Shadows of the Past

Shadows of the Past

The past can catch up to us when we least expect it. Harry Potter had fulfilled the Prophecy. He'd served his purpose. After running from his past for nearly five years, it had at last caught up with him...in the form of Ginny Weasley.

ONE

Searching the World Over

He scratched out the line for the fifth time, grunting in frustrations. Tossing the quill aside, he massaged his temples. Deidra was expecting his final draft in four weeks and he couldn't find the right ending. Sighing in exasperation, he leaned back in his chair, sipping the hot Earl Grey brew.

He looked around at the open plains of the Highlands and saw a misty fog rolling into the little valley. Despite the difficulties his latest manuscript was causing him, the stillness of the air mirrored the peace inside of him and for the first time in weeks, he was relaxed.

Out on the back porch, he scarcely heard the harsh knock on the door followed by the frantic ringing of the doorbell. He chuckled softly, standing and setting the teacup down carefully, then making his way toward the front door.

"I'm coming," he shouted over the continual ringing of the doorbell.

He hesitated only a moment before opening the door.

"Finally!"

Harry laughed. "Hello to you, too, darling."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Hello, love."

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist and pecked her on the lips. "That's better."

"Mmm," she said with a smile. "So how's yer manuscript coming?"

He let go of her waist, shaking his head. "You haven't come to nag me about it again, have you?"

She gazed at him sternly. "If ah dinna, ya wouldna e'er get anythin' done. Between lookin' after Hedwig an' polishin' tha' old broomstick o' yers...Besides, ah'm yer publisher. 'Tis mah job ta nag ya."

He smiled, running his fingers through her ginger strands and stared into her baby blue eyes. "I love you, Deidra," he whispered.

Laughing, she brushed her lips against his. "Ah love ya, too, Harry." She tilted her head slightly gazing at him goofily. "Ya've binna actin' awful strange lately. Are ya sure yer alright?"

He nodded, smiling. "Fine. It's just that writing this one is bringing back some old, painful memories."

Deidra's eyebrows shot up. "Writin' a novel based on yer past can do tha' to ya."

Harry nodded, his expression somber. "I lost a lot of friends in that war, Deidra." He grimaced. "I lost my fiancé."

She sighed, burying her face in his shoulder. "Ah know. So did I."

His arms wrapped around her middle, nuzzling her neck. They stood in the doorway for the longest time, caught somewhere between the past and the present, absorbing the warmth and comfort of each others bodies.

"Tea?" he asked.

She nodded. "An' ah brought ya some soup in case ya forgot ta eat again."

His cheeks flushed. "You know me so well."

Chuckling, she headed off toward the kitchen to heat up the soup. He watched after her for several moments, face from the past sliding through his minds eye. He shook them from his mind and followed Deidra into the kitchen.

* * * *

"Oh bloody buggering fucking hell," Ginny muttered as she stumbled over the large pile of rocks.

She grimaced as her legs protested to the unusual amount of work she was putting them through. She'd been walking...no...hiking...for nearly six miles. When he'd settled down, he'd surely made sure that no one short of God could get to him. She supposed she could have Apparated there; but given that she didn't know quite where 'there' was, it was too risky.

A sigh of relief passed her lips when she saw someplace ahead to rest. An old tavern out in the middle of nowhere...who knew? Walking at a less laborious pace, she approached the small building and entered.

Smoke filled the air and the scent of stale peanut reached her nose. Seeing no one waiting to seat her, she slid into a stool by the bar and raised a hand to get the bartender's attention.

"Wha' can ah get fer ya, lassie?" he drawled, his Scottish burr gruff and deep.

She paused. "What's good?"

"Whiskey," the man replied, pouring her a glass.

He then departed for the other end of the bar to serve a restless patron, leaving Ginny staring at the concoction for several moments, her brow furrowed. At last, she shrugged, downing the shot in one gulp. She coughed harshly, surprised at the burn of the liquid as it slid down her throat. She gasped for air, fighting back the tears that the liquid had caused to form in her eyes from the sharp taste.

"Definitely stronger than Firewhiskey," she muttered, surprised that the Muggle drink could outburn even the strongest Wizard drink.

"Another?"

She looked up to find the bartender standing over her, his eyebrows raised in question. Without pause, she nodded. He poured her another and she threw it back, swallowing quickly.

"So what's yer story?" the bartender asked.

Ginny frowned. "Story?"

He smiled. "Everyone who comes ta this part o' the country has some kind o' story, lass."

She hesitated. "I'm...looking for someone."

The man chuckled. "Lost love, no doubt."

"Yes, as a matter of fact," she replied nodding. She reached into her pocket, pulling out the address. "I'm looking for the man who lives here. A Mister Harry Potter."

With a booming laugh, the man shook his head. "Ya willna find him there. Tha' house belongs ta James Evans, a well-known writer in these parts."

Ginny froze. James Evans? Could it be a coincidence? "How far is his place from here?"

"It's only 'bout a mile north o' here," he replied. "Ya can get Ewan ta take ya ou' fer 'bout five pounds."

Ginny turned to see the man that the bartender was looking at and her jaw dropped slightly, her eyes widening. She guessed his height to be around six feet from the way his legs were bent under the table. His muscular frame contrasted well with his dirty blond hair and green eyes. She closed her mouth and cleared her throat, returning her gaze to the bartender.

"Five pounds, you said?"

He nodded. "Ah'll let Ewan know 'e has a fare."

Ginny didn't move from the barstool as the bartender approached the man seated in the corner. A moment or so later, she saw Ewan look over at her and smile.

Before she had time to properly compose herself, she found her hand being gripped in a friendly handshake by Ewan.

"Artie 'ere tells me yer lookin' ta head ou' ta James Evans's place."

Ginny nodded. "Yes. I have...some business with him."

Ewan laughed. "Yer no' the firs', lass. Had at least a fair two dozen young ladies such as yerself askin' fer fare ta see 'im."

She fought not to let her shock show at this news. "Yes, well...I've been looking for my Harry for some time. I believe Mr. Evans might know his whereabouts."

Ewan grinned. "Well, then, Miss..."

"Weasley. Ginny Weasley."

He chuckled. "What da ya say we get goin'? Too much longer an' ah willna be able ta see mah nose on mah own face."

She nodded, following him out, offering a goodbye and a thank you to the bartender as she stepped out the doors.