A/N: This will be a multi-chaptered AU fic, I have no idea how long. I'm not new at reading HP fanfiction, but I'm definitely inexperienced at writing, so any suggestions to improve my writing are entirely welcome!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything that goes with it belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1

I've always wondered what marriage really is. Wedding after wedding that I've attended, I have watched carefully, desperately trying to see if, through the bride's and groom's expressions perhaps, or through the way they hold each other gently yet firmly, I could finally discover the key. Though my research may not have been completely professional, I suppose I have figured out some sort of idea about what is needed in order to love. Sex. Good sex. Without it, that special closeness cannot exist. Then you need friendship, because monotony destroys love. However, what is needed most of all is trust. Trust that your loved one will stay with you even after you've gotten fat and ugly. Trust that your loved one won't judge you, no matter what choices you make. And trust that what you have is not fleeting and will always be cherished.

Hannah Potter lugged herself up the steps, and then struggled for a minute to fit the key into the lock on the door. Finally, she managed to swing the door open and was greeted by a dark, empty flat.

"Harry," she called, "you home?"

All she received was silence, but she was not surprised. She dropped her hand onto the wall and felt her way to the kitchen, struggling to keep her eyes open. She wanted to go to bed, but with determination took out her little red notebook instead. She craned her head to look at the big clock above the pantry, which was illuminated by the sliver of moonlight coming from the window. Quill in hand, she jotted down two words.

Four o'clock.

She snapped closed her notebook and thrust it aggressively back into her purse.

Of course Harry wouldn't be home yet, she thought. She felt stupid to even hope he would be. Over the past few months, his nights had been getting steadily later and she had been seeing less and less of him.

She stumbled into her bedroo- their bedroom, quickly took off her dress, threw it into the corner, and crawled into bed. She curled up, closed her eyes, and slowly drifted into a fitful sleep, plagued by her last thought.

That bastard.

Ginny Weasley wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand, but still managed to paint a line of dust across her face. She glowered at the clutter that was surrounding her. What was the point of magic if you couldn't even use it to lift heavy objects? But she didn't want to risk it; George told her that using magic on his products might trigger some unwanted explosions. Right after that, of course, he had gleefully dared her to try. Kicking the large box she had been trying to lift away from her, Ginny stomped her way out of the inventory room.

"Ron," she yelled into the still empty shop, "I thought it was supposed to be the big, manly men who lifted boxes for young ladies, not the other way around!"

Ron's head appeared from behind a tall, pea-green display of 'Silent Stenchers' and he lifted his eyebrows.

"Hey, no one forced you to volunteer to help George set up his new shop. You can leave anytime you want. Besides, George and I are the only ones who know how to set up the anti-theft charms on the displays and we need someone to fill the shelves with all the extra stock in the back. What, can little Ginny not handle a simple task?" Ron smirked.

Ginny rolled her eyes and scowled, but relented and returned to the back room. It wasn't like she didn't have better things to do! She was starting her own business after all. However, after his challenge, if she stopped lifting boxes, she would never live it down. Ever since she was a small, stubborn child, she insisted that she could do anything her big brothers could do, and more. Also, she knew George wouldn't have allowed her to help unless he was extremely desperate. She smiled wryly to herself. Desperate. She hated admitting that any Weasley was badly-off, but George's bleak situation was painfully evident.

After the war against Voldemort had ended four years ago, everyone had slowly returned to their previous lifestyle, or had started anew, finally realizing that they didn't have to be wary of their neighbours or lock themselves up in fearful isolation. Wizarding centres like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade were finally bustling with activity, shouting, laughter, and everything that came along with a thriving marketplace. Life was starting to be normal again.

However, Ginny knew that for George, life was anything but normal. Fred had died in those last few hours of Voldemort's reign. Fred, his other half, never got to see the suffering finally end. The last thing Fred experienced was an explosion and most probably a lot of pain. How could George move on and find peace when Fred, who was a part of him, never made it past the misery? In the year after the final battle, nobody expected George to reopen Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but after the second year, Arthur figured enough was enough. He forced George to move out of the Burrow and start working again. George reluctantly started working for Zonko's as a salesman, but refused to even think of opening up his shop again. However, with time, George's brilliant mind inevitably started churning out billions of ideas. Ron's constant badgering coupled with the frustration of working for such a burnt out failure of a prankster like Osmond Zonko brought George to his senses and he announced that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would be opening within the year.

Despite the raucous celebration that his announcement instigated at the Burrow, the Weasleys soon realized that three years and a rotten job had left George almost completely broke.

"Ginny?" Her musings were interrupted by Ron's voice. She leaned back, looking through the door to see Ron struggling with an angry white owl."Owl for you! Though the parchment is rather odd. It's pink! What kind of nutcase would dye their parchm- Ouch!" The Snowy owl nipped his hand quite hard, ruffled its feathers and flew almost haughtily over to Ginny, landing gracefully on her outstretched arm.

"Thank you Ron. I'll go read my letter now – in private mind you," Ginny said, sending an exasperated glare in her brother's direction. She untied the letter from the owl's foot, gave the owl a grateful pat, and watched it fly gracefully out the door. She quickly stepped back into the inventory room and shut the door tight.

Ginny breathed deeply. She didn't dare clue Ron in while he had the letter, but now that she was alone, she let her eyes go wide. Pink parchment. My first customer! She couldn't believe that someone had already answered her ad in the Quibbler and had actually used the requested pink parchment for identification. She ripped off the string from the letter and unfolded it. Ginny gasped at the identity of her customer.

Dear Ms. Weasley,

I must admit that I was surprised that I came across an ad from someone like you in the Quibbler, such an obscure magazine. But I suppose that it just adds to the mystery of it all. I have always remembered your exploits from reports in the Daily Prophet, and I must say that your skills have impressed me. That is why I am requesting your services. I'll thank you to keep in mind, though, that our business transaction must be entirely confidential. Meet me tomorrow noon at Florean Fortescue's and we will discuss this further.

Sincerely, Hannah Potter