AN: This will be a multi-chapter fic; I'm not sure quite how long it will go on. Well, as you can see, this is a fiction about the relationship of Percy and Audrey-well, hope

On a rainy street somewhere in London, nobody bothered to look at one another.

People hurried by, never bothering to let their eyes deviate from the path straight ahead of them, never even wasting the time it took to smile.

So nobody noticed a tall, thin young man who walked smartly through the rain, a long khaki coat covering him from the neck downwards. Nobody bothered to apologize for the mud they spattered on his horn rimmed glasses as they hurried by him, nobody cared enough to smile or inquire with concern if he was feeling quite well.

For the young man with the khaki coat and the horn rimmed glasses looked absolutely miserable.

He continued on his way for quite some time, holding a large, khaki, scrupulously clean (excepting the wetness, which could not be helped) umbrella to shield him from the pelting rain, seeming intent upon his destination, whatever it was.

As it happened, he didn't have one; for perhaps the first time in his life, Percy Weasley had no idea where he was going.

It was, for him, an almost frightening experience. Nevertheless, he kept going, walking briskly down street after wet, crowded street, murmuring clockwork "Excuse me"s to those he jostled—though they never seemed to return the favor—and keeping his eyes straight ahead of him. At last, he seemed to come to the realization that he couldn't continue in this way forever, and came to a stop before a small, dingy, non-descript little bar.

For a moment, he just stood there, expression unreadable as he looked over it, disdain tinting the misery on his pale, precise face. At last, he decided in favor of the unprepossessing place, and pushed open the door, sighing.

-88888—

The interior of this place was very much like the exterior—small, grimy, and not worthy of description, Looking about with plain distaste, Percy divested himself of his coat and took a seat on a ragged stool by the bar, not bothering to greet the mustached barman or the bleary-eyed customers.

The barman, not able to sense where and when he wasn't wanted, tried to strike up a conversation.

"Hey, mate, wha'll it be, hm?"

Percy Weasley scanned the half-erased blackboard erected behind the counter, trying to find something that sounded somewhat familiar. Unfortunately, nothing of that nature presented itself; wrinkling his nose, he said, after due thought:

"A beer, please."

"One beer, then. Alright, then, just a moment," promised the man, and sure enough, within a minute the beverage was procured and set, dirty glass and all, before the disapproving face of Percival Weasley.

Good gracious; what a scandalous waste of his funds. Taking some crisp Muggle bills from his wallet (kept there just in case; it always behooved one to be prepared), he paid the man and hoped fervently to be left in peace.

His hopes were in vain.

"Well, fella, 'ow's the missus?" inquired the repugnant proprietor of the establishment, grinning and displaying to Percy a mouthful of yellowed, crooked teeth.

There were a great many people in the world with whom Percy Weasley did not wish to associate, and Muggle barmen, particularly those with poor dental hygiene and foul mustaches, were at the top of the list.

"I don't know to whom you refer," he said coolly, taking a very small sip of his drink. He made a face; good God, it was dreadful.

"Oh, c'mon, now, a bacheldore, are you?" said the barman, displaying to Percy, by dint of sundry jocose winks, that he was inclined to disbelieve him. "Well, no ma'er, man, lots of fillies round 'ere, eh?"

And the man waved a hand around to display to Percy the fine quality of his wares—that is, the females seated within the establishment. Unimpressed, and not particularly interested—imagine him with a Muggle woman!—Percy nodded curtly, and said nothing.

Still, the barman persisted.

"Now, if yer lonely, got a girl round 'ere who could cheer you up…Audrey's right friendly, she is. Oi! Audrey!"

At the sound of her name, the girl, the Audrey girl, appeared, and immediately Percy's frown of disapproval deepened.

Audrey, if that was really her name, was a girl, but in Percy's opinion, only by the loosest sense of the word; the word girl conjured up images of something soft and sweet and feminine, following the rules of propriety and decorous deportment. The Audrey girl was a slight, slouchy sort of female, wearing a pair of scuffed red trainers with untied laces and a skirt rather too short for Percy's standards of decency. Her hair was undone, and, at the moment, soaking wet, a few inches past her chin, and black. All in all, she was the sort of girl Percy would have probably kept a conspicuous berth away from had he met her on the street, and definitely not the sort he wanted to "cheer him up", particularly now, when he wanted to be alone with his self pity.

"That's quite all right," he said firmly, when the girl seemed about to sit on the stool beside him. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Oh, look 'ere, e's bashful!" chuckled the man, delighted with what he considered the beginnings of a successful venture in match-making. "Come on, Audrey, come sit down and talk to this bloke; 'e looks like he needs a bit of 'emale comp'ny."

"I'll do my best," said Audrey, smiling at him. He returned the smile rather tightly, wishing fervently that she and the rest of the world would go away.

"Hello," she said, and he was relieved to find that she sounded at least marginally more intelligent than her companions. "Who would you be?"

Setting down his repulsive beer and deciding he may as well be civil, he said, still stiffly:

"My name is Percival Weasley. May I ask yours?"

She seemed to be struggling with a smile at his formal tone; holding out her hand, she said, in a very serious voice:

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley. My name is Audrey. Audrey Hepburn."

"Ah," he said, unable to rid himself of the uncomfortable sensation that she was mocking him. "Good evening, Miss Hepburn."

At this she burst into an inexplicable fit of giggles, and for several minutes just laughed into her hand, while he stared at her, bewildered and wondering whether she was quite mad…

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment, hiccoughing. "I-I—well, you looked so funny and serious. Sorry. My name isn't Audrey Hepburn, of course."

"Oh," he said, quite out of his element and not having the faintest idea who Audrey Hepburn was or why her name should produce such merriment. She seemed to sense his confusion; with laughing eyes she said:

"You haven't got any idea what I'm talking about, have you?"

"I'm afraid not," he said, a trifle miffed that this strange, scruffy Muggle had cause to laugh at him. If there was one sensation that Percy did not appreciate, it was being laughed at.

She seemed startled.

"Really? You've really never heard of her? The girl from Breakfast at Tiffany's?"

Utterly bewildered by now, the only answer that Percy could manage was:

"Who's Tiffany?"

She laughed again; she seemed to find his confusion quite funny.

"Sorry—it's just—Lord, I dunno anyone who hasn't heard of Audrey Hepburn. Anyway, my name is Audrey Bentsworth. Are you from around here, then?"

"I live nearby," he said, and took rather a long draught from his glass. Even inebriation would be a blessing at this point.

"Oh? So do I; funny I never saw you before," she said, seeming quite at her ease. He considered, for a moment, telling her that it wasn't funny at all, seeing as he inhabited a world which coexisted with, but was quite independent from her own…

"Strange," he said, somewhat coldly. "Well, I think I'll be going, Miss Bentsworth. It was a pleasure to meet you."

There was no peace and pity-wallowing to be found there; he hadn't come to chat with a stranger. Especially a stranger as unkempt and peculiar as Audrey.

Audrey beamed, as if the compliment had been sincere, rather than a habitually polite fabrication, and waved.

"Bye, then! See you soon, yeah?"

Murmuring a noncommittal "We might", he nodded brusquely to both Audrey and the grinning barman—and left.