Disclaimer: Don't own Potter, Weasley, Granger, Hogwarts, or anything. However, I do own Erised Alley! Go me! (Though I don't own Erised. Oh well, too bad.)

~*~

Ginny Weasley was beyond furious. She stormed down Erised Alley, not bothering to look at the figure she knew would be watching her retreating back. Harry Potter, the man who had killed Voldemort when he was barely a month out of his seventh year at Hogwarts. Barely a month since he'd sent that bloody letter. She could remember, quite clearly, that night.

Ginny lay on her bed, potions book before her as she checked the facts already scrawled for her four foot essay on the Polyjuice Potion. She knew why Snape had chosen this particular assignment; polyjuice had become a common way for Death Eaters to disguise themselves. Still, it was terribly complicated. She was tempted to write Harry and see if he knew anything about it.

Just thinking about Harry made her smile. They had been together for just over a year, and she believed it was the best year of her life. She had been surprised when he had agreed, on the train home when she was her fifth year. After a year of month long relationships, Ginny had finally returned to the man she loved. And he had said yes. It was the start of joy, as she saw it. A whole year of walks around the lake, late nights in the common room, and trips to Hogsmeade, (both permitted and not). Of course, danger had also laced their time together. There were constant moments when Harry would suddenly stop and stare into thin air, or times when he would grab her hand and begin a mad dash to the castle. But it had been wonderful, all the same. She wished she could speak with him now.

As if obedient to her thoughts, a sudden tap on the window alerted her to an owl's presence. She grinned in recognition at Hedwig, rolling off the bed to go open the window. Her thoughts drifted as she detached the letter from the snowy bird's leg, wondering what he would say this time. She strolled to her bed, sitting down to run her finger gently over the single word printed on the outer fold, Ginny. Eagerly, she unrolled it, delighted at his familiar, messy handwriting. It wasn't until she read the words that her face fell.

Even as she read it, she could hardly believe it. This wasn't the Harry she knew, surely there had been a mistake! Yet, in the pit of her stomach, she knew it wasn't. That was Harry's signature, his words, his…disposal of her. At once, the tears began to fall. Waterfalls of shiny droplets seeping from her eyes, she threw the letter aside, burying her face in a pillow.

"No… No…Please, no…" It was if a part of her had died, leaving a hollow feeling in her heart. Why had he done this? And why had he done it so cruelly? Didn't he have the least care for her feelings? For her tears?

Ginny sobbed recklessly into the pillow until she had no more tears to cry. Sitting up, she glanced at the letter now discarded on the floor. Discarded like her. Anger suddenly grew within her, boiling her veins. Harry didn't want to ever see her again? Fine. She could live with that, the letter would serve as her vow. She was not going to be sad over… over Potter. She was going to continue her own life, and find her own someone better. That would show him, the arrogant bastard that he was.

The memory suddenly changed her wrath to humor. She had shown him, hadn't she? She had walked away from Potter, and was still doing it. She hadn't given in just because of who he was, or even because those adorable green eyes had been staring at her. No, they weren't adorable anymore; now they were intense, like a blast of emerald fire piercing the enemy. A smile grew brilliantly over her face, she loved those eyes…

Her steps halted automatically, shocked and peeved by her last line of thought. She certainly did not love those eyes; she didn't love any part of Har-- Potter. That was final. She must have been reminiscing, nothing more. Merely remembering how she used to love them. To love him…

She gave a frustrated cry, ordering her brain to give up the subject of Potter. She instead decided to focus on a choice of lunch. Weasleys were not always rich, simply because they always preferred to follow a career path that they enjoyed, paths that rarely were ones with a large paycheck. Her father was currently Minister, that was true; but he had only taken the position until someone better could be found. McGonagall had been the first option, but she had refused point blank, deciding instead to step into Dumbledore's shoes as Headmistress of Hogwarts. The other candidates had been similarly stubborn, until her father had reluctantly agreed-- With the promise that he could have a new flying car.

Her brother's had their own lines of work. Charlie was still working with dragons in Romania, and Fred and George were operating the largest joke shop in the wizarding world. Percy was Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Bill had been killed in the Hollow Battle, and Ron… But she didn't want to think about that.

Instead, she refocused on lunch. Deciding that after the afternoon encounter she simply wanted to go somewhere nearby and relaxed, she headed in the direction of The Leaky Cauldron. The walk there was packed with witches and wizards, though not as many as she remembered from her school days. So many had been killed in Voldemort's final year of power, and in the year after where Lucius Malfoy continued to terrorize the world. Still, the sight of young students-to-be dashing eagerly from shop to shop made her grin, and the burst of conversation that drifted to her ears reflected upon the peace that now reigned.

She halted before a particular shop, her grin growing rapidly; Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. That was what she need, a chat with her brothers to forget about him. She pushed open the crimson door, delighted with the display of fireworks that suddenly danced over her head, these ones being tiny gold lions who squealed the word Gryffindor before bursting into crimson sprinkles of light. "A Gryffindor customer! Excellent!" A voice boomed from the back room, moments before George appeared.

She nearly laughed at his attire. Fred was dressed in shimmering golden robes, the multiple lions that covered it roaring their approval. His red hair was held back in the ponytail Bill had formerly worn, and the freckles on his face were somehow enchanted to spell out Gryffindor.

"Getting into the school spirit, are we?" She asked, teasing him with a humored smile.

"Well, there's only a week until September! We just wanted to advertise for the best house of the lot!"

"Yes, we're even offering everything half off to Gryffindor students. Mind you, the Slytherins definitely dropped their business, but we don't want that slimy lot in here anyway." George told her, approaching. He was dressed in robes identical to his twin's, but his freckles were in place and his hair was cropped short. He enveloped her in a hug, grinning wildly. "Merlin, Gin, we haven't seen you in ages!"

She returned the hug, giggling. "That's because every time I come in here I end up with a new haircut!"

Her brothers laughed, George winking heartily. "So, what made you brave the danger this time?"

She scowled, suddenly remembering, "An idiot who decided to ruin my day."

 "Which one? We'd be delighted to stick a Ton-Tongue toffee in his bag. That'd set him straight." Fred joked, though Ginny had no doubt that he would do it if she asked.

"Harry Potter."

Both of them blinked, and it was George who interrupted the awkward silence. "Blimey, you haven't seen him in what--Four years?"

"I was beginning to hope I would never see him again." She replied sourly, still scowling.

"He was here a few days ago, muttering something about hating vacations. He bought loads of Gryffindor stuff; I don't know what he'll do with it all. Of course, he also dragged in about twenty extra customers because of who he is, good for business, and not so bad a chap. Why d'you hate him anyway, Gin? Not still holding that grudge for him breaking up with you, are you?" George asked, a frown replacing his smile.

She glared, her voice breaking into a roar that would equal the lions on their robes. Her temper was, unmistakably, as short as a rampaging hippogriff's. "Why are you taking his side?! You have no idea what he put me through! Just leave me alone!" With that, she stormed out of yet another conversation, leaving two baffled brothers behind.

Her fury was short lived, as it had calmed by the time she reached The Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't her brothers' fault that they didn't know how horrible He was; she had never chosen to show them that awful letter. She entered the pub, finding a small table in the corner where she ordered her lunch.

Halfway through the meal, a shadow fell across her plate, causing her to look up. Her eye's met green ones that she had seen far too much of within the last hour. "I though I told you to go away!" She snapped fiercely as Harry slid into the chair across from her. He wore a slight frown, and she couldn't help but notice the shadows in his gaze.

"Please, Ginny. I know what I said in that letter was awful, but that was for years ago. It's different now, I'm different now. The letter's gone; can't the past be gone too?" The look in his eyes, so miserably pleading, was one that tore savagely at her heart. However, she had an answer to his question.

Rummaging in the pocket of her robe, she pulled forth a slip of battered parchment, the only word visible her name. "No." She hissed, standing to wander out of the pub, now into Diagon Alley, but into the muggle world.

~*~

I love this story, and I don't know why. Lol, oh well, too bad for me. I think Ginny's pov is easier to write in, though I don't know if it's better or not. What say you, Harry or Ginny? Review, please! Tell me what you think!