In a Storm

By: FireSprite

A/N: Hello, everyone!!! Yes, long time no write, so you think!! Actually I have been working on a wonderful fic for the past-- what? Two months? I actually started it before Don't-03 (yes, that is posted, don't know if you know that, I don't think AuthorAlert was working) But I'm stuck in that so I though- what the hey! I'll write a small fic, and voilà!! This came out of my mind in less than two hours, which might explain why it's so short! Enjoy!! (Oh and the title has two meanings, see if you can guess what they are)

Disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did, but I don't.

In a Storm- The Past Comes Back To Haunt You

"Begin low, speak slow; take fire, rise higher; when most impressed be self-possessed; at the end was warm, and sit down in a storm."

- Anonymous

Ginny Weasley sighed and dropped her keys on the table in the front hall of her loft. She was soaking wet, the rain outside coming down in torrents, never ending. The storm crackled once, twice, sending her darkened apartment into an eerie blue glow. She shivered, not entirely from the wetness hanging off her cloak and robes. Hanging up her cloak, she walked into her bedroom, rubbing at her neck, which was very sore at the moment.

She was always sore and tired when she got home. Her job wasn't the best in the world. Working as an assistant for the editor of a fashion magazine, Ginny felt as though she was under paid and under appreciated. She would have quit long ago, but she knew that in time, she would rise the career ladder and eventually become editor herself. It would take patience, she knew, and lots of hard work.

Well worth it,' she muttered to herself. She knew she was creative, she knew she had a flair for textures and color. But no one else knew, and that's who she needed to prove it to. Everyone else in the world. Never mind, they'll see soon enough,' she muttered to herself again.

She crossed the room and was about to close the drapes, when she stilled. Something's not right here she thought to herself It's too eerie, too quiet. Ginny stayed as she was, not moving, hardly breathing, listening for any noise or movement. Slowly, she crept towards her dresser, where she kept her wand. Sliding open the door slowly, she reached in to grab it. And felt it gone.

What the?' she whispered. Ginny felt around the whole drawer with her hand. Empty. Nothing. It had disappeared.

That's when she heard it, the slight squeak of a wet shoe against wood. Spinning around, she scanned the room. Darkness.

Hello?' she called, anyone there?' Silence. The muted room just stood still, as if it too had stopped breathing. Not even the storm was howling now, it too had gone deathly quiet. Nothing. Silence. Then, once again, it regained it's strength and continued it's path of destruction.

Of course no one's there, you idiot!! Ginny berated herself. Stop scaring yourself and go get some hot soup into you!

Squaring her shoulders, Ginny walked across the room, pointedly ignoring the sensation creeping over her that she was being watched.

Entering the kitchen, she went over to the pantry. Opening in, she grabbed at the nearest can of soup and slammed it shut, determined to make some noise in this all too quiet loft. Slamming the can down on the counter she pulled at one of the drawers with extra force, making the forks, knives and everything else rattle and shake inside. She quickly yanked out the can opener and open the soup. As she poured out the soup into a bowl, she looked outside.

Blackness was everywhere, seeping in the tiny cracks of white and yellow the occasional lighting made. He covered everything, dousing houses with his canvass, making it his masterpiece of death.

Sparks of light rumbled in the distance, making the panes of the windows shudder and groan. The sound was deafening, filling Ginny's ears. The sound of the drum player playing on his drum as he marched closer, closer, closer-

Hello Virginia,' came a sudden voice in her ear. Ginny shrieked and spun around. Miss me?' the voice taunted. Ginny recognized that voice but where where was it from? She strained to catch the last of his echoing as it bounced off her black walls.

Harry,' she said, looking over at him for the first time. Oh my god, Harry.'

Correct in one Mrs. Potter,' Harry replied, accentuating the Mrs. as if he disapproved of it. Ginny could only stare. What was he doing here?

Everyone thinks you're dead, Harry. Even Ron and Hermione have given up the search for you,' Ginny said, all too quiet. She didn't want to think of the day she had found out he had been kidnapped by Lord Voldemort.

The story of survivors who had witnessed it had been horrible. Half of them were out of their minds, but the other half recounted tales of destruction, pain, suffering, blood shed.

Many people thought they were the insane ones, they didn't want to hear that this was possibly how their loved ones spent their last night on earth.

Ginny shuddered again and shot a glance over at Harry. He looked different, his eyes, hard and bitter. They contained none of the softness or generosity Ginny remembered. His mouth, it looked as if was stuck in a perfect frown, a paradox. His skin was an ashen color, the color you find in a black and white movie, except that this was real life, there was no black and white. And his sleek black hair, it was now dusty and old looking.

Have you forgotten me too, Virginia?' Harry asked, breaking the horrible silence with his hate-filled voice. Just like everyone else?'

No!' Ginny burst out, Harry, I died the day you disappeared. I cried myself to sleep for years, imagining never seeing you face, never touching you lips, never being held by you again. But I never-- never forgot you, Harry Potter'

Then Ginny saw it, her wand, it was grasped in his hand. He was holding onto it rather tightly, as though he was afraid to release his grip on it for even a second, His other hand, it was clenching and unclenching and now, only now, did Ginny see the sweat appearing at his forehead, running down the side of his face. His jaw was locked, tight.

Harry, what are you doing with my wand?' Ginny asked, taking a step foreword, closer to Harry. In the background, the storm made his presence known by crackling and thumping against the windows and house. It shone brightly into the room, illuminating it so Ginny could see Harry properly for the first time. She gasped.

His face was filled to the brim with anger, his eyes narrowed, he stared at her, almost as if wishing her dead on the spot. Instinctively she stepped back, and in a quavering voice demanded once again, Harry, what are you doing with my wand?'

Harry didn't answer, he only watched her, his eyes becoming slits, his mouth- if possible- becoming more of a frown.

Give it here, Harry,' Ginny said, sticking out her hand. But instead of handing her the wand, he raised his right arm, the one holding her wand. As he did so, the robes on his arms slipped back, down to his elbow. Harry?' Ginny asked, voice no longer serious, but quite full of fear. What's that on your arm?'

She stared at it, not believing it. There it was, a vivid red tattoo, a snake protuding out of a mouth of a skull. Voldemort's sign. The Dark Mark..

Harry?' she asked again.

I'm sorry, Ginny,' he said, once again raising the wand. I have to for my master,' he choked a bit on the last part, and Ginny could see what were almost-tears in his eyes.

Ginny couldn't take it in. She backed up until she hit the counter, grabbing hold of it to steady herself. She felt her knees give way, she fell to the floor, landing on her hands. Her red-gold hair covering her face. She breathed in the scent of pine cleaner, her face that close to the floor. She felt sick.

No, not Harry she kept repeating in her mind. He would never do this to us to me. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Not Harry Potter.

Ginny, I'll always love you, you know that right?' Slowly, Ginny lifted her head, to stare at Harry's face. She felt tears coursing down her cheeks. Anger and hatred buzzed inside of her, directed at Lord Voldemort, for doing this to her husband.

I'm sorry too, Harry,' she said. She closed her eyes for a moment, before jumping at Harry's feet, tackling him. They both fell to the ground. Harry, surprised at her actions, didn't react until she was sitting on top of him, her wand now in her possession.

He tried to move, to get out, but she knew that and was ready for a fight. He finally calmed down, accepting that he wasn't going any where anytime soon. He stared into her eyes, then his eyes traveled to her hands. Their ring was still on, looking as bright as it had ever been.

You still kept it? Even after all these years?' he asked, his voice now not so full of the hatred Ginny always knew he possessed toward Lord Voldemort. He almost choked. Ginny sighed.

Harry, I love you,' she said, staring into his eyes, still so full of his passionate anger. I'm sorry. Stupefly.' Harry's eyes closed, and his head leaned back onto the floor. He almost looked peaceful had those years of anger, sadness, pain not carved itself into his once beautiful face. Ginny sighed again, and got up.

She walked slowly over to the fireplace, she'd better report this to the Auror district. She looked back at the unmoving figure on her kitchen floor, and let herself cry.

It all came down to one man. One man alone had turned Harry's hate for him right around onto everyone he had once loved.

One man.

Voldemort.

Flight of Death

And the storm outside continued to play it's fiddle.

~End.