Note: 'Timeline What Timeline' :P This will be continued at some point! I have a long list to go through *sweatdrop* as well as time managing lol
The sun had long since set in the night sky, surrounding the outside of the Muggle pub with its darkness. Ginny welcomed it with ease; there was something about the dimly lit space that brought the witch comfort.
That was not implying that she needed said comfort; Ginny was by no means depressed or dejected in any way. No, the woman simply enjoyed the soft, quiet ambiance.
Throughout the twenty-plus years of her life, Ginny was bombarded with disturbances. Her older brothers—and she meant every single one of them—were the perfect representations of rowdiness and pestering. Her mum having to chase after them with her kitchen charms hardly did Ginny any justice. Attending Hogwarts was certainly no peaceful walk in the park either. From the typical school rubbish to defeating a soulless madman, there hadn't been much time for solidarity to fit into her plans.
Sleeping aside, the redhead still hadn't stopped for a moment to simply take in life around her. It would have been quite challenging to fit those moments into her Quidditch schedule; the Harpies were an intimidation lot for a reason. She had to maintain her personal contributions to that reason.
It was after an unofficial scrimmage against a Quidditch team in the States two years ago that shed a beacon of hope for the young witch. Everyone was supposed to meet in the enigmatic pub to assist in celebrating and interacting with one another. 'A display of good sportsmanship is essential on this career path,' Ginny's coach insisted after each game, yet Ginny believed it to be complete poppycock; the verbal spars during Quidditch matches would put Durmstrang to shame.
Regardless of her opinion, Ginny did as she was told and 'embraced her inner good sportsman.' By the end of the night when everyone started to depart, Ginny remained a little longer. Her finger tapped lightly on her table from the faint music playing. She secretly revelled in the fact that she hadn't been crowded with civilians demanding her autograph; she could be herself without the fame attached to it. Given her former crush and profession, one would consider it ironic.
And those who said so directly to her face would receive her knuckles labeled 'Piss' and 'Off'.
Fortunately, Ginny didn't have to resort to violence so much outside of work, and the pub had been
Merlin-sent. No stress, no distractions, and no problems.
A coarse groan escaped her throat as she peeled open her eyes. The pounding inside her head was preventing her from thinking straight, and the witch really needed to figure out what the bloody hell happened. The last thing she remembered before the pain hit was that she had a drink or two and someone came to sit next to her…
Sniffling, Ginny attempted to rub her forehead and ease some of her pain, but she was unable to. Her arm could only extend as far as the chain linked to the shackle around her wrist would allow.
Buggering hell, where was she?
Her defensive instincts sprung into action, even dulling her headache in turn with alarm. She tried assessing her surroundings, yet nothing about the dark bedroom was familiar. There was no recollection of her events beyond the drinks and the certainty of a stranger sitting close to her.
"An attractive woman like you all by your lonesome is practically an invitation to pursue you…"
Ginny cursed under her breath and closed her eyes as anger and frantic simmered within. She was not some hapless Muggle with no means to escape. Ginny Weasley was a very capable witch. Among her capabilities was wandless magic because it was obvious that her wand was nowhere near her person. She could only hope that it wasn't somewhere crooked or broken as Ron's once was.
The very thought horrified her and fueled her determination to get away from...wherever the hell she was.
"Concentrate, Gin," she said to herself. "Pretend it's one of the twins and their infuriating inventions."
Ginny could feel the feathery touch of her magic on the tip of her fingers, but that was it. There was no spark, no surge of power that she knew she possessed. It couldn't be possible. At no point did she suppress her magic; the Muggles couldn't detect it before...
"You look like a man with nothing to lose."
"I don't have anything to lose. Not anymore."
She was not The-Smartest-Witch-Of-Her-Age, but it wouldn't take a genius to gather that the man from the night before had something to do with this or knew something about it. The redhead released a growl and tried to yank the shackle loose with her free hand. All of her Quidditch training had to count for something.
"And here I thought you were just feisty under the influence," came the deep, taunting tone from her faded memory. Hearing it so vividly in the small distance cleared more of her foggy memories.
Ginny threw her head back and released a soft moan. Her nails raked over the bare chest of the man underneath her.
"Clint…"
His hands held her hips in place. His eyes glimmered with devious desire. He looked like a man on a mission.
She had no idea of the goals he hoped to achieve.
Her eyes were narrowed into slits as she stared at the lean man at the door. His dark Mohawk was swept back instead of spiked like it was before. He was still dressed in dark garbs; it had to be the dark and dangerous look that drew her in. Bloody hormones.
"Clint," she said with a growl. "If that's even your real name, you arse. Get me out of these!"
Ginny yanked on the chain once more, feeling her irritation grow at his dark amusement.
"Power inhibitors are great aren't they?" He replied ignoring her statement. "You can thank a woman named Wanda for that. Good old friend of mine, but I know magic is when I see it."
A sinking feeling increased tenfold at his words. He knew. At least, he was privy to some aspect of the magical community. Ginny wouldn't allow him that satisfaction, though.
"You have me mistaken with someone else," she said. "If you release me, I won't kick your arse as bad."
He chuckled in response and shook his head. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen. And the name is Clint. No sense hiding my real self when everyone before you didn't make it alive to do anything with it." Clint grabbed the wooden chair by the door and leaned against it at the foot of the bed. "Tell me, witch. What do you know about Thanos?"
Ginny's brows furrowed. What in Godric's name is a Thanos? She voiced that aloud and he shook his head again, only now with more frustration. The look in his eye was far more deadly than before, but Ginny didn't survive the things in her life to lose it over misinformation. She was going to be a formidable opponent. Something else he said the night before shr blurred out began to echo in her ears.
"I think you and I have much to discuss, Red."
'We sure a hell do, Clint.' Ginny thought, cracking her neck.
Word Count: 1,203