Fear No Evil
Disclaimer- these are going to get dreadfully repetitive if I do them every chapter…I own nothing, I am merely the lowly and obedient servant of the queen, J.K Rowling. All bow down.
Chapter One
The dust-stricken path placed an ill received impairment on his line of vision. How he loathed the wind at this moment. The darkness had lifted in time, his ambition to continue outweighed his exposure to the light and the ability to be seen. To add aid to his disposition Mother Nature conjured up a harsh unforgiving wind that kicked the dirt path into swirls that surrounded him in an unwelcome manner.
Dirt covered his glasses, which he grabbed off of his face irritably to clean. He was in no mood to deal with either his hereditary blindness, nor his unruly hair, as both were in current tatters.
His foul mood fervent with no one to take it out on, so he continued, braving the choking dust to reach his ultimate goal. Glasses temporarily clean, they sat in their rightful place and assisted him in keeping a keen lookout. His eyes narrowed in onto something that was moving in a stumbling manner towards him. He crouched down near the ground, his eyes never leaving the offending object.
As it grew closer there was little doubt that remained that it was indeed a human. Wand clutched tightly in his hand he prepared to attack. The only reason for another human to be traveling on this road would be to search for him.
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She struggled against the wind wondering in vain how her beloved rain had turned to this so quickly. A fresh powder of dirt slapped her from behind and she was near the shouting point, if only there were someone to shout at.
Her long thick hair whipped all around her, tormenting her for not having cut it or at least having the sense to bring a hair tie. She trudged on her path to nowhere. It depressed her, that she had no where to go, no one to turn to. This was the life that had been given to her though, she would accept it and submit to it as needed. No use in complaining, her mother had always said shrilly, action proves more effective than whining.
Her mother. The mere thought was enough to bring tears to her burning eyes. She was dead, they all were. It was her fault, all her fault. She wiped her eyes in self resentment, she didn't even have the right to shed tears over them. They were too good for even her tears of regret and shame.
Caught up in a mixture of bitterness and loathing she didn't notice that something was amiss. The springing up of a creature escaped her attention, so it came as an utter shock when she felt a wand being pointed at her temple.
"I can kill you in three seconds flat," said a hard emotionless voice.
She licked her irritated cracked lips, "I mean you no harm."
"You think that matters to me? I'm a cold-blooded killer sweetheart, more innocent than you have fallen at my hands. Turn around."
Frightened, and slightly relieved she began to turn. Good, someone finally to put her out of her misery as she was too chicken to commit the act herself. Opening her eyes widely she looked at her would be murderer to see sharp green eyes hidden behind thick frames that could only belong to one person…
"Harry?" She whispered incredulously, scarcely allowing herself to believe what her eyes had already confirmed.
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The only trace of emotion at his recognition of her that he allowed to show was the tightening of his jaw. He had not seen her for a great while, but there was no mistaking that it was her. Complications arising caused him to curse in his mind, he did not need a bloody reunion when he was so close to what he yearned for with every fiber of his being.
He withdrew his wand, he could not hurt her; at least, not without being provoked to do so. "Ginny," he acknowledged in an icy tone, "why are you here?"
He watched in detached amusement as a large range of emotions played out on her features. He was supposed to be dead, it was nice to see how someone reacted when one came back from presumed death.
"Harry," she said faintly, "I thought, well we all thought that you were…"
"Dead?" He offered without a trace of compassion. "Afraid not, sorry to disappoint."
"Sorry?" She repeated, "Harry you have no idea how wonderful this is! We're failing dreadfully, but with you everyone will have hope, they will all want to fight again. This is a miracle!"
His mouth twitched at her naïve assumptions, he would sooner take to dark mark himself than be a whore for the light. He would win the war for them alright, but for himself and his own need for revenge; not so he could play the role of the hero.
She looked for the first time at his grim, hardened face that was so once so lively. "You aren't going to come back," she observed in a reserved quiet tone.
"Acute observations as always," he replied.
She cast her eyes down, not appreciating how coincidental and odd it was for them to meet on the abandoned highway. "I suppose I best be going then, leave you be as you so obviously want to be."
She was right, he did want to be left alone, more than anything. But because of his cursed bad luck he wasn't going to be alone. She had found him, and he wouldn't risk letting her scamper off to tell anyone who would listen that the great Harry Potter was indeed alive and fit to fight. No, she would have to remain in his company where he could keep a close watch on her. And friend of his old life or not, if she got in his way or attempted to slow him, he would kill her.
She turned, he placed a tight grip on her upper arm. "You'll stay with me. I travel mostly at night, if you have a problem with this or slow me down, I will carry out what I began when I first saw you. Understood?"
She narrowed her eyes in confusion, where was the Harry that she once knew? Who was this man that was practically taking her hostage and acting like she was lucky for him to keep her in his dreadful company?
"I do not wish to go with you," she answered coldly, "I will be perfectly fine on my own."
"It wasn't a request Virginia," he growled, deliberately using the name she despised. "I cannot afford the risk of your sighting me. You may come with me freely or I can use alternate, more unpleasant means. The choice is yours, but either way you are coming with me."
She dropped her glare, she wasn't nearly as accomplished at the detachment attribute as he was. "Harry, what on earth happened to you?"
Annoyed by her stalling tactics he pointed his experienced wand at her once more, "walk," he commanded with simple authority.
She sighed and submitted to his demands. Captive was a better title than whimpering fool, and she had no real desire to remain alone. Perhaps if she were lucky she would die and then would no longer have to have pathetic thoughts such as preferring to be a captive.
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A/N Thank you to my reviewers for the first chapter, it's always nice to know that I'm not talking to myself. Knowing that someone is reading the story keeps that thin line between writer and insane so cleanly separated. Also, a lot of talk of death and suicide has been mentioned, if this offends anyone, well go read something else. And chapters will become longer as soon as I have time to actually sit and write them.