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Summary
(part one)
“Well, if it isn't the ghost of Hogwarts herself.”
The voice jolted her back into the present with a gasp. The mist has turned into a drizzle. Tiny drops of rain soaked the shoulders of the denim jacket she’d thrown over a blouse tucked into the waist band of a pair of black pencil trousers. Her hair was plastered against her forehead. Water rolled down the tip of her nose as she blinked up at the pale figure standing in front of her.
OR
A very twisty love story that might have started on a rainy day.