The Pale Rider

A/N: Alright, my other stories are all on hold, however, I think most of them will be integrated into this one, cause I feel like this plot will be able to take my last long one and continue it. I don't know, we'll see. I'm sorry, but school is horrible right now, and work is worse, I'll do my best, but I'm off to college next year so yeah. Read and Review please. Thanks.

Chapter One:

Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb. - Sir Winston Churchill (1874 - 1965)

He stood looking down at the town before him. A year of war had not been kind to the once glorious countryside, filled with rolling green hills and stony fences. He started his horse on a trot toward the town, knowing full well what lay beyond that town. His black coat hung behind him, hanging as a duster against his legs. His hat pulled low over his brow, hiding the pained look he had painted upon his eyes. A year could be a long time, longer alone, longer without comfort, longer without hope.

IOI

He sat reading deeply into the books left to him from the passing of his late mentor. The books were about all he had left, and they were leading him to the same sad conclusion. He stood and turned to get another book when he saw his best friend standing at the doorway.

“Hello Hermione,” he said in a calm voice, betraying the fear he felt. He knew that she knew. He knew she'd try to stop him. He knew she'd probably succeed.

“Harry, why are you doing this?” She asked, tears upon the edge of the brown eyes of hers. He looked at her for a moment, going through with what his speech he had written and rewritten over a hundred, at least in his mind he had.

“You remember how I used to blame myself for the death of my parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore,” Harry stated, turning his back on her for a moment, collecting his thoughts almost. “How I felt like it was all my fault, that if I wasn't born none of this would have ever happened?” he turned to look at her for a moment, as she nodded. “You're right, you've always been right Hermione.” He said, sitting back down with a defeatist's sigh. “I didn't kill them.”

“I'm glad you finally see that Harry,” Hermione said, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“The thing that kill them has been right in front of my eyes the whole time, the reason for all of this Hermione, its been here,” he said, standing up for a moment before withdrawing his wand. “Right here!” He slammed it against the table, causing her to jump. She looked shocked at his response, confused to say the least, worried about him as well. “Magic Hermione.'

“Magic?”

“Yes, magic,” he said. “Albus had it all here, all in black and white, for us to read.” He paused for a moment. “You know better than anyone I know how regular humans are perhaps the greatest achievement in mankind. How their survival is not based upon their skill with a wand, but by their own courage. By their own advances and minds where they able to create things that we wizards and witches take for granted with magic.

“The magical world is being destroyed because they are to ignorant to look at the facts in front of them. There are not enough people, good people to stand up to any would be tyrant,” he said with venom in his voice.

“Harry, what about the Order?” She said, trying to reason with him.

“What about them? What have they done since Albus's death?” he asked, looking at a portrait of his mentor. “Nothing Hermione, nothing.” He leaned onto the desk; his shoulders slumped over in defeat. “Nothing good for me has ever come from magic. I should've just stayed with the Dursleys'.” He felt himself being turned around violently and slapped. Stunned, he looked at Hermione, anger reddening in her eyes.

“Now you listen to me, if it weren't for you, a little first year would've have died when she was overwhelmed by the magical world around her,” she said with tears in her eyes.

“But does it matter now Hermione, what good have I done?” He asked her, knowing full well her implications. “I nearly got you killed two years okay, and we are barely friends because of it.”

“What?” Hermione said, taking a step back in shock.

“Don't pretend with me Hermione, you were distant with me all last year, why will next year be any different?” he said. He let the words sink in before he spoke again. There were emotions there he did not want to dredge up. “I'm going away for a while, I need to take care of some things.”

“You'll be back, right Harry?” Hermione said. He looked in her eyes for the unspoken questions.

“I'll be fine Hermione,” he said to her, walking over to her. He wanted to say more than that, but the words did not come to him nor did he think they ever would.

“You'll be back, right Harry?” she repeated.

“Hermione, I don't know how long I'll be,” he started, with a sigh, “but for you, I'll come back.”

“When are you leaving?” she asked him. He had started to walk out of the room, but turned back to look at her for a moment.

“After the wedding; I'll save a dance for you,” he said with a smile, causing her to blush slightly as he left.

IOI

The wedding was nothing like Harry had seen before; Flour's father had made sure of that. Their daughter must have been important to them because the Burrow was amazing. The magical attributes alone were stupendous. Which seemed in his mind only to cement his leaving. He had done his research, the wedding was over. Now came the inevitable.

The music had begun it was time to dance. He couldn't dance, and have never honestly learned how to dance. He could not see the point it, and now it seemed kind of foolish not to know.

“Come on Harry, dance with me,” Ginny said, pulling him along. He sighed as he saw Hermione dancing with Charlie. Ron was off somewhere, and for some reason it irked him slightly that she was happy with someone other than either of them. But his heart fought back, with his line that had started all of this in the first place.

“Sure Ginny,” he said, letting her pull him onto the floor. Ginny had been decked out in a light gold dress, which had been bought specifically for this day. She looked attractive in it, and he was damn sure that at least part of him recognized that, however, the feeling was gone. Through his searching for his hope, he had lost whatever feelings that were there for her, if any.

“Harry, I'm going with you,” Ginny said. Her tone sounded final, and Harry nearly stopped dancing with her. But appearances were kept as he just nodded as if he was actually listening to her. “Great, we'll leave after this dance and-”

“No,” he said in such a tone that stopped her suddenly.

“W-w-what?” she stammered.

“You're not coming with me,” he said to her.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he said with a sigh, picking up her hand as a waltz began, dancing with her once more. “Because there are things that I must do, that you can't.”

“Like what?” she said, indigently.

“Give up magic,” he said to her. This time she did stop and when he tired to start up again, she pulled away from him. She stared at him, in a combination of anger and shock. “Follow me.” He walked off the dance floor and around back of the Burrow, away from everyone else. He did not wait for her reply, she would follow, and rumors would spread, but by the end of the night, they would be just that rumors.

Her face was bright with anger as she glared at him. When he spun around to face her, his finger there, between her eyes, his looked deadly. “I am not telling you a damn thing.” Each word articulated, though the tone cared the meaning well enough. “You think a few snogs, a few nights by the fireplace is going to bring you closer to my heart, when you have no fucking clue as to what I'm going through?”

“I love you Harry,” she said, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. Anger was gone from her eyes, embarrassment replacing it.

“No,” he said, taking a step back from her, his anger gone as well. “You were in love with that thought of me. You don't know me, and what makes you think that will cause me to tell you my plans, my thoughts?”

“I thought you loved me too,” she said in a softer voice, frightened almost of him. She would not be the last, nor was she the first to feel such emotions toward him.

“I don't make promises that I can't keep, and that is about the largest one that I can think of,” he said. He sat down upon a log with a defeatist sigh. “You're a great girl, Ginny, and will make some guy happy someday.” Ginny sat down next to him, but distant enough for him to notice her fear. “I'm not the guy, Ginny, and I'll never be. You were a great……distraction last year,” he said, searching for the right word.

“A distraction?” she replied. Her eyes bugged out incredulously. “That's all I was to you?”

“Yes,” he said, “the best damn distraction I've ever had.” He said, causing her to look at him oddly. “I've lived most of my life in the future, planning for one thing or another. With you, it all was about the now. And last year, I think I needed that more than anything else. But I can't do that anymore.”

He looked up at the pale moon above him for a moment, wondering if things were really as good with Ginny as he just described. Distracted was the right term for how he felt last year, how he was prepared. Like he could barely handle the spells and Snape, a man he thought he could possible best two years previous. In that moment, he came to his second conclusion of the evening, to tell her that he knew.

“I want you to stop,” he said to her in a small voice, causing her to look up from the determined yet teary eyes she had.

“Stop what, Harry?” she asked, afraid once more.

“You've been giving me something,” he said, running his hand through his hair. He stood and stared at the moon once more, but kept talking. He could not bear to watch her at this moment, and he did not think he should have to either. “I want you to stop giving me whatever it is.”

“How…..how did you know?” she asked. He looked back at her for a moment before turning away. Her face was filled with tears, her makeup ruined. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Does it matter?” he said. He reached out toward flower that had been charmed to open when the moon hit it, an invention from the twins. It floated softly into his hands. “Whatever it was, my magic has been fighting it Ginny, and it's winning.” He turned back to her and took her hands in his own. “I want at least one war to end with me winning Ginny. Let me go.” He left her there, his hands in his pockets as he walked away. He left her there, alone crying. They both knew the truth, no one else. The way he wanted it to be.

Stepping back into the party, he pasted a smile upon his face. However, that smile was short lived. He saw an argument he wanted to avoid brewing between his friends. Quickly pushing his way through the crowd, he caught the tail end of the fight.

“How dare you Ronald Weasley?” She cried out, Harry looked toward Ron, who had a lipstick lip upon his shirt collar. “I thought we were going out,” Hermione said. Harry took a step toward her, making his choice in the argument. This was one of the few he would side with her, and not let his other friend get away with it.

“I'd hardly call a few stolen snogs a relationship,” Ron said, “Besides, she was practically begging me to-”

“Ron, cut the crap, or I'll make you,” Harry said in a voice that caused everyone around them to freeze. Hermione looked at him in shock, and Ron just glared at him.

“Butt out Potter, this has nothing to do with you,” Ron said.

“I'm afraid that if you're going to insult her, I'm going to have to butt in,” Harry said in a calm voice. “You both may be my friends, but this is the last time I let you insult her like you have so many times before.”

“Harry you don't have to,” Hermione said, a thankful on her face despite her words.

“Maybe not, but it's the least that I can do,” Harry said. “Friends don't cheat on their girlfriends. Friends don't accuse friends of betrayal and mistrust. Friends stand by you in the neck of fire, despite all odds. Ron, learn to be my friend again.” He spoke no more words, but turned to walk away.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He yelled at Harry.

“It means I leave your asswhooping in the more than capable hands of Hermione,” he said with a smirk. “Excuse me,” he said to Bill, who gave him a small thumb up behind his back as Harry went to get something to drink.

Hermione looked between the two men for a moment before walking over to Ron. “Its over, and there is no third chance,” she said in a stable, yet soft voice. Before Ron had a chance to respond to her, she had picked up the ends of her dress and carried toward Harry.

“Hey,” he said as she approached. For the most part, the party continued, with some yelling occurring in Ron's direction.

“Thank you,” Hermione said. He turned around and gave her a sad smile. “For stepping in like that.”

“You can more than handle yourself,” Harry said, leaning against the table. The hours were growing short. “

“I know, but, still,” she said, her voice trailing off. “You didn't have to.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Care to dance,” he said, holding out his hand. She looked at it for a moment, both of them knowing the meaning. After this, he would leave. She nodded, taking his hand. With skill she probably had never seen him possess, he lead her out onto the dance for, leading her in a waltz.

“Harry,” she asked, still surprised. He could see Ron glaring at them and moved so Hermione could not see him.

“Yes?” he said in response.

“Where are you going?”

“I really don't know,” he said truthfully. “There is much I so little I must learn and so much time.” He paused as if in thought. “Strike that, reverse it.” She laughed little at the small joke from a childhood movie. “There is much that I've got to find out for myself. About my past, about my future, about my dreams and delusions.”

“Silly Harry,” she said as Harry spun her around slightly. “Delusions are just dreams you've not given any hope to.” He smiled at that.

“I'll try and remember that,” he said as the song end.

“Do you really have to go Harry, I mean can't I…that is we go with you?” She asked. Her eyes were pleading with him, but he turned away from he could give in.

“I'm sorry Hermione, but I need to go,” he said softly. He walked off the dance floor as another song started, his hands in his pocket. He knew she was following him, but instead of looking at the moon this time, he found Canis Major.

“Why can't I come with you?” Hermione asked him, tears in her eyes.

“Because I can't ask you to give up what you love,” he said with stone eyes and a broken heart. He was giving up enough for both of them. Hermione paused, whether in shock and pain or thought he did not know. He chose this moment though, to leave. Pulling her close into a hug, he spoke. “Goodbye Hermione, I promise I'll return, even if it's just for a little while, and to see you again live to the end of the war, I'll return.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Take care, and never give up, never surrender.” He whispered to her softly and felt her tighten her grip around his waist.

He slipped away, slipped into the night, and in the end, the only thing Hermione held was a locket he found, his birthday present to her as he knew he would miss it. Inside the locket, was a simple portrait of both him and her, taken when they were young, and Harry believed, still full of hope.

IOI

The pale moon shone down upon this desperado, as his lone horse carried him cross the burnt countryside. Hogwarts still stood in the distance, larger than he remembered, sturdier it appeared. Death and war could do that to anything.

“Kind of makes you wish it all would end,” the desperado's mentor said, floating along side him. He only nodded, continued onward to the town. “Best say you prepare your guns, since you still refuse to use magic.”

“I'll use it only when I absolutely need to,” he spoke finally, looking through his mentor and to the track of railroad that would lead the train into the town. Or it once had, Hogwarts was closed, used as a headquarters for the remaining member's of the shattered Order. The desperado shifted his shoulders slightly, the night showing the glimmering of something beneath his torn shirt. “For now, I'm ready.”

“But are they ready for you?” His mentor spoke with a twinkle in his eyes. Returning the twinkle with one of his own, he continued forward, not quite sure that he might survive the night, a feeling he had known for the last year or so. Not including time with the time turner.