Just A Girl
Chapter Two: Fire Rekindled
She was limp now.
He carried her as easily as he carried his wand in his hand.
He could break her just as easily.
Her fire-red curls fell over her shoulders and nearly brushed the floor. He stiffened and lifted her higher. For once in his life he shivered. It was as if the red-gold locks might burst into flame.
They reached the dungeon, her hair still trailing behind her. He grabbed it up and pushed it into the hood of her cloak, almost violently but not quite. He didn't know yet if he could really hurt her.
He collapsed there on the floor and laid her gently down. They remained there for what seemed hours while time whirled around them incessantly, the unconscious, pale girl and the barely alive yet nearly even paler boy who was aged beyond his years.
It was the only time he had ever cried. There was no reason for him to do it now.
He looked at the corpselike body of the eleven-year-old girl who had once had life.
Life he had never had.
Never.
He broke the spell and threw that damned diary at the wall. It slammed into it with such force that he saw the girl shake, even in her sleep. Although it was not really sleep.
It was death.
Anger replaced sorrow and he clenched his fists, arms shaking, and waited.
Waited for the boy to come. Because he knew that the he would, eventually.
He waited.