The small red headed girl stood trembling.

The cold wet stones glistened under her feet. The low witch lights glowed gently, casting a warm, flickering haze.

Her second-hand school robes hung loosely from her thin frame. Hair cascaded down the sides of her head, and silent tears dripped down her face.


“Ginevra.”


The steady drip, drip, drip, echoed throughout the chamber.
The girl struggled to contain her sobs. She had no idea how she got here, and the confusion and fear was consuming her.

“Ginevra.”


His voice was always so sweet, so seductive. And every time she was drawn into its depths.

She was not alone. She was never alone anymore. But now the proof stood before her, circling her. The tall, handsome boy with those sweet delicious words walked slowly around her, each step leaving a soft click on the ground.

Hands behind his back, he eyed the girl with dark, hungry eyes. His form was becoming clearer, and the girl was weakening with every moment.

She could barely find words to speak through her sobs, her voice weak and hoarse.

“T-Tom, please…”

The boy stared down at her, eyes full of mock pity.

“Please Tom, I don’t want this.”

“I’m so sorry princess, but this is how it has to be. You want to help me, don’t you? I need you now more than ever, don’t you see?”

He brought an ethereal pale hand to her cheek, tracing the wetness underneath.

Her dark lashed eyes looked at him imploringly.

“I didn’t mean-I didn’t think- “

She sputtered, struggling to piece together a coherent thought. “of course I want to help you- you're my best friend in the world, Tom-“

“Im your only friend, Ginevra. And as friends, it is only fitting that we keep our promises to each other, yes?"


“Yes but-“

“But nothing,” he said sharply, but then softened and brushed a crimson lock away from her face.

“Don’t you trust me?”

She hesitated, then nodded once, causing a smile on his face.

“Ginevra, my princess,” His cold hands cupping her face, “you once made me a very important promise… I wonder if you can tell me what that promise was?”

He lowered one hand from her cheek to her neck, fingering the collar of her shirt.

“I-I… I said I would do anything to help you.”

“That’s right,” his breath exhaling over her cheek, “and what else?”

“I said that you could trust me, that I wouldn’t tell a soul about you. And I haven’t.”

“Yes, yes that’s good. What else?” His fingers moved from her collar to the clasp of her cloak.


“A-and I said I would give you whatever you needed… anything you needed.”

“Yes, princess, you did promise me all that didn’t you?”

He undid the clasp of her cloak. She let out a small whimper as the robe fell to the floor in a black puddle, the cold damp air licking her skin. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

He met her eyes again with a cold intensity, and his hand returned to her neck.

“You are going to help me now. I need you to keep your promise to me. Right now. You see, I require a great deal from you. In fact, princess, I require everything you can give me…”

The hand lowered and rested on her heart.

“Everything.” He whispered in her ear.

At his touch, an otherworldly cold seized upon the girl and the darkness engulfed her.

Days later, the girl lie wrapped in crisp white linens in a sterile room. Her room was dark, save for the ajar door letting in a sliver of halogen light.
Her back to the door, the girl lay listening.

They were whispering again. Always whispering.

She feigned sleep while her ears allowed herself to make out words here and there. Soft, pitying voices of the healers spoke amongst themselves just outside the door. And interspersed throughout the conversation where the occasional wails of her mother.

“She’s adamant she doesn’t remember-“


“The tests showed her memory was tampered with…“

“But the handprints on her? And that mark... surely he-“

“Poor child, so young-“

“The tests showed no sign of assault, thank Merlin, though perhaps-“

“They also showed a great amount of dark magic was used.“

More wailing from her mother.

“My baby, my baby…”

“Poor child. She’s been touched by dark magic. She may always have dark magic within her.”

“She may be sensitive to it, possibly even attract it.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, I would recommend placement in a long-term care institution where a team of medical wizards can continue testing –“

Mr. Weasleys voice suddenly pierced the halls.

“ENOUGH!” He bellowed, and the flurry of conversation ceased. “We’re done here. This goes no further.”

The door to her room flew open, and all the lights flared on, momentarily blinding the girl. Her fathers exasperated face came into view, and she found his hands on each of her shoulders.

“Ginny, were going home.”

She melted into her fathers embrace. Surely she couldn’t be evil if her a good man like her father loved her…

Could she?

Arms still wrapped around her fathers neck, he lifted her out of the bed and walked towards the door, a flurry of healers trailing him in his wake.

“Mr Weasley please-“

“Sir, we need to do more tests-“

“Mr Weasley we need to retrieve her memory-“

Her father stopped In his step but did not turn around towards the healers.

“Do you want to remember, Gin-bug?” He whispered in her ear.

She sucked in a breath.


The dark handprints.

The ink.

The black magic.


Tom’s cold hands on her flesh...


And then the sad, pitying eyes of the healers. The whispers. Test, more tests…


“Please” She begged,” I just want to go home.”


Mr. Weasley lay his sleeping child down in her bed. In the dark of night, only the stars provided a view of his daughter's pale face and crimson hair.

Reaching out to move the locks from her cheek, he raised the comforter up around her more snugly, then leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Her sleepy eyes opened briefly at the touch. Eyes that had somehow aged a millennia. Mr. Weasley kept his head close. Not even sure if she was awake, he spoke.


“Listen to me Gin-bug,” He said softly, “ You are not evil. You are not dark. You did not do anything wrong. You learned a hard lesson. I wish it wasn’t so. But I love you. Your family loves you. That will never change.”


Even in her sleepy state, the words wrapped around her troubled heart like a salve, and for the first time since she emerged from the chamber, she felt that she was safe.



You are not dark.



You are not dark.

In the early dawn hours, the seventh year Gryffindors lay sleeping peacefully, save one.


A girl with long crimson hair and dark eyes thrashed and whimpered in her sleep, beads of sweat gathering on her pale forehead.


Seventeen-year-old Ginny Weasley shot up in her bed with a gasp, clutching her chest.

The numbing cold began to dissipate, and she frantically filled her lungs with large gulps of air.

Her nightly routine of casting silencing charms around her bed ensured she hadn’t awakened any other Gryffindors.


Another nightmare...



Once she had calmed herself, she rinsed her face with the water jug from the bedside table. As she held a wet cloth to her face, she tried to remember the fleeting images that had jolted her awake.


Her cloak falling to the floor.


His irresistible voice.


His cold hands on her skin.


Ink. Black ink.


The thoughts and memories faded and she rubbed her eyes. Just another nightmare. It meant nothing. Not even worth trying to remember. Another nightmare. Another…


“Princess…”


She pushed the voice out of her head and began getting ready for the day. She removed her hair from the long thick plait she had slept in and allowed it to cascade down her back in waves. She absentmindedly put on her robes, nearly putting her white oxford on inside-out.


She refused to let her thoughts drift to her nightmare, and instead focused on her mantra. Her fathers gentle deep voice.


“You are not dark…”


You are not dark.


She stared sadly at her reflection in the mirror. What she wouldn’t give to hear his voice right now.


She slung her bag over her shoulder and exited the portrait hole. Enthralled in her own deep thoughts. In a zombie-like state, her feet carried her to her destination.

“There is darkness within her.”



Lucius and Draco Malfoy sat on either side of the elaborate fireplace. They sat comfortably in plush, exquisite arm chairs, each staring into the flames, holding a glass.



Two glasses of brandy. Two sour looks. Two reeling minds. The father spoke quietly and earnestly to his son. After two years of shame and embarrassment, the time had finally come for redemption.



“He put it there, of course. Six years ago. Yet another experiment wielding his great power with the damn things. These horcruxes are fascinating, aren’t they? Just learn as we go and all that nonsense…” He trailed off, swirling his glass of brandy.


The younger blond rolled his eyes. “Fascinating.”


The older blond tilted his head, annoyed.

“Be serious, Draco, this is our chance. And it’s likely the only chance we’ll get. We’ve had many failures and frankly, I’m surprised we’re still standing. The Dark Lord has been-shall we say-uncharacteristically merciful to our family.”


The younger blond set his brandy down on the table. He leaned back in his chair with a slow drawn-out exhale.


He locked his eyes on his father, mentally preparing for the worst. Of course, what could be worse than what he had already been asked to do?


And failed…


Failed yes, he thought, but it was with this bastard in front of him where the blame truly lay. If he hadn’t been so greedy, so blind… if he hadn’t gotten his family involved with someone so insane…


But what could be done now? It was no longer about power. This was life or death. Kill or be killed. It was out of his hands. One way or another, he was paying the price for his father's foolish mistakes. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, before once again staring into the burning flames.


Burning like his soul surely would in hell.





“What must I do?”





X




Ginny was nearly late again.


A habit she had picked up since the beginning of term, she was often to be found, legs running and hair flying, bag slung over her shoulder. As she neared her class, she realized with relief that she would be right on time today. Slowing her run to a walk, she allowed her mind to wander to her most recent nightmare.

Tom.

Ink.


There was always ink, black and sticky, and sometimes she could taste it…


Lost in thought, Ginny rounded a corner and slammed into a tall, blond something. Catching herself on her knees but losing her bag, the contents spilling around her, she quickly spouted an apology.


“Oh! Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking at all- ” She looked up.


“MALFOY?” she blurted, flabbergasted.


Draco freaking Malfoy. Back at Hogwarts. His blond hair was longer but there was no mistaking him.


Straightening his robes, he stared down at her.


"Weasley.”



For a few moments, she was at a loss for words.


Was she still in her nightmare? No, her knees were quite achy on the hard ground. What on earth was he doing here?


Panic began to flood her. Her brothers were gone. Harry and Hermione were gone... The few Gryffindors who stuck around for this year could hardly be trusted to protect her.


He scoffed impatiently and she looked at his pointed nose. Suddenly, images of bats and Malfoy lying on the ground writhing and screeching invaded her thoughts. Her unease evaporated. She set her jaw. Besides, as far as Death Eaters go, Malfoy had proved relatively harmless…


She had proved she could hold her own against him. She didn’t need protecting from the pathetic ferret. She rose from her knees, lightly dusting her skirt. She met his eyes and he continued staring.



Creep.



“Dare I ask what you’re doing here?” She sighed dramatically. “Had to repeat seventh year, did you? I mean, I more expected that of Crabbe and Goyle, and maybe that cow Parkinson, but you?” She added an evil chuckle for good measure, “Well, I suppose we all have our hidden struggles.”



The boy pocketed his hands, face unreadable.



When he continued to stare and say nothing, her thoughts left her lips before she could stop them.



“You’re not very good at pretending to be evil, Malfoy.”



He ignored the comment.



“I’m staff now, Weasley.”



He took a few steps towards her, eyeing her spilled bag but pointedly ignoring it. He seemed more interested in her reaction to his words.



“The Inquisitorial Squad is back, and, well... I’m captain.” He held his hands out like he was some sort of goddamn messiah of wizards.



“What?” It was more a statement than a question.



Then, the trademark Malfoy smirk made an appearance, albeit somewhat half-heartedly.



Ginny could not seem to find a suitable reaction to his announcement, but he no longer seemed interested in conversing. Without another word, he began strolling away, stepping on a spare bit of spilled parchment that had escaped her bag. As he walked away, he spoke to her over his shoulder.



“Oh, and I’m overseeing all student disciplinary action, so best behavior, Weasley.”



He left her alone in the corridor.



No insults? No hexing?



She was disheveled. Confused. Her bag was still spilled about on the ground.



She was late for class.



Damn.

“How am I supposed to get into Hogwarts? It’s not like there’s an eighth year. And I could hardly be considered qualified for a teaching position...”



“It’s already taken care of.”



“Alright. And then what?”



“You must learn her schedule. Learn her habits. Follow her. The plan must be flawless. Figure out where she goes and when. Find a consistent time when she is alone and vulnerable. We can’t afford witnesses, and we can’t let her put up a fight. It has to be quick. I don’t want to be bribing students to keep quiet or modifying staff memories, is that clear?”



“She’s a Weasley. She’s stupid enough to put up a fight.”



“Then subdue her.”



“How?”



“Any way you can.”





X



He began to follow her.



It was a delicate dance of getting close enough to his project while remaining unseen.



He easily managed to steal a copy of her timetable. Between that and some simple obscuring charms, (and his inherent Malfoy stealth, he mused) it was easy.



For weeks, he moved like a shadow, and the girl seemed blissfully unaware. She chatted with her classmates, flashing brilliant smiles and releasing lighthearted laughs. Draco mapped out her every step. He memorized her movements. He surveyed her fraying robes. He noted when she took her meals. Where she sat. What she ate. She picked at her breakfast. She inhaled her dinners.



It was so unbelievably dull, except it wasn’t.



Safely obscured, he could sit and stare. He watched. He stared. He followed.



She was even more interesting when she was alone.



When she was alone, a dark side emerged.



Her brilliant smiles faded. Her face became weary and forlorn. Sighs replaced the laughs. A deep melancholy shaded her dark eyes. Her red lips would slightly part as she seemed to lose herself in her own thoughts. She would absentmindedly tuck crimson locks behind her ears... take off her cloak and rub her bare arms with her small hands.



He would find her alone in the library, halfheartedly attempting her homework. Or by the lake, staring off into the distance until she was ushered inside by staff. But the most interesting thing she did, was routinely walk herself to a certain infamous bathroom every week.



Every week she ducked underneath the “Out of Order” sign, and disappeared into the bathroom. A bathroom that was only used when one wanted to be undisturbed. A bathroom that none of her classmates would dare use. And every week, when he would ask Moaning Myrtle what the redhead had been doing in there, the answer was always the same.



“Nothing.”



“You would think,” Myrtle had said, “that she would never want to come in here... you know, after what she did, after what happened. That, and of course none of the toilets work. But she comes every week...she's just...odd...” Malfoy thought that if Myrtle considered someone odd, that was saying something. “But there’s something in her eyes, Malfoy. Something in her eyes when she stares into the mirror. Its creepy.”



There’s darkness inside her...



He sat pensively in his common room. Dark eyes and long, crimson hair rolling around in his thoughts.



A plan began to form.







X




“What do I do once I have her?”


“Bring her to the Manor.”


“And then?”


“You are to deliver her to the Dark Lord”.





X




Draco spent nearly half the night ironing out his plan. It was easy, really. The worst that could happen was maybe another bat-bogey hex, but with Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle now assisting him she would have no chance. Skilled as she was, she would be cornered and outnumbered. A nagging thought crept up in his mind.


You are to deliver her to the Dark Lord...



Why?



His first thought was torture and information... but that was unlike the Dark Lord to do his own interrogations... Besides, the Weasleys, the Order, and even Potter treated her like a child... too delicate and precious to be told anything...but surely the Dark Lord already knew that?



Rounding a corner, Draco suddenly found himself face to face with Weasley, her wand at his neck. Her dark red hair was gathered in a thick plait with a black ribbon. A few crimson locks had escaped and framed her face. A red flush was in her cheeks and her dark eyes were shooting sparks of fury.



“I know you’re following me!” she spoke fiercely, lowering the wand to his chest.


Draco lifted his hands halfheartedly, raising an eyebrow.


“Paranoid much? Why would I follow a weasel?”


“I don’t mind hexing first and asking questions later.” A few threatening red sparks escaped out of the end of her wand, slightly singing the black jumper he wore.


Annoyed, Draco’s hand reached over and closed around her wand.


“Now that’s where you’re wrong, Weasley. Seeing as I oversee all discipline, you’ll want to be sure you always stay within my good graces. Now, unless you want detention licking the dirt off my shoes, shut up and get to Charms.”


She inhaled a small breath and gaped at him.


“H-How did you know I have Charms-?“


“Never mind that...” Something in his expression gave her pause, because she was suddenly looking at him with compassion in her expression.


“I can help you, Malfoy,” she started gently.



No Weasley, you can’t, he thought.



He mustered up a look of loathing. “Stop your immature huffing and puffing and get to class.”

He narrowed his gaze at her and leaned forward, his face now inches away.


“Now.”


“Argh! You bloody prick!” she snapped, snatching her wand away from his grasp.


Leaving him where he stood, she stormed away.


By the time she got to class, her hair had become loose and tangled. She struggled to pull back her mane into a ponytail as she sat down for Charms. Down the hall, a certain blond sat fingering a black ribbon in his hands, before tucking it safely in his pocket.





X



Luna elbowed Ginny in the ribs. “He’s doing it again.”



Ginny glanced over to the staff table to find Draco Malfoy staring, his face blank. She turned back to her plate.



“Just what I need, fresh content for my nightmares,” she muttered.



“Well, Ginny, I think perhaps there is more to him. I think he’s handsome and misunderstood. He was quite nice to me when I was in his dungeons last year.”



Ginny considered this. “Handsome, yes, but misunderstood? No. He wears his black shriveled heart on his sleeve. Personally, if I had to get to know Malfoy, I rather get to know the troll in the dark forest.”



“You mean Dunker?”



“Yes. I just think he’s handsome and misunderstood!”






X



Desperate to quench his curiosity, Draco followed the girl into Myrtle's bathroom. She was standing at the far sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror.



Just staring...



The first time he found her doing this he thought her mad. She stood in front of the mirror staring for nearly ten minutes. As if trying to prove his point, she returned the next week and repeated the same bizarre action. After every Charms class, she ended up here. Draco memorized this habit of hers, and watched closely as she repeated the ritual, week after week.



It was disturbing. It was unnerving.



Yet, he was transfixed by her eerie staring contests. The bathroom remained silent, and he remained hidden and obscured, watching. She clutched the sides of the sink with soft, delicate hands. Her dark brown eyes stared unblinking, expressionless into the bathroom mirror. She never spoke. She hardly breathed. Indeed, she appeared frozen by her own reflection. Her long hair hung loose and wavy. Her red lips pressed together.


What was she doing?


Maybe she really was mad...


Or, maybe there really was darkness in her...



She stared.


He stared back.

One small hand moved off the sink and gently touched her own flushed cheek. The movement seemed to break the spell over her. She reached down to grab her school bag, walking quietly out of the bathroom.

The owl eventually arrived, as Draco picked at his breakfast. He knew it would. It had only been a matter of time.




It was a small bit of parchment with one word written in a neat scrawl, unsigned.





Tonight.




X




It was time.


The plan had been made and Draco had assembled his team. It was quite easy, due to the fact many Slytherin alumni were part of the Inquisitorial Squad. And when Draco approached Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle, he knew few questions would be asked.



It was perfect.



X




It was early evening.


She was in the middle of one of her freakish staring contests. And both Draco and Blaise stood unseen near the stalls. Hidden from her sight, Zabini briefly inquired as to whether Draco would be taking her to St. Mungo’s mental ward, and for a small instant Draco wondered if that wasn’t a bad idea.



She had been enthralled in her staring contest with herself for several minutes. Zabini, still obscured, began walking up behind her. Just a few feet from her and before he could make to grab her, the fiery girl suddenly whipped around, wand raised. With a quick flick of her wand, Zabini became fully visible, his wand flying out of his own hand and into hers. Her breaths were heavy from adrenaline, but her wand was steady.


Zabini’s mouth opened in awe.



“Well done, red,” he smiled admiringly. “I’m impressed. But, you see, beauty is my weakness… It’s not the first time I’ve been bested by a pretty girl. To be honest though, I prefer to be the one pointing something at her...”

The smile didn’t leave his face even as Ginny pointed her wand to his forehead. From his hiding place, Draco could see the redness rising in her face.


“I’ve officially reached my yearly quota of disgusting Slytherins stalking me, Zabini,” she said through gritted teeth. “What the hell do you want? And make it fast because I was just leaving.”



Blaise’s eyes briefly flicked down her form and back up to her face.


“Oh, you know,” he smiled pleasantly, “I was simply enjoying the view. I saw you come in and I was hoping to get a peek at your, ah, blossoming charms.”


Now her neck flushed.


“Ugh! You perv!”


She shoved Zabini roughly on the shoulders with both hands but he regained his balance.


She brought her wand back to Zabini’s chest. Her eyes held a vicious glint in them, and Draco knew that Blaise was about to become intimately acquainted with the wrath of Ginevra Weasley. And based on her expression, Draco thought, there was a real possibility he was at risk of losing a limb.


“Expelliarmus!”


He stepped up behind the girl, and both her wand and Blaise’s flew into his waiting hand. She whirled around in surprise; eyes wide.


“YOU!” she bellowed.


She now stood trapped between Draco and Zabini. She looked between them, eyes briefly darting towards the door. Draco slowly pocketed her wand, his eyes not leaving hers. He tossed Blaise’s wand back to him, and held his own towards the girl.


She paled, and backed away from Draco, stepping closer to Blaise. The movement amused him, she seemed more terrified of him than Blaise.


Draco allowed himself a few precious seconds to drink her in. Her silky hair hung loose and windswept from her quick movements. Her lips were parted, her breaths deep and quick in her panic. Her pale face showed an equal mixture of panic and anger. Her eyes were darting from his own, to Blaise, and to the door, calculating her possibilities of escape.

There was no escape, but he knew that the red head was stupid enough to try.


Two wands pointed at her, she was low on options. This seemed to sink in as Draco saw the fear in her face.


“I’ll scream,” she said quietly.


He scoffed. “You won’t.”


“I will!” Her voice was a bit stronger. “You tell me what you want- what you’re doing- or I swear I’ll scream until I’ve shattered both your eardrums-“


Her voice was cut off by Blaise’s hand covering her mouth, wrapping his other hand around her arms to hold her still.


“Now love, there’s no need to rattle our ears with your banshee voice. We – ah- disgusting Slytherins- have done our due diligence with this little escapade. I’ve rather a talent with silencing charms so I assure you, red, should you decide to scream, no one will hear you, and no one will come.”


Draco stepped towards the pair and reached into his pocket and pulling out a silver length of rope.


“Hands, Weasley.”


Blaise lowered his hand from her mouth, gripping her wrists and holding them out towards Draco.


She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, but she didn’t attempt to move her hands away from him.


“What are you doing?” she whispered; her words heavy with fear.

“I don’t know anything! They don’t tell me anything! I’m not old enough to be in the Order! I’m not allowed into any of their meetings. If you want information on Harry then get ready for a laugh because you probably know more than I do! I haven’t heard from them in months. You can torture me all you like, but you’ll just be wasting your stupid time. Or go get some Veritaserum, for all I care! I’ll take it, I swear! My answers will be the same. Please, Malfoy.”


Draco said nothing, and with his wand began binding her hands with rope. He grasped her elbow and began leading her out of the bathroom. Her sleeves were rolled up and he could feel her soft skin underneath his fingers.


She turned towards him again. Her eyes searched his, and Draco swore he could see a shadow deep within them. He suddenly felt that he could read her mind. It was just one word, a strong resounding word.


Why?


He ignored the moment of Occlumency as they exited the bathroom. He saw her gaze dart left to right, and he was pleased to see that at each end of the hall stood one of his mates with wands drawn. Crabbe at one end, Goyle at the other. Each stony faced and menacing. For what they lacked in brains, Draco thought, they certainly made up for in the intimidation factor.


She must have realized the situation was hopeless, because her eyes closed and a single tear escaped her dark lashes. She hung her head. Draco pulled on her elbow as Blaise opened the door to the empty classroom.


Inside the classroom, desks and chairs lay discarded to the sides save one desk in the middle. On the lone desk stood a hideous china tea kettle. Draco turned towards Crabbe and Goyle, who had followed them inside the class room.


“How much time do we have?”


Goyle glanced at his watch. “It should be right now.”


A soft glow surrounded the old tea kettle. Draco’s heart began thumping in his chest.


He was almost there.


It was almost over.


He might actually be able to do this.


As he attempted to step forward with the Weasley girl, he saw her glance up at the tea kettle.


He watched as it took a mere millisecond for her to register what was happening and for full blown panic to set into her.


“NO! NO! NO!” she screamed.

She began flailing like a wild animal, kicking and throwing out elbows. Draco struggled to keep hold of her despite her bound hands. She twisted and screeched and suddenly his brilliant plan seemed to be cracking.


“Weasley, shut up! Hold still-“


“NO! I WONT! I WONT GO!”


God she really did sound like a banshee. Or perhaps a prepubescent mandrake.


Both his arms wrapped around her like a vice, as she continued to writhe and thrash her limbs. His mind raced. Crabbe and Goyle seemed helpless, but they couldn’t all touch the Portkey if someone was to stay behind for the cover up.


“Draco!” Blaise shouted, his fingers in his ears, “For fucks sake you idiot, STUN HER!”


Draco hesitated, even as a wave of red hair whipped him in the face.


“I won’t be able to come back, Blaise...” He yelled over the girl's screams. She was like a goddamn wild animal. “Once they see she’s missing, if they check my wand for spells…”


Blaise nodded. “It’s alright, just do it before she shatters a goddamn mirror or something!”


The other Slytherins had backed away from the thrashing Weasley as Draco held onto her. Goyle stood at the closed door of the classroom. Luckily the silencing charms seemed to have held as he nodded towards Malfoy with the all clear.

Weasley was so panicked she didn’t seem to see Draco’s wand reach her neck.


“STUPEFY!”


The girl went limp in his arms.


Thank God.


Holding her under her shoulders with one arm, he dragged her with him towards the tea kettle.


“Well, mate, good luck with the banshee,” Blaise said, looking down at the limp redhead. “Doesn’t seem like I’ll get that goodbye kiss after all. You go, mate, we’ve got it from here.”


Draco wiped his forehead on his sleeve, removing the sweat.


“You would dare try to kiss this animal?” He used one hand to straighten his robes and rub his throbbing ear.


“I was talking about you, Draco. Now get out of here before my silencing charm wears off.”


“Shut up, Blaise.”


The seriousness of the situation suddenly enveloped him. One arm held an unconscious red-head, and the other reached out to touch the port key.


The weeks of planning, down to every last detail, and he had done it.


He was about to complete the mission from the Dark Lord.


Maybe he wasn’t such a dismal failure after all...


His hand clasped around the tea kettle, the other holding tightly around Weasley’s waist.




And then they were gone.

Draco Malfoy walked towards the great front doors of Malfoy manor. In his arms lay an unmoving Ginny Weasley, with one hand under her shoulders and one hand under her knees. The great doors opened on their own to admit their young master, and he stepped across the threshold. He was home.

He had done it.

It was over.

He hadn’t failed.

He had successfully kidnapped the littlest Weasley without loss of life or limb. He had brought her to the manor. She was alive and unharmed.

And his face had remained bat-bogey free.

After tonight, she would no longer be his burden. After tonight, she would belong to the Dark Lord.

His mouth dried at the last thought. Belong to the Dark Lord…

His father’s words rose up in his mind.

“That’s the Dark Lord’s business, Draco. He wants the girl, so we’re giving him the girl.”

A Draco neared the roaring fire in the manor, his father walked in to greet him.

Lucius wore one of those rare, proud smiles. It was those smiles that drove a desperate young Draco to ruthlessly pursue success and power. It created a bone-deep drive in him to prove himself. Draco desperately tried to produce this very smile on his father countless times. Even as he grew and began to recognize his father’s glaring errors and foolish shortcomings, he couldn’t help but seek his approval.

“My boy, Draco.” He patted his shoulder affectionately, and glanced down at the redhead. “Put her down over here.” He motioned to the chaise, and Draco deposited her onto it. He straightened his stiff back and turned towards his father, soaking in the delight that seemed to erupt from his father’s face.

“Draco my boy, you’re a man now,” He grasped both of Draco’s shoulders proudly, “Surely the Dark Lord will think so as well. The youngest servant to earn the dark mark. And now, you have successfully accomplished your task. You did well, you did well, my son.”

There it was. He wasn’t a complete screw-up. Sure, the job had been relatively easy, but he had managed not to fail.

Lucius removed his hands and drew his wand, heading out of the room. “Now, I shall summon the Dark Lord, and then my boy,” he spread his arms wide, “we will celebrate!”

Lucius disappeared, and Draco’s heart quickened once again. He hated being around the Dark Lord, but at least this time he wasn’t being presented for punishment…

He glanced down at Ginny Weasley, bound and unconscious. She lay still as death, though he could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

He stared at her form for a few moments. Would the Dark Lord be upset that he stunned her? Should he wake her? He had bound her hands without really thinking about it, but maybe he should untie them…

Lucius returned back to the room. He still looked pleased, though Draco could sense his apprehension. The same feeling was bubbling up inside his own chest.

“Wake her, Draco, the Dark Lord will be here soon.” He held out a small blue vial to Draco’s hand. “Make her swallow this before you wake her.”

Draco swirled the liquid in the vial. “What is it?”

Lucius waved a hand. “Its harmless really, it will just help keep her more, ah, docile. Soften that infamous Weasley temper if you will.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. It was probably in everyone’s best interest that the girl be more cooperative. She was a bloody menace to everyone including herself.

Holding the vial, he stepped over to where the girl lay. She seemed peaceful enough.

Likely the last peaceful sleep she will ever have.

He reached out to her and used one hand to open her mouth, trying to ignore the soft lips as they brushed his fingers. He emptied the vial into her mouth. For a moment she coughed and sputtered and then he watched the movement of her neck as she swallowed, her eyes still closed.

The thought came again. Unable to force it back down, the nagging question forced its way to the front of his mind and before he could think, it was out of his mouth.

“Father,” He started carefully, “aren’t you the least bit curious-?”

Lucius cut him off. “If the Dark Lord wants us to know then he will tell us. Otherwise, I suggest you curb those curiosities…” He trailed off, and Draco saw something odd flicker in his eyes before they glazed over.

“Draco,” he whispered, “Knowledge is bitter sweet. Sometimes… sometimes it’s better not to know.”

Draco was silent. The words of his father had no effect in stifling his curiosity. He bent down again to the girl.

“Ennervate.”

Dark brown eyes snapped open, and she sucked in a few small breaths. Still reclined on the chaise, she looked wildy at her surroundings, before settling her eyes on Draco. Her breathing quickened.

“Malfoy?” She whispered. She tried to sit up, but seemed unable to do so on her own. Silent, Draco gripped her elbow and lifted her to a sitting position, before pulling her to her feet. The potion seemed to have weakened her physically because once her feet touched the floor, her knees buckled and she promptly slumped over onto her side, one bound arm helping hold her up. She looked up fearfully from Lucius to Draco, but said nothing.

Bang!

Three rumbling pounds like a boulder cracking echoed throughout the Manor. All three heads whirled towards the doors.

He’s here.

The great doors to the manor opened once again, and Draco felt rather than saw the figure gliding in. A chill accompanied him, and Draco swallowed. He found himself wanting this to be over with as quick as possible. He wanted to wash his hands of whatever plans he had for the littlest Weasley. He suddenly fantasized sitting in a hot bath, a drink in his hand. He thought of never having to worry about blood traitor, red-headed banshee psychopaths ever again…Yes, he would simply erase the last few months from his memory, and enjoy the safety he had secured for his family.

He would forget everything that happened. No more mirrors and dark eyes haunting him… no more silky red hair. No more long lashes, pleading eyes, and full lips. No more feeling soft skin under his fingers-

Stop it.


It was over. The Dark Lord was here and it was over.



Voldemort stepped into the room.

Lucius and Draco lowered themselves to one knee, heads bowing. The Dark Lord stepped towards them, his dark robes dragging soundlessly across the floor, hands out stretched.

“Rise.”

Draco gracefully rose to his, feet, his father doing the same.

Red glowing eyes locked on his, and a twisted smile formed on the Dark Lords face.

“Bring her to me.”

Draco turned around to where Ginny lay, bound and slightly curled into herself. She was not crying, but her breaths were coming out in short soft gasps. He reached down and grabbed her arms, hauling her to her feet once again. Though slightly wobbly once she straightened up, her knees did not buckle this time. One hand still supporting her right arm, Draco turned her towards Voldemort, allowing her to come into view.

Across the room, Voldemort’s eyes widened slightly, and he let out a long hissing breath.

“Ginevra…”

Draco felt her body shudder under his grip.

“Ginevra, come to me.” Voldemort reached out a hand, palm up towards the pair. It was as if an invisible hand closed around Ginny’s neck. Her head tilted back jerkily and she let out soft whimper. The invisible hand then lifted her out of Draco’s grasp, her body hanging several inches above the ground. Voldemort moved his hand back towards himself, and Ginny’s levitating body flew silently to him.

He lowered his hand and Ginny’s feet met the ground. She trembled but she did not fall. Voldemort looked down at her, eyes glittering. He reached his hand to her face, brushing her cheek with his knuckles. Ginny’s eyes squeezed shut.

Draco was equal parts disgusted and enthralled by the gentle behavior of his master towards the girl. Looking at her like that, almost as if he… cherished her…

He found himself wanting to see no more of this interaction, yet he could not look away.

The Dark Lord spoke to her in a sickly, sweet voice. “Ginevra. Six years, princess…six long years and I see these years were not a waste. In fact, they were very, very necessary. So much had to happen before now, so much to be learned before now. And all that knowledge absolutely priceless in the end. What I’ve learned, what I’ve discovered, about you, about our past. How our past together paved the way for the future…But never mind that now, let me look at you…”

He waved his hand again, and Ginny’s body lifted from the ground once again, circling once and coming to rest on the ground once more. The Dark Lord seemed satisfied by what he saw, but frowned at the girls shut eyes.

“Ginevra. Look at me princess.” One long white finger reached under her chin, tilting her head up towards him. She opened her eyes. She seemed to be summoning her courage, jaw clenched and eyes blazing.

He moved his face towards her, and something in Draco’s gut twisted. But he only continued speaking to her, words slithering out of his thin lips.

“You’ve grown beautifully. I knew you would be beautiful. How old are you now? Sixteen? Answer me Ginevra.”

“S-seventeen.” She stammered.

He smiled. He waved his wand across the girl and a small golden glow briefly emanated from her. Whatever it was seemed to please him. “Still pure... It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Things couldn’t have been better than if I’d planned it. The first part of the ritual will be completed tonight.”

Voldemort spoke to Lucius, his eyes not leaving the girl.

“I must leave, Severus has the potion. Bring the girl to the ceremony room in the dungeon. Place her on the altar. I will meet you there.”

Oh God. A ritual? An altar? And what the fuck is a ceremony room?

Draco was beginning to wonder if the Hogwarts rumors he had heard as a first year about virgin sacrifices at Malfoy manor may have in fact been real. But really, surely if such heinous acts were actually happening in Malfoy Manor he would have known… right?

Right?





xxxx

Draco and Ginny were alone by the fire, waiting to meet Voldemort down in the dungeons. Draco looked sideways at Ginny.

“Listen, Weasley,” He drawled. “ I know it’s difficult for you to ignore your idiotic Gryffindor tendencies, but considering the predicament you are in right now… What I mean is, you could you know, cooperate…”

Ginny sniffed and turned away.

“I’m serious Weasley.” He dropped the drawl. She looked back at him, but she still had a haughty look about her. Draco leaned forward, clasping his hands. “Look, I don’t know what he has planned, but its not going to be pretty. Do you really think you won’t be killed? Tortured into insanity?”

“You don’t understand Malfoy.”

He scoffed. “No, you’re right, I don’t. You have a chance to avoid all this. I’m not saying become a death eater, I’m not saying go slaughter a village of muggles, I’m just saying, if you voluntarily agree to do whatever the Dark Lord asks of you-“

“You mean betray my family? My friends?”

“Maybe. Or maybe in agreeing to help him you can save them. The Dark Lord loves negotiations. It’s not too late, but I can’t say for sure that will be the case after tonight.”

“Oh really? And how well have these -negotiations- worked out for you?”

Draco glared, and his mouth snapped shut.

“Have it your way then. But Don’t think I don’t know.”

She returned the glare. “Know what?”

“About you. About the chamber of secrets. I know it was you. You’ve already worked for the Dark Lord, haven’t you? Why stop? I’ve seen the darkness in you-“

“Shut up Malfoy you don’t know anything! I was a child!” She sputtered furiously.

She stood and stormed to the other side of the room before whirling back on him.

“I’m not dark. I’m not!!!”

Draco sighed, and leaned back in his chair.

“Weasley. I could help you,” he said quietly. “If you would just talk with him, listen to him, maybe help him with a few simple tasks, give some meaningless information to him, I could help you. You could stay here, at the Manor. And if there comes an opportunity to go back to your family, you can just tell them we put the imperious curse on you-“

“Shut up Malfoy.” Ginny curled up and turned away from him.



Well, can’t say he didn’t try.

Bloody Gryffindors...

Minutes later, down in some drafty cavernous “secret ceremony room”, Draco found himself in an increasingly uncomfortable situation. It had been bad enough watching his Master touch and speak to Ginny Weasley in such an awkward and intimate way, and his insides squirmed at the memory.

But now, NOW, he felt as though the current situation was about to prove every ridiculous, far-fetched stereotype that any Hogwarts student every whispered about Death eaters true.

In the middle of the room stood an ancient stone altar. Upon the altar lie a subdued, but very much awake, frightened redhead, still bound and lying flat on her back. Her breathing was rapid, and she seemed unable to move from her position. Whether this was from the potion or fear he was not sure. Draco and his father stood to the side, dressed in full death eater attire. At the altar next to Ginny stood Voldemort, one hand holding a large vial with a small amount of liquid in it, and the other, a small dagger, its handle smattered with runes. He had his eyes closed and seemed to be muttering to himself.

At that moment, Draco felt he would have given just about anything to avoid watching what was about to happen, to escape the room, to wipe his own memory, to go back to the way things were…

Ginny was silent on the altar. And as she lay there, Draco vaguely wondered how many lives had been ended right where she lay…

He suddenly imagined her blood spilling over the side of the altar, and he couldn’t help the wave of nausea that suddenly took hold of him.

Lucius eyes briefly darted to him, and then back to the pair at the altar.

“He’s not going to kill her, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Draco looked to his father. He tried to hide the instant relief that washed over him.

“Oh.” Was all he could manage.

Then why the theatrics?

At least he hadn’t delivered an innocent girl to her death…

Voldemort had finished his incoherent mutter and looked down at the girl. He grasped one of her wrists tightly as she whimpered. He looked towards Draco and Lucius, his voice echoing.

“This form I have… grows old. I cannot continue as I am without acquiring weakness. There is so much to do, so much I require of myself… My powers must have an adequate vessel. And now, thanks to my dear Ginevra here,” He looked down at her wide eyes, still holding her wrist, “I shall have my new form. Stronger. Healthy. Able to contain all my powers. Better yet, I will have- shall we say, access- to enhance my power. Further My glory. I will obtain power that even a wand cannot yield. And the best part is,” A truly wicked smile distorted his features. He locked that smile on Draco and Lucius.

“I will still be myself.”

The rest happened quickly. Voldemort reached Ginny’s bound wrists above her head and muttered something. The bonds glowed and then seemed to adhere to the stone. With a quick movement of his hands there was a tearing of fabric, and the top part of Ginny’s shirt was torn open, exposing the top of her breasts and the fabric of the white bra she wore. Draco visibly flinched as a “No!” escaped from the girl.

Holy Fuck.

He hadn’t delivered an innocent girl to her death. He had delivered her for something much worse…

For the first time since he arrived at the manor, hot acidic guilt burst through him.

There would be a special place in hell for people like me, he thought.

But thank Merlin, Voldemort stilled his hands, no longer tearing clothes and leaned down over the girl. Now it was his Master’s breaths that came quickly.

“The mark,” he breathed, “its still there.” He appeared to trace something with his finger, before laying his white hand on the girl where Draco was sure her heart was pounding.

It was then that Ginny let out an agonized moan.

“Hush, Ginevra.” He removed his hand but returned it above her, holding the dagger.

“This will only take a moment princess. And yes, I am going to hurt you.”

Even standing across the room, Draco could see the dagger’s edge gently pierce and drag across the milky white flesh of her exposed chest. Ginny let out a scream of pain, her back arching away from the altar. Her blood immediately began dripping to saturate the white of her shirt. Voldemort grabbed the large vial, and with another wave of his hand, drops of blood began rising from the girl, arching into the air. After a few moments, the blood leaving her body was no longer red, but black.

Like ink.

Another wave and the black drops left the air and began depositing themselves into the vial, one drop at a time.

For a moment, the only sound in the cavernous room was the sobbing of Ginny, and the steady drip, drip, drip of the strange black drops filling the vial. Soon the vial glowed and turned black. Voldemort eyed the now black potion with intensity. He turned away from Ginny, ignoring her cries.

Without explanation, without a word, Voldemort tipped the vial to his lips and downed its contents.

An invisible wind began to swirl around the Dark Lord. A deafening roar filled the room. There was a flash of light, and Draco raised his arms to shield his eyes. And then it was quiet.

Draco lowed his arms. Ginny lay completely still, eyes now closed, unmoving. She was still bleeding though it had slowed. The barely perceptible flutter of her eyelids told him she was alive.

Voldemort was gone. GONE. But there was someone standing where he had stood.

A teenager. Tall. Dark hair. Pale skin. An eerily familiar smile spread across his wicked face.

Draco had to stifle a gasp.

Tom fucking Riddle.

Draco again found himself carrying a half-gorked-out-of-her-mind Ginny Weasley through the manor.

This was not part of the plan.

This wasn’t ANY of the plan.

He abso-fucking-lutely did not sign up for this.

Draco’s anger coursed through him. His task had been simple. He had done it. It should be over. He should be in his hot bath right now. He should be enjoying copious amounts of alcohol. Drunk, blackout inducing, memory erasing amounts of alcohol. He shouldn’t have a bloody, quite literally at this moment, Weasley to babysit for the next week. He thought back to what had just occurred in the hidden room of the Malfoy dungeons…

x


A teenaged Voldemort, Tom Riddle, stood before Lucius and Draco. He spoke, his voice young and strong. But it still held the same dread, the same coldness. He stared at Draco.

“You’ve done well boy.”

Amazing, that even though Draco was now technically older than the Dark Lord, that his voice could still hold so much power over him. In this new form, he was just as intimidating and persuasive… though perhaps more pleasant to look at.

Tom sucked in a breath and tilted his head. “But I’m afraid dear Draco, that I will require your services for a bit longer.” He turned and gestured towards Ginny, occasional soft moans coming from her still form on the altar.

“Ginevra will stay in your care. It will take a week to prepare for the completion of the ritual. At that time, you will bring her back here, to me. And then, only then, will you have completed your task.”

Tom turned swiftly and returned to Ginny’s side. He leaned down, looking at her with that disgusting, loving, look again that made Draco want to retch. Her eyes were closed, and with a moan she turned her head to the side. Tom reached his hand out, resting it gently on her cheek, smoothing the hair out of her face. “She will need your protection,” he said, not looking away from the girl. “The Order will surely make an attempt at rescue and THAT. CANNOT. HAPPEN.” His last words he emphasized, loud and sharp. “If I am to keep this form, make it permanent, to obtain my great power, I need her.”

Tom stilled his hand, and bent down to her, pressing a kiss to her crimson hair. He whispered something to her then, but it was so soft that neither Draco nor Lucius could hear. He straightened and walked back towards the Malfoy pair. He addressed Draco once again.

“Draco. Clean her up. Heal her. Make sure she remains unharmed. Lucius will assist you. And…” He trailed off, casting a furtive glance at Lucius, before his eyes rested again on Draco. “There’s one more thing, and it is very important. It is absolutely vital for the ritual that Ginevra remain pure… that she remain untouched. Do you understand me boy?”

Draco swallowed.

“I understand my Lord.”

x



Draco reached the room Lucius had prepared for the girl. He lay her down gently on the bed. He couldn’t help it as his fingers ran down her arm, lingering longer than necessary.


Fuck. What had he done?





x



Ginny had a nightmare.

It was Tom again.

Always Tom.

His cold hands had touched her. His voice spoke sweet, poisonous words to her…

She allowed the remnants of the nightmare to float across her consciousness as she began to awake. Her eyes had not yet opened as she remembered other moments of the nightmare.

She couldn’t move her hands, cold air hit the skin of her chest, and the piercing burning pain of a daggers edge dragging across her flesh…

She refused to open her eyes, though she was now fully awake. She willed those thoughts to have been a nightmare. She willed herself to be in her dormitory, safe in her bed.

But somehow, she knew. She knew when she opened her eyes, that she would know it had not been another nightmare. Voldemort had seen her, touched her, put his disgusting hands on her, and she would awake to find whatever terrible fate he had in store for her…

Perhaps if she fought enough, he would just kill her. Yes, that would work. She would fight and scream and fight some more until his control was wrung out and he turned his wand at her. Maybe it would be a quick death. That didn’t seem so bad. There were worse things. Maybe she could skip the torture all together. Maybe.

But, she thought, if she continued feigning sleep, death certainly would not come any quicker. Whether by Voldemort’s hand or by one of his pathetic minions, she would rather die than be used as bait or risk some vital piece of information be pried from her.

Not that she had any valuable information to hide, and she wasn’t sure if that made her angry or relieved.

She opened her eyes. But it wasn’t Voldemort’s red gaze that met her. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light, and she saw blonde hair. Grey eyes.

“Malfoy?” She rasped, her throat raw.

He looked at her with slight apprehension, as if bracing himself for a punch.

Successfully forcing down the urge to fulfill his fear, she instead took in her surroundings. She was in a bedroom. A luxurious one. She was still at Malfoy Manor. She lay on a large bed, her head and back supported by several pillows. She felt an aching in her hands and wrists and looked down, seeing they were still bound.

“If you can manage to avoid maiming me” he said warily “I’ll untie your hands.”

Ginny nodded at him quickly. “Yes! I mean, I promise- I won’t.” She lifted her hands to him. He sat down on the bed next to her and wrapped a hand around one of her wrists. He pointed his wand at the bonds and murmured a spell. The bonds disappeared and she felt the warm blood flow return to her aching hands. She rubbed her hands together to savor the relief, but the action caused a sharp burning pain on the left side of her chest and she winced.

Looking down at herself, she was horrified by what she saw. Her shirt had clearly been torn apart, exposing her upper chest and her bra. The white shirt was marred by a large stain of crimson. And on her chest, a long, thin cut, and she could feel the warm stickiness of her blood still slowly oozing out of it…

The bile rose in her throat. She held a hand to her mouth, willing the nausea to subside. She must have gone green because suddenly Malfoy thrust a bucket in front of her. She retched and vomited, hugging the bucket to herself. When she finished, the bucket and sick disappeared and a cold cloth was placed in her hand. She turned, surprised to find Malfoy still at her side. His expression was unreadable but she didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger from him.

She held the cold cloth to her forehead.

“Thank you.”

Draco cleared his throat. “I need to heal that.” He pointed to her chest. She nodded, then lay back down. He leaned forward with his wand, then paused.

“Remember Weasley, you agreed to no violence. But I swear if you attempt to swing at me, it won’t just be your wrists that I bind.”

“Malfoy, I’ll let you heal me, but only because I don’t have a wand and I feel like I’m going to pass out if I see any more blood. So aside from, you know, whatever you need to do to heal me, if you keep your hands to yourself, I’ll keep mine.”

“Fair enough.” He bent lower and she felt his warm hand gently move the top of her shirt aside. He muttered more words and she felt his wand make contact with her skin. The blood began to disappear from her skin and her shirt. He muttered again and the stinging pain of the cut disappeared. She dared to look down again, but all she saw was the familiar thin scar that had marred her breast over her heart since she was eleven years old. Since the chamber…

Every emotion, every feeling that she had felt since her ambush in the bathroom, suddenly came crashing down upon her. The fear, the absolute horror of everything that had happened to her in the last few hours, rose up, suffocating her. It was agony, and she was drowning in it. She sat up quickly, making Malfoy jump. The tears came, and they were absolutely wracking her body as she sobbed. It was too much. It was just too much. And she reached out blindly, desperately. Her hands found Draco’s robes and with an iron grip she yanked him to her, burying her wet face into his chest. He made of noise of surprise but didn’t push her away. She didn’t care that it was Draco. She didn’t care that it was his fault she was in this mess. She just desperately wanted to be held.

“Oh G-God. M-Malfoy, what did he d-do to me?”

Malfoy awkwardly allowed his arms to come to her back. He murmured his honest answer into her hair.



“I don’t know.”





x



It could have been minutes, hours, a whole day, she wasn’t sure. But she allowed -or forced rather- the blonde to hold her until her body no longer shook. With the wracking sobs subsided, she continued to hold the body in front of her. He was warm and it was comforting. She vaguely registered a hand at the back of her head, fingers slowly running down the length of her hair. The movement caused her to shiver. Were she not in the current situation she was in, she would have allowed herself to revel in this-well, whatever this was... She promptly stuffed down the odd sensations. She spoke quietly.

“He-he took my blood... Why did he do that?”

Draco’s arms stiffened around her.

“He drank it. He added it to a potion and drank it. But, some of it had turned black…It changed him, it made him younger. A teenager.”

It was her turn to stiffen. “Tom.”

She felt his chest move as he sucked in a breath to continue.

“He said he needed a new form, that his current one was getting old. And that he needed you in order to obtain more power, and to make his form more permanent… In one week, he said the ritual can be completed, and I am to give you to him at that time.”

She recoiled from his embrace. A wave of dread rose through her. She had so many questions, so many things she didn’t understand. But she knew, she absolutely knew, that whatever completing this ritual entailed, it would completely and irrevocably destroy her.

“Malfoy-you can’t-you just can’t! I just know that whatever this is will be horrible. He wont just kill me, you know that!”

He looked at her sharply. “I don’t have a choice, Weasley.”

“Yes you do! Please, you can’t bring me to him! There’s always a choice-“

“Oh fuck that logic!” He spat. “Tell me, Weasley- and, mind you, I’ll phrase this so your stupid Gryffindor brain can understand- if the Order told you that unless you brought me before them your mother and father would be tortured and killed, you would feel like you had a choice?!? That for one second, you would think about protecting me above your own family?”

She gaped. “I-couldn’t- I mean- That’s, that’s totally different-“

“It’s not.”

She looked down and wrung her hands together.

The bastard was right.

“You’re right Malfoy. It’s the same, isn’t it?”

She looked up into his face. His skin was pale, and dark circles lined his grey stormy eyes. His jaw was clenched. He clearly wasn’t taking any particular delight in her suffering. She suddenly found herself filling with unexpected compassion for the handsome Slytherin. He had already proved he wasn’t a killer.

He was just a scared boy, trying to keep his family alive. Would she be any different in his situation?

She reached forward and laid an understanding hand on his.

“We would do almost anything for the ones we love, wouldn’t we?”

Draco brought the red-headed prisoner her dinner. The House elves had been taking care of her, bringing her meals and fresh changes of clothes. Aside from her pajamas, the Dark Lord had requested she wear her school uniform.

Fucking pervert.

He waved his wand to open Ginny’s door, the other hand holding her dinner tray. She wasn’t in the room but he heard the shower running in the bathroom. He set the tray down and turned to the door.

The bathroom door was cracked. Soft clouds of steam were escaping. A flowery smell accompanied the gently mists that were wafting into the room.

Draco suddenly found that his feet were no longer obedient to his brain. He felt the uncontrollable, irresistible pull, as his feet carried him towards the bathroom door. And now his hand was disobedient, because it was reaching for the door. And his eyes soon followed suit, because he was looking into bathroom. His tongue went dry and felt thick in his mouth. His disobedient hand was now pushing the door of the bathroom open, allowing him a better view. And his traitorous eyes were looking, no straining to see whatever site lay beyond the door for him.

His brain screamed at his eyes, his hand, his feet to move, to retreat. But they did not obey him, and he stood in the doorway. Looking.

Steam.

Steam everywhere... and a sweet intoxicating scent that reminded him of when she forced him into an embrace, his lips in her hair. And then his gaze shifted and even through the fog of steam he saw her.

Her back was to him. The shower rained down on her, water cascading down her body. Her wet hair looked like a waterfall of blood down her back, sticking to her wet pale skin. Her arms raised up and wrung water out of her hair. Holding her hair out of the way he could see the entirety of her wet, naked back. She turned ever so slightly and the swell of the side of her breast became visible for a brief moment. The sight of that delicious, rounded flesh caused a jolt of electricity to shoot through him. The jolt must have reconnected his brain synapses because suddenly his brain was connected to his limbs again. He launched himself away from the doorway of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and out into the hallway. He the launch did not come to rest until he was safely in his own room, leaning against the closed door, breathing like he had just been chased by a rabid blast ended skrewt.

X

Draco had a nightmare that night. Yes, it was definitely a nightmare. It was a horrifying series of images burned into his brain. He tried to shake the images out his head, but they persisted…

Smooth, creamy skin under his hands.
Long crimson hair spread across white linen.
Small hands running up his back.
Soft lips underneath his…

Yes, it was all a horrible, horrible nightmare. Definitely.
Definitely...


X


He brought Ginny her breakfast tray that morning, knowing he needed to at least check on her. They sat at the small table in her room together, silent.
She picked disinterestedly at her breakfast, pushing it around her plate. Draco noted that her face looked weary and drawn. The familiar dark circles he usually saw under his own eyes were now present under hers.

“It’s rude to stare, Malfoy.” She said without looking up.

Oh if she only knew...


He raised an eyebrow. “Sleep well, Weasley?”

She set her fork down and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms.

“Not particularly.”

Interesting.

So, she wasn't the only one having bad dreams.

Draco stood up, calling for a house elf to clean up their breakfast. He made to leave the room when Ginny’s small hand darted out and grabbed his wrist. He halted and looked down at her. Her eyes were dry, but they were red rimmed and pleading.

“Malfoy, please,” She whispered, “Please don’t take me to him.”

He averted his gaze, unable to meet her eyes. Instead he looked down at the hand clasping his wrist. Slowly, gently, he pried her fingers off of him but did not let go of her. He allowed his hand to linger on her fingers. Words failed him, so he instead moved his thumb across her fingers in a gentle caress.

He chanced a glance down at her, expecting fear, anger, fury… but her dark eyes were warm. Impossibly warm. She looked down, and a slight nod of her head seemed to acknowledge her resignation.

He let her fingers slide out of his hand, and left without a word.


X

It was night, and Draco found himself once again being led by his traitorous feet towards Ginny’s locked room. He carried a small box with him, and he entered her room.

She lay on her side, her back towards the door. Moonlight shown through the window, and its reflection of her skin gave her an ethereal glow. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if she was awake, but she raised her head and turned towards him.

“Malfoy?”

He suddenly wondered if this had been a good idea, and he remained rooted to the spot in the doorway.

Ginny rose from her bed and walked to him. Her long hair was pulled back from her neck with a ribbon, and she wore a plain white nightgown. She looked at him with a gentle curiosity.

He cleared his throat, and held out the box to her.

“What’s this?”

“Dreamless sleep potion. Thought you might need it.”

She took the box from him, and for a moment she seemed lost for words.

Draco continued. “There’s enough in there to last you the rest of the week.”

Her hand stroked the box, and she looked back up at him. Her brown eyes filled with tears but they did not fall.

“Thank you.” She managed to whisper. And then once again she threw her arms around him, this time around his neck, squeezing herself to him.

He took a small step back to regain his balance.

“What are you doing Weasley?”

“It’s a hug you stupid git.”

He chuckled softly. But then he became very aware of her body pressed to his. He closed his arms around her, feeling her softness. He turned his face more into her hair, inhaling a breath of her sweet scent. The hair off her neck allowed his lips to linger mere millimeters from her skin.

It was too much. He began to release his hold on her but as he did, the soft skin of her neck brushed his lips. His breath caught, and then they were face to face, still half-embracing. Pleasant sensations rolled through him.


His eyes searched hers.


He could not read her, and his gaze flickered down to her soft, parted lips. Warning bells alarmed in his head, and the jolts of electricity in him increased.

“Malfoy?” She whispered


Stop.

Stop this now.


Her breathy whisper somehow broke him out of his chance, grabbing Ginny’s arms and holding her out away from him at arms length.
With a brief squeeze of her arms, he fled the room.

Draco’s morning was not going well.

It was two days until Draco was to bring Ginny Weasley to the Dark Lord, and his father had ambushed him with an announcement that thoroughly ruined his already testy mood.

He stormed over to Ginny’s room.

Draco had checked on her often, but kept his visits short. He left the house elves to deliver her meals. After that nearly disastrous meeting the other night, he was always careful not to step into her room past her doorway.

When he reached her door, he laid his forehead on it in frustration, exhaling one long surly breath. He knocked once before entering.
She was sitting at the vanity, staring into the mirror. Her eyes were glazed over but they cleared when she saw him in the reflection. Her eyes still showed deep circles, and he wondered if the sleeping draughts weren’t working.


“Weasley,” He made no attempt to enter the room, keeping his hands on either side of the door frame, “The Dark Lord is coming for dinner, and … you’re expected.”


Her expression did not change.


“Alright.”


“I’ll come collect you tonight.” And before she could answer or acknowledge he left her.




X


Draco, Lucius and Ginny sat at the long mahogany table in the dining hall, awaiting the Dark Lord.


Ginny was silent, staring down nervously at her hands. Draco impatiently tapped the table with his fingers, and Lucius sat stiffly, a pleased expression on his face.

The Dark Lord was coming to check on the girl, and further explain his plans.

All too soon, after a booming knock on the door, Tom Riddle joined them.

Draco looked away as Tom walked silently toward where Ginny sat. He reached a hand down and brushed the side of her neck.

“Hello Ginevra,” his voice silky sweet, “I’m so glad to see you here. You look well. Are they taking good care of you?”

He glanced down at her left breast. “Did they heal you?”

Ginny nodded slowly, still looking down. Draco could see her trembling.

“Good… that’s good.”

He waved his wand over Ginny, and a small glow emanated from her gently before disappearing.

“Good, everyone has managed to keep their hands to themselves,” he glanced pointedly at Draco.

Tom reached down to her hand, bringing it to his lips. “I just wanted to see you my dear, but now, you’ll have to excuse us, as we have some- ah- business to discuss amongst gentleman. You understand, don’t you princess?”


Ginny looked up at him surprised, then looked to Draco.

“Oh, um- I’ll just-go…” Tom pulled her to her feet, and then placed a cold kiss on her cheek. Lucius summoned a house elf to escort her out, and the trio were alone.


X

Draco tried desperately to not actively roll his eyes as Tom monologued. About himself, mudbloods, muggles, himself again… The conversation dragged and Draco sipped his wine wishing it were stronger. He wanted, but not really, to find out what Tom’s plans were.

He tuned back into the conversation when he heard the red-heads name.

Tom spoke with relish, with delight, and a sinister smile played on his face.

“I prepared her. Six years ago in the chamber, I prepared her. She gave more and more to me as she wrote in the diary… and then at the end, I put a bit of myself in her. She was willing, she was innocent, and came to me in the chamber. She gave her consent. Of course, she had no idea what she was consenting to… and I made sure to remove her memory of it. But I kept mine…”

He waved his wand and a memory played in a cloud above the dining table.

The blurred images cleared and Draco saw flashes of that night in the chamber.

An eleven year old Ginny Weasley, on the ground, crying and shaking.
Tom unbuttoning the top of her blouse, exposing the white flesh above her left breast.

A dagger, just like the one from the ceremony room, cutting into the young girls flesh.

Ginny screaming, begging him to stop.

Tom cutting his own hand, but instead of blood, black sticky ink oozed out of it.

Toms hand on her chest, the ink mixing with her blood.

Then Toms hand on her protesting mouth, choking her with the ink…

The memory ended. And Tom sighed happily.

“I put a piece of myself in her. It lay dormant these six years… that’s how I was able to access my teenage body… she carried it for me within herself. She is bound to me, bound to me in blood and mind. And now, when the ritual is completed, I will be able to keep this form permanently, as well as access the dormant powers that lie within her, growing but untapped since I put a part of myself within her. The power is in her blood…”

Lucius nodded thoughtfully. “So, kill her my Lord? Drink her blood?”

“Not quite Lucius, I must drink her blood but I must also keep her alive… you see, we are bound already bound together in mind and blood, but we must bond physically. Her purity is powerful, and it will cement us together. And then, THEN,” Tom licked his lips in excitement, “she will give me offspring. The children she will give me will be born with both my power and hers, and consuming their blood will allow me to absorb all of their magic, and I shall be as the Gods, having all knowing, all encompassing power, growing with each child I consume, and will yield life and death according to my whims. And she will be mine, and she will give me that power, and will have everything, EVERYTHING!”

He pounded the table with his fist with those last words. The following silence was deafening.

Draco found he could bear no more, and as Lucius and Tom left the dining hall through the side entrance, Draco exited through the main doors.

He threw the doors open, and behind them stood Ginny Weasley, eyes wide with terror. The idiot house elf had only led her outside the door, not to her room.


“I-I heard the whole thing.”

Ginny Weasley looked about to collapse, and without thinking, somehow just knowing what she needed, Draco threw his arms around her, holding her close. Her tears were silent this time, and he felt the wetness through his shirt, not caring one bit.

He ran his hands up and down her back in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“Its alright.” He whispered gently.

It wasn’t, it absolutely wasn’t. But he could think of nothing else to say.

He led her back to her room, arms still partway around her.

He lay her on her bed, tucking the warm blanket around her. She had calmed down, though a wet trail still stained her cheeks. He reached his hand down and wiped away one of the wet trails with the pad of his thumb. She did not blink, she did not move, she did not push him away.

His thumb lingered on her cheek, tracing down to her mouth. His thumb gently rubbed across her top lip, before settling on her bottom lip. Her eyes fluttered closed and he felt her breath against his hand. He lightly pressed the red soft flesh, pulling it down slightly. He licked his own lips and moved closer, before hearing his father’s voice in the hallway.

“Draco?”

Draco sprang off of Ginny and bolted out the door.

He shut it so forcefully it rattled several portraits.





xxxx

It was the night before she was to be presented for the ritual. Her last night in the care of Draco.

He had decided to visit her, and the each sat in an armchair staring at the fire, lost in thought. She had her legs bent, chin resting on her knees. He sat with a glass of brandy, his hair mussed and tie undone, trying not to feel sorry for her.

“Malfoy?”

He braced himself. More tearful pleading. More guilt coiling in his chest.

Why couldn’t he have had to kidnap her brother instead?

“Malfoy, I know you’re in a difficult position right now. And Merlin knows I’d likely be doing the same if I were you, but, if there is anyway, anyway at all I could convince you…” She trailed off, and at his silence she put her head on her knees, hiding her face.

He did not answer, and he did not look away from the fire. Innocent as she was, he was not going to gamble the lives of his mother and father.

Instead, he clenched his jaw. When he finally spoke, his voice was hushed.

“You may not believe me, but I don’t particularly care to see you suffer. He-he didn’t tell me anything.” He paused trying to choose his words carefully. “I will come see you. I’ll try to help you if I can. I can’t save you, I can’t rescue you. I’m not a good person, but I could be your friend.”

Ginny looked at him, her dark eyes full of warmth. “Thank you. That means more to me than you can know. It would be nice to have a friend. And you will absolutely have to visit me. I’ll-I’ll need something to look forward to…”

After a moment she spoke again, her voice cautionary. “Malfoy?”

This time he looked at her.

“Uh, if Tom makes me, you know, give him a child…” her eyes clouded with fear, and she whispered. “Would you help me? Would you help me hide them from him?”

Draco’s eyes did not leave hers.

“I would.”



xxxx

She followed him to the door of her room, watching as he magically unlocked it. He turned to tell her goodnight, but before he could, she stood on tiptoe and lay sweet soft kiss on his cheek. She whispered goodnight, her breath on his cheek. Before he could do anything stupid, she walked quickly back to the bed, pulling the covers up around her.

XXX


It was the night of the ritual.

Draco arrived at Ginny's door early, hoping to speak with her before escorting down to the dungeons.

He had lain awake all night, a sickening guilt poisoning his insides. And now, he hoped by the Gods that speaking with Ginny could help alleviate some of this pain.

Pain of a damned soul.



Without knocking, he quickly entered her room.

She sat at the vanity and was brushing her long, soft hair. She was wearing a simple white dress The sun had set and the fire cast a soft light in the room. She turned to him, surprised to see him arrive early.

“Malfoy?”

At first he said nothing.

He tried to hide his pain, his anguish, but feared he was failing miserably. He went to the vanity where she sat, on his knees, his hands reaching up to grip her bare arms tightly.

Her face showed immediate concern. “Are you alright?”

His breathing was slightly ragged, his throat thick and dry. He swallowed.

“I-I just need to say something.”

God, what could he say?

“Alright.” she said gently, concern still etched in her features.

He lifted one hand to his hair, unintentionally mussing it further.

The words began pouring out of him like fountain, like poison being released from his soul.

“I-I just, I mean, none of this should be happening. And it's all because of me. I mean, well if my father hadn't- I mean I don't just blame him you see... What I’ve done, God, what I’ve done? And you, you don’t deserve this. And, why aren’t you more angry with me? It’s my fault. I’m not a good person. I'm a terrible person. I'm most certainly damned to hell for what I've done to you. And I just can’t- I mean, I never wanted- but its done- and I just, please believe me, I just-“

He was stopped short of his incoherent ramblings by a soft hand on his lips.

“I forgive you.”

His eyes widened.

"What?"

How can she?

But she spoke determinedly, her brown eyes piercing the very depths of his soul. Her hands rested on either side of his face.

“I forgive you, Draco Malfoy.”

This was worse.

She was supposed tobe fighting him, cursing his name! Not forgiving an evil asshole who single-handedly ruined her life. Where was her fury? But all that he saw in her face was warmth. Openess. Affection. Didn’t she know the torment she was causing him?

His hand reached up to hers and he felt his eyes burn. He closed his eyes and kissed her palm, hoping she wouldn’t see the emotion in his eyes.

But when he opened them, she was there. Right there.

He stood up from his knees, standing her up with him, backing her into the wall next to the vanity.

He looked down at her, and one hand came to rest on her waist on her white dress, the other wrapped around the back of her neck. He felt her breathing quicken, and he pulled her to him.

His head bent down to hers. She raised her hands to his chest, stopping him, but not pushing him away.

“Draco,” she breathed, a flush creeping up into her face. Their mouths were mere inches apart. “we cant.”

His eyes were hooded and suddenly he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything.

"We can."

And as he felt her skin beneath her robes, the skin on the back of her neck, the heat coming off of her, every thought, every warning, turned to dust.

He didn't care she wasn't his, didn't care that he would feel more than cruciatus if they were caught, he just had to FEEL her...

He closed his eyes and lifted his chin, placing his lips on her forehead, making her gasp softly at the contact.

Then his lips moved across her soft skin and down to her cheek, applying another slow, sweet kiss. He felt her inhale sharply, and Draco saw her eyes flutter closed, lips parting, a sigh escaping them.

“No," She gasped softly, and brought her hands to his shoulders, gripping them tightly, her small hands fisting in his robes. "you have to stop, you have to! He’ll-he'll hurt you!”

Draco ignored her protest. He moved to the other cheek, gliding on her skin, his lips ghosting hers as he moved across her face. She moaned, her back arching slightly. He deposited a third kiss on her other cheek. His lips could feel the heat emanating off her face and it burned pleasurably.

“Please,” he whispered against her cheek. “Let me.”

He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. They were both breathing heavy now. Her hands had moved up his neck, and he moved his own, up and down her bare arms, feeling more searing heat beneath his palms.

He found her dark eyes, sparkling with intensity, with absolute longing...

and he knew, he knew, she wanted him just as bad.

He cupped her face in his hands.

“Ginny, please…”

He leaned down and she didn’t stop him, didn’t push him away. He was so close, so close! She was panting and her hands tightened around his collar.

"Please, Ginny, you've got to let me..." And she tilted her mouth up to his...

This one movement spurred him, and he closed the distance. He finally, finally, felt the softness of her lips beneath his own.

It was as sweet, as sensual, as heated as he had imagined. Better than any dream, any fantasy. Their lips moved gently together, slowly tasting, slowly exploring, as if anything more would break the spell. He could feel her breath, her warmth, and it was enveloping him. He had never experienced a kiss like this in his life.

His senses were overwhelmed. Her lips, her smell... He felt like he was consuming her. He was a desert wanderer and she was there to quench his thirst. He felt that all the aching, painful emptiness that had dwelled within him for months was being filled by her...

They parted briefly only to take a shuddering breath. His eyes searched hers, begging her permission to continue. She looked back at him fiercely.

"Ginny, make me stop. Make me stop now." And the way the words came out he was sure she knew that he wanted to do anything but stop...

Her dark lashes were unable to hide the desire burning in her eyes.

"Draco, I-I..." The conflict passed across her eyes, and he was sure she was about to push him away, to stop him, to slap him, something other than what he actually heard her say.

"please, I need you... I need this!"

And in one swift motion she yanked him back down to her. Her body pressed against his, his heart racing. She was running her hands through his hair, over his neck... She was consuming him as well. He felt her need in her kisses, felt it pulling him further in.

Soon her lips were not enough. He moved his lips to her jaw, lining them with his lips. It was good, it was so good .

But the taste only made him want more.

Need more...

Ginny's hand curled into the hair on the back of his neck, pulling him to her.



He trailed his lips down to her neck. More heated skin. She leaned her head back at the touch of his lips, soft noises of pleasure escaping her mouth. He moved his mouth back to hers and coaxed her to open for him, his tongue tasting that sweet, sweet mouth. His hand stroked up and down her neck, searching for more skin. She gripped his robes with an iron grip, continuing to press him to her. Draco lowered his hand from her waist and gripped the back of her thigh. He lifted her up onto the vanity, scattering the remnants of brushes and makeup onto the floor in a clatter, making room for her.

He moved in between her legs. The kisses began to change. They became frantic, desperate. Draco found his outer robes had moved to the floor. More, more! He needed more! He moved his hands to the bottom of her dress, lifting it up past her thighs, relishing the smooth creamy skin beneath his fingers. She tightened her legs around him in response, causing a small grunt to pass through his lips onto hers. Her fingers began working on the buttons of his shirt, occasionally stopping just to feel him. Draco’s hand moved to her shoulder, lowering the delicate white strap of her dress. His mouth moved to where his hand had been, causing her to whimper, lips running over her bare shoulder.

"Oh..." she whispered breathily, her eyes closed in pleasure

He moved to the other shoulder, lowering the strap and repeating the actions, hoping to elicit more of her delicious sounds. He returned to her neglected lips. His hands roamed the newly exposed flesh. She was writhing beneath his touch, her chest rising up and down rapidly. His hand was moving to zipper on the back of her dress when Draco’s watch suddenly glowed.

The couple froze, bodies separating, staring at the watch, and then at each other.

It was time.



Silently- no, solemnly, the pair walked down towards the dungeons. As they neared the final corridor leading to the dungeons, he took her hand, and she looked at him. Her white dress made her hair and skin contrast heavily. He reached around her and lifted the black hood of her cloak over her head, his hand running down her loose hair as he did so. The hood cast shadows across her face. Her lips were still swollen. Her face flushed. But he saw no fear.



xxxx



Somehow, Ginny knew. She always knew.

She knew somehow, someway, that Tom would force his way back into her life again.

It was inevitable.

Whether by Draco's hand or someone else, Tom would have had her eventually.

She felt the warmth of Draco's hand leading her to her doom.

She could not help the wave of pity for him that had consumed her for the last week. He had been like her. Lonely, scared. The Dark Lord had asked a simple task of him and he had jumped in to save his family, damn the consequences.

And quite the consequences they are, she thought.

Even still, knowing that her life as she knew it was now over, that she would only know pain and suffering once the ritual was completed, she found that she would not, COULD not, blame Draco for everything. He was not stealing her innocence. He was not forcing her into a life of slavery. Tom was. Draco was not Tom. Draco loved his mother and father, and was simply trying to protect him. He was a boy, completely in over his head.

Mistakes don't make someone a bad person...

She had once made a great mistake, just like Draco...



You are not evil, you are not dark...



He is not evil, He is not dark...



It was a hard lesson learned, I wish it wasn't so...



Before the thought could finish, she recognized they had made it to the doors. A grim determination filled her.

She would not let this night destroy her.

She would not.

If Tom was to imprison her for the rest of her life, she was determined that it would be his undoing...





xxxx







They made it to the great double doors that lead into the ceremony room. Ginny held Draco’s hand like a vice. He turned to her, surprised to find her so calm.

What could he say? What could be done at this point? And how the hell is she so calm?

He squeezed her hand back gently.

She turned to him, eyes bright, full lips slightly parted. He’d never seen someone so beautiful.

A beautiful sacrifice...

And somehow, impossibly, her face was peaceful... Like she had accepted her fate. How could a fiery red-headed Weasley simply accept this? Was accepting her fate an act of bravery or cowardice?

She spoke, a barely imperceptible tremor to her voice.

“Have you ever heard that the best way to destroy an enemy is from within?”

He looked at her sadly.

“Something like that.” He murmured, and he could not stop the guilt and misery from infecting his tone.

"This could be my chance you know, I've always said I wanted to help. To be involved. Now I'm more involved than anybody... I could help hurt him, destroy him even..."

Not unless he destroys you first...

All Draco could do was nod. His misery was beginning to swallow him up. If Ginny noticed she didn't let on.

She let out a very Malfoy-ish smirk.

“Don’t forget to visit me, or I’ll find a way to destroy you too.”

Draco couldn’t find it within him to smile at her attempted humor.



Brave, he thought. She’s the bravest person I know.



She turned back towards the door, taking a deep breath.

“I’m ready.”



The doors opened.



The chamber was alight with thousands of floating candles. Around the room stood at least two dozen death eaters clad in full attire. There was quite an audience. And in the middle of the chamber stood Tom. Dressed in black, a sinister smile on his face. Before Tom was the ancient stone altar, though it had acquired a few additional items. This altar was covered in ancient runes, and the runes seemed to shimmer and glow with the flickering of the torches. Spread across the top of the altar lay a white linen sheet.

Above and below the linen sheet stood a pair of iron shackles…

Suddenly, the realization he had been suppressing was released and lashed at Draco violently.

Tom was going to take her. Take her while she was chained in iron shackles, and spill her virgin blood onto the white linen, to be used for its magic...

He was going to take her. On the Altar. Chained. Against her will.

The blood began roaring in his ears.



He would take her...

In chains...

Spill her blood...

In front of his death eaters...

In front of him...



Chains.



Blood.



He was going to take her...



Hot acidic rage and disgust bubbled up inside of him.

Every injustice, every wrong that had ever been done to Ginny Weasley suddenly weighed on him at that very moment.

An innocent ( although very temperamental) girl, trying to be brave by giving up everything, EVERYTHING, for the small chance that in doing so she may help save her family… save the world.

Ginny prepared to step forward, and Draco’s arm shot out sideways to block her. She started in surprise.

Tom frowned. “Draco, bring Ginevra to me.”

Draco did not move his arm. Instead, he moved in front of Ginny, shielding her, but taking a step forward He used his other arm to lower his hood.

“Ah, no.”

Shocked gasps and hisses filled the room.

“What did you say to me boy?”

“I said, NO. Ginevra will not be going one step further. She is not going to be placed on that fucking altar, and she is not doing the FUCKING. RITUAL.”

"Draco!" He heard his fathers voice through the din of hisses and gasps. "Draco! How dare you disrespect your master! Now give him the girl else its death for you-"

Draco quietly muttered a shield charm as he brought his wand to his chin, feigning deep thought.

"Yes Father, lets discuss that minor discretion. You see, that half-blood, hypocritical, snake worshipping piece of filth is NOT my Master. He is yours, father. Yes I performed tasks for him, but let me think, I'm trying to remember why I even had to agree to any tasks in the first place? Oh that's right, because not only did you royally fuck up YOUR task at the ministry, but you allowed our family to become consumed and entrapped by the muggle-hating ravings of a complete and total LUNATIC."

Lucius began sputtering, spittle flying from his mouth and struggled to find the words in his rage.

"DRACO! You have sentenced your family to death! You are no son of mine!"

"Very well, LUCIUS. Disown me if you like. But don't you dare blame me for the fall of our family. You, yes you, Lucius got us into this mess, so its about time we leave it to YOU to get us out of it. Its time to clean up your own fucking mess, Father. I'm leaving, and the girl is coming with me. And as for the rest of you, yes including you Tom, you bunch of perverted assholes can go fuck yourselves!"

Chaos erupted in the chamber. Tom flew into a blinding rage, screaming and attempting to cast a spell at Ginny to bring her to him. Draco immediately cast another shield as the Death Eaters and Tom erupted in curses smattering across the chamber like fireworks. Toms spells blasted the stones next Ginny and Draco, cracking them and causing the walls to shudder.

Draco grabbed a frozen Ginny’s arm and backed out of the chamber, sealing the great doors shut with his wand, muttering several locking charms, and throwing a few dark spells on the doors for good measure.

Ginny whirled to him, breathless and eyes wide, clearly trying to process what had just happened.

“Oh no, oh no! What have you done? He's going to kill you! Or something horrible! Its not safe, you're in danger now! What are we going to do?"

Draco pulled her into an embrace wrapping his arms around her, hoping to calm her. He could still hear the muffled sounds of shrieks and spells coming rfom behind the magically locked doors. Ah well, they had a good few minutes before Tom could break them

Ginny stepped out of his embrace, eyes searching his.

"Draco, what are you doing?"

Draco allowed the trademark Malfoy smirk to grace his features. As Ginny watched, it morphed into a handsome, boyish smile.

"Ginny, " he started, giving her a gentle squeeze, and the smile reached his eyes.



“I’m rescuing you.”