A/N New chapter . . . a bit of information about our love interest. Yes, I'm schizophrenic. I mean, we are.

Flashback "You're not coming, and that's final! Ginny, I won't see you injured fighting Voldemort!"
Ginny had never seen Harry so angry. She didn't really care, however, as the famous Weasley temper was currently coursing through her veins. "So you think that just because you're my boyfriend, you can tell me what to do?" she yelled right back. "Well, I have news for you, Harry. Just because so many other people worship you for being protected by your mother, that doesn't mean I have to listen to you. There is no way in HELL I am missing the final battle, and you know it. I will go out on the field if you are dragging against my arm and it's the last thing I do!"

Harry's vivid green eyes watched her angrily, seeming emit sparks. "FINE. But if you are going to insist on doing that, you will not be doing it as my girlfriend. I just dated you because I felt sorry for you after fifth year, you know."

Ginny's eyes filled with tears. She knew he probably didn't mean it, but it hurt nonetheless. She turned on her heel and ran away as fast as she could.

End Flashback

Ginny straightened up in bed and surveyed her new room without much interest. She had spent the better part of three hours yesterday putting up all of her belongings before falling asleep on the bed she had prepared minutes before. Letting her gaze wander around the room, her throat tightened as her gaze fell on the framed picture that Hermione had given her as a going-away present. Some present, she thought bitterly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione's faces all smiled up at her, waving and laughing. Ginny felt like crying. Stop it, she told herself sternly. It's not as though it was your fault. And besides, you'd broken up already. These thoughts did nothing to soothe her mind.

Tearing her gaze away from the picture, she strode quickly to the 'kitchen.' This was also known as the left-hand wall of the living room, which was the middle of the apartment. The bedroom was actually more of just a bed on the right-hand side. Since the previous occupants had moved to Australia or thereabouts, she had had to completely redecorate the apartment. Hung on the pink-speckled walls were a mirror and several pieces of artwork. Some of them Ginny had done herself, but most were replicas of her favorite artists. Surprisingly, few wizards had ever been exemplary artists, but she was very appreciative of the muggles Van Gogh, Picasso, and Andy Warhol, despite their clashing tastes. Her absolute favorite, Starry Night, hung above her bed in a place of honor.

Ginny made herself some coffee to wake up and sat down on the loveseat in the main area. After Harry died, she had moved into the muggle world to take a break from wizarding for a while. She still had her wand and everything, but she decided to take the summer vacation away from Ron, Hermione, Colin Creevy, and Hogwarts in general.

Sighing, she went to the closet to select an outfit. I'd better go to the Laundromat today, she thought, noting the pile of clothes on the floor. Ginny selected a pair of black, ankle-high boots made of dragon hide, black jeans, a t-shirt from UCB (a store she had just found – unfortunately, it was quite a drive away, but definitely worth it), and a gray duster (the American term for a tie-on sweater that fell to the knees), laid the clothes out on the bed, and stepped into the shower.

After a good, half-hour long shower, Ginny wrapped the towel around her and examined her reflection in the mirror. She had recently discovered the Metamorphmagus blood that ran in her family, enough to change her appearance at will. Since she needed to be disguised in the muggle world, she would constantly switch her hair color, her body shape, and so forth. Today, she decided on dark brown hair falling slightly past her shoulders, straight with blonde and dark red highlights. Her large brown eyes with long black lashes remained unchanged, but the freckles disappeared from around her nose and her skin darkened to a medium tan. Now. . . the body . . . She shot up, her already tall frame growing to six feet, slender but well-built. Tying a white ribbon in her hair to keep it away from her face, she dressed and began the walk to the laundromat.

A/N I know it's really short, but since I'm not expecting many people to read this, I figure I'll keep it quick. The next chapter, they will meet, I promise.