Chapter 2

Hermione Granger made her way through the bustling streets of muggle London. Ever since the war ended, she made it a point to meet her parents at least once a week for dinner. Afterwards, she would walk around the streets of London to try to clear her head and sometimes do a little shopping before apparating back to the flat she now shared with Ron. She wrapped her scarf more securely around her neck and shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her wool coat. It had started to snow earlier that evening and was now accumulating on the streets and sidewalks. She was just about to find a side street in which to apparate home when she spotted a brightly lit coffee shop across the street and decided she would step inside for a cup of hot chocolate. Carefully crossing the street, she was about to pull the door open when an all too familiar face caught her attention. She had to do a double-take because standing inside behind the counter was the one person she was certain she would never see again. Panicking, she glanced one way and then the other before darting down the nearest side street and turning on the spot. Thankfully, when she landed in her and Ron's flat, she found it empty. She shrugged out of her coat and flopped down on the sofa. I can't believe it, she thought to herself. After all this time, he was right there.

The sound of someone apparating into the flat startled her and she looked up to find Ron, his arms laden down with plates of food that Molly had surely insisted that he take home with him. She considered for a moment telling Ron about what had just happened, but thought better of it. Knowing Ron as she did, she was certain that he would insist on going into the coffee shop tonight and dragging Harry home, causing a scene. And she was sure Harry had his reasons for leaving in the first place.

"Are you all right, Mione?" asked Ron as he sat the plates on the counter in the kitchen. "You look like you just seen a ghost."

"What? Oh . . . just tired," she lied. Ron considered her for a moment before shrugging and continuing his work in the kitchen.

What am I going to do? What if it wasn't really him but someone that looked just like him?, she thought to herself. Well there's only one way to find out.

* * * * *

Harry sighed and slumped against the counter at work. It had been a busy day and to say that he was exhausted would be an understatement. When he had arrived to work that morning, the girl who was scheduled to work the evening shift had called and said she wouldn't be able to make it in so Harry had offered to work her shift. It was the perfect opportunity for him to get out of the double date he had been bullied into by Anthony. It wasn't the first time Harry had bailed out of a date his flatmate had set up for him and when he called to let him know he had to work, he didn't seem all that surprised. Knowing his flatmate, however, Harry was certain he would have another one set up next week. Luckily, Paul was out of town so Anthony didn't have his usual ally in the subject of Harry's love life.

A sudden movement from outside of the shop's window caught his eye and for the briefest moment he could have sworn he saw a familiar head of bushy brown hair. When he looked again, whoever was there, was gone. 'You're losing it, Potter,' he muttered to himself.

He physically shook himself. There was no way that who he saw could be Hermione. And even if it was, she obviously didn't want to talk to him. And really, he couldn't blame her. After what he, Ron and Hermione had gone through together, he wouldn't be surprised if they never wanted to see him again after the way he left.

The sound of the front door opening made his heart skip a beat. Maybe she came back, he thought wildly. However, when he spun around, he came face to face with an angry looking Anthony. Groaning, he moved around the counter to start cleaning up the shop.

"How many more times are you going to do this?" demanded Anthony. He leaned against the front counter and watched Harry move around the tiny shop.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, refusing to meet his friends gaze. In all reality, he knew exactly what Anthony was referring to. But he had learned from experience that playing dumb was the best way to deal with him in this situation.

"Are you gay?" blurted Anthony. "Cause if that's the problem, I have a friend who knows this guy . . . "

Harry paused mid way through the act of wiping down a table and spun, rag in hand, to face his friend.

"I'm not gay," he said. "Why would you think I'm gay?"

"Well . . . you never want to go on any of the dates I try to set up for you. Instead, you're always making up some excuse," said Anthony, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just don't want to date right now?" asked Harry, lifting chairs on top of tables.

"What happened to you, Harry?"

"What do you mean?"

Anthony sighed and pushed himself away from the counter. "I don't know exactly," he said, shaking his head. "You're just so secretive."

"You wouldn't understand," said Harry. He sat down hard on the nearest chair and tossed the rag he still had clenched in his hand on the table. "I guess you could say that I had an unpleasant childhood," he said after a long pause. Anthony pulled out the chair opposite him and straddled it, his arms resting on the back rest.

"And I used to date this one girl. Thought I was going to marry her someday. But then . . . things . . . happened and I had to leave," said Harry.

"Why didn't you go back?"

"It's complicated," said Harry. He stood and grabbed a set of keys from behind the counter before striding across the deserted shop and opening the door. "I'll be home in a bit. Just got to finish closing up," he said.

Taking the hint, Anthony rose from his chair and shoved his arms in his jacket. "We'll talk more at home. Paul's back," he said. Before Harry could argue, he strode out the door and disappeared around the corner. Harry groaned as he shut and locked the door. When Paul and Anthony were together, they could get anyone to spill their deepest, darkest secrets. He supposed he could consider himself lucky, however. Up until now, neither one of them had pressed him for information about his past aside from the one time when they had just met. But he had known then that it was really only a matter of time.

Walking the now familiar few blocks that separated the underground from his flat about an hour later, his mind drifted back to the head of bushy brown hair he had seen through the window before Anthony had shown up. He wished he had someway of knowing if it was really her or if it was just a figment of his imagination. Before he could change his mind, he darted into a darkened side street, pulled out his wand, and turned on the spot. Appearing a moment later about a block from the Leaky Cauldron, he had to lean on the wall to catch his breath. It had been almost two full years since he had last apparated anywhere. Once he gathered himself, he slipped out onto the side walk as inconspicuously as possible and made his way up the brightly lit street.

Partway to his destination, a flash of red caught his attention causing him to freeze in his tracks.

* * * * *

"Ginny, are you ready to go?" said Dean as she entered the kitchen. He was taking her out for a romantic evening to properly celebrate her new position on the Harpies' and their engagement.

"Let me just grab my jacket," she said, forcing a smile on her face. She had just spent the majority of the day trying to convince herself that she was doing the right thing by marrying him. She knew that she loved him but the question that she kept asking herself was 'are you in love with him?'. She didn't have the answer.

She slid her arms into the sleeves of her wool coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck. Dean was already at the front door, holding it open for her. It was actually one of the things that irritated her most. Sure, she liked a guy that would hold open doors for her, but Dean always seemed to take it to extremes. Sometimes, it was like he thought she couldn't do a single thing on her own.

Sure enough, when they reached the back garden, Dean held out his hand so he could take her by side-along apparition.

"I can do it myself, Dean," she huffed.

"I want to make sure you make it there safe, Ginny," said Dean. "Just give me your hand."

"You always do this," she said, refusing to take his hand. She knew she was being childish but she didn't care.

"Ginny, can we maybe not do this tonight. We're supposed to be celebrating," said Dean. Seeing the pleading look on his face momentarily melted away her resolve and reluctantly, she took his hand. She felt him turn on the spot and then the familiar squeezing feeling of apparition overtook her. Not even a moment later, she found herself standing inside the dimly lit wizarding pub, the Leaky Cauldron.

"Come on," said Dean. He pulled her by the hand and led her out into the streets of muggle London. The snow that had started earlier that day continued to fall heavily, and Ginny had to admit, it was quite beautiful. The snow that had accumulated on the sidewalks reflected the lights of the store fronts, some of which still had Christmas lights hanging up. She allowed Dean to lead her down the street and into a quiet restaurant with candle lit tables.

"Wow," she breathed as she took in her surroundings, any argument with Dean forgotten.

The waiter led them to their table, which was positioned by the front window, giving them an excellent view of the wintry streets of London. So taken back by her surroundings, Ginny even allowed Dean to pull her chair out for her and order a bottle of wine. As the night progressed, she started to relax and really enjoy Dean's company. He was easy to talk to and had a way of making her smile, even if she didn't want to.

As they were waiting on their check, a sudden movement in the still streets caught Ginny's attention. Standing across the street was a man with messy, raven colored hair and her eyes locked with his. She blinked, unable to believe what she was seeing, and he was gone.

"Dean . . . I . . . I've got to go," sputtered Ginny, shakily standing from her seat.

"What's wrong? Ginny? Are you all right?" said Dean, jumping to his feet in alarm. In the span of just a few seconds, Ginny had gone from laughing and smiling to looking like she might pass out.

"I . . . I have . . . I have to go see Hermione," she said, blindly reaching for her coat and knocking a glass of wine over in the process. Before Dean had a chance to protest, she dashed out of the restaurant and into a side street, pulled out her wand, and turned on the spot.

* * * * *

A/N: Let me know what you think!