She knew that face from somewhere. She knew she recalled it, but it felt like a switch in her mind had just been turned off, and she was enveloped in darkness. She questioned herself practically, and then impractically, trying desperately to recall that familiar face. It was full of lines, like a storm had hit it full on, like the tide had rushed up against it, but it was beautiful somehow. She brushed her red hair off her face, bewildered, because she let nothing bother her now. It hurt too much, just as thinking about her past life did. She couldn't even recall it now without a strained frown, as if too much pressure was being applied to her face by an invisible presence, as if by… no. Forget magic: she repeated the mantra twenty times until the concept of magic even existing seemed completely incomprehensible. She often did this, with the word 'magic' and 'love' and even 'Harry'. She dared not even think of Harry very often, unless the tide broke on her face as it had on this mysterious stranger's.

She saw a lot of strangers in the world she inhabited-a world full of people who walked past her day by day and who never saw here. Her red hair didn't set her aside from anyone else. It used to, but not now. Now she was another one of the crowd, one of the Muggles one walked past on a regular basis, that seemed like one of the extras in a film, those whose presence you register, but never notice.

This stranger was special. She could tell it by the way he walked and by the way he frowned like she did when she was in deep concentration, the way she knew he would talk. She knew he was no Muggle, she had trained herself to spot those who were out of the ordinary and make her small self particularly inconspicuous.

This stranger had known Harry. She was sure of it. And in the recesses of her mind, she knew she had known him at some time. But she could just let him walk by. She could let him walk on like the rest of the world had after Harry's death, and no one would know the distance. He would never know that he had been watched like he was the most important thing in her world, because he was linked with Harry. Or she could talk to him, and a world of pleasure and pain would be open to her again. But this would be the most tremendous act of courage she had undertaken in twenty years of anonymity. She liked anonymity. It made her safe, because she was rejecting people before they rejected her by death, or silence.

'Excuse me… Sir?' Her voice was weak, it hardly carried at all, but somehow, the wizard heard her.

'Do I know you, Ma'am?' His voice was kindly, neutral, and she didn't pale at talking to him, she was experiencing an extreme adrenaline rush at having the courage to talk to him.

'I'm sure I recognise you from somewhere. I'm Ginny…' At these words she faltered. She hadn't gone by Weasley in some years; it brought back still more unpleasant connotations. But luckily she didn't need to go on.

'Ginny Weasley, of course! How could I forget that red hair? Sirius Black.' Sirius replied with an air of confidence and self-assurance that was natural for him. But remarkably Ginny was not intimidated by it. She felt emboldened by her power to take in people, as well as reject them. 'Shall we go for a drink and catch up?'

'Certainly, I can't wait, I have been somewhat out of the wizarding world recently, I'm sure you can bring me up to speed.' Sirius replied cheerfully.

If only you knew, Ginny replied silently. 'I've been somewhat out of that world my self, sorry to disappoint you, but it would be good to catch up.'

'Yeah, we can make up stories about how desperately bored they've been without our wonderful selves there to brighten things up.'

'I think my brothers would be happy to take that matter up with you', Ginny replied, laughingly, feeling at ease with this almost-friend. And in this instant, as some other being smiled back, didn't reject her, she realised that maybe her life didn't have to be like this after all. Maybe she didn't have to live in the Muggle prison that was her world, shunning everyone out of grief. Maybe she didn't have to be elsewhere.