Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, just the plot and my computer.
Most people in Sunnydale slept at such late hours.
No lights were on at Revello Drive.
But on one house, a man remained awake.
He gazed outside the window of his bedroom.
He stared and thought. But most importantly, he brooded.
The woman of his life, the one he loved more than anything, didn’t know him at all. She thought he was her hero. Alas, that was not the case, for he knew he was a coward.
Three years before he’d escaped from his life, he’d fled from a war, not out of fear, but spite. He had left and, since then, the attacks in England had been worsening every day, constantly, for the last month.
The guilt forced him to remember. It was surprising how easy he could remember what he had tried so hard to forget in order to start a new life.
At the beginning of the war he had left. He had left his friends and he hadn’t wanted to return. He’d wanted guidance. He’d wanted to make something of himself, in or out of the war.
He had considered going to his brother’s house, but was ashamed of what his family would think of his desertion. So, he went to a lonely park, to figure out his next move. He had felt frustrated when he couldn’t understand what he wanted to do and, in order to keep his hands busy, he had started fumbling with his deluminator, Dumbledore’s gift for him. After he clicked it a few times a light appeared from it.
Just as the will had stated he’d remembered Dumbledore when that light had appeared. He’d considered the role of guidance his old headmaster had played for his friend and though that maybe he was to receive some of it at that moment. With that in mind, he had discarded the possibility of it being dangerous and he’d stepped into the light to apparate to wherever it would take him.
The strange light had taken him to Los Angeles, to a broken girl. A girl that would become the love of his life.
She thought he was incredible. A hero, HER hero. She had told him that he saved her. That he had made her stop being cookie dough and turned her into cookies (he had never really understood that analogy). She believed him to be so brave. She believed him to be the boy that had been brought to her by fate, the boy that had come to her with no purpose other than to love her. The man that, with no reason to, had joined her Scooby Gang and had fought valiantly along her side.
She thought him to be her knight in shining armor. If only she knew the truth.
Three years ago, he’d left his friends. Just a surge of rage and an impulsive decision was what had caused his departure. He hadn’t really regretted it until he realized that his old world seemed to be collapsing. Now, he felt guilty.
He knew he was only one man, but maybe, if he had returned to his friends after leaving them, he could have made a difference. Maybe the war would have ended already.
He would never know what would have happened, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something about it now. It was better late than never.
He looked at the woman sleeping on his bed. He loved her too much to take her with him.
He had to return to England, to the Wizarding World.
After leaving a letter for her on top of the nightstand and placing a soft kiss on her temple Ronald Weasley disappeared. Leaving the house with a soft pop and one thought.
Buffy was going to kill him if he lived to see her again.