Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for my imagination.


You could rattle the stars.

You could do anything, if you only dared.

Sarah J Maas

Throne of Glass


Approximately Eight Months in the Future

The room was dark, the air cold, heavy and stifling. She sat alone, barely moving as she felt the invisible stares scrutinise her figure from the opposite side of the glass. They were waiting, watching, wondering as to when she would make a mistake and when she did, she knew that they would surely pounce.

She supposed that she could understand their hesitance, even their fear of what she had done, but they knew her. They knew her story, or at least some of it. It was the reason why she had been cast out from her job as their secretary. It was the reason why she had been replaced in the bloody recruit program in the first place.

They also knew that she was loyal to them, leaving her also wondering as to why they had her cooped up in this idiotic room in the first place. But Muggles were like that, she supposed. They always feared what they didn't understand and maybe, when she was in this room, they felt safer. It was stupid reasoning, but she could understand it.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said out loud, her voice echoing around the otherwise empty room and she leaned back casually in the wooden chair that they had given her. She knew that they could hear her. "I think I've proved again and again that I, while perhaps dangerous, am not actually out to get any of you. And I never lied, for your information. Omitted the truth? Absolutely. But everything else? That was true. All of it."

There was silence and she sighed to herself, closing her eyes briefly in weariness.

This wasn't going to be easy.


Present Time

Sweat dripped down her nose, her hair stuck to her forehead, her skin was flushed, her muscles burned with a fire that she hadn't felt in years, and yet she didn't stop.

She couldn't stop.

Green, red, purple light. The colours soared through her memory, just like the spells that had flown from the wizards and witches wands that had cast them.

Ginny punched a little bit harder, her hands and knuckles now aching something savage and she could begin to feel the worried stares of her peers around her as she hit the punching bag again and again.

Shrieks. Blood. Lifeless eyes. Dead bodies. Crying families.

She kicked the bag viciously. What had she done? What had she done so differently in order to live? Harry, Mum, Fred… Why was it that she was the one who survived?

Funerals. Flowers. Graves. Grief.

"Oi, Prewett," a voice yelled, wrenching her brutally out of the dark hole that her memories had been digging in her mind. For a moment, she was startled that someone actually wanted to talk to her. Most of the time, when she built herself into her 'dark zone,' as she liked to call it, the other people in the gym left her in peace and let her beat her anger and frustrations into the bag. But today, for some reason, someone wanted to talk to her. Ginny scowled to herself and wiped at her brow. Oh well. He would regret it.

Ginny looked at the man who had decided to approach her out of the corner of her eyes and stifled a groan. Great. Out of all of the guys that they could have sent to force her to stop, they had had to pick him. "What?" she snapped, as she aimed a particularly ferocious kick at the poor punching bag.

"Don't you reckon that you should stop now?" He gestured to the swinging bag. "You've been kicking and punching that thing for an hour at least."

"Does it look like I'm going to stop, Andrews?" Ginny replied mildly.

Andrews sent her an amused look. "Well, from where I'm standing, no. But, luckily for you, I don't give a damn about what you think."

"Then go away."

"Don't make me force you to step away from the punching bag, Prewett," Andrews said, the joking tone now gone from his voice.

Ginny glared at him, but reluctantly stepped away from the large, red bag, still breathing heavily.

Today of all days, she had just wanted to be left alone with the red punching bag and her suffocating memories, but even she wasn't brave enough to piss off Andrews.

"Go take a shower," Andrews said finally. "I'll have a look at your hands before you leave and," he held up a warning finer, "make sure you come this time, Prewett, or I won't allow you to come in here for the next two weeks."

"Fine," she muttered, before stalking off in the direction of the woman's change room.

Ginny had discovered The Ent Gym during her first week in New York three years ago and ever since then, well, it had been her hideaway, her place where she could let out all of her pain, hatred, and grief.

Her family and friends, or at least what was left of them, she thought bitterly, hadn't understood her decision to move to New York. They had wanted her to go somewhere peaceful and quiet, somewhere where she could heal and recuperate after witnessing the horrors of the war. After all, to them, she had only been a young, scarred 17-year-old girl.

But even then with all of her youth, Ginny hadn't wanted peace and quiet or the remembrance that would come with the supposedly 'serene' silence. Instead, she had wanted noise, people, and never ending movement. She had wanted anything that would allow her to forget. So she had spontaneously moved to New York - she never told her family where she had gone - had taken her mother's maiden name, accepted a secretarial job for a well-known company, and had allowed herself to slowly lose her guilt and anger at the war that had destroyed her life.

To say that she had never regretted her decision was an understatement.

Ginny winced as she gingerly unwrapped her hands, grimacing slightly at the welts that now covered her knuckles. She would have to make sure that she covered them up before she went to work tomorrow, or there would be questions and she hated questions. When she had first gotten here, all there had been were questions. "Why are you here?" her neighbours had asked. "What do you plan on doing here? How long do you plan on staying here?"

She removed her hair from its tight ponytail, allowing the red locks to fall unfamiliarly down her back before digging around in her bag for her hairbrush. She rarely wore her hair out these days. Her secretarial position, which was actually now quite high, demanded that she looked professional at all times, so she used it as an excuse to constantly tie up her hair. Her boss was always bugging her about it, saying that she should wear it out every once in a while because it would look nice, but Ginny simply ignored her. But then and again, Ginny ignored a lot of things these days.

After brushing it out and then re-tying it up in her usual severe bun, she yanked off her sweat-drenched clothes, grabbed her towel and hopped into the showers. Ginny thought that the shower at the end of a session was always the best part. There was something so cleansing about the way that the water fell and to her, it wasn't just about washing away the dirt, but also washing away the pain and grief that she had arrived with. She knew it was stupid, but it made her feel whole again.

Ginny spent a little longer under the cold water than was necessary before climbing out of the small cubicle. She methodically pulled her work clothes back on, packed up her things, and left the stuffy room behind. Normally, she arrived at the gym in sweatpants and a loose hoody, but today was not like every other day and as she walked through the gym, the surprise in the air was almost palpable.

"What?" she challenged, as she glared around the large, dusty gym. "Never seen a woman in a skirt and blouse before?"

Her comment seemed to spark the people watching her back into action and soon, much to Ginny's grim amusement, the sound of skin hitting plastic and the clanks of metal upon metal filled the room once again. She turned around in satisfaction and unenthusiastically made her way to Andrews' small office in the corner, knocking on the wall beside the open door reluctantly.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked grudgingly.

"Prewett," Andrews said, his back facing her as he rifled through some files in one of the cabinets. "You know, I was half thinking that you weren't going to show up. I mean, you ignore me most of the time."

"Yeah, well," Ginny rolled her eyes, "This time, you sounded serious, so I thought that I had better show up."

Andrews turned around to face her and almost immediately, his eyes widened comically. "Holy shit, Prewett."

Ginny looked around herself in confusion. "What?"

The older man gaped at her openly. "You're wearing a skirt and blouse!"

Ginny folded her arms. "And? Why is that such an astounding fact? I am, after all, a woman and I do actually have a job."

"Sorry," he said ruefully, his eyes twinkling with slight embarrassment. "I just wasn't expecting it. That's got to be the first time that I've seen you in something so professional looking. What was it you said you did again?"

"I never said what I did," Ginny replied bluntly. "Now, are you going to check my hands or not, because I want to leave."

"So bossy," Andrews teased, but he gently grabbed her hands. "You really did a number on them this time, didn't you Prewett? How are you holding up, by the way?"

Ginny shrugged, eyeing the man warily as he grabbed a salve from one of his shelves. "I'm fine. Today's just one of those days."

Connor Andrews, the owner of The Ent Gym, had been there for Ginny ever since she had found herself standing lost in front of its huge double doors three years ago. He had taken one look at her ragged face and had given her a place in his gym and a punching bag. He never questioned, never asked what she had gone through and she had never told him. Instead, he had simply been there for her and Ginny knew that that was a debt that she was never going to be able to repay.

"Well, put this stuff on then," he said, chucking her the salve. "You know how it works. And you call if you need anything," he added to her seriously and Ginny nodded to appease him, even though they both knew that she wouldn't. She never had.

"Sure, sure," she said, before throwing him an impish smile and stalking out of the gym in her heels.


Ginny groaned sleepily as her ringtone pierced through her consciousness. God, why had she chosen that ringtone out of all the others she could have chosen? There had been so many nice sounding ones, but no, she thought to herself grumpily. She had had to pick the rude, piercing one.

She stumbled out of her cosy bed and cursed when she tripped over something soft on the ground. Where had she put that damn thing again? She finally found her phone in her gym bag after tripping around for the next several seconds in the dark. She sighed as she looked at the caller ID on the bright screen.

"Pepper, what's up," she said as clearly as she could manage, trying to sound like she hadn't just been fast asleep.

"Sorry, Ginny," the feminine voice of her boss said to her over the phone, "I know that you must have been asleep, but, well, I need you to come in. I'm sorting out something with Tony at the moment, and as you know, he takes up my time. Anyway, Maria needs you."

Ginny exhaled and sat down on the floor, rubbing her eyes blearily. "Does she really need me?"

"Yes," Pepper said, sounding apologetic. "There's been a situation in Sokovia and she needs all hands on deck."

Ginny narrowed her eyes, her mind beginning to process the new information. "What do you mean, 'a situation in Sokovia'?"

Pepper faltered over the phone and Ginny frowned. Pepper never faltered. Ever. "It's probably best if I let Maria explain that to you."

"You're talking about the Avengers, aren't you," Ginny said dead panned.

There was another pause before a hesitant, "Yes."

Ginny immediately pushed herself up off the floor. "So they actually want us to be involved this time, huh?"

"Well, they want us for the clean up." The words, 'like last time,' went unsaid.

For the Battle of New York that had occurred just over two years ago, the two women had been absent. Ginny had been in Norway at the time with Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis and Pepper had been bundled on a plane, forced to watch the horrifying show from above.

Ginny had quickly realised, after she first heard about the first aliens falling from the sky, that her job in Norway with Jane and Darcy had been a ruse to get Jane out of the country after Jane had spilled the beans that Thor was her boyfriend. She had immediately and desperately wanted to go back and properly use the magic that she had been gifted with, but her rational side hadn't let her, telling her that she had put too much effort into her new life to let it all go with a flick of her wand. She sighed internally. New York had been the time when she had felt the strongest temptation to use magic since she had left that whole world behind.

"When do you need me?" Ginny said finally.

"Within the hour. You need to arrive in the foyer of Avengers Tower. Someone will drive you to the location."

Ginny nodded absently, already heading over to her wardrobe and dragging out a large suitcase.

"I'll be there." And with that, Ginny hung up, tossing her phone on her bed.

Avengers Tower, huh? The 'situation' was obviously serious then, she thought grimly to herself as she manually began placing clothes into her bag.

Despite the connections that Ginny had with Pepper Potts and Maria Hill, Ginny had never been needed at Avengers Tower. After the Battle of New York, a new facility had been built for Stark's company and that was where she spent all of her time. Not once had she ever needed to go to Avengers Tower. Not once had she met Tony Stark, even though he was the boss of her boss. And not once had she met any of the Avengers. Pepper had invited her to numerous parties and get-togethers and had gone on about how Ginny should get to know the people that she worked with. Ginny had refused every single time.

But then and again, Ginny didn't really care either. There were people at work who complained about not getting invites, saying that because they worked for Stark they should be allowed to meet the Tony Stark and therefore all of the Avengers, but Ginny had never really seen the point in something like that. Besides, the last thing that Ginny wanted was to meet them and be reminded of the things that she had put behind her.

Ginny eyes subconsciously landed on the small, elongated box sitting towards the front of her shelf, waiting to be packed into her bag. It had been years since she had felt the handle of the ebony wand sit comfortably in the palm of her hand. She had taken it, or rather the box, to work with her every day, just like she had taken it to Norway, to France, to Germany, to Sweden…

She grabbed the box off the shelf and looked at it almost wistfully. For a moment, Ginny was tempted to open the seemingly harmless container and gaze and touch the object that had once been at the centre of her entire universe, but her itching fingers didn't raise themselves to lift the lid. Another day, she thought as she placed the precious package under some clothes in her suitcase. I'll get it out another day.

Ginny finished her packing quickly after that, not allowing herself to dwell on the fact that she had also placed her old, collapsible potions kit and books on magic in her bag. Some habits just never died, she thought regretfully, as she made sure that the books were well buried underneath her clothes.

After double-checking her apartment to make sure that she hadn't forgotten anything and sending a quick voice message to Andrews saying that she was going to be away for an indefinite amount of time and not to worry about her, Ginny left, her key clicking loudly in the old lock.

"Going somewhere, Red?" a voice asked her suddenly and Ginny spun around to see one of her neighbours trudging up the stairs. She looked at him quizzically. "Lift's broken," he muttered awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

"Again?" she asked, forcing a small smile onto her lips.

"Yeah. So…" Chase paused. "Where are you going?"

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "Work trip. An indefinite one, I'm afraid."

"At two in the morning?"

"It was unexpected," Ginny said shortly. Merlin, this was awkward.

Chase nodded slowly. "Going anywhere interesting at least?"

"Uh, Scotland," Ginny said quickly, her own answer surprising her slightly. "It should be fun."

"Yeah. I travelled to Scotland with my parents once. The accents are great."

Ginny gave him a weak smile. "Right. Well, I should be going now. I'm on a bit of a tight schedule. So do you mind if you move? You're blocking the stairs."

Chase nodded again, a funny expression on his face, but jumped almost comically out of the way for her. "Uh, yeah, sure."

"Thanks."

"Do you need any help with your bag?"

"No."

"Oh, okay."

Ginny turned to leave, grateful to finally leave the awful conversation behind.

"Why are you still hiding?" Chase said suddenly. "You've lived here for three years and you go on like nothing ever happened to you. You have a job, new friends… I don't know how you do it."

Ginny's whole body froze. Surely he couldn't mean…? "I'm afraid that I don't understand what you're trying to say," she whispered stiffly.

"Yes, you do."

Shit. The war was exactly what he meant. A tense silence fell between them.

"Well then, if you know so well," Ginny said tightly, "then you would know to leave me the hell alone, wouldn't you?"

Chase ignored her. "You know, they're all looking for you, uh, the Ministry of Magic that is. Your family as well, for a matter of fact. There was something about it in the wizarding paper."

Ginny scowled deeply. "I know they are."

"And you're being called one of the most powerful young witches of our age." He turned to her, his eye strangely bright. "You know, I could hand you in. Everyone would be very grateful… But, luckily for you, I'm not going to do that, because you seem lost, Ginny. You seem lost and confused."

Ginny ground her teeth together. "Don't call me that and," she hissed dangerously, stepping closer to Chase's face, "if you ever say anything about me to anyone, then I'll make sure that you end up in St. Mungo's."

Chase shrugged. "I don't know what St. Mungo's is. This is America after all. But I'm not going to tell anyone. I just thought that you should know that you're being missed."

"I know that too," she said, irritation beginning to colour her voice.

"Then why don't you go back? I mean, I know that I don't really have any right to say anything to you-"

"Then don't say anything at all," Ginny interrupted harshly. "So like I said before, get lost, Wiles." And with that, Ginny grabbed her bag from its spot on the floor and started marching down the steps, leaving Chase Wiles and now her flat, which she had grown quite fond of, behind her.

She called for a taxi as soon as she exited her apartment block, Chase's words swirling around her head. How the hell had he even known who she was? Or even better, how hadn't she even realized that the gangly guy who lived one floor above her was a bloody wizard? "Why are you still hiding?" Ginny glared at the ground as his seemingly innocent question dominated her thoughts. He had had no right to ask that to her. Absolutely no right at all.

It didn't matter that he had voiced the question that she had been asking herself for the last several months, because he just shouldn't have said it.

"Hey, lady! Are you getting in the cab or what?"

Ginny jumped and nodded quickly, wondering how long the car had been sitting there, before shoving her luggage in the back and clambering into the front seat.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked impatiently.

Ginny looked out the window. New York really was the city that never slept. "Avengers Tower."


I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter of this story! I'm excited about this one :D

If you have any questions for me or anything like that, I'd be willing to answer them. Also, grammar and stuff is important to me, so if you find a mistake, then let me know.

This story will be updated every Sunday unless something drastic and unexpected occurs and if I'm going to be away for an update, then I'll let you all know in advance.

Anyway, until next week!

HauntedCinders