Author's Note: Written for…

Weekly AU Competition. Prompt: Blind Date!AU

Shipper's Dictionary Challenge. Prompt: Artist's Flame (Dean/Ginny)

Amateur Divination Challenge. Prompt: paper

Summary: Blind Date!AU

After years of bad luck with guys, Ginny allows Hermione to set her up on a date with Dean Thomas.

Artist's Flame

There was a time in Ginny's youth when she imagined finding her Prince Charming and having a bunch of children and living happily ever after. But fifteen years and more than a dozen failed relationships had put those dreams to rest.

And anyway, what did her parents need with more grandchildren? They already had more than they could remember. Maybe Charlie had the right idea after all, swearing off marriage. Then again, Charlie was away in Romania and didn't have to listen to their mother's nagging.

"You can't give up so easily," Hermione told her as Ginny explained her desire to give up dating after a string of failed first dates. "Look at me and Ron – it took us forever to get together, but now that we are, we've never been happier."

"I don't know, 'Mione. I'm just tired of trying to find a decent guy. Every time I think I've succeeded, he turns out to be a jerk."

"Not all men are bad. In fact, Ron and I have this friend-"

"No. Hermione, no."

"What? I haven't said anything yet."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow. "We've been over this before, Hermione. No more blind dates."

"Oh, come on, just meet him!"

"No. I'm through with you and Ron and Mum and everyone else trying to fix me up the first available guy you find."

"They weren't all bad."

"Remember Michael?"

Hermione winced at the memory of her sister-in-law's most recent serious relationship, which had ended a year before. "Okay, Michael was a bit…"

"Whiney? Conceited?"

"Maybe a little," the brunette conceded. "But Dean's different. Michael was all Ron's idea. I've actually met Dean. He's sweet and clever. He's an artist."

"Hermione…"

"Ginny, you spend all your time at work and football games. This is the only way you're going to meet anyone. Just let us help you."

Ginny sighed. If she knew her friend and brother as well as she thought she did, she knew they wouldn't quit pestering her until she agreed to go out with the mysterious artist friend of theirs.

"Fine," she spat, and Hermione immediately fished her cellphone out of her purse to call Ron and set up the date.

:-:

Ginny checked her watch for the third time in a half hour, impatiently tapping her fingernails on her wine glass.

They were supposed to meet at the restaurant at exactly seven-thirty. She'd even arrived ten minutes early to insure she wasn't late. Apparently Dean didn't have the same regard for time constraints.

She was just about to leave when a tall, black man rushed to her table.

"Ginny?" he asked between gasps for breath. She nodded and he stuck out a hand to shake hers. "Dean Thomas. Sorry I'm late. Had to work late, and … traffic," he huffed, taking the empty seat at her table.

"That's all right. I haven't been waiting long," she lied. She toyed with the idea of telling him off just to end the date, but he was cute.

They were quiet, stealing glances at each other over the tops of their menus. When the waitress left with their orders, they had no choice but to talk.

"So … Hermione tells me you're an artist?"

Dean let out a nervous sort of giggle. "She's exaggerating, I'm afraid. I have a bad habit of doodling on my reports."

"Reports?"

"Yeah. I work with Hermione as a career counselor. What about you? I was told you're an athlete. Was that exaggeration as well?"

"Only slightly. I played football in university. Almost went professional, but I didn't think I was good enough. I run a sports column now."

"That's amazing. I'm a huge football fan myself. West Ham."

"West Ham's my team as well!" Ginny said excitedly, grinning.

Things are going so well, she thought, and then caught herself. Things always went well in the beginning. He was always handsome and charming, and Ron and Hermione always did a good job of setting her up with someone who had a few things in common with her. It would be enough to get them through a few weeks – maybe a few months if they were lucky, but eventually everything would fall apart.

"Is something wrong?" she suddenly heard him ask. Her eyes met his and she forced herself to look away before she was drawn into their beauty and lost her nerve.

"I'm sorry," she started slowly, twisting her napkin in her lap. "I'm just, sort of…"

"Not used to dating?" he guessed, she laughed.

"No, actually, I'm very familiar with the ins and outs of dating. That's the problem. I've been down this road before with Ron and Hermione."

Dean smirked. "I'm not your first blind date?"

"You're not even the first this month," she sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I know you just got here and all, but I don't think this is going to work."

He nodded slowly, sipping his water while the waitress dropped off their plates.

"If I asked you a question, would you answer it honestly?" he asked, fishing a pen and spare piece of paper out of his jacket pocket as he spoke.

"I don't see why not."

"Do you like me?"

Ginny pursed her lips. "Yes."

He was scribbling something on the paper that she couldn't see, but he took a split second to look up and grin at her. "Good. I like you too. I'm going to leave now, since you've decided that you want this to be over, but I want you to do me a favor." He straightened up and began folding the paper back up until it was the size of a business card, then held it out to her. "When your next first date doesn't go well, and you're sitting at home wishing you'd given this a chance, give me a call. I have season tickets to West Ham games." He winked at her, slipping the paper in her hand and rushing off without a goodbye.

She sat in a confused daze for a few moments before she opened the paper up. His name and phone number was at the top of the page, but her eyes were drawn to the bottom, where he'd sketched a likeness of her – unmistakable even in plain black ink. Underneath, he'd scribbled 'for my flame.'

Ginny bit her lip as she stared at it, considering the idea that maybe she'd been a little rash in sending the artist away.