Chapter 8- Forbidden Love
A black robed figure could be seen lurking in the shadows near Ginny Weasley's flat. For weeks now he'd been watching her, observing her. His orders had been clear; target the youngest Weasley.
In the beginning he had been unsure of why he was watching her, unsure of why he was going to die for taking her. Something had told him that if he did take her, as he had been ordered to, he would die. He wanted to be sure she was worth it, because if not, he would simply run. He could hide, he knew people who had hidden before.
She was definitely worth it. He had seen each of her exchanges with Harry Potter, and it was now very clear what her uses would be. Little Miss Weasley was the missing link. She was the link to Harry Potter.
Night had fallen, which meant that his time to strike had come. He pulled out his wand and crept toward her flat, careful to remain hidden and careful not to draw attention to himself. One of the porch steps creaked and he paused, listening for signs of movement from inside the flat, after all, one could never be too careful… especially in his position. He heard none and after a second or two he reached the door. Sure enough, it was locked.
"Alohamora."
He opened the door slowly, looking inside of the house. The living room and kitchen were dark, and there was a door at the far end of the room that was close, light streaming through the crack. He moved toward it quickly, wand held out, prepared to fight.
There was no one in the room when he opened the door. He saw a large bed and a dresser and other items that are often seen in bedrooms, but the one thing, or shall we say person that he was after was not there. He glanced around and spotted another door, the sounds of running water coming from it. Now he understood, she was taking a shower before bed.
"Perfect."
He sat on her bed, and when he looked over at the bedside table he saw her wand. Within seconds the wand was in his pocket, and he continued to look around the room as he waited.
The door opened and Ginny came out, a towel wrapped tightly around her body, her hair a mess.
"What the- ?"
He stood up, pointing his wand at her.
"We're leaving."
His voice was firm as he grabbed her arm. She jerked away, still holding the towel in place.
"What do you want?"
She glanced around for her wand, and her eyes grew wide as he pulled it from his pocket.
"It's not what I want my dear, it's what someone else wants."
Ginny edged toward her dresser, clearly showing signs of wanting to get some clothes, but the man seemed to have decided that it was not worth the risk, for he pointed her own wand at he and muttered a spell under his breath. Suddenly her towel snapped tightly around her body and was held in place as he grabbed her arm.
"There's no time for that."
Ginny glared at him, trying to pull away, but he managed to drag her forward into the next room, where she continued to struggle, and knocking things over in the process. Finally, the man stunned her.
"I told you that we didn't have much time."
His voice was soft as he lifted her limp body into his arms, casting a charm on them so that they would be invisible. His hood was lowered in the process, revealing a man with a handsome face and dark brown hair. He lowered his head a fraction of an inch over her face. He had become too attached over these weeks of watching her; he had fallen in love with her.
His lips brushed against hers softly, savoring the taste of the woman he knew he could never have. He could still clearly remember the jealousy that had been burning inside of him when he saw her kiss Harry a few weeks back. He could remember the hatred that had built up inside of him, hatred toward Harry for making her cry.
Of course, this was the problem. Her fate was already set, and it was a fate that would make it impossible for him to have her. So, he would have to content himself with a few soft kisses. He had a feeling that she knew what he was doing, but he did not seem to care. He was a dead man anyway.
"I'm going to die tonight Ginny, and it's going to be your fault… all your fault."
With those last words, spoken quietly from his lips, he carried her out of the house. He only had a few minutes to take her to where she would be held, and he didn't want to be late.
