CHAPTER TWO
"Where did you get off to last night, darling?” Pansy asked, moving to Draco as he came into the room and giving his cheek a cursory kiss. Fiddling with a bandage on her hand, she said, “We missed you.”
Draco sighed, his eyes moving to her injury. “You’re hurt.” He led Pansy over to sit on the sofa in the corner of the room. “Why did you let that happen, eh?”
Pansy looked at him, and shrugged. “Don’t fuss, Draco. Besides, you know I enjoy a nice stinging hex on a Thursday afternoon. It breaks up the monotony. Spices things up a bit,” she said, wincing as he inspected the injury.
“Is she whining again?” Blaise Zabini strode into the room and flopped onto the other end of the couch. “Been pouting all morning that you disappeared last night after the skirmish in Hogsmeade and then weren’t about downstairs after everyone got back.”
“Shut it, Blaise.” Pansy said in a bored tone, studying her manicure.
Blaise leaned over and brushed Pansy’s hair behind her ear. “Still hurt then?” he asked softly.
“Yeah. A bit.”
Blaise scowled. “Nearly every pureblood worth having, and not a decent healer in the lot.”
Pansy shrugged. “We could always change sides.”
She and Blaise laughed uncomfortably, looking at Draco, who joined them.
“Yeah,” Draco said, scoffing. “I’m sure if we just yell 'ollie ollie oxen free' or 'do-over' and go on over there, that Potter and all his friends would welcome us with open arms."
“Don’t tease Pans, Draco” Blaise chided. “You know she has a thing for Potter.”
“I do not," she said indignantly.” She took a pause. “Maybe the whole ‘good’ thing is intriguing,” she continued under her breath.
“Find good somewhere else, eh, Pans?” Draco asked, kissing the top of her head. “He’s a berk.”
Pansy smiled and nodded, one eyebrow raised. “I shall try.”
**********
Later that morning the Death Eater camp found themselves sitting around the formal dining table at Parkinson Manor, most uninterested in the goings on and the morning report. There was dissension and worse, disinterest in the goings on since Voldemort had died, and as Draco had mentioned, their ranks were indeed getting thin. When they went on raids, inevitably two or three didn't show back up either due to capture, death, or desertion. It was only when Miles Bletchley walked in and sprawled at the end of the table that their attention was captured at all.
Miles ran a hand through his hair and with a smug expression on his face. “Well, all, meet the man with the master plan,” he said with an expansive gesture.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Could you not talk in clichés, Bletchley?"
"Could he just not talk?" Pansy asked under her breath, sitting next to Draco. "What are you on about, Miles?”
Miles smirked at Draco. “I’ve only done something you’ve dreamt about, Malfoy. I can give us the the Weasleys. A few of them, anyway. I only wish the Dark Lord was here to see it.”
"Well he's not, you prat. He's a sort of smudge on the great lawn at Hogwarts," Blaise said, rolling his eyes.
Draco’s heart dropped into his stomach, but his face remained placid. “The Weasleys? Really? And what, pray tell, do we want with a bunch of filthy blood traitors that collude with the scum of the Wizarding World?"
Miles looked at Draco with an amused expression, "Why, I'd think it would be obvious. If you take out the Weasleys, that's the backbone of the Order of the Phoenix. Without them, the organization will crumble, and this whole bloody mess will be over. We can begin to place our people in positions of power, and blood purity will count for something again."
Blaise looked at him with a displeased expression. "You do realize that there are only roughly two dozen of us here full time, fighting for this 'cause' or whatever we're calling it now?"
Antonin Dolohov, his boils still looking painful, pointed his wand at Blaise. "You can get going then, son, if you don't like the way things are being run."
Blaise moved the man's wand away from him with a finger. "Go play big bad Death Eater with someone that it actually scares."
Pansy burrowed more deeply in her chair. "Does it actually scare anyone anymore?"
Draco crossed his arms sullenly over his chest. "No. I don't think so."
Dolohov dragged Pansy up out of her chair roughly and shoved the point of his wand in her neck. "Listen. I think you've forgotten how this works. You do what's expected of you. All of you," he said, eyeing Draco, Blaise, and Miles, "and you do it without a fuss. We're all going to listen to what Bletchley's got to say, and then we're going to make a plan to get the Weasleys. After that, we're going to string 'em up by their red hair and kill them. Maybe torture them a bit beforehand. Just like old times, he said, whispering in Pansy's ear and shoving her back down in her chair. Leaning in to her he asked, "Was that scary enough for you, love?"
Pansy shuddered as if to get rid of the feeling of the man's touch. "You couldn't scare a child, you bastard," she said poisonously, and spat in his face.
"Crucio," Dolohov whispered, eyes blazing, and Pansy convulsed and cried out in agony. Blaise and Draco went rigid, Blaise holding a hand up to Draco, nodding his head to indicate the other wands trained on them. Dolohov laughed. Letting his wand up, he said, "and I think I'm keeping Miss Smart Arse here with me again to make sure the rest of you behave yourselves out there, eh? Yes, I think that'll be a splendid idea."
There was a general grumbling from the other side of the table, and Miles shot them all an irritated look. "Do you want to hear how to take them down, or not?"
Dolohov lifted his wand that had been trained on Pansy and inclined his head. "By all means, boy. By all means."
Miles smile was simpering. "In the upcoming week at least two of the Weasleys will be with me at our escort point; Harry Potter may even be there for the taking," he said, holding up his hands in deference to the shouts of pleasure coming from around the table. "I'm sure the girl Weasley will be there, and at least one of her brothers, as they hardly ever let her go anywhere without them."
"Excellent," Dolohov replied.
Miles leaned forward to share his plan with the other Death Eaters. Inwardly, Draco was panic stricken. They were going to take Ginny. Ginny. And he knew what would happen to her if they brought her here. It would make what had just happened to Pansy look like a walk in the garden.
Draco listened carefully. He had to know exactly what would happen so he'd know exactly what he could and could not tell Ginny. Damned Oath, he thought for the millionth time.
********************************
Later that evening, he lay on his bed awake, with his hands behind his head. I have to do something, he thought. Not knowing exactly what that something might be made him a little restless.
When Ginny flooed in from the fireplace in his room, he leapt off the bed and wrapped her in an embrace as soon as she stepped out of the grate.
Smiling, Ginny wound her arms around his middle, pressing her cheek against his chest. "What a welcome. Is everything alright?"
Shaking his head, he replied, "No, it's not. There are things you need to know. They're going to be--" He broke off as the pain from the Oath grew to be too much. He gasped, clutching at his stomach, and sat down abruptly on the bed.
Ginny shreiked, "No! Stop it! You wouldn't let me do it, I'm not going to let you. Whatever it is, whatever you need to tell me, just know that I'll be very careful, alright?" She moved over to him and placed her hands on either side of his face. "Please don't do this. I need you alive, yeah?"
Draco nodded. "Yeah. Same goes for me, though. I don't want anything to happen to you, either."
She threaded her fingers through the back of his hair and brought his lips to hers, kissing him fiercely, with bruising, biting kisses that possessed them both. She pushed him back against the bed and he held her about the waist, pulling back and looking into her eyes. "When this is over, I'm never going to let you go."
****************************************
"Where did you get off to last night, darling?” Pansy asked, moving to Draco as he came into the room and giving his cheek a cursory kiss. Fiddling with a bandage on her hand, she said, “We missed you.”
Draco sighed, his eyes moving to her injury. “You’re hurt.” He led Pansy over to sit on the sofa in the corner of the room. “Why did you let that happen, eh?”
Pansy looked at him, and shrugged. “Don’t fuss, Draco. Besides, you know I enjoy a nice stinging hex on a Thursday afternoon. It breaks up the monotony. Spices things up a bit,” she said, wincing as he inspected the injury.
“Is she whining again?” Blaise Zabini strode into the room and flopped onto the other end of the couch. “Been pouting all morning that you disappeared last night after the skirmish in Hogsmeade and then weren’t about downstairs after everyone got back.”
“Shut it, Blaise.” Pansy said in a bored tone, studying her manicure.
Blaise leaned over and brushed Pansy’s hair behind her ear. “Still hurt then?” he asked softly.
“Yeah. A bit.”
Blaise scowled. “Nearly every pureblood worth having, and not a decent healer in the lot.”
Pansy shrugged. “We could always change sides.”
She and Blaise laughed uncomfortably, looking at Draco, who joined them.
“Yeah,” Draco said, scoffing. “I’m sure if we just yell 'ollie ollie oxen free' or 'do-over' and go on over there, that Potter and all his friends would welcome us with open arms."
“Don’t tease Pans, Draco” Blaise chided. “You know she has a thing for Potter.”
“I do not," she said indignantly.” She took a pause. “Maybe the whole ‘good’ thing is intriguing,” she continued under her breath.
“Find good somewhere else, eh, Pans?” Draco asked, kissing the top of her head. “He’s a berk.”
Pansy smiled and nodded, one eyebrow raised. “I shall try.”
**********
Later that morning the Death Eater camp found themselves sitting around the formal dining table at Parkinson Manor, most uninterested in the goings on and the morning report. There was dissension and worse, disinterest in the goings on since Voldemort had died, and as Draco had mentioned, their ranks were indeed getting thin. When they went on raids, inevitably two or three didn't show back up either due to capture, death, or desertion. It was only when Miles Bletchley walked in and sprawled at the end of the table that their attention was captured at all.
Miles ran a hand through his hair and with a smug expression on his face. “Well, all, meet the man with the master plan,” he said with an expansive gesture.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Could you not talk in clichés, Bletchley?"
"Could he just not talk?" Pansy asked under her breath, sitting next to Draco. "What are you on about, Miles?”
Miles smirked at Draco. “I’ve only done something you’ve dreamt about, Malfoy. I can give us the the Weasleys. A few of them, anyway. I only wish the Dark Lord was here to see it.”
"Well he's not, you prat. He's a sort of smudge on the great lawn at Hogwarts," Blaise said, rolling his eyes.
Draco’s heart dropped into his stomach, but his face remained placid. “The Weasleys? Really? And what, pray tell, do we want with a bunch of filthy blood traitors that collude with the scum of the Wizarding World?"
Miles looked at Draco with an amused expression, "Why, I'd think it would be obvious. If you take out the Weasleys, that's the backbone of the Order of the Phoenix. Without them, the organization will crumble, and this whole bloody mess will be over. We can begin to place our people in positions of power, and blood purity will count for something again."
Blaise looked at him with a displeased expression. "You do realize that there are only roughly two dozen of us here full time, fighting for this 'cause' or whatever we're calling it now?"
Antonin Dolohov, his boils still looking painful, pointed his wand at Blaise. "You can get going then, son, if you don't like the way things are being run."
Blaise moved the man's wand away from him with a finger. "Go play big bad Death Eater with someone that it actually scares."
Pansy burrowed more deeply in her chair. "Does it actually scare anyone anymore?"
Draco crossed his arms sullenly over his chest. "No. I don't think so."
Dolohov dragged Pansy up out of her chair roughly and shoved the point of his wand in her neck. "Listen. I think you've forgotten how this works. You do what's expected of you. All of you," he said, eyeing Draco, Blaise, and Miles, "and you do it without a fuss. We're all going to listen to what Bletchley's got to say, and then we're going to make a plan to get the Weasleys. After that, we're going to string 'em up by their red hair and kill them. Maybe torture them a bit beforehand. Just like old times, he said, whispering in Pansy's ear and shoving her back down in her chair. Leaning in to her he asked, "Was that scary enough for you, love?"
Pansy shuddered as if to get rid of the feeling of the man's touch. "You couldn't scare a child, you bastard," she said poisonously, and spat in his face.
"Crucio," Dolohov whispered, eyes blazing, and Pansy convulsed and cried out in agony. Blaise and Draco went rigid, Blaise holding a hand up to Draco, nodding his head to indicate the other wands trained on them. Dolohov laughed. Letting his wand up, he said, "and I think I'm keeping Miss Smart Arse here with me again to make sure the rest of you behave yourselves out there, eh? Yes, I think that'll be a splendid idea."
There was a general grumbling from the other side of the table, and Miles shot them all an irritated look. "Do you want to hear how to take them down, or not?"
Dolohov lifted his wand that had been trained on Pansy and inclined his head. "By all means, boy. By all means."
Miles smile was simpering. "In the upcoming week at least two of the Weasleys will be with me at our escort point; Harry Potter may even be there for the taking," he said, holding up his hands in deference to the shouts of pleasure coming from around the table. "I'm sure the girl Weasley will be there, and at least one of her brothers, as they hardly ever let her go anywhere without them."
"Excellent," Dolohov replied.
Miles leaned forward to share his plan with the other Death Eaters. Inwardly, Draco was panic stricken. They were going to take Ginny. Ginny. And he knew what would happen to her if they brought her here. It would make what had just happened to Pansy look like a walk in the garden.
Draco listened carefully. He had to know exactly what would happen so he'd know exactly what he could and could not tell Ginny. Damned Oath, he thought for the millionth time.
********************************
Later that evening, he lay on his bed awake, with his hands behind his head. I have to do something, he thought. Not knowing exactly what that something might be made him a little restless.
When Ginny flooed in from the fireplace in his room, he leapt off the bed and wrapped her in an embrace as soon as she stepped out of the grate.
Smiling, Ginny wound her arms around his middle, pressing her cheek against his chest. "What a welcome. Is everything alright?"
Shaking his head, he replied, "No, it's not. There are things you need to know. They're going to be--" He broke off as the pain from the Oath grew to be too much. He gasped, clutching at his stomach, and sat down abruptly on the bed.
Ginny shreiked, "No! Stop it! You wouldn't let me do it, I'm not going to let you. Whatever it is, whatever you need to tell me, just know that I'll be very careful, alright?" She moved over to him and placed her hands on either side of his face. "Please don't do this. I need you alive, yeah?"
Draco nodded. "Yeah. Same goes for me, though. I don't want anything to happen to you, either."
She threaded her fingers through the back of his hair and brought his lips to hers, kissing him fiercely, with bruising, biting kisses that possessed them both. She pushed him back against the bed and he held her about the waist, pulling back and looking into her eyes. "When this is over, I'm never going to let you go."
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