A Captive Path Chapter 14: Primavera, a harry potter fanfic

Primavera

Fear no more the frown o' th' great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke.

The flat face of the cliff rose high above the sea, the ancient stone shining under the moonlight and the water was crashing and foaming below. Bare feet slapping against the smooth rock, Ginny followed the path she'd been directed on, sloping down and away from the cliff's edge, the sea roaring in her ears. The stone gave way to cool, green grass, far greener and softer than any she could remember feeling before. But then, perhaps she'd simply been in winter for too long.

Before she had climbed the hill to the cliff, she'd torn off those blasted wings, and dunked her hair and face briefly into the icy, salty ocean. Now, as she slipped under the cover of the Welsh forest, following the path directly forward as she'd been instructed, she looked like her old self nearly. Her red hair fell in damp waves that clung to her white dress, and her face was once again rosy and freckled.

Through the virgin, untouched undergrowth, a mist was forming, a mist that stopped Ginny in her tracks for a moment, bringing to mind far too many nights without end that she spent trapped by fog. But this mist was not the hard, cold mist of Little Hangleton. This mist wrapped itself around her ankles; both warm and cool at once, drawing her forward through the trees and brambles. She followed the path and the beaconing fog until she was led into a small clearing carpeted in the same soft, green grass that topped the hill, along with wild mint and heather. While the strange, misty fog lingered at the edges of the trees, above Ginny's head the sky was clear, clearer than any sky she had seen in her life (which logically, it should not have been, as the moon was out, but logic seemed to fade in this place). She felt as if, should she look hard enough, she would see all the way past the Earth's sky and into those beyond.

As she approached the middle of the clearing, thinking these thoughts and staring at the sky, she suddenly felt very drowsy, and her limbs were telling her that the ground looked especially comfortable. Tearing her eyes away from that brilliant, star-lit sky, Ginny looked down, to see an indent in the grass at her feet. Kneeling down, she touched the place briefly. Something...or someone...very small had once lain there. And she had an idea of who it had been. Apparently, time had no meaning there either.

Lying down on the feathery grass and sweet-smelling mint and purple heather, Ginny spread her arms out on the ground, staring up at the stars. A tingling sensation settled over her arms and legs, as the mist drifted over her. Far away, she felt that she could hear laughter, as if through a wall or across the grounds at school. A wonderful, dreamy feeling began to form inside of her, washing through her insides and causing a small smile to form on her face. Ginny shut her eyes, drifting off to sleep in the ring, her first sound, peaceful sleep in over a year...

It was the second week of April before Michael Corner returned to work. Sitting down in his office with a heavy sigh, he shook his shoulders free of knots, rolled a quill between his hands, inked it, and dove right into the pile of parchment waiting in front of him. He'd only gotten through one list though, before there was a knock on his door,

"Come in," He sighed, not looking up. A rather pinched-looking old woman poked her head in, squinting at him over her thick glasses. Inwardly, Michael smirked. It was one of the secretaries from the Gobstone offices, who had nothing better to do those days than gossip,

"Just popping in for a moment, very busy you know," The woman sniffed, looking about the room, "Only wanted to offer my condolences on losing that pretty wife of yours," Michael cringed, which was good, as it came across as a pained expression, "Oh but perhaps it's too soon?"

"Yes, it is soon," Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair, "But she died doing our Lord's bidding, I know she would be proud..."

"Awfully brave of her," The woman sighed, clutching at where her heart supposedly was, "Jumping right on her broom as soon as the hunt started for that escaped girl. Pity about the tree!"

"Yes," Michael sighed, trying very hard not to smirk, as the woman left his office. He was suddenly reminded that he hadn't filed Alicia's forged papers away, and set about doing so, "Pity about that tree..."

Directly following their escape from Voldemort's Gala, Stephen and George had hugged Bill, Ginny and Alicia, then taken a hastily-made portkey back to Michael's printing building and floo'd back to Hogsmeade. They were wise to work so quickly, as an hour later the floo network was back on full alert.

Running through the deserted village in the starlight, George let out a whoop, as his feet felt light and he knew they were safe again. Running behind him, Stephen also grinned, shaking his head, "Think they'll make it?" He called out, his voice echoing through the darkness and over the mountains.

"Course they will!" George called back, as they passed through the toppled, rusty gates of Hogwarts, "Ginny's as safe as she'll ever be with Billy-boy! He'll have her out of here..."

Hagrid had seen them coming through the gates, so that by the time the two young men returned all in the settlement were awake and ready for them. Katie was alternating between crying for joy and swearing at George for going off and almost getting himself killed. Hagrid kept asking where Bill was. Of course, it was George who had to explain everything that had happened, once things had calmed down and everyone was up and seated around the bonfire Flitwick had lit. Stephen found himself otherwise occupied.

"Never AGAIN," Morag was stating firmly, in a tone that allowed for no argument. She'd had Stephen in a bear hug since the moment he'd entered the forest, and while the rest of their party talked animatedly around the fire, Morag was now holding her old housemate prisoner against a pine tree, until he swore to her,

"Never again," He repeated, grinning down at her through his mop of brown hair. The intense look on Morag's face melted away slowly, while she moved closer and gave him a good long snog, reaching up and running her hands through that infuriating hair, something she'd wanted to do for years, but of course she would have died before admitting such in the old days.

The following morning, Stephen rose with the sun, leaving the cold shack he'd settled in and wrapping himself up in the thick, winter coat he'd procured in London. It might have been springtime, but things were still frigid. Burying his hands in his pockets, he made his way through the forest in the grey light, until he left the trees behind him and was crossing the silent, over-grown school grounds. He kept on walking until he was standing before Dumbledore's tomb, which seemed to glow white in the morning light. The small crack still remained on the top, where Voldemort had tried to destroy it and failed.

Sitting down cross-legged on the smooth stone dais that the tomb was set upon, Stephen simply watched as the sun rose behind the white marble, lost in a jumble of thoughts and memories. He started slightly, when he felt someone's hands on his shoulders, until he glanced up, seeing blue eyes and short, choppy blonde hair.

"You're thinking," Morag said softly, sitting down behind him, and resting her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. Stephen smiled briefly. It certainly made them both a bit warmer.

"Yeah," He said softly, looking back at Dumbledore's tomb, "I don't know...I feel like..."

"You redeemed yourself?" He nodded. Morag smirked, "You're still such an idiot. You didn't do anything wrong, they made you," She turned her face, kissing the side of his neck lightly, "But I am glad you feel better."

"Oh I do," Stephen nodded, leaning back against her, "I do..."

Deception Bay was officially melting. The higher points in the village were dry and grassy, while the shadowy, lower points were home to lonely, diminutive piles of slushy snow. The smoke rising from the two inhabited buildings was thin, as were the sweaters and jeans worn by their inhabitants. Hestia Jones had a blanket spread out on the sun-warmed knoll outside of her front door, upon which she was sitting with baby Charlie on her lap, watching as the kids...young adults, she inwardly corrected herself...took one of the boats out into the bay. Selune was beside her, braiding Celia's hair while the still-catatonic girl watched the shimmering water. The younger girls were reading aloud nearby on their own blanket, and generally all was peaceful.

Behind them, Sturgis was chopping the last of their winter firewood, while Kevin stacked it behind the house. Hestia sighed, glancing up at the clear blue sky, wondering when the next owl, raven or tropical bird would show up bearing further news. They'd only had a few from their wandering Bill, and Hestia fancied that this was a good sign. Wherever they were, they were far away from Voldemort's hand.

"Mum!" Hestia looked out over the bay, as Megan waved to her from the boat, standing up. She laughed, waving back, even as Sturgis shouted behind her,

"SIT DOWN!" He yelled, and the two women both started laughing, "We're not equipped to deal with hypothermia if you fall in!" Oh things were wonderful, Hestia decided. Things were so very wrong, and yet so very wonderful...

Voldemort's Gala fell to pieces, once it was discovered that Ginny Weasley had been spirited away. Countless guests were questioned, their cottages searched, but no sign of her escape was found. A wrathful call and reward was announced, and the sky was filled with broomsticks, Loyalists searching the skies. But the fugitives were long gone.

After a long delay in London, Theodore and Luna returned to Salem, along with their neighbors. They did not talk much about what happened. Once though, they did, on a warm evening in May when the glass was taken off of their veranda and the flowers were starting to push through the spring ground. Luna was sitting in the cool evening air, wrapped up in a blue robe, her hands clasped over her stomach. Theodore found her there, and stood across from her, leaning against one of the veranda's pillars. He stared at her for a time, his arms crossed, while she simply looked back at him, expectantly,

"Do you..." He asked slowly, his eyes fixed upon her, "Regret Our Lord's loss?"

Luna looked at him for a long, tentative moment, licking her lips, pondering. Looking down at her stomach, she unclasped her hands, taking a deep breath, "I'm married to you. Your oath of Loyalty is mine as well," She looked back up at him, "That said...no. I don't regret that he lost her, at all."

Theodore nodded slowly, eventually taking a step forward and bending down to kiss her forehead, "Nor do I."

It was a hot, pleasant evening, somewhere far, far away from Europe, somewhere with a beach and palm trees. On the edge of land where the sand met the trees, there was a sand castle, built outside of a tent where sparse belongings were sheltered. Ginny was standing at the water's edge, while far to her left along the shoreline Bill and Alicia were having a water fight, running into the waves as they broke, laughing and chasing each other about. Ginny couldn't help a pleased grin.

The sea was foaming and spurting at her bare feet, tossing sand and shells and the soup of thousands of ocean histories onto her freckled ankles. Shipwrecks and mermaids and giant whales, all spirited into the brilliant turquoise sea. Ginny spread her arms out, up over her head and into the sky, tilting her face up to the clear, ruddy, sunset sky, a contented smile upon her lips. She couldn't fully explain it, this freedom in her spirit that had begun with that strange night of dreaming in Wales. She still knew that she had lived through terrible things, and that terrible things had been done to her. And yet...she had no clear memory of them. The traumas and horrors had slipped away from her in one silent, dream-filled sleep.

'I feel you,' she thought. Almost of their own bidding, her arms spread out to either side of her, like pale freckled wings ready for the ocean winds to sweep her up and away. She was free, as free as the seagulls and tropical birds, as free as the mermaids and the wind and the sea. They were free. They could go anywhere, the world was theirs. They were in this place, on the run and yet unafraid. They were invincible. Nothing could catch them. And for now, Ginny was The Queen of The Island. She missed her friends...and she would always miss him. But at the moment, all was right again.

'I will see you again someday …'

- fin

Author's Notes: To shamelessly quote CS Lewis, this is 'the end of this tale, and the beginning of all others'. At the behest of my dear friends Liz (who played Theodore) and Ashley (who played Orla and Megan), I have created an RPG for this plot, on greatestjournal. The name is captive(underscore)rpg, do check it out! I am thinking it will open near the end of this month. And if nothing else, readers can see what the characters all looked like, hehe.

And for fun, here is the music I listened to while writing this, and might have included as well:

I Will Find You (where we get the story's title) – Clannad
Fall Asleep – Subject to Change
Building A Mystery – Sarah McLachlan
Transylvanian Concubine – Rasputina
Damaged – Plumb
Hide Your Love Away – Eddie Vedder
Lovers In A Dangerous Time – BNL
Mordred's Lullaby – Heather Dale
Here With Me – Dido
Smile Like You Mean It – The Killers
Walking After You – Foo Fighters
Fear – Sarah McLachlan
Sleeping With Ghosts – Placebo
You – Switchfoot
Ever The Same – Rob Thomas
I Will Love You – Fisher
Cymbeline – Loreena McKennitt

With that all done, I just have to say THANK YOU to all of those who reviewed, with thoughtful and helpful insight. This was so much fun to write, especially as I feel like I am so attached to these characters already. I'm sure I'll be writing more in the future, and of course, the plot will live on in the RPG!