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Words: 4536

DISCLAIMER : I own nothing. Except the plot.

Thank you for LadyLiterary for beta-ing this chapter!

"I'm a Squib," She replied. "I have always had a photographic memory since I was born. No one knows why," Harry was still too stunned to reply, so she continued. "I don't have any magical relatives left. They were killed. I've been living a muggle life with my parents since then."

Harry finally snapped out of it as he opened his mouth to speak, but Renesmee beat him to it. "What's your name, wizard?"

"H..Harry Potter."

"Well, mine's Renesmee Carlie Cullen. And I would like to follow you for a while."

Chapter 4 – And Then The Journey Begins

"W-what?"

"I want to follow you," She told him firmly. "Judging from what's inside your backpack, you're a nomad, so I want to follow you for a while."

"You looked into my backpack?!" He said weakly, disturbed by his own lack of anger.

"I'm sorry," She smiled sweetly,waving her hand dismissively, as if the topic had already been forgotten. "Now, where are we going next?"

"What? I haven't even said yes!" Harry interjected, getting on his feet. In a split second, she forced him back to bed with unbelievable physical strength. He tried to move, but her thin hand pushed his chest down like a damn bludger.

"You know, I've always wanted a British accent," The girl said in a conversational tone, staring into his bewildered eyes, full of wonder, as though she was actually facing a total stranger.

The news of the outcome of the war wasn't Britain's Top Secret, or even Europe's. He vaguely remembered the Minister of Magic of America floo-ing right into his flat when all he wanted was a good night sleep. The tall man thanked him for his deeds, even went as far as winking at him after giving him a parcel of full-colored apples. As far as he knew, the Europe, Rusia and America knew about the war—and who had ended it.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, "You don't know me." It was more of a statement than a question.

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Unless you're famous or something, I haven't even heard about the Wizarding world for the past fifteen years."

"Not even the Boy Who Lived?"

"What?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing. Now, I'm really sorry, but unfortunately—"

"You're not gonna say yes?" She interrupted, looking at him oddly.

"Why would I? I don't even know you!"

She extended her hand, smiling brightly. "Well, I'm Renesmee. Renesmee Cullen."

Harry felt a vein throbbing on his forehead. "It doesn't matter! Whatever your name is, Rea-niz-may.."

"Ruh-nez-may," She corrected him.

"It doesn't matter!" He exploded. "How do I know you're not a Death Eater? Or someone who wants me dead?"

She held up both of her hands. "Look. Do I have to strip to show you I don't have any "Death Eater" tattoos?" She grinned cheekily at his gob-smacked expression. "I'll even give you my pinky promise that I have no ill intention towards you."

"That won't be necessary," He finally said, after searching her with calculating eyes. "You're a minor. Where are your parents? Or guardians?"

Her eyes abruptly lost the confidence. "I ran away from home."

Harry stared at the girl again. She seemed so fragile, so feeble; yet her physical strength proved his theory wrong. She seemed almost neurotic; her emotions changing abruptly. Seconds ago Harry had been overwhelmed by her annoying confidence and cheerfulness, and now the girl's expression had changed again, turning into a bitter frown.

"You shouldn't have."

"You don't know my story," She snapped.

"And you don't know mine," He retorted casually. "Which proves we barely know each other."

Harry could see that this had crossed her thoughts too; they were complete strangers, meeting because of a terrible, random accident. It didn't seem logical to suddenly team up and travel around the world. Harry could also see that she was thinking hard, trying to find reasons to make Harry agree to take her along.

When she spoke, her voice had become soft, almost melodic; a voice that's been trained to sing.

"Please."

Harry almost snorted in exasperation. He had given her what seemed like eternity to think, and all she could manage was Please? Harry wasn't a Slytherin—though really,he could easily be one—but who sane person would agree to bring a total stranger along? Besides, she'd be more likely a liability he didn't need, despite her obvious show of physical strength, hiding under that petite frame.

Harry sighed. "Look, let's just sit down and sort this out."

As both of them sat, Harry, not wanting to waste time, asked, "What happened, anyway?"

The brunette sighed, before she began, "Um, I guess I ran away from home because I was just so angry that I jumped in a car and left, and sped up until I hit something," She took a deep breath. "I've never felt as dreadful like that before. It was completely different; imagining it and actually experiencing that I might lead to someone to death was horrible. All I could focus on was your heartbeat when I brought you here."

"Broom," Harry said quietly. "Where's my broom?"

Her eyes fell to the ground and she stood, taking a bundle with her as she sat back down. Harry just stared.

"I'm sorry," She answered, almost as quietly.

And then the blanket fell off. His Firebolt lay there, in tiny pieces. Harry shouldn't have been so suprised. Really, what did he expect? It was a miracle that he had survived at all. To expect the same thing for his Firebolt was, simply, illogical. Harry swallowed down the unpleasant feeling in his stomach. It wasn't about how fast and helpful Firebolt had been. It was about who had given it to him. Would Sirius forgive him, if he knew? Of course he knew. He would know, somehow. And of course Sirius would forgive him. He'd probably laugh at Harry's pouting. No matter how silly it might sound, mourning over a broom, Harry stared emptily at it, regrets badgering him unpleasantly from every side.

It was like third year all over again. Only this time he didn't have Dementors to blame.

"I'm sorry," She croaked out. Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he saw a glint of tears in her eyes. "I'll try to replace it...somehow.."

"Err, it's okay," Hary said; awkwardness replacing his sorrow. Why the bloody hell was she crying? "It was my fault. I was drunk, you know."

"You were drunk?" Her head snapped up, her eyes burning with accusation. She was about to shout something before blushing scarlet, choking out another "I'm sorry..."

"Yeah—completely my fault...I'm sorry. I'll try to fix your car...assuming you still have it around?"

"No permanent damage, and it's not like it's even that important," She roughly wiped the tears off her face.

"I'll just take this, okay?" Harry said, not waiting for her answer as he put the pieces of wood back into his bag.

"Y-yeah," The girl replied. She wiped the remaining tears off her face and raised her head, hope alighting it. "So, can I come?"

Harry stopped to gaze at her. It was impossible not to. Definitely neurotic, Harry concluded.

A lopsided grin appeared on his face. "What's in it for me?"

The girl seemed flabbergasted at his answer. Perhaps Harry didn't seem to be the type? Nevertheless, she visibly gulped as she answered,"I can cook."

Harry snorted, amusement creeping up. "So can I."

"I…I can cook, like really well," She said, seeming nervous this time. "I can draw and paint. Um, with my photographic memory, it'd be a great help."

Harry still didn't break his gaze. The girl made him sound like he was on mission or something—which he was, but actually, he was more on vacation than anything. The whole point of this journey was to fulfill his parents' bucketlist and to be in complete control of himself for once in his life. Harry didn't think he'd need a companion. That was the point of fighting with Ginny…and dealing with the threat of losing her.

"Please. I have nowhere else to go," She threw her hands up, seemingly desperate to find any other reasons to convince him to say yes. "I can't stand being alone."

And that was when he looked, really looked, into her eyes. Chocolate brown eyes, belonging to someone so young, so innocent. There was no other emotion beneath those eyes but the nervousness that she eyes held the eternal warmth in them, happiness and peace in its depths. And innocence; there was nothing dark as he stared into her eyes—nothing to be ashamed of or cry over before she went to sleep. So young and carefree, eyes that never had to see the bitter side of the world.

The eyes of someone who had lived her life in blissful ignorance. The eyes of a child.

"Sing for me."

"Huh?"

Harry crossed his arms. "Sing. I said sing."

And she did. A heart-warming tune flowed out from her lips; a tune so beautiful that he just stood there, unmoving, his eyes unable to leave the nervous young girl in front of him.

"I've got my ticket for the long way run

Two bottles of whiskey for the way

And I sure would like some sweet company

I'm leaving tomorrow, whadaya say?

"When I'm gone, when I'm gone

You're gonna miss me when I'm gone

You're gonna miss me by my hair

You're gonna miss me everywhere

"You're gonna miss me when I'm gone."

A long silence fell between them. They were still caught up in each other's eyes; one was both anxious and hopeful, one unreadable. Harry slowly let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, before turning around and walking to the exit.

"Well, come along," Harry said over his shoulder. "But I am not paying for the gas."

Renesmee seemed stunned for a second, and then beamed with triumph. Harry's eyebrows rose when she suddenly threw her arms around him, giggling happily as if he was the Christmast gift she had been waiting for.

Harry smiled softly. He would probably regret this later, but at least it wasn't going to be a lonely adventure after all.

"Where are you going? You're not healed yet!"

Harry sighed as Renesmee regained common sense and dragged him back to bed.

It took Harry a week to heal all his major injuries; with the help of potions (brewed by Hermione, so he didn't have any doubts about them) and muggle medication that included painful needles, unpleasant drugs and an annoying, flirty nurse that was one of the muggles Harry had Obliviated to believe that his injuries were never that severe in the first place. It was slightly easier to deal with all these annoyances when they were accompanied by Renesmee singing beside him.

"I can't believe you don't know about this song!" Renesmee pouted, rather childishly, as she extended her hand to give Harry another mouthful of porridge. "Turning Page by Sleeping At Last? It's brilliant!"

"I'm sorry for not knowing a muggle love song," Harry said dryly after he swallowed. "Do you happen to know the latest single of the Weird Sisters?"

She made a face. "Must be a shitty girl band."

"It's an all-boy group, actually," Harry corrected. "And if this Sleeping At Last is such a genius, sing it. I'm listening."

"I want to, but I can't," Her exasperated face made him snort. "The best part of it, after its beautiful voice, is the beautiful piano! The song wouldn't be as half as beautiful if the piano is missing!"

Harry smirked. "Don't you have any other vocabulary than 'beautiful'?"

She glared. "You know I can poison you anytime, don't you?"

Harry chuckled under Renesmee's meant-to-be-withering glare. It was like dealing with a kid; you can mess with them all you want and all they can do is to glare at you.

"And you know I can leave you anytime, don't you?"

All color drained from her face, addinng it to Harry's amusement. "I—I—That's not fair!"

"Life isn't exactly fair, you know."

Harry had brooded for a while about how he should've paid more attention to learning healing spells; with the exception of basic spells like Episkey and Anapneo. Although Vulnera Sanentur was a great healing spell that he could do—it could heal deep gashes created by Sectumsempra, afterall—he was obviously not quite conscious to do that particular spell. Harry didn't blame himself all that much, though. He was, afterall, always placed as the ultimate offense in every battle, since the first time he joined until he reached the top. He had played the defense in some occasion, but he had never been ordered to join the healing division, nor had he had any intention to join them. He had always thought of himself as a warrior. Warriors don't heal people; they destroy them.

If only he contacted Madam Pomfrey, or at least Hermione, he'd be running around in a few hours, completing his parents bucket list. As tempting as it might sound, Harry couldn't risk having to face their outburst at seeing him bloody and in a near-death state, again. On the other hand, he also had originally planned to not letting the other know his exact location. A step closer for peace and freedom he'd craved.

Disobeying his own rule of isolation, Harry now officially had a companion. Renesmee wasn't bad, he supposed. She could be downright annoying sometimes—bloody talkative, too—but she seemed genuinely happy to be allowed to come along. It wasn't enough to trust her, though. When she didn't look, Harry would stare. Harry noticed the grace in every step she took. She moved with elegance; not on purpose, since she didn't seem to notice it herself. The way she carried herself, the way her hair fell perfectly when she tilted her head in annoyance, even the way she shrugged reflected an elegance that Harry couldn't help but pick up on.

Almost like a vampire, Harry mused. He did have some vampire acquaintances, some of the few who knew about the existence of magic. Vampires were truly graceful creatures; the way their feet brushed off the ground swiftly,or the animalistic desire flaring in their blood-red eyes that somehow managed to still look elegant in the eyes of human.

Renesmee, however, wasn't graceful enough to be counted as a vampire. She gladly ate a plate full of spagetti and declared she loved it, something vampries could never do. It was funny how her elegance disappeared everytime she opened her mouth; like a petulant, spoiled child.

Despite her childish nature—still understandable, actually, since she claimed that she was sixteen—she had nervously apologized for breaking Harry's Firebolt for good. Harry didn't blame her, all of it was truly his fault. Firebolt was a really great company and Harry felt extremely bad for it, but he knew Sirius wouldn't like that.

When Harry found out about the bills, he was astonished that Renesmee managed to pay for it.

"I have to use my family's money," She muttered darkly as she flashed the highly-useful card. "And I swear I will never use it again."

"Shame."

With his health back to its prime, Harry happily left the hospital. No one could blame him for being incredibly joyous at that time. He was sick of the smell of medicine and hospital; and it made the fresh air that entered his chest feel better than usual. The scent of the city, Harry mused. Then he turned around when he heard the sound of a car horn.

"Where are you going?" She laughed, carefree. Harry's jaw dropped.

That had to be the most expensive car he had ever seen.

"Porsche 911 Turbo. Old car, but certainly fast," She grinned cheekily, answering his unspoken question. "Come on, hop in."

Harry snapped his mouth shut, trying not to gawk too much. The Porsche was bright yellow—too much of happy colour for his taste—but it looked fast. That's what made him stare at it hungrily. It looked like the muggle version of a Firebolt. While he observed the beauty, Harry's eyes wandered to a huge, ugly scratch on the front side.

"There's a scratch," He frowned.

"Caused by your broom," She retorted.

"Excuse me!" Harry exclaimed, offended. "At least it's not completely broken!"

Renesmee shrugged, but Harry noticed the regret she was trying to hide. It was enough for him to sit in the passanger seat.

Renesmee seemed unusually quiet then, but Harry pretended not to notice. Instead, he went out of the car and walked next to the driver's car door.

"I'll do the driving."

Renesmee's eyes widened and her grip on the wheel tightened. "Can you even drive a car?"

"You have to teach me," He shrugged.

Renesmee gaped at him with utter disbelief. They stared at each other for a while; a contest of will. After a few second, she sighed in resignation. Harry smirked when she moved to passanger's seat.

Oh, he was going to love this.

Renesmee tried to keep a straight face as the wind bashed her face with no mercy, her bronze hair waving madly behind. Her face turned very slowly—so her hair wouldn't slap her face—to see Harry's raven hair waving wildly, too. The difference between them was the exuberant expression plastered on his face, whilst absent on hers.

She took a deep breath. Surely Harry would be more responsible. This was still only 80 'd gone much faster and nothing happened. They will be completely unharmed. She groaned quietly as she tried to calm herself.

His laugh sounded completely off with the harsh wind. "This is marvelous!"

Renesmee tried to calm herself down again. It's okay. It's only 80 km/h...83...95...wait.

"SLOW DOWN!" She suddenly bellowed. He was still laughing. "YOU'RE INSANE! THIS IS A PORSCHE!"

He didn't answer. The speedboat went higher.

"STOP!" Renesmee shouted again, this time moving to take control of the handle.

"THERE'S A CAR IN FRONT OF US!"

Harry finally stopped laughing, his eyes wide. Both Renesmee's and Harry's hand met as they rotated the handle swiftly, missing the other car by inches. Both of them ignored the loud profanity the car owner sent them.

"You're insane," She said after a long, awkward silence.

Harry breathed. "I thought I'd warned you already."

After a long, mouthful debate, Harry finally gave up. Renesmee, apparently still in shock, took the driver position, as Harry turned on the Wizarding World Map. She tried to focus on the road, but a magical map! She caught glimpses of it; the land size and shape were exactly the same, but the barrier of every country was different. There was also their location, a small dote sparkling approximately three inches away from the American Ministry of Magic.

"Are we going to the American ministry?"She asked.

"No. At least not now," Harry shook his head. "Not on the list."

"List? Your bucket list?"

"No. My parents'."

She frowned. "Why would you—"

"They're dead."

Oh.

Renesmee stole a glance at Harry. So that was why his face was clouded when he suggested that she should've stayed home. Renesmee felt a bit sick.

"I'm sorry," She replied quietly. "You want to talk about it?"

"No, not really."

Renesmee resisted the urge to slap herself. Who sane person would want to talk about their parents' death with a stranger they'd only known for a few weeks?

"Japan," Harry decided. "Head for the airport. We're going to Japan."

Renesmee laughed. "Haha, good one. We're going to Japan using a muggle plane."

"I fail to see the humour in that."

It turned out that Harry wasn't joking at all. In no time, they were in front of the airport, each of them holding small notebooks that Harry disguised as a passports with Disillusionment charm. They looked peculiar, she supposed, since all they carried with them was Harry's backpack. To Renesmee's utter amazement, Harry shrunk her car and put it in the bag. She definitely had to have an enlarged purse. Eventually.

They also passed the security with no fuss. That was when Renesmee realized that Harry must be a skilled wizard, for his Disillusionment charm was so perfect. He also managed, somehow, to get the front seats, despite them arriving later than the other passengers.

"This is my first time traveling by plane," Harry announced as he adjusted the seat to his favorite sleeping position.

"I don't think anything can surprise me anymore," Renesmee sighed. "So, you have any good books to read?"

Harry already knew that she read fast, so he recommended ten books to last for a night—one book about magical creatures, two books about Quidditch, two books about History of Wizarding world, and a mysterious book that was written by Gilderoy Lockhart—she was suspicious about this particular book, since he seemed like he was holding back a laugh when he handed it to her—and four books about romance.

Renesmee stifled a laugh when Harry visibly tensed as the plane accelerated, preparing to take off.

"This is your last chance," Harry said, his jaw clenched as he rested his head on the seat. "To come along or to stay."

"A bit too late for that, isn't it?" Renesmee said dryly, staring at the airport as it got smaller and smaller.

Harry pressed on. "You're sure? You want to go with me?"

She knew he was expecting her to back down. "Anywhere but home."

And then Harry flashed a mischievous grin; a grin he never showed her before. His emerald eyes sparkled with humor, all the tension gone from his face, soft even in its state of disarray. That was when she realized that his messy, dark hair framed his face perfectly. His sharp nose, so defined. His rather thick eyebrows. Perfectly thin lips with a strong jaw.

His grin faded as his eyes turned to meet hers. His eyes, so beautiful, now danced in confusion, probably wondering why this weird girl was openly staring at him. But Renesmee's eyes didn't leave him. It was like she was captured in their depths—so many emotions behind the confusion of those greenest eyes she'd ever seen; pain, sadness and guilt, eternally trapped in them. Brilliant-green, war-hardened eyes.

Renesmee felt guilt rising again for deceiving him.

"What?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Nothing," Renesmee muttered as she turned her attention back to the book, releasing a breath she wasn't aware she was holding.

"You're a bit red," He commented. "Are you okay?"

"Absolutely fine!" She squeaked unconvincingly. "So which one should I read first?" She quickly asked to distract him.

It worked. "Definitely the one by Gilderoy Lockhart."

Renesmee's eyes narrowed suspiciously at that, but decided to read it anyway. The plane was finally in the air at a steady elevation and Harry finally he was busy playing games on the small screen in front of him, his ears covered by headphone, so hooked by it that he ignored the food that was placed in front of him.

"This is boring," He made a face.

"What do you expect?" Renesmee rolled his eyes after she swallowed the sausage. "You should watch movie. And aren't you gonna eat that food or something?"

"Later," Harry answered dismissively. He then stopped, before turning to her. "Er, are you saying you want it? The food?"

"What? No!" She said defensively as he eyed him as if she was violent, little explosion who ate everything. "I was just asking. Common manners, you know."

"Oh. You kind of remind me of a friend. He always says that when he wants my food."

Renesmee didn't miss the sadness that crossed his face for the moment. She opened her mouth to ask, but then decided against it.

"What is that?" Hary asked as he pointed at the blue box in the screen.

"A Passanger's Guide," She replied. "I forgot you're new to the airphone thing. You should watch it first."

Then Renesmee watched Harry, fascinated at his excitement as he watched the guide, reacting happily to normal things. Then Year With The Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart was suddenly not so interesting anymore—not that it was a great book in the first place. Harry followed Renesmee's suggestion to watch 'Avatar', much to Renesmee's delight. He seemed genuinely captivated by the movie. Renesmee couldn't help but to wonder if all of the wizards were like this. Would they all act like Harry, or perhaps some muggleborns introduced their daily activities for them? At the end, Harry clapped formally, causing people around to look at him.

"That was amazing!" Harry breathed. "Oh, the perks of using technology..."

"People are staring!" Renesmee hissed as she took his headphone off. "You're too loud," She turned to face the annoyed passengers."I'm sorry."

A few grunted, but then went back to sleep. It was around midnight, after all. Renesmee hastily whispered to Harry, "Can't you be quiet?"

Harry also looked mildly annoyed. "It's not like I've experienced this before—"

"I know," She sighed. "Just—try to keep it down. Next, try Iron Man 2. Robert Downey Jr. looks hot in that one. Well, he always looks hot."

"I sense a fangirl around here," Harry sighed.

"I am not one of those crazy girls!" Renesmee exclaimed. "My little obsession of him is quite healthy, you know. Just watch it."

Harry scoffed, but again, followed her suggestion. While he didn't have unnecessary reaction like gasping and asking questions, his eyes stayed wide the whole time. Renesmee smiled to herself. He looked quite adorable. Quite, she emphasized, as she started her fifth book.

The book, called The Whizzbiez, was probably one of the best romance novel she had ever read. That's definitely saying something, since she'd read a lot of them. The book was different. The first twelve chapters completely made no sense—nargles? Wrackspurts?—and the author didn't even bother explaining those things, which only led to even more confusion. Renesmee had thought about giving it up, but there was something—something that kept her reading.

And she didn't regret it. In chapter thirteen, the boy finally came, and that's when the world turned much saner. The boy was described as a charming, happy-go-lucky boy with a mischievous air about him. He appeared to have no sense of privacy as he was always trying to peer into the girl's life. Renesmee loved their interaction—completely nonsense, yet indulging. None of them were gorgeous—they were simply beautiful as people. He changed the girl, even if he didn't know it until the very end, leaving the girl alone as the boy moved on with life.

She hated sad endings, but she didn't complain too much this time. "This is beautiful," She commented as she close the book.

"Harry?" She called out when he didn't answer.

But Harry's eyes were closed, headphones still on his ears. Carefully, she took them off, watching him shift under her touch. His lips were broadly parted, causing Renesmee to snort. He looked so innocent...

Renesmee felt the guilt again. How could she deceive him? Here he was, sleeping so innocently, not knowing the girl next to him wasn't exactly human. But how would it turn out if she told him the truth? Would he still be willing to take her along?

She severely doubted it. She gazed sadly at him, her hand raised to run it through the messy hair, but stopped mid-air in fear of waking him up. Don't worry, Renesmee solemnly promised. In return, I'll protect you.

"Come on..." Renesmee's heart skipped a beat in alarm. "You can do it, Iron Man!"

And Renesmee laughed silently to herself as she drifted to sleep, feeling safe and sound.

I think some of you might get the idea that I'd pair Ginny and Jacob. I don't know if some of you ship Ginny/Jacob or anything, but this is not going to happen in this story. First, it would be highly unrealistic. Harry gets with Renesmeee and Ginny suddenly happens to cross Jacob and I don't know, another imprint? Doesn't make sense. Just wanna clear a few things up, since a reader pointed out that she/he really hoped there won't be any Ginny/Jacob. Well, there won't.

Love it, hate it, let me know. Review Please!