I was so very lonely.

I was so very lonely. I had lived for thousands of years; I saw my entire race in the span of two thousand years die out and turn to dust in their graves, before my very eyes. I never new why I survived, but I did, maybe because I was only half? I'll never know. During those thousands of years, I tried to move on from their deaths, but nothing worked. After almost three thousand years I gave up and became reclusive. I wondered around the world hundreds of times, in a numb and sorrowful state. I saw things I never would have thought could exist in the world. I saw both pure good things, and I saw the blackest of evils in the world. I became jaded and coldhearted, to protect myself from caring, because if you care, and they die your heartbreaks and I couldn't live with a broken heart for the rest of my life and not go insane. My race, we cannot kill our self's, so that option was out for me. I learned to become a cold-hearted basterd

It was by pure chance that I stumbled past him during my night travels. He wasn't there before, the previous night. I wondered why I stayed in that spot for so long, I generally move on after a day or two, but I stayed in that area for over a week, maybe his aura, so like mine, drew me in or maybe I sensed him and waited subconsciously for him to show. Who knows? It was late, a few hours before the dawn, I wasn't sure, when you had lived as long as I had you lose track of time. He was sitting on the swings at a nearby park; I first thought he was a drunk or a druggie. I would have walked past him, but something caught my action, I'm still not sure what it was.

I walked up to him; he didn't even look at me. I shrugged and sat on the next swing by him and I waited for him to speak. I looked him over, he wasn't tall and he was very boney. I knew then he was being starved, and there were some bruises on his arms that I could see that told me he was also being physically abused too. He had black hair that stuck up all over the place; his eyes were a bright mossy jade green. His skin was a pale pink color and his lips were a strawberry red. As I looked at his face again, I realized that he was looking at me too.

"What do you want? Are you here to kill me? Do you work for Voldemort or Dumbledore?" He asked me softly. I laughed quietly at what he said to me.

"No, young one. I'm not here to kill, I actually do not like killing. I also do not know of these people you speck of." He crocked his head at me and smiled a little.

"No you wouldn't." He whispered to me. He sighed and shook his head.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this, but, I think I need to get this off my chest or I'll go insane. I'm considered the savior of this world of sorts, because I defeated this evil man-thing when I was a child. I didn't even know about what I did or am until five years ago. I thought it would be so great to be in this world of sorts, I was wrong. It is great don't get me wrong, but I liturly have the weight of a world on my shoulders and I'm just barely out of childhood years. The man-thing is back and they expect me to kill someone that has almost tripled my experience in both battle and knowledge, and I don't even like killing. Then a month ago the only family I have left died and now I am alone now, my friends don't understand." As he looked at me, I saw his eyes and I was shocked. His eyes reminded me of mine, a different color, but the sadness, pain and loneliness was so overwhelming.

I couldn't help myself; I raised a hand and cradled his check. Tears welled up in his eyes as he saw mine and saw a reflection of his emotions in mine. Suddenly he threw himself into my lap. I almost fell out of the swing, as he buried his face in my stomach and he cried. I was at a loss at what to do. I remember my mother petted my hair and sung me a song to make me feel better. I started to run my fingers threw his hair and hummed a song. I switched to another song as I saw he wasn't done yet. As I gazed at the top of his head, I felt myself start to feel again. I felt anger; someone dared to place this responsibility on a fledging, sadness that he was alone; love for this human child that had been through so much, protectiveness so over whelming I thought he could be my own.

I let these emotions run through my system, as he slowly stopped crying and as he sat back on his knees I realized that I was taking him with me, this very night and no one was going to hurt him again, whether they liked it or not. I noticed he needed to dry his eyes, so I handed him a handkerchief. He looked at it in some confusion until he took it and wiped his eyes. He handed it back to me and I shoved it into my pocket. I stood up and helped pull him to his feet. I looked at him and asked myself, do I really want to do this? Yes, I do.

'Tell me, do you want to leave this place? To go somewhere you'll be safe? To start the grieving process and to start over? If you do, tell me now, for there is no going back." I said very seriously to him. He glanced up at me and gave me a searching look. Whatever he found there, must have reassured him, for he nodded and said,

"Yes."

I brought him into my embrace and wished us away to my currant home with nary a sound.