy she gave up because he had to fight Lord Voldemort? Ginny's jaw worked, but no words came out.

"My best friend is missing," said Nita, looking at her hands. "I know it hurts."

"How can you just sit here?" demanded Ginny, knowing that she herself had been asking herself the same question for the week she had been here.

"I have to trust that he'll come back," said Nita. "I originally went to the Library to find something to point me in his direction, but I found you." She looked down into her coke.

"Harry is my boyfriend," said Ginny. "He's going after the Dark Lord and I don't know if he'll survive." She paused and swallowed. "Well, he broke up with me before he left, but I knew he would, so I guess I can't really complain about that."

Nita chuckled softly. "Kit is the love of my life," she said. "He's gone across the galaxy looking after a wayward child who has run into the Lone Power, and he's disappeared."

"How can you stand it?" asked Ginny. She was looking for any sort of advice, anything to cling onto, and Nita was mere years older than her but she was offering answers to questions that Ginny didn't dare ask anyone – Hermione wouldn't understand, she was there with her two best friends in mortal danger; her mother wouldn't understand, she would dismiss Ginny's worry as juvenile.

"He doesn't know," said Nita. "We are best friends first." There was sadness in Nita's eyes, a sadness that Ginny realized had been there all along, but it took the recognition of a kindred soul to see it.

"I didn't think Harry liked me for the longest time," said Ginny in a gush. "But then I won the Quidditch game and he came in and just kissed me, in front of the whole common room, and my brother had said before he would rather I date Harry than any other boy and I was happy," she admitted. But then Dumbledore died and she knew that Harry's sense of duty would have him pursuing the Dark Lord if only for revenge and she knew that he would protect her by giving her up. She couldn't say this aloud, not yet.

"So there is hope," said Nita lightly, sadly. "But apparently it's not uncomplicated."

"No," agreed Ginny. "It's not simple at all." She took a sip of her sticky, bubbly, cloying drink. Nita was watching Ginny, but with a far away look in her eyes. "Why aren't you asking about the Dark Lord? Or Quidditch? You said that you wanted to understand the differences between us…"

"Because," said Nita, "Your Dark Lord was probably tainted by the Lone One, who I face often. That means that I understand your foe well." She looked Ginny square in the eyes. "And because we are more alike than we are different, and that is all that matters."

Ginny felt a warm feeling creep through her. She didn't believe in things happening for a reason. It was against the philosophy of her magic – she made things happen for herself. She was on the other side of an ocean from her family, she had been sent against her will to a relative-stranger, she wasn't in control of anything, but she had made a friend. She had someone who understood her. And while this might not bring Harry back to her alive, and while this might not guarantee her family's safety or return magical England to what it was in her childhood, she would have someone to mourn with where no one else could quite see the tragedy. "Yeah," said Ginny. "I can see that." She smiled at Nita. An idea dawned on her, a way not to spend her days wandering New York City alone.

"Do you have a fellytone?"

A/N2: I was vaguely thinking about a second part to this where Nita accompanies Ginny home for a visit. But to do that, I'd have to reconcile the differences in the usage of power in the two series. From the YW point of view, the HP wizards are pretty darn selfish taking all that magic for themselves and not slowing the heat death of the universe with it, and from the HP point of view the YW are working too damn hard at magic.

It's an interesting condundrum. A bullet that I dodged in this crossover... maybe I'll write another piece another time about that difference. YW wizards give up years of their lives for their spells, depending upon the difficulties, and HP wizards live to be 130 years old. The youngest are the most powerful in YW, the oldest in HP...

Don't hold your breath, but if you review this, and you read this note, let me know what ideas you're willing to share.

Please tell me what you think of the story!