I'll Catch You (A Harry Potter Fan Fiction)

The Dullness of Freedom

The journey to our safe-house had to be the longest and most complicated one in wizarding history. First we apparated to Grimmuald Place, not even taking a moment before we shrunk our trunks, found spare brooms, and took off into the sky. We flew for what seemed like forever, the stars whizzing past us thousands of miles away.

I had only flown this late at night twice in my life, both of them with George. The first time, I realized how much I cared for him. The second time I could barely remember, flying back after being kept prisoner for so long. That didn't matter though. Both of these memories made me feel as though I could reach out and grab the stars in front of me.

Our flight concluded in Dublin, where Moody had bought us plane tickets. He ushered us onto the plane and I sat in a sudden state of shock, although why being trapped in a giant metal flying machine was so terrorizing, I would never know. I attempted to sleep but my mind kept on wandering to faces that made me feel both tremendous joy and pain, which in combination with fear was absolutely deadly.

Once the plane landed in Boston, USA, we went through the menial task of attempting to exit the airport the muggle way. When the parking lot was finally in our reach, Moody directed us towards a bright yellow, beat-up Volkswagen.

He climbed into the front seat with a grumble of "I hate these damn metal contraptions", started the car with his wand, and drove us out of the airport parking lot with the speed of light, not even checking to make sure we had buckled our seat belts.

Moody was an angry driver, constantly slamming on the gas and the breaks at uncalled for opportunities while yelling at the other drivers on the road. Fortunately, this terror didn't last long as he finally turned into a deserted shopping-mall car park. He couldn't get out of the car fast enough, practically racing us across the lot.

"Come on now, we've got a portkey to catch" he said, his poly-juice potion beginning to fade as he had stopped taking continual sips of the flask he kept in his jacket. Barty Crouch Jr really had gotten him down to a tee in the forth year...

Dad and I had said the bare minimum to each other during this voyage, although we had traded comforting sideways glances as we were forced from point A to B. As we came up to the broken Jackson-5 CD case laying on the cement, he put a hand on my shoulder and said "It's almost over kiddo, almost over."

We each laid a hand on the case, took a deep breath, and spun out into oblivion.

Moody and dad landed steadily on the dirt road, surrounded by a thick row of trees on either side. I, on the other hand, landed with a thud on my arse. With an exasperated sigh, I flopped onto my back in the middle of the road while Moody and dad chuckled at me.

"Get up girly, we still have a bit of a walk ahead of us" he continued to laugh as dad helped me to my feet and we began to walk. The sun beamed down on me, hotter than the sun ever was in England, through the line of trees bordering either side of the road as I dragged my feet through the dirt.

I was tired. I was hungry. I was constantly drifting back and forth between the relief of freedom and the pain of leaving nearly everyone I loved. All I wanted to do was get to wherever the hell we were going so if I did decide to completely break again, I didn't have to worry about these two grown men seeing me.

"When are we going to get there? We've been walking down this road forever!" I groaned, forcing myself to keep up with Moody. The man walked as though he was on a mission to get the last piece of cake.

He laughed and looked back at me. "Road! This isn't any road, Ms. Connors. This is your driveway" he continued to chuckle like a lunatic.