I gazed at the destruction that lay before me. The fire charring the woods that once filled the valley below and made it a happy place. The smell of smoldering homes and of smoldering lives permerates the air and invades my nostrils.

I know that I took part in it. I am responsible. I could not have stopped it either, and I had no choice but to participate, but the thought makes me sick anyways. I turn my head to the side to hide the expressions on my face I know will give me away. Uttering a quick excuse I fled. As soon as I was out of sight, I fell to the ground and vomited.

The mark on my forearm burns but I don't care. I disregard it, giving it no more thought than to dully register the pain.

I apparated as soon as I was able. I knew not where I apparated to, I just knew I had to get out. Out to anywhere. As long as the night wasn't invaded with the sounds of people screaming, children crying. As long as the air didn't carry the smell of burning flesh and wood on it. As long as it was away from here.

As I apparate I have a fleeting image of hair the color of the fire below me.

As I become once again oriented with my surroundings, I'm aware of the shouts of children. Not screams of anguish, or pain, but joyful shouts. I lookd up as I ge unsteadily to my knees, and saw a tall, round, garish-colored tent. Painted in bright yellow and purple stripes, it seemed to reflect the light blinking from the machines next to it.

I looked for the children, and found them walking around, with parents and with other children. Some holding up what looked to be balls of pink and blue fluff, on a stick. Hearing the music, and seeing what I knew to be a carousel, I was hit with the realization. You're at a muggle carnival. A thought in my head screams out at me, at this, but my mind continues before I can grasp it fully. Just like the Muggles you helped kill. Helped burn.

I clutch my head, desperate to rid myself of these thoughts that threaten to swamp my brain, to cloud my senses, to make me burst. Stumbling into the fairgrounds, I search the sea of bodies desperately. For nothing and for one thing. I can only clutch at vague snippets of thought as my body propels forward, a vague idea. A Muggle carnival, Muggles. Her. And when I see it, I know what I am searching for. A spark of red, just a tiny bolt, and gone. But I am on the scent now, and I will not give it up.

I follow it through a maze of tents and vendors, using all my natural instincts and Slytherin ruthlessness. And finally, I catch it.

Grabbing the wrist, I pull on it and swing the person around, thanking Merlin she is alone. I already know what she looks like, having studied her for hours on end, but my heart still races as she comes to face me. I have found her.

The look on her face is priceless, and I would give anything to have a sketchpad right now. Fury mixed with gladness. Confusion. Hopefulness. Above all, something I saw in her eyes frequently when we saw each other regularly. Something I would like to name, but which I don't dare to. The fury wins, as I knew it would, and angry words pour out of her mouth.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

A/N: My first angst fic. Or attempt, however it may be. It's not very angsty now. . but it will later. Very much appreciated if you would review, as well as with constructive criticism, provided it's not a flame! Questions about their relationship, and history, and why Ginny is at a muggle carnival will be answered soon!