A/N: This is an answer to a challenge by both aikakone and AJRoald.
He can see her at the back of the classroom, staring down into parchment and delicate purple ink. A nearly-featherless quill is held between her fingers, tip gliding gently across the white surface of her exam. She pauses, occasionally. Chews mercilessly on her bottom lip.
He glances through the window, only to find it's raining outside. Not very heavily -- just enough to cause fog, which brings a mysterious air to the Hogwarts grounds. He lived for these kinds of days, once. Days when he could pull out a trenchcoat and a classy hat, and walk around like a private investigator.
Muggles always have the most fascinating jobs...
But he's getting distracted, and that's not good. He's supposed to be watching her take the exam, making sure she doesn't cheat, making sure she doesn't kill herself before the final question. He's surprised to find, however, that she's staring out the window with a look of longing on her face.
It's the fog and the drizzling water falling from the sky. He can tell. She seems to be enchanted, mesmerized by the silvery clouds flowing and twisting through the air.
She wants to put on a black dress and a tragic pout because of that weather. Nylons, and gloves with little pearl fasteners; high heels, a hat with a veil of net, to cover her face.
She would walk into his office one wet, dark afternoon to explain the abrupt disappearance of her parents. He'd listen, reclining slightly in a chair behind a desk as he fiddled with his suspenders, and the part of his hair.
"You will help me find them, won't you?" she'd ask, voice full of heartache that Shirley Temple could never manage. "I miss them so terribly..."
And she would cry.
"Ginny," he finds himself saying, although he's not looking at her. "I think we'd both rather spend our Saturday outside."