A/N: What fun, the first chapter! Sorry it's rather short.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. At all. Not even a sense of sanity.

Chapter 1

"Seriously, Harry? You're honestly going to sit there and lie to my face? If you're going to cheat on me, at least own up to it like a man," Ginny said placidly, sitting at the kitchen table.

"Wha-at?" Harry stammered, completely taken aback.

Eight seconds previously, Harry had just asked Ginny if she would consider moving in together. Apparently, she was the only one he could see himself with and he loved her. Ginny snorted. "You think I didn't know? Give me some credit, Harry. But since you were so nice to bring it up, I should probably tell you that I'm done here." Harry looked aghast. "Gin, you can't. What – do you know what you're saying? We're meant to be together, you know that."

"I'm not the same girl from Hogwarts. I'm not going to sit around while you have your own life and then drop everything when you're ready. I think I deserve a little more than that. Bye, Harry. See you in the next life." Ginevra stood up swiftly, shaking her hair out and threw the door open. The walk to the corner to Apparate seemed excruciatingly long, but Ginny won the battle for control over her stony face. Harry's footsteps followed after her; his shouts fell on Ginny's deaf ears. Taking long strides and letting the cold air numb her skin, Ginny repeated a mantra in her head over and over. I don't need him. I don't need anyone. When did I get so dependent on one person to be happy? Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back. With a crack, Ginny disappeared and reappeared in her apartment, and before her emotions could catch up to her, she flung herself onto her bed and drifted off to an uneasy sleep.

For the next few days after the breakup, Ginny seemed to move like a robot. She tried to act like nothing was wrong and life was proceeding as usual. She threw herself into her work and let her cold bitch façade repel anyone from getting too close. She had, after all, been named one of Witch Weekly's most successful women for a reason. Ginevra Weasley didn't feel, she just did. Anyone who got in the way would be mowed down. Because she was Ginny Weasley and she didn't need anyone.

But inevitably, it all caught up to her in the end and it only took the simplest of gestures. Walking out of the office, Ginny had knocked into an innocent passerby, and dropped her coffee. The passerby, a tall, lean young man, profusely apologized. Forgetting for a moment to put on her angry face, Ginny wrenched herself out of her own head and looked up into pretty, green eyes. She slowly tried to tune into what he was saying, but focusing on anything took some effort.

"…so sorry, I really am. Look, I'll get you another coffee, if you like. There's a nice little café down there. I'm Tom, Tom St. Lawrence. Did you get any coffee on your dress? Oh no…"

Everything that Ginny had very firmly ignored for exactly four days, nine hours, and seventeen minutes came crashing into her like a steel wall. The dam holding up her emotions and fragile state of mind blew apart in a matter of seconds.

In the next few blinks, Ginny involuntarily let down her iron armor. She could only keep up her cold illusion for so long. She started to shake uncontrollably, air coming in little gasps.

Lawrence St. Thomas, or whatever his name was, took the matter quite well, all things considered. Ginny frantically thought about what she might look like, makeup mingling with the tears streaking down her face and covered in coffee. The next minute, she decided she didn't care and emitted a piteous little wail. Tom, looking for all the world like a rabbit facing down a fox, said awkwardly, "Er…I'll pick up the dry cleaning bill, too?"

The tears flowed harder down Ginny's cheeks and she seemed rooted to the spot, despite her 5 inch power heels. It dawned on Tom that this sudden hysterical fit wasn't just over spilled coffee. He gently took her arm and led a shell shocked Ginny to the café. She sank into a soft chair and let sobs wrack her body. Incoherent jumbles of words made their way through Ginny's hands over her face. "...milda 'n' Harry... why?... I can't... gone… broken… move in…" Tom gingerly patted her on the back, completely unsure of what to do.

"I got her from here, mate," came a smooth voice.

Tom turned to see a muscular man with blond hair falling into his eyes, his face expressionless. Ginny was oblivious, still held her hands over her face and cried for England. Tom gave Ginny one last rub on the back, then bolted, quicker than a broomstick.

"Ginny," said the blond man gently, who looked fiercely incapable of doing anything gently with his powerful physique and chiseled, cold face. Nonetheless, his granite features softened slightly as Ginny raised her pink face from her hands. "Care for a sandwich?"