Chapter 3 – Progress is Made
Malfoy showed signs of restlessness the next time Ginny force-fed him, trying to turn his head away as she spooned what most closely resembled runny scrambled eggs flecked with something red into his mouth. She ended up having Kevin hold his head steady as she fed him each bite.
This better be worth it, Ginny thought as she glared at Malfoy’s death-pale countenance.
Leaving the Pullman siblings to keep an eye on Malfoy, Ginny wandered back to the far side of the dungeon and sat down beside the pool. Cold moisture, like the gossamer strands of a spider’s web, clung to the bare skin of her arms and face and tangled itself in her limp red hair, but the dank gloom surrounding the pool matched her mood. Based on her calculations, she had been here about four days, and still there was no sign of a rescue.
Four days! Four days, and nothing done, no one here to save me! When I was dragged – possessed by a fragment of Voldemort himself – into the Chamber of Secrets, Harry rescued me in a matter of hours!
Ginny shivered as she remembered the terror of being so near death, frozen in her own body, unable to move or even to cry out. Harry came, and with shining sword and phoenix song, she had been saved. He had been like the hero from a fairy tale, and in her heart she had worshipped him. But now, when surely he loved her, he had not come. Hot tears mixed with the cold dampness on her cheeks. Ginny suddenly realized how frightened she was, away from her family and friends, no Harry, no Ron, no Hermione to help her. She was on her own.
It’s up to me, she thought grimly, and the only progress I’ve made is keeping Malfoy alive, which might not count as progress at all. The futility of her situation sat like a cold pit in her stomach. Even if Malfoy knew exactly where they were, and exactly why they were there, what good would that do? How could it possibly get them all out of there?
Glumly she stared at the black water, and noticed that it had receded a few feet from her. Ginny took in the wet ground now visible at her feet, and slowly, the faintest ray of hope dawned on her.
“Only one way to find out,” she murmured, and began pulling off her trainers and socks.
-----
Some time later, Ginny was sitting in the hay with Kevin and Lizzie, eyeing Malfoy warily. He had regained consciousness once, while Ginny had been absent, but after muttering some choice curse words, he had drifted off again. Ginny thought it was a definite sign of improvement.
Malfoy rolled his head slightly and let out a soft groan. Slowly he opened his eyes and stared dully around him.
“Morning, sunshine!” Ginny said brightly as his gaze rested on her. Malfoy winced, perhaps in pain, perhaps at the cheerfulness in Ginny’s voice.
“How are you feeling?” she asked him, her tone more serious.
“Alive,” he croaked weakly.
“And I’m sorry for that, truly,” Ginny replied. “But I will keep you that way until you help us.”
Malfoy turned his face to the ceiling and groaned again in reply. Ginny, Kevin and Lizzie exchanged a glance and then looked to Malfoy expectantly.
“Water,” he finally croaked. Ginny nodded to Lizzie, who hurried over to the jug and filled the ladle. Taking it from her, Ginny approached Malfoy and stooped to raise his head to the ladle. As if her touch had burned him, Malfoy hissed sharply and recoiled. Quickly Ginny pulled her hand away.
“Lift your own damn head then,” she snapped. Glowering at her, he tried weakly to push himself into a sitting position, but was unable to do so.
“Here,” Kevin said. “Let me.” And without waiting for Malfoy’s response, he roughly hauled him up and leaned him against the stone wall. Ginny held the ladle to his mouth, careful not to touch him, and he drank deeply, his eyes still narrowed on her in rage.
“It’s your own fault,” Ginny said coolly, reading his expression.
“Dare . . . touch me . . .” he gasped.
It was Ginny’s turn to narrow her eyes. “As if I wanted to touch such a coward and a . . . a murderer as you!” she hissed, and was infuriated when he only smiled in reply.
“A coward, yes,” he said softly, almost to himself. “But if I were a murderer, I wouldn’t be here.” Ginny snorted in disbelief, but he ignored her.
“Why,” he continued, “do you think I can . . . or will . . . help you?”
“Basic human decency would be my first answer,” Ginny said, “but I suppose that would mean nothing to you. I’d think, though, that you’d at least be interested in saving your own miserable skin.”
“And don’t you think I’d have done something already if there was a way out of here?” he snapped. “Don’t you think I’d have tried to escape already if it were possible – if there was someplace to go? No, Weasley, you’d do better to follow my advice. Starve yourself, die on your own terms – it will be better than what they’ve got planned.”
“What, what do they have planned?” Ginny asked, wanting to shake him in her frustration.
Malfoy gave a low chuckle.
“Ask the brats about what happened to the other one,” he said. Kevin inhaled sharply.
“What ‘other one’ is he talking about?” Ginny asked, turning to Kevin. Kevin glanced down at his hands, his shoulders slumping forward.
“When we got here, you know,” he started awkwardly, “we weren’t alone. This git was here” – he nodded toward Malfoy – “and so was Miranda Vale, she was in Ravenclaw with me – a fourth year. But . . . but,” he faltered, “they came and took her away with them.”
“Who took her?”
“I don’t know – bunch of ‘em in black robes. We didn’t even see their faces.”
“And she screamed and screamed!” said Lizzie, beginning to cry. “She screamed at us to help her!”
“There was nothing we could do,” Kevin whispered, his voice choked. “We just sat here, glad it wasn’t one of us . . . .”
Ginny rounded on Malfoy, icy fear filling her chest. “What happened to her?” she demanded, her voice steel-edged.
Malfoy regarded her carefully, his face blank of all expression. “Food,” he said finally.
“Food? What? Are the Death Eaters eating children now?”
“Not the Death Eaters. Not yet, anyway,” Malfoy said with a faint smirk. “No, food for the Dark Lord’s favorite . . . pet.”
The sickening truth dawned on Ginny.
“Do you mean that giant snake? The one that almost killed my dad?”
“Apparently it has a taste for the young. The innocence, the purity, the tender flesh . . .” Malfoy shrugged. “Feeds once, twice a month. In fact, I bet they’ll be coming for one of these wee bairns any time now.”
“What? Don’t you get a turn?” Ginny asked, her voice hot with anger at his complete indifference.
Malfoy laughed. “No, little weasel, I just get the pleasure of watching you all come and go. Part of the Dark Lord’s sense of humor. He knows I’d rather be dead, so . . . he keeps me alive.”
Ginny shuddered at the thought. “How long have you been here, then?”
“Don’t know. How long since the night – the night . . . .” Malfoy trailed off, unable to finish the question.
“The night you helped Snape murder Dumbledore?” Ginny asked harshly. “It’s been over a month now.”
Malfoy sighed. “That long then,” he said.
Ginny felt her rage at him abating. He looked so weak, so broken, his hair falling in his eyes, his hands lying limply, palms up, in the hay at his sides.
“Where exactly are we?” she asked, more gently.
“Dagonet Castle. South of London on the Channel. Death Eaters’ stronghold. Completely unplottable and protected by so much magic it can never be penetrated. Believe me, there is no way out of here.”
There was a pause as they all sat there, digesting Malfoy’s last remark. Finally, Ginny spoke, measuring her words carefully.
“If – if – I knew of a way we could escape, would you three be willing to risk it? It will be dangerous, and . . . and –”
“And we could be killed?” Kevin interrupted. “Ginny, they’re going to kill us anyway. I’m in.”
“Me, too,” said Lizzie, her voice full of nervous excitement. All eyes turned to Malfoy, who was studying Ginny intently, a strange look on his face.
“Help me up,” he abruptly barked at Kevin. Dumbly, Kevin rose to comply.
“Wait, Malfoy, where are you going?” Ginny demanded as he struggled to his feet and leaned heavily on Kevin’s shoulder.
“I’m going to relieve myself, Weasley, if you’ve no objections. Oh, yeah, I forgot how interested you are in my bathroom activity – so rude of me. Would you like to come watch?”
Ginny felt her cheeks redden as he stumbled off toward the garderobe, Kevin at his side.
When he returned, panting faintly from the exertion, he merely said, “I might as well. It might be a quicker way to die.”
-----
When Wormtail brought the next meal, he seemed to be paying particular attention to Lizzie, leering at her and complimenting her on her health, and this made Ginny very nervous.
If we are going to do it, it has to be soon.
“Malfoy, are you strong enough to walk?” Ginny asked as they were finishing their pitiful meal of stale bread and more Seaweed Surprise.
“I can walk,” he replied, eyeing her inquisitively.
“Let’s go, then – something I want you to see.” Ginny was a little taken aback when Malfoy didn’t protest her command, but merely rose to accompany her.
Dungeon life seems to have taken some of the fight out of him.
“We’ll be right back,” Ginny said over her shoulder to Lizzie and Kevin.
Despite Malfoy’s assertion, navigating through the rubble-strewn dungeon was proving difficult for him. When he nearly fell for the third time, Ginny lost her patience.
“Just lean on me, will you? It won’t kill you, and I promise not to tell anyone,” she snapped. Malfoy eyed her coldly for a moment, and then roughly grasped her shoulder.
“I bet you’re just loving this, Weasley,” he snarled.
“No, actually. Seeing someone else in pain’s never really been my thing. I’m not like you, you know. And the name’s Ginny – Weasley is my brother.”
“I know what your name is – it’s just that it’s so . . . boring.”
“So sorry not to have a really look-at-me-I-love-the-Dark-Arts kind of name like Draco! I mean, honestly, what were your parents thinking? Why didn’t they just tattoo the Dark Mark on your forehead when you were a baby?”
“Draco is an old family name, I’ll have you know. It’s been passed down for generations. That’s what wizarding families with pride do.”
Ginny didn’t rise to the bait, and instead returned, “So your family just uses the same name over and over again? I don’t know – that sounds a little boring to me.”
Out of the corner of her eye Ginny thought she saw just the flicker of a smile cross Malfoy’s face, but he didn’t reply and the two walked on in silence.
As Ginny led the way to the pool in the far corner of the dungeon, she was painfully aware of Malfoy’s hand gripping her shoulder, his long fingers burning through the fabric of her thin t-shirt. The gloom and the silence surrounded them like a kind of intimacy, and Ginny felt a chill run up her spine. She was relieved when they finally reached their destination and she was able to pull away, breaking their contact. Malfoy stood silently, unmoving, as if he, too, had been strangely affected by their silent walk.
Finally coming out of his reverie, he said, “Is this what you wanted me to see? Because, sorry to say, I’ve already visited and wasn’t impressed.”
“So you’ve seen it,” Ginny replied. “Did you pay attention to how it changes?”
Malfoy raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“It’s been growing and shrinking regularly – cyclically,” Ginny said.
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
“It’s the tide! The tide is coming in and out through here, and that means there’s a way out through the wall!”
Malfoy turned to the pool again with renewed interest.
“This side of the castle is carved out of a cliff jutting into the Channel,” he said thoughtfully, “but an opening for water doesn’t necessarily mean and opening for people.”
“That’s true,” Ginny said, nodding her head, “but given the amount of change and the speed of it, I know the opening has to be quite large. I – I tried to get a look at it myself, but the water was up to my neck when I got halfway out, and – well, I can’t swim.” Ginny hated that she’d had to admit a weakness to him.
“I see,” Malfoy replied, smiling faintly. “And you couldn’t get one of the babies to do it?”
“Well, they’re just so –”
“Useless?” Malfoy cut in.
“Young, I was going to say.”
“And so you’d rather risk my neck? In my weakened condition, no less?”
It was Ginny’s turn to smile. “I didn’t think it would be much risk for you,” she said, her voice sugary sweet. “I read somewhere that ferrets are excellent swimmers.” Malfoy eyed her narrowly.
“Funny,” he said as he undid the clasp to his robe, “I thought the same applied to weasels.” He tossed the black robe on the ground near one of the columns and began undoing his dress shirt. Ginny realized that under the robe he was still in school uniform – another indication of how very long he had been trapped down here.
“What? Like what you see?” Malfoy’s voice broke across her mind. Ginny realized she had been staring at him, hard, and that he was now shirtless.
“Sorry,” she murmured, feeling her cheeks redden once again in response to his taunts.
She hadn’t been looking at him – like that – but now, as he undid his belt buckle, Ginny cast furtive glances in his direction. He was far too thin – the sharp curves of his ribs were visible beneath his pale skin – but the long, sinewy muscles on his arms spoke of strength, and the milky whiteness of his chest looked so soft, so inviting. Ginny felt the burn in her cheeks increasing – if it were possible – as Malfoy slid out of his trousers and stood before her in nothing more than a pair of black satin boxers. His legs matched his arms – long, lean muscle – the perfect build for a Seeker, Ginny thought appraisingly. Harry was built the same way, not that Ginny had ever even seen him shirtless – he had liked to take things slowly and had a regard for Ginny’s chasteness that she found irritating at times. With a guilty start, Ginny realized that she had been comparing Harry, the man she loved, to Draco Malfoy, and, Merlin save her, she had found Malfoy very, very attractive.
“Wish me luck,” Malfoy said, and waded out into the water; when it reached slightly above his waist he leaned forward and dove in, his body sliding gracefully through the murk like a shooting star cutting across a midnight sky. He reached the far wall in a matter of minutes and began edging along it, slowly bobbing up and down as he tread water. Suddenly he dove under and Ginny lost all sight of him. She held her breath, tensing, and when he didn’t surface after half a minute had passed away she began to panic.
He’s going to drown . . . he’s going to drown, ran through her head and she made for the water, determined to go in after him, ability to swim or no ability to swim. But before she had the chance to jump in, she saw him surface and begin slowly swimming back.
Malfoy pulled himself out of the water and threw himself down beside it, eyes closed and panting heavily. He draped one arm over his forehead and looked utterly spent.
“Are you okay?” Ginny asked urgently, kneeling at his side. He only nodded, still trying to catch his breath. She waited silently and patiently by his side as his breathing slowly became more normal.
“You were right,” he finally said in a weak voice, “the opening is large. I felt the pull of the tide when I came near it – must be going out. I swam down and found it – not hard when the water is tugging you along – and it’s big enough to enter. I went along it for a little way . . . but I don’t think we’ll be able to get out that way.”
“Why not?” Ginny asked, alarm in her voice.
“For one, it’s absolutely black down there – I couldn’t see a thing, just had to feel my way along. And it’s possible the tunnel has multiple openings. We could end up taking a wrong turn and drown. The other problem is that we won’t be able to breathe long enough to make it out – I only made it a few feet before I had to turn back, and this tunnel could very well be quite long. It is, after all, carved into the base of a cliff. I just don’t see how it can be done.”
Ginny ruminated a moment. “I had kind of expected that might be the case. After all, it would be too good to be true if it were only a matter of ducking under a wall and coming up in the Channel. I think, though, that I have a way to solve both the lack of light and the breathing trouble, but it will take all four of us to carry it out.” Malfoy opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “No, I’ll explain when we get back to the others,” Ginny said, beginning to stand up. She was surprised when Malfoy grabbed her wrist.
“Not yet,” he rasped out, “I need to rest a moment.” Ginny sat back down beside him and eyed him warily as he lay there, making no move to rise and dress. She was again surprised when he spoke.
“Have you wondered why I’m down here?” he asked in a voice that clearly invited the question.
“I did. What happened?”
“Cowardice,” Malfoy replied. “You know . . . you know I couldn’t do it, right? Couldn’t kill that old fool. I was too scared – I panicked. Snape stepped in and –” He broke off and shrugged. “We came back here. The Dark Lord already knew of my failure, and he was waiting for me . . . with my father.”
“I read about his escape from Azkaban,” Ginny murmured.
Malfoy’s lips curled into a slight sneer. “My father, ever ready to prove his loyalty to his master, offered to perform the Killing Curse on me himself. He would have, too, without the slightest hesitation, but the Dark Lord said he had another way to make me . . . useful.” Malfoy’s voice trembled slightly as if he could hear Voldemort’s high-pitched tone still echoing through his head.
Ginny was silent, filled with pity for Malfoy. She couldn’t imagine a father so cold, so cruel to his only child. Malfoy pulled himself up, his weight resting on his elbows, and he looked at her, gauging her reaction. Ginny found herself unable to meet his searching gaze and looked dumbly at the wet earth, the small space between them. When he spoke next she was caught totally off guard.
“You tried to be kind to me – that day – in the bathroom.”
“Don’t know what I was thinking,” Ginny replied, her voice low.
“And you were right, what you said,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her.
“Right about what?”
“You said something about choices – how there was always a right one – you were right.”
“I’m . . . touched . . . you remember,” Ginny replied, her tone a mix of faint sarcasm and genuine surprise.
“Shame I didn’t listen to you,” he said, his voice bitter.
Ginny could think of nothing to say in response.
Malfoy stood awkwardly, still clearly shaky from his exertion, and Ginny followed suite. He pulled his trousers on in silence while Ginny stooped to retrieve his shirt. As she straightened up, shirt in hand, she realized that he had moved closer to her, close enough for her to take in the salty smell of his bare skin.
“Um . . . here,” she said faintly, holding out the shirt and cursing herself silently for the slight tremor she felt at his nearness. Wordlessly he grasped it, his fingers brushing against hers. Ginny, completely distracted by a strange gleam in his gray eyes, realized suddenly that she hadn’t let go, that the tips of his fingers rested lightly on the back of her hand. She gasped and pulled away, reaching for his robe as she tried to cover up the sudden flush she knew was visible on her face. When she turned back to him with it, he was buttoning up his shirt, his face void of expression except for the still-strange gleam in his eyes.
“Guess we’d better get back huh, Ginny?” he said softly, taking the robe from her and turning to make his way up the incline toward the main part of the dungeon. Ginny stared after him for a moment, feeling as if she’d been standing too close to a furnace. Then, with a shake of her head, she followed.
-----
Ginny worked hard to avoid Malfoy’s gaze as she explained her plan to everyone. Kevin was impressed with her for discovering the exit through the pool and even more impressed that she knew how to do a Bubblehead Charm. Both children seemed frightened but excited about the roles they would play in the escape. Malfoy, though not evidently enthused, nodded in agreement.
“It might work,” he said with a slight shrug.
Silence fell over them as they sat there, waiting tensely for the sing-songy voice that would call them into action, and Ginny found herself once again stealing glances at Malfoy.
What happened back there? she asked herself, absolutely sure that something had happened, and that Malfoy knew it, too.
Speaking quickly before she could think better of it, Ginny said, “I don’t think you’re a coward, Draco. I think, maybe, that you have a heart.”
Malfoy showed signs of restlessness the next time Ginny force-fed him, trying to turn his head away as she spooned what most closely resembled runny scrambled eggs flecked with something red into his mouth. She ended up having Kevin hold his head steady as she fed him each bite.
This better be worth it, Ginny thought as she glared at Malfoy’s death-pale countenance.
Leaving the Pullman siblings to keep an eye on Malfoy, Ginny wandered back to the far side of the dungeon and sat down beside the pool. Cold moisture, like the gossamer strands of a spider’s web, clung to the bare skin of her arms and face and tangled itself in her limp red hair, but the dank gloom surrounding the pool matched her mood. Based on her calculations, she had been here about four days, and still there was no sign of a rescue.
Four days! Four days, and nothing done, no one here to save me! When I was dragged – possessed by a fragment of Voldemort himself – into the Chamber of Secrets, Harry rescued me in a matter of hours!
Ginny shivered as she remembered the terror of being so near death, frozen in her own body, unable to move or even to cry out. Harry came, and with shining sword and phoenix song, she had been saved. He had been like the hero from a fairy tale, and in her heart she had worshipped him. But now, when surely he loved her, he had not come. Hot tears mixed with the cold dampness on her cheeks. Ginny suddenly realized how frightened she was, away from her family and friends, no Harry, no Ron, no Hermione to help her. She was on her own.
It’s up to me, she thought grimly, and the only progress I’ve made is keeping Malfoy alive, which might not count as progress at all. The futility of her situation sat like a cold pit in her stomach. Even if Malfoy knew exactly where they were, and exactly why they were there, what good would that do? How could it possibly get them all out of there?
Glumly she stared at the black water, and noticed that it had receded a few feet from her. Ginny took in the wet ground now visible at her feet, and slowly, the faintest ray of hope dawned on her.
“Only one way to find out,” she murmured, and began pulling off her trainers and socks.
Some time later, Ginny was sitting in the hay with Kevin and Lizzie, eyeing Malfoy warily. He had regained consciousness once, while Ginny had been absent, but after muttering some choice curse words, he had drifted off again. Ginny thought it was a definite sign of improvement.
Malfoy rolled his head slightly and let out a soft groan. Slowly he opened his eyes and stared dully around him.
“Morning, sunshine!” Ginny said brightly as his gaze rested on her. Malfoy winced, perhaps in pain, perhaps at the cheerfulness in Ginny’s voice.
“How are you feeling?” she asked him, her tone more serious.
“Alive,” he croaked weakly.
“And I’m sorry for that, truly,” Ginny replied. “But I will keep you that way until you help us.”
Malfoy turned his face to the ceiling and groaned again in reply. Ginny, Kevin and Lizzie exchanged a glance and then looked to Malfoy expectantly.
“Water,” he finally croaked. Ginny nodded to Lizzie, who hurried over to the jug and filled the ladle. Taking it from her, Ginny approached Malfoy and stooped to raise his head to the ladle. As if her touch had burned him, Malfoy hissed sharply and recoiled. Quickly Ginny pulled her hand away.
“Lift your own damn head then,” she snapped. Glowering at her, he tried weakly to push himself into a sitting position, but was unable to do so.
“Here,” Kevin said. “Let me.” And without waiting for Malfoy’s response, he roughly hauled him up and leaned him against the stone wall. Ginny held the ladle to his mouth, careful not to touch him, and he drank deeply, his eyes still narrowed on her in rage.
“It’s your own fault,” Ginny said coolly, reading his expression.
“Dare . . . touch me . . .” he gasped.
It was Ginny’s turn to narrow her eyes. “As if I wanted to touch such a coward and a . . . a murderer as you!” she hissed, and was infuriated when he only smiled in reply.
“A coward, yes,” he said softly, almost to himself. “But if I were a murderer, I wouldn’t be here.” Ginny snorted in disbelief, but he ignored her.
“Why,” he continued, “do you think I can . . . or will . . . help you?”
“Basic human decency would be my first answer,” Ginny said, “but I suppose that would mean nothing to you. I’d think, though, that you’d at least be interested in saving your own miserable skin.”
“And don’t you think I’d have done something already if there was a way out of here?” he snapped. “Don’t you think I’d have tried to escape already if it were possible – if there was someplace to go? No, Weasley, you’d do better to follow my advice. Starve yourself, die on your own terms – it will be better than what they’ve got planned.”
“What, what do they have planned?” Ginny asked, wanting to shake him in her frustration.
Malfoy gave a low chuckle.
“Ask the brats about what happened to the other one,” he said. Kevin inhaled sharply.
“What ‘other one’ is he talking about?” Ginny asked, turning to Kevin. Kevin glanced down at his hands, his shoulders slumping forward.
“When we got here, you know,” he started awkwardly, “we weren’t alone. This git was here” – he nodded toward Malfoy – “and so was Miranda Vale, she was in Ravenclaw with me – a fourth year. But . . . but,” he faltered, “they came and took her away with them.”
“Who took her?”
“I don’t know – bunch of ‘em in black robes. We didn’t even see their faces.”
“And she screamed and screamed!” said Lizzie, beginning to cry. “She screamed at us to help her!”
“There was nothing we could do,” Kevin whispered, his voice choked. “We just sat here, glad it wasn’t one of us . . . .”
Ginny rounded on Malfoy, icy fear filling her chest. “What happened to her?” she demanded, her voice steel-edged.
Malfoy regarded her carefully, his face blank of all expression. “Food,” he said finally.
“Food? What? Are the Death Eaters eating children now?”
“Not the Death Eaters. Not yet, anyway,” Malfoy said with a faint smirk. “No, food for the Dark Lord’s favorite . . . pet.”
The sickening truth dawned on Ginny.
“Do you mean that giant snake? The one that almost killed my dad?”
“Apparently it has a taste for the young. The innocence, the purity, the tender flesh . . .” Malfoy shrugged. “Feeds once, twice a month. In fact, I bet they’ll be coming for one of these wee bairns any time now.”
“What? Don’t you get a turn?” Ginny asked, her voice hot with anger at his complete indifference.
Malfoy laughed. “No, little weasel, I just get the pleasure of watching you all come and go. Part of the Dark Lord’s sense of humor. He knows I’d rather be dead, so . . . he keeps me alive.”
Ginny shuddered at the thought. “How long have you been here, then?”
“Don’t know. How long since the night – the night . . . .” Malfoy trailed off, unable to finish the question.
“The night you helped Snape murder Dumbledore?” Ginny asked harshly. “It’s been over a month now.”
Malfoy sighed. “That long then,” he said.
Ginny felt her rage at him abating. He looked so weak, so broken, his hair falling in his eyes, his hands lying limply, palms up, in the hay at his sides.
“Where exactly are we?” she asked, more gently.
“Dagonet Castle. South of London on the Channel. Death Eaters’ stronghold. Completely unplottable and protected by so much magic it can never be penetrated. Believe me, there is no way out of here.”
There was a pause as they all sat there, digesting Malfoy’s last remark. Finally, Ginny spoke, measuring her words carefully.
“If – if – I knew of a way we could escape, would you three be willing to risk it? It will be dangerous, and . . . and –”
“And we could be killed?” Kevin interrupted. “Ginny, they’re going to kill us anyway. I’m in.”
“Me, too,” said Lizzie, her voice full of nervous excitement. All eyes turned to Malfoy, who was studying Ginny intently, a strange look on his face.
“Help me up,” he abruptly barked at Kevin. Dumbly, Kevin rose to comply.
“Wait, Malfoy, where are you going?” Ginny demanded as he struggled to his feet and leaned heavily on Kevin’s shoulder.
“I’m going to relieve myself, Weasley, if you’ve no objections. Oh, yeah, I forgot how interested you are in my bathroom activity – so rude of me. Would you like to come watch?”
Ginny felt her cheeks redden as he stumbled off toward the garderobe, Kevin at his side.
When he returned, panting faintly from the exertion, he merely said, “I might as well. It might be a quicker way to die.”
When Wormtail brought the next meal, he seemed to be paying particular attention to Lizzie, leering at her and complimenting her on her health, and this made Ginny very nervous.
If we are going to do it, it has to be soon.
“Malfoy, are you strong enough to walk?” Ginny asked as they were finishing their pitiful meal of stale bread and more Seaweed Surprise.
“I can walk,” he replied, eyeing her inquisitively.
“Let’s go, then – something I want you to see.” Ginny was a little taken aback when Malfoy didn’t protest her command, but merely rose to accompany her.
Dungeon life seems to have taken some of the fight out of him.
“We’ll be right back,” Ginny said over her shoulder to Lizzie and Kevin.
Despite Malfoy’s assertion, navigating through the rubble-strewn dungeon was proving difficult for him. When he nearly fell for the third time, Ginny lost her patience.
“Just lean on me, will you? It won’t kill you, and I promise not to tell anyone,” she snapped. Malfoy eyed her coldly for a moment, and then roughly grasped her shoulder.
“I bet you’re just loving this, Weasley,” he snarled.
“No, actually. Seeing someone else in pain’s never really been my thing. I’m not like you, you know. And the name’s Ginny – Weasley is my brother.”
“I know what your name is – it’s just that it’s so . . . boring.”
“So sorry not to have a really look-at-me-I-love-the-Dark-Arts kind of name like Draco! I mean, honestly, what were your parents thinking? Why didn’t they just tattoo the Dark Mark on your forehead when you were a baby?”
“Draco is an old family name, I’ll have you know. It’s been passed down for generations. That’s what wizarding families with pride do.”
Ginny didn’t rise to the bait, and instead returned, “So your family just uses the same name over and over again? I don’t know – that sounds a little boring to me.”
Out of the corner of her eye Ginny thought she saw just the flicker of a smile cross Malfoy’s face, but he didn’t reply and the two walked on in silence.
As Ginny led the way to the pool in the far corner of the dungeon, she was painfully aware of Malfoy’s hand gripping her shoulder, his long fingers burning through the fabric of her thin t-shirt. The gloom and the silence surrounded them like a kind of intimacy, and Ginny felt a chill run up her spine. She was relieved when they finally reached their destination and she was able to pull away, breaking their contact. Malfoy stood silently, unmoving, as if he, too, had been strangely affected by their silent walk.
Finally coming out of his reverie, he said, “Is this what you wanted me to see? Because, sorry to say, I’ve already visited and wasn’t impressed.”
“So you’ve seen it,” Ginny replied. “Did you pay attention to how it changes?”
Malfoy raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“It’s been growing and shrinking regularly – cyclically,” Ginny said.
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
“It’s the tide! The tide is coming in and out through here, and that means there’s a way out through the wall!”
Malfoy turned to the pool again with renewed interest.
“This side of the castle is carved out of a cliff jutting into the Channel,” he said thoughtfully, “but an opening for water doesn’t necessarily mean and opening for people.”
“That’s true,” Ginny said, nodding her head, “but given the amount of change and the speed of it, I know the opening has to be quite large. I – I tried to get a look at it myself, but the water was up to my neck when I got halfway out, and – well, I can’t swim.” Ginny hated that she’d had to admit a weakness to him.
“I see,” Malfoy replied, smiling faintly. “And you couldn’t get one of the babies to do it?”
“Well, they’re just so –”
“Useless?” Malfoy cut in.
“Young, I was going to say.”
“And so you’d rather risk my neck? In my weakened condition, no less?”
It was Ginny’s turn to smile. “I didn’t think it would be much risk for you,” she said, her voice sugary sweet. “I read somewhere that ferrets are excellent swimmers.” Malfoy eyed her narrowly.
“Funny,” he said as he undid the clasp to his robe, “I thought the same applied to weasels.” He tossed the black robe on the ground near one of the columns and began undoing his dress shirt. Ginny realized that under the robe he was still in school uniform – another indication of how very long he had been trapped down here.
“What? Like what you see?” Malfoy’s voice broke across her mind. Ginny realized she had been staring at him, hard, and that he was now shirtless.
“Sorry,” she murmured, feeling her cheeks redden once again in response to his taunts.
She hadn’t been looking at him – like that – but now, as he undid his belt buckle, Ginny cast furtive glances in his direction. He was far too thin – the sharp curves of his ribs were visible beneath his pale skin – but the long, sinewy muscles on his arms spoke of strength, and the milky whiteness of his chest looked so soft, so inviting. Ginny felt the burn in her cheeks increasing – if it were possible – as Malfoy slid out of his trousers and stood before her in nothing more than a pair of black satin boxers. His legs matched his arms – long, lean muscle – the perfect build for a Seeker, Ginny thought appraisingly. Harry was built the same way, not that Ginny had ever even seen him shirtless – he had liked to take things slowly and had a regard for Ginny’s chasteness that she found irritating at times. With a guilty start, Ginny realized that she had been comparing Harry, the man she loved, to Draco Malfoy, and, Merlin save her, she had found Malfoy very, very attractive.
“Wish me luck,” Malfoy said, and waded out into the water; when it reached slightly above his waist he leaned forward and dove in, his body sliding gracefully through the murk like a shooting star cutting across a midnight sky. He reached the far wall in a matter of minutes and began edging along it, slowly bobbing up and down as he tread water. Suddenly he dove under and Ginny lost all sight of him. She held her breath, tensing, and when he didn’t surface after half a minute had passed away she began to panic.
He’s going to drown . . . he’s going to drown, ran through her head and she made for the water, determined to go in after him, ability to swim or no ability to swim. But before she had the chance to jump in, she saw him surface and begin slowly swimming back.
Malfoy pulled himself out of the water and threw himself down beside it, eyes closed and panting heavily. He draped one arm over his forehead and looked utterly spent.
“Are you okay?” Ginny asked urgently, kneeling at his side. He only nodded, still trying to catch his breath. She waited silently and patiently by his side as his breathing slowly became more normal.
“You were right,” he finally said in a weak voice, “the opening is large. I felt the pull of the tide when I came near it – must be going out. I swam down and found it – not hard when the water is tugging you along – and it’s big enough to enter. I went along it for a little way . . . but I don’t think we’ll be able to get out that way.”
“Why not?” Ginny asked, alarm in her voice.
“For one, it’s absolutely black down there – I couldn’t see a thing, just had to feel my way along. And it’s possible the tunnel has multiple openings. We could end up taking a wrong turn and drown. The other problem is that we won’t be able to breathe long enough to make it out – I only made it a few feet before I had to turn back, and this tunnel could very well be quite long. It is, after all, carved into the base of a cliff. I just don’t see how it can be done.”
Ginny ruminated a moment. “I had kind of expected that might be the case. After all, it would be too good to be true if it were only a matter of ducking under a wall and coming up in the Channel. I think, though, that I have a way to solve both the lack of light and the breathing trouble, but it will take all four of us to carry it out.” Malfoy opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “No, I’ll explain when we get back to the others,” Ginny said, beginning to stand up. She was surprised when Malfoy grabbed her wrist.
“Not yet,” he rasped out, “I need to rest a moment.” Ginny sat back down beside him and eyed him warily as he lay there, making no move to rise and dress. She was again surprised when he spoke.
“Have you wondered why I’m down here?” he asked in a voice that clearly invited the question.
“I did. What happened?”
“Cowardice,” Malfoy replied. “You know . . . you know I couldn’t do it, right? Couldn’t kill that old fool. I was too scared – I panicked. Snape stepped in and –” He broke off and shrugged. “We came back here. The Dark Lord already knew of my failure, and he was waiting for me . . . with my father.”
“I read about his escape from Azkaban,” Ginny murmured.
Malfoy’s lips curled into a slight sneer. “My father, ever ready to prove his loyalty to his master, offered to perform the Killing Curse on me himself. He would have, too, without the slightest hesitation, but the Dark Lord said he had another way to make me . . . useful.” Malfoy’s voice trembled slightly as if he could hear Voldemort’s high-pitched tone still echoing through his head.
Ginny was silent, filled with pity for Malfoy. She couldn’t imagine a father so cold, so cruel to his only child. Malfoy pulled himself up, his weight resting on his elbows, and he looked at her, gauging her reaction. Ginny found herself unable to meet his searching gaze and looked dumbly at the wet earth, the small space between them. When he spoke next she was caught totally off guard.
“You tried to be kind to me – that day – in the bathroom.”
“Don’t know what I was thinking,” Ginny replied, her voice low.
“And you were right, what you said,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her.
“Right about what?”
“You said something about choices – how there was always a right one – you were right.”
“I’m . . . touched . . . you remember,” Ginny replied, her tone a mix of faint sarcasm and genuine surprise.
“Shame I didn’t listen to you,” he said, his voice bitter.
Ginny could think of nothing to say in response.
Malfoy stood awkwardly, still clearly shaky from his exertion, and Ginny followed suite. He pulled his trousers on in silence while Ginny stooped to retrieve his shirt. As she straightened up, shirt in hand, she realized that he had moved closer to her, close enough for her to take in the salty smell of his bare skin.
“Um . . . here,” she said faintly, holding out the shirt and cursing herself silently for the slight tremor she felt at his nearness. Wordlessly he grasped it, his fingers brushing against hers. Ginny, completely distracted by a strange gleam in his gray eyes, realized suddenly that she hadn’t let go, that the tips of his fingers rested lightly on the back of her hand. She gasped and pulled away, reaching for his robe as she tried to cover up the sudden flush she knew was visible on her face. When she turned back to him with it, he was buttoning up his shirt, his face void of expression except for the still-strange gleam in his eyes.
“Guess we’d better get back huh, Ginny?” he said softly, taking the robe from her and turning to make his way up the incline toward the main part of the dungeon. Ginny stared after him for a moment, feeling as if she’d been standing too close to a furnace. Then, with a shake of her head, she followed.
Ginny worked hard to avoid Malfoy’s gaze as she explained her plan to everyone. Kevin was impressed with her for discovering the exit through the pool and even more impressed that she knew how to do a Bubblehead Charm. Both children seemed frightened but excited about the roles they would play in the escape. Malfoy, though not evidently enthused, nodded in agreement.
“It might work,” he said with a slight shrug.
Silence fell over them as they sat there, waiting tensely for the sing-songy voice that would call them into action, and Ginny found herself once again stealing glances at Malfoy.
What happened back there? she asked herself, absolutely sure that something had happened, and that Malfoy knew it, too.
Speaking quickly before she could think better of it, Ginny said, “I don’t think you’re a coward, Draco. I think, maybe, that you have a heart.”
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