AN: Pride of Portree
Beater 1: What would life be like a week after Voldemort rises to power?
Optional Prompts: (word) allegiance, (word) moonlight, (dialogue) "Who cares? We could be dead in a couple of hours."
In One Week
On the very same day Voldemort had won the war, Death Eaters and other supporters of the Dark Lord had wreaked havoc whilst celebrating.
A week later, and it was the same.
Except now, many of them were fast returning from their celebrations. And they had jobs to do.
Ginny curled her fingers, gripping the grimy, old blanket with her numb fingers; she didn't want it to blow away. It was freezing in the old barn and Ginny's clothes weren't much protection against the elements, having been torn and dirtied after a week of hectic living in them.
The old barn was the eighth place she had come to find herself in the past week; she'd had to move twice a few days ago when she had seen the Dark Mark hanging in the sky close by. Morsmordre was only cast by those who supported Voldemort.
The wind battered against the rotten planks of wood holding the building up, chilling her to the bone. She cowered into a corner of the barn, the only space that seemed to not be illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the missing planks of wood on the roof and walls.
It was looking to be an uneventful night, but she couldn't be sure of it enough to relax. And so, her shoulders remained hunched and her legs burned with the sensation of needles from being forced to stay so still.
She watched as the sky changed colour from the pitch dark night to a dark blue. Ginny only allowed herself to move once she could see a pink glow; as ironic as it seemed, daylight was safer than the night. She remembered the times she had woken up extra early to practice flying before breakfast. The sky had the same rosy tinge as it had back then… if only the world was the same.
She shuddered as her mind flicked to what were released on nights… those who thought it was safer to travel by the cover of darkness soon found that they were mistaken. The snapping twigs behind them, the roars, the howls, the feeling of desperate desolation—those were what the night now held. Not safety and not cover. There was only the danger of being caught—or the danger of being killed. There was probably a greater risk of being tracked by the creatures Voldemort released on a night than there was of getting tracked by a Death Eater.
She dragged herself up from the floor, wincing at the stiffness in her legs. It would be best for her to stretch them in the relative safety of the barn before going out into the open. If she was going to be chased, she wouldn't stand a chance of getting away.
Today, she was going to be travelling. Her supplies had run out and her clothes were in desperate need of replacement. She knew that the Muggle money she was carrying with her was only going to last her this shopping trip, but she knew that it was necessary to get food, drink and clothes if she was going to survive for any longer.
She pulled her greasy hair up and tucked it under the hat she had been wearing for the past few days. It was dirty, but her flaming orange hair would be far too recognisable to anyone hunting her.
The town was a few miles away and without the aid of magic—it was far too easy to track—she was going to have to walk. Taking her first steps out of the barn, Ginny began the arduous journey to the Muggle town.
Having finally reached her destination, Ginny traipsed into the first shop she saw. It was for outdoor clothing with a mannequin modelling a silver, puffy coat in the window. It looked durable… but she would have to carry it during the day. It was almost summer after all.
This was going to be a long day.
After shopping for clothes, and receiving more than a few dirty looks for her haggard appearance, Ginny turned to the supermarket. As if it could sense where she was looking, her stomach growled.
There were rows upon rows of food; despite it only having been a week since she had been in hiding, Ginny had only been living on meagre rations. She hadn't realised just how difficult it was without her mother's cooking or Hogwarts' extravagant meals. But seeing all of this food before her, she was reminded of yet another thing she had given up when she had gone into hiding. It seemed like such a small thing, food, but to Ginny, it was everything that home was.
The smell of the bread on display made her mouth water as it brought forth a wave of emotion. Her mum used to bake homemade bread, and the scent of it reminded her of the warm, cosy nights in the Burrow. She pulled herself away from the section, picking up one loaf to buy. It would probably last her a couple of days.
Onwards she moved, now in the spices section. There was a multitude of colours here: red, green, platinum blond—her heart stopped. Had it been her eyes playing tricks on her or had she actually seen that flash of blond hair in the gap in the shelf? Ever so slowly, Ginny crept to the end of the aisle she was stood in and peeped around the corner to see into the next one. There was nobody there, but still, her racing heart would not still. Was she simply being paranoid? Or had there really been a Malfoy in the Muggle supermarket? She wanted to get out; she didn't feel safe.
She paid for her food, the loaf of bread and a jar of jam that she had picked up in her haste. Then she paid for her drink, a large smoothie for as much nutrition as she could get without having to carry lots of fruit.
Once she left the supermarket, Ginny looked around the busy street; there was nobody there either. Shaking her head, she followed signs to find the public toilets. She needed to change into her new clothes; carrying them around would be extra weight that she didn't need.
The toilets were reasonably clean, so when she entered the cubicles she set her purchases on the floor. As quickly as she could, she pulled off the dirty, old clothes that she was wearing and changed into the new ones, slipping her wand into her pocket once she had finished. Just as she was picking her carrier bag of food from the floor, she heard the creak of the toilet door opening. For a moment she froze, then she shook her head at herself. It was probably just a Muggle shopper; she needed to relax.
Ginny unlocked the cubicle door and stepped out in front of one of the two sinks. The mirror above the sink only confirmed what she already knew about her appearance; she looked terrible. Her face was grimy and her hair—she had taken off the hat whilst changing—was caked with dirt. She was glad that she was in a bathroom. It gave her a chance to have a quick wash. Ginny turned on the tap and ran her hands underneath it, relishing the warmth she hadn't felt in an entire week. Springs and rainwater could not compare to this.
Once her hands were clean, Ginny bent down to wash her face with water. She splashed water on her face three times, scrubbing hard, and then stood up straight again. As she dabbed her face dry with her sleeve, she was able to open her eyes.
It was as if everything happened in slow motion. As her vision cleared, she looked in the mirror and there, stood behind her, was none other than Draco Malfoy.
She acted on instinct, pulling out her wand and pointing it at the tap. When the spell left her lips, it exploded, sending a shower of water up into the air. If she had already been tracked, then using magic wouldn't make a difference—if anything, it would increase her chances of getting away.
Soaked through, she dashed to the toilet door, successfully wrenching it open. But just as she was about to run out, she felt a hand close around her wrist and a tug in her stomach. Side-Along Apparation.
When she felt her feet touch solid ground again, Ginny stumbled. She felt someone grabbing at her but she fell to the floor anyway. She had braced herself for some measure of pain, but to her surprise, she had fallen onto carpet. Where was she?
She struggled back to her feet but before she could point her wand at Draco, he disarmed her with a simple Expelliarmus, sending her wand flying out of her hand before it skittered across the floor.
Ginny grit her teeth. "Where are we?"
"We're in my home," he said, his voice so casual that she almost didn't believe that he had snatched her from a public toilet only moments ago. When she didn't reply, he sighed. "There's a bathroom upstairs. I suggest you use it." When she didn't move, he scowled. "If you want to look like a competent pureblood witch then clean yourself up so the Dark Lord can declare you worth living."
He was going to take her to see Voldemort? Ginny suppressed her shudder and stuck her chin in the air. "Why do you even want me alive? I'm a blood-traitor, remember?" she asked, realising that not cooperating with Draco was not going to get her anywhere. Where does your allegiance lie? she thought, trying to wrap her brain around the first riddle she had come across out of hiding. If it was with Voldemort then you wouldn't be helping me to stay alive.
"I could not care less as to whether you live or die. I could replace you with any other pureblood witch or wizard and I would still be rewarded for turning someone in—"
"So you're just bargaining people off to stay in the Dark Lord's good books?" she asked in disbelief. "Does it not weigh on your conscience? Or have you just become that much of an unfeeling bastard?"
"There isn't any time for consciences in this new world, Weasley. Really, who cares? We could be dead in a couple of hours. Consciences are not my or anyone else's main concern anymore." She was shocked and she knew that he could tell that she was. Nevertheless, he continued, "As I was saying before talks of consciences came up, you just have a slight edge over the others. A Weasley—on the side of the light." He snorted at the word, and she wondered if the pursuit of it had become so hopeless that it seemed ridiculous to onlookers. He continued, oblivious to her inner musing, "The question is, why have you been on the run when the rest of your scum family—"
"Do not insult my family, Malfoy," she warned.
"Get ready," he snapped.
She considered defying him, but if she complied and survived her meeting with Voldemort, there was a chance that she could find her family and friends. And perhaps, she could even inspire them to fight again.
They had Apparated again. Only this time, she knew where they had landed. Voldemort's manor.
The moment Draco let go of her arm she stepped back and looked at her surroundings; from what she could see the decor was in blacks and dark greys, but she could not see anything else for the lighting was sparse, the candles casting deep shadows in the corners of the room. She gritted her teeth as she felt Draco kick her leg, making her stumble forwards.
"We do not want to keep the Dark Lord waiting," he hissed.
"We will be keeping the Dark Lord waiting if you kick me again," she ground out.
She heard a click and was pushed into a corner of the room. She expected to hit a wall but instead she fell into darkness. Her groan from hitting a solid floor quickly turned into a gasp as she heard a voice whisper. "Miss Weasley," said the voice. She didn't need to be told who was speaking; she knew it was Voldemort. "I must say it is pleasant to find another pureblood witch. I feared that there were no more of you." She heard a swishing of robes but no footsteps. It was unnerving—seeing how silently he could move. He could strike at any second, and she would be completely unaware. "I have only one question for you." Ginny jumped back in surprise; the voice was much closer than before. "Were you alone?"
Ginny took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. "Yes," she answered, proud that her voice didn't tremor.
"You say, 'My Lord' whenever you address me, Miss Weasley."
Ginny shuddered at the strained voice; it sounded like he was barely containing his anger. "Yes, my Lord," she said. Had everyone else been worn down just as easily? A feeling of shame ran up her spine. She was disgusted at herself for submitting so easily.
"Good, Miss Weasley. You are learning quickly. Now, you aren't lying to me, are you?" he asked.
"No, my Lord." Despite her answer being truthful, she felt Voldemort invade her mind. He wasn't subtle, or gentle. He simply tore through her memories—her life. He must have been satisfied with what he saw for he pulled out abruptly, and she slumped forward in relief.
"You are free to go, Miss Weasley," he said. "However, you must visit the Ministry of Magic to register within our new society. I will find out if you don't follow this instruction." And with that, she was pulled out of the dark room by a strong hand. When it was pitch black anymore, Ginny looked back to see who it was. Draco.
He sneered at her. "I guess we part ways here, Weasley."
"I guess that we do."
She left the manor, and stepped into a world that she had always known, now completely transformed within a week.