Harry Potter and the Woman In Black.

Warning: Spoilers from the Woman In Black.

It's been four years since Harry graduated from Hogwarts. Voldemort had perished by his hand and the wizarding world was finally at peace. Hogwarts resumed its operation after they'd managed to clean up the debris from the war. Ron and Hermione got married; it was a lovely ceremony with many people in attendance. Everyone was truly happy, except for Harry. He no longer fancied becoming an Auror; that life of hunting evil and chasing Horcruxes was no longer what he wanted. He wanted a calm life, away from all the magic and fame he grew up with. All the press and that horrible Skeeter woman. No one seemed to give him a break now that he was their 'Hero'; not a moment to himself when he stepped into the wizarding streets. Everyone knew his name...

He and Ginny moved into Grimmauld Place that following winter, though there was no real hope for a long lasting relationship. It was doomed before it began. Ginny was not adept at Muggle living. She used magic for everything and that frustrated Harry to no end. And that upset Ginny; sometimes she would use magic purposefully just to irritate him, which doesn't really speak for love and respect, I must say.

"Can't you wash dishes by hand?" Harry asked her, sounding irritated as he raked a hand through his hair.

Ginny looked at him with insulted eyes, "No, I cannot. I'm from a pure-blood wizarding family. Remember?" she sniffed and flicked her wand harder than intended. Several dishes smacked the water in the sink. Not only did the resulting splash hit Harry, but it ended up breaking his favorite glass plates.

Harry just gave her a slightly irritated glare as he wiped dirty water from his face. He turned to leave the kitchen and let Ginny resume her magical dish washing. He crossed the creaky wooden floor of the living room and grabbed his long black coat from the nail on the wall. Ginny didn't even realize than Harry had left until he was already a mile down the street.

He walked aimlessly through the streets of London. His warm breath like mist in the cold night air and his dampened hair forming icicles on the ends. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets for warmth, though that didn't help much. Perhaps he should find a cozy place to warm up; a small muggle pub was just right on the other side of the street. What harm could it do? After all he could use the inebriation. He crossed the deserted street and made his way up to the old pub.

It seemed quiet inside. Not too many souls would be out at this ungodly hour anyway. Harry pushed on the door and announced his arrival with a small creak, though nobody bothered to look up to see what had caused it. Harry smiled a bit, finally feeling somewhat at ease. He casually walked over to the bar, where an old man was serving and mixing drinks, and sat on a tall wooden stool. It creaked too under the weight of his body.

"What'll ya have, mate?" the friendly old coot asked, giving Harry a chipped-tooth grin.

"Everclear please." Harry said as he stared down at the wood grain of the bar.

"Aye, looks like someone's gettin' sloshed tonight, eh?" The man said as he reached for a bottle of Everclear underneath the counter, "Feelin' down in the dumps?"

Harry nodded and let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Agonising over Ginny's lack of domestic muggle talents wouldn't really do him any good.

He poured a shot for Harry, then went to put the bottle back, though Harry didn't quite like that. "Just leave it." he said to the old man.

The man shrugged. "Aye. It's yer liver." he said and turned away to tend to other matters at hand. Some lonely drunkard was banging his glass on the table, demanding a refill, which Mr. Chipped-Tooth obliged.

Harry sipped the clear liquid from the small glass. The alcohol was tasteless, just like good Vodka should be, though it still burned a bit on the way down. Like soft fire warming his throat and chest. Harry coughed and sighed and poured himself another shot. He quickly downed that one in seconds and poured another. He figured he'd be fine. He was always able to hold his liquor and didn't usually become a bit more than tipsy at best. Though that was before he tried Everclear...

Not long after he was indeed drunk. Like, can't-see-straight-falling-down drunk. He wobbled on his stool and then laughed at nothing in particular, earning him an odd glance from the bar tender and the night-owl customers. A woman to his left, a few stools down, giggled. Though Harry looked to his right and said 'hi' to the old wooden door. She giggled again, this time standing and sneaking her way over to Harry.

"Hi there," she said from beside him.

If he'd been a little less wasted, he might not have been so startled that he'd fallen off his stool and onto the hard, unforgiving floor. The woman stifled a giggle with the back of her hand and moved to assist the stumbling man, who was trying in vain to stand. He really has to drink less so he doesn't lose all control of his motor skills. What if a cute girl wasn't there to help him? He may have asked himself. He doubted the bar man would be able to help much. That bloke looked like he has a bad back.

"I didn't mean to give you a scare," the young woman said as she helped Harry back onto his stool. She brushed him off lightly.

"Think nothin'... don't mind... it," Harry said, slurring every word, "I'm not... don't get... usually drunk this much."

She laughed again, and Harry noticed her beauty for the first time. Though his vision was quite impaired and blurry, he could still make out the soft, pale features of her face and her long, golden blonde hair. In his state, she looked like an angel. He offered a wide, drunken smile.

She smiled back. "I'm Stella." she said.

"I'm Har- thur. Arthur!" Harry said, deciding to give a false name. At least he could be someone else for one night.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur." Stella said and shook Harry's outstretched hand.

Harry looked around a pub and his head was spinning. He suddenly felt dizzy. And he rest his head on the counter. "I feel sick." he mumbled somewhat coherently.

That nice girl, Stephanie. Was that her name? She started rubbing Harry's back soothingly. It did feel very nice. Almost nice enough to make that nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach go away.

"You live around here?" Sally asked suddenly.

"Mmm... a few blocks... not far." Harry muttered into the wood.

"I live on Gatwick Drive." she told him and proceeded to rummage through her purse.

The soothing back rub had stopped and Harry groaned. Then he felt his hand being pulled away by another.

"Here's my number," she said and scribbled some numbers on the back of his hand, "Call me sometime?"

Harry nodded as he sat up a little straighter, "Sure."

Sandy then stood from her stool and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Goodnight, Arthur."

With that she left the pub, the old door swinging closed behind her. Harry just stared at the empty space next to him for a moment, then he looked at his ink-covered hand. Some numbers and a name were scribbled on his skin.

"Stella!" Harry blurted out as he read from his hand, finally remembering her name.

Some people glared at his sudden and loud outburst, but he was too disoriented to really pay them much attention.

"Stella," he said again and smiling, genuinely smiling like he hadn't in a long time. He really liked that name, it was simple and elegant.

"Stella." Harry sighed happily and leaned his head back down on the wood bar counter.

Harry was exhausted, his mind sluggish and dull. He felt beyond tired now and wished he was already back home in his large bed with Stella. Wait... didn't he mean Ginny? Oh well, his mind isn't working properly anyway. He can just blame that little bit on the alcohol. Harry chuckled lightly and let his eyes droop close.

:.:.:.:.:.:

What's poking me? Harry thought to himself as something repeatedly jabbed him in the ribs. Though he didn't find the strength to open his eyes.

"Oi, wake up ya ruddy git!" Mr. Chipped-Tooth said, "It's closin' time."

Harry wearily raised his head and glanced at the old man, then at the the face of a worn clock hanging above the door. Through bleary eyes he could see that it read well past four in the morning.

Oh, bugger, Harry said internally.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out some money to pay the barkeeper. Mr. Chipped-Tooth smiled at him and bid him a good night. Harry smiled back and made his way to the door, all the while trying to keep his balance. He stepped out onto the street and just stood there for a moment. He glanced up and down the streets and there was not a soul in sight, but he figured he would be better safe than sorry.

Harry carefully rounded the corner of an alley and Apparated home. And thankfully nothing on him had splinched, considering the amount of alcohol he had ingested.

-TBC

D/C: I still don't own HP or WIB. But I do own some lint and coins... among other things. I also own a nintendo. My nintendo of doom. X3

A/N: I love HP and WIB. So here's a nice crossover. I can't stop watching WIB. It's freaking epic. :D

Bye lovelies, Until next time.

And special thanks to my lovely Beta, drarrypotter94. She's mine, can't have her. XD Lol.