Summary: On vacation Ginny runs into an old family enemy. Draco Malfoy asks for her trust, but she knows there is more going on than meets the eye; including the very bizarre rag doll that he has given her. Love triangle. Pensives. Devil Doll. Theatre. A development of trust, love and friendship.

Ships: HGxRW, BWxFD, HPxGW, DMxGW.

Era: The Trio's 7th year. Post HPB.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I do own the plot and the Devil Doll idea and any other characters you do not recognize.

Author's Message: I hope you enjoy.


Chapter One

Sacrilegium:
Prpfanatio omnium quae deo
Vel sanctis propositis consecrantur


For long endless millions of instants
I drank at the goblet of illusion
Tilling tumors and follies
Desperately wandering
Through the dark tunnels
Of the bone box
Then, submitting
I chose to drown
In the ashes of my dreams
When purity is raped
Three days are not enough
To resurrect:
Everywhere

Lyrics from Devil Doll, "Sacrilegium".

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It was summer, the middle of July, and the hottest day of the year so far. Ginny Weasley was out with her best friend Luna Lovegood at a beach off the coast of Great Britain. She was on vacation with the Lovegood's, glad to finally be away from her family, away from the horror's and thoughts of the war that had just come to a close, away from the man who had broken her heart.

Voldemort was gone, destroyed by Harry. And now, everyone was trying to pick themselves up again. Families had been torn apart, whole villages destroyed; nothing was ever going to be the same again. Even with the Dark Lord's threat gone, there was still fighting, still the hunt for the Death Eaters that got away.

That's what they were trying to do now, take care of the remaining followers of Voldemort. And it was not an easy task. Harry was now training to be an Auror. Hermione and Ron were awaiting his return at the end of the summer when he would join them on their search.

She hadn't given herself a break from the grief of her former boyfriend since they had broken up – or more importantly, he had broken up with her. He haunted her everyday, even without his presence. Every morning at the Burrow she would wake up to Hedwig flying in with yet another letter addressed to Ron or her dad. Even the brief visit from Hermione Granger in late June only reminded her of the person who left her behind.

She was trying to escape all of those feelings, maybe even pick up a nice blonde beach boy (Luna's idea, not hers). Mostly she just wanted time to herself, to forget the war. Because she in-fact had been there. She had seen everything unfold, and it was monstrous, and ghastly and just a bit more horrible then even You-Know-Who probably had imagined it would be.

The sun was beating down onto her fair freckled back, her green straps to her bikini top at her sides as she attempted to tan. Luna lay next to her on an identical blue beach towel; but instead of a bathing suit, Luna was wearing a sundress of blue and pink crescent moons.

Just beyond them was a Quidditch team, practicing for a big tournament. But that didn't stop them from hitting on both Ginny and Luna who choose simply to ignore them. Ginny didn't want to deal. She was sick of men, of Quidditch players, of everyone who reminded her of Harry.

The cool ocean waves crashed against the sands, brining up shells, rocks, and other sea life. The weather was perfect and the air smelt strongly of salt water. Everything was tranquil.

This was bliss, this was peace, this was –

"I'm going to go grab a water from the hotel. Want anything?"

Ginny mumbled a no, keeping her eyes closed, basking in the warmth. Luna's footsteps died away and she started to relax again.

Her vacation had only three more days before she would have to return home. Three more days of uninterrupted peace and sanctuary. Then she would be bombarded with thoughts and memories again, she would be expected to help out the Order - but that she didn't mind as much.

For the first time, her parents and all the older Order members left alive had been including her in the conversations about the retribution and restoration plans. She knew as much as everyone else and it was a pleasing thought. She was grown up in their eyes now, or at least old enough to handle the truth of the world.

She had grown up a lot during the war. Watching so many helpless innocents die around her. She recalled the very smell in the air that night. It was strong of rich earth and early autumn, but by the end of the next mid afternoon the only thing you could smell was blood. The air so thick with fog and mist and magic that you couldn't see anything passed your face.

She had arrived at the battlefield with Neville, Luna and numerous other DA members. They had been waiting on call for Harry's word for the battle to begin. The moment she had arrived she was stationed near the back of the battle, surely at Harry's request.

At the time, it had made her very upset at him, but now that she thought about it, she knew he was only trying to protect her for as long as he could. She had refused to stay put, but everyone was always holding her back, especially Lupin who seemed to be keeping a particularly close eye on her.

Her mind still reeled to how she got away from that station. She had snuck away through the back, hiding in trees, and found herself head to head with Draco Malfoy. His sneer was broad across his face, only, he didn't raise his wand to her. Instead, he had looked at her, actually looked at her, and simply said, "You're heading the wrong way, Weasley."

"No, I'm not, I'm going to help Harry," she had told him, determined.

He watched her skeptically then nodded, and she could have sworn she had heard him mutter, "Me too." But she couldn't have been certain.

He had led her through the trees, and she couldn't believe what was happening. Why had Draco led her to the battle? And straight into the center of the battle for that matter.

There were thousands of screams of tortured souls being slaughtered about by curses. The most inhumane ways you could imagine someone killing someone else, it was all over. Burning flesh, separated limbs of fingers and arms. Any direction she looked all she saw was pain.

"Good luck, Weaselette."

She watched him leave, still quite uncertain that she had heard him say any of that. What had come over Draco Malfoy?

The battle was long and horrific, and in the end, Harry destroyed Voldemort with the help of Draco. Unless she had been mistaken, but she didn't believe she was, he had helped them win.

And he had vanished after the battle before anyone could get a hold of him. She knew before anyone else, because the whole night, the only thoughts on her mind – other than staying alive – were on him. She had searched for him, and came up empty.

She sighed greatly and shoved the thoughts of the battle out of her mind, breathing in another deep breath or salty air. The beach was supposed to be the perfect place to escape, but nothing was letting her escape the graphic images of that battle.

"Excuse me," came a man's voice, it was soft but intruding.

She ignored him, assuming that he was one of the Quidditch players hitting on her again.

"Excuse me," the voice was louder and she clenched her jaw, hoping they'd take a hint and leave.

"Bloody hell, Weasley! I'm talking to you!"

The Slytherin icy tone was prominent and unmistakable. She snapped open her eyes in surprise and sat up, forgetting that her top wasn't attached. She squeaked loudly as she tried desperately to conceal herself, but it was too late, she had already been exposed to none other than Draco Malfoy.

She was embarrassed and furious beyond all reason as she tied her suit in the back in a quick knot. Her eyes then shifted to the cause of her dilemma.

There was Malfoy, her family's oldest rival. Only, he didn't look like the Draco Malfoy she was used to seeing. He was bruised and – if such a statement was possible for a Malfoy – dirty. His hair was everywhere and his clothes were in need of repair. And, as un-Malfoyish as he was composed, he still looked like a human God.

His expression gave no indication that he had just witnessed an indecent part of her body. Neither a grimace nor smirk graced his face.

"What – Happened to you?" Ginny voiced one of the many questions that were forming in her head. She was too frazzled to focus on what she needed to do. She needed to alert someone to get the Ministry; but that thought didn't even cross her mind.

Sure, he may have helped defeat You-Know-Who; but he had vanished that night, and he was still a wanted criminal.

Draco stared at her for a moment; his gray eyes holding her amber ones with such sadness that she couldn't even speak. He didn't move, and she still sat on her knees on her towel, and it seemed that everything stood still.

That is, until the glint of a gold flying ball was snatched by Draco in midair. She looked to see him open his palm and reveal the golden snitch. The Quidditch players made no indication that they were aware of their golden ball disappearing, and Draco pocketed it.

"I need your help," he said, pulling something else out of his pocket.

She still couldn't speak, her heart thumping loudly in her chest in confusion and fear. What was he getting out?

There in his hand, was a small rag doll. Her blood ran cold as she frowned and looked closer at it. It's presence was simply horrific but it's origins untraceable. The doll's skin cloth was pale white, and it's clothes just a single black make-shift cloak. It's eyes were two-stitch black x's and it's mouth a criss-cross of red yarn.

In a weird way, it seemed to be grinning, or perhaps it was more of a sneer – fitting the person who was carrying it. But it was as if it was mocking her, cursing her. It was evil in ways she couldn't even begin to describe, and it was watching her... But no, dolls couldn't watch, or see for that matter.

So why did this doll look like it was?

She wanted to touch it, but the fear surrounding it made her want to run. She clutched back her hand, frightened that it would jump out and lunge at her, maybe even bite her.

It's just a rag doll, she convinced herself.

But another thought slipped in to crush her reassurance, Just a doll that Malfoy has.

In her bewilderment she didn't know what to do. So she did nothing again, her eyes turned back to Draco.

"What is that?" she asked cautiously.

"You'll know soon enough," he said simply, closing his hand around the doll to hide it from view. "Just tell me, can I trust you?"

The moment the doll was out of sight, she found strength in her words again.

"Can you trust me?" Ginny scoffed. "I believe the question is, can I trust you?"

"Okay," Draco said, folding his arm across his chest, the doll falling out of his grasp slowly. "Can you?"

"I...No!" She began to stand, and her eyes fell back onto the doll, it seemed to be laughing, eerie laughter that made her skin crawl. "What are you doing here?"

He snatched the doll before it fell. "I already told you, I need your help."

Everything seemed so surreal. What was with the doll? And why did it seem so...alive?

"My help? Why should I help you?" Her eyes fixed upon the doll though she did not realize it.

"Because no one else will."

She was thrown by his answer, she hadn't expected that. "What do you need help with, exactly?"

The doll, as if animated seemed to be pulling itself from Draco's hands. It was trying to escape!

No, it's not, you're mad.

The doll stopped moving, and Ginny realized she was staring at it intently – yet she knew every word of their conversation.

Why are you so concentrated on the doll?

Draco watched her eyes, and tucked the doll safely back into his pocket. Her mind seemed to be released immediately.

He spoke softly, each word very carefully put, "I need you to help me live."

She blinked in confusion and he stayed quiet, still blank faced, waiting for her reaction.

"Who's trying to kill you?" she asked, though she already had a pretty good idea.

"Loads of people, most of them you don't know," he stated. "I've made a lot of enemies in my time."

"Well I wonder, Malfoy," she said, eyes narrowing. Her anger and still embarrassment was coming to grips with her rather than her fear. "And why shouldn't I turn you in to the Ministry? Have you really switched sides?"

"Can we go somewhere else to talk? It's really up to you on whether you turn me in or not, I'm not going to stop you, just hear me out. And as for your second question, I'm just trying to do what's right, whatever that means. That's just how it is."

"You know, Malfoy, your cryptic answers aren't exactly making me want to listen to your explanations. Why don't you just answer like a normal person?"

"Because I'm not normal," he answered. "You of all people should know that. Now, are you going to hear me out or not?"

She paused, then nodded, if he really needed her help she just couldn't leave him to get killed. "Alright, but we talk here, out in the open."

"Bleeding inconvenience, but alright," he hissed under his breath.

"What's that mean?" she asked, her hands finding way to her hips in annoyance.

"Nothing," he said sharply. "Would you like to sit down for this?"

"I guess," she said.

Ginny sat, watching him gingerly sit, closing his eyes in pain as he did so.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

He clutched the doll in his pocket tightly, as if feeling its strength. "I don't think that's much of your concern right now," he said sharply.

She stared at him bewildered. Malfoy was just so...Malfoy. Here he was, asking for help, but still being a smug little bastard as always. How could he do that? Or had he just given up completely given up on false pretenses?

"Where did you go after the battle? Why did you flee?"

"I fled because I was not welcome. There or anywhere else."

She eyed him careful, and he sighed.

"I was thrown out of the Dark Lord's inner circle. He had me marked for death before he was defeated. That's why I'm in this state, I barely escaped Bellatrix and Snape; I fled to safety just a few miles away from here."

"Why are they so bothered with you?" she asked bluntly. "I think they probably value their own lives far over yours. Why seek you out when they're being hunted?"

"I have something that they want," he answered. "Something that could keep them alive."

She eyed the place where the doll was in his pocket. "That?"

He ignored her question. "I sought you out, hoping you'll help me. I'm not expecting you to or anything, Weaselette. I know you have much better things to be doing with your time, and fuck, who wants to help me? The dirty bastard Slytherin who destroys everything he touches. So, if you want to turn me in or send me away that's as much as I've come to expect; I was just hoping that you might think about it..."

A million questions filled her head again, but she didn't speak.

"The truth is, I came to you because I know that you'll help me. Or, you're more likely to help me than anyone else. You trusted me that night on the battlefield; I hope you can do that now."

"How did you know I was here?" Ginny asked, raising an eye.

"I...I did a spell," he admitted.

"You what?" Ginny asked astonished. "How? I mean – you can't do those spells without items specifically from the person...what do you have of mine?"

Draco sighed and then clenched his teeth for a moment. "Okay, here it is, Weasley, out in the open."

She watched him confused; What did that mean?

"Fuck," he cursed softly, not looking at her.

"What, Malfoy?" she said slowly.

"Okay, I...I – Shit," he murmured, then sputtered out, "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and you have more strength than anyone I've ever met. I've watched you ever since the first day back for our sixth year. Well, your fifth year."

"You, you what?" Ginny blinked is disbelief. "What are you-"

"It's not easy for me to say this, okay Weasley? I've tried to convince myself that it's just hatred, loathing, disgust; anything but how I feel. But I can't hide it for what it really is." He sighed again. Her mouth was starting to slacken in shock, and he shook his head quickly. "Okay, maybe the truth is I'm only telling you this now because I want you to help me, and if you know how I feel about you, then you might have a reason to help. If you think I'm mad, you're probably right, but I can't help but want you, and hope you'll want me."

Ginny's mouth fell open completely agape.

"Oh, Weasley put your mouth closed." Draco rolled his eyes. "It's not really that surprising is it?"

"Malfoy! Look who you're speaking to. You hate me. Our families hate each other. How is that not completely preposterous?"

"Maybe it is, maybe I'm just saying all of this to get you to save me. Really, all you need to know is that I'm on your side, and if you need me to help you, I'll do just that."

"So, you're just lying then, about liking me?"

"What do you think?"

"Merlin, Malfoy! Do you or don't you?"

"Will you or won't you help me?"

"I'm not going to let you get to me. Even if you do like me, my decision on helping you stands on you proving that I can trust you."

"Well, how can I do that?"

"Let me see your arm."

Draco's face looked pained, but he started to roll up his sleeve none-the-less.

"I guess you can just call up the Ministry then," he said, and his arm was revealed up to his bicep. His tone harsh and icy despite the words as he spoke, "By the way, it's not 'like', little Weasley, it's love."

Ginny's heart skipped, but her eyes were locked to his arm. There upon it, was the unmistakable mark of the Dark Lord.