Green Philosophy of a Prince
The walls of the cell hummed with the moans and cries of her fellow prisoners. She had been placed alone far from the other occupants of the dungeons. Ginny lay shivering and desperate on the floor of her cell. She had heard no word from the resistance since her capture or some comfort that Harry was alive.
The attack had failed miserably. It had only intended to be a small and clean cut attack on the Goyle mansion to retrieve any plans that the deatheaters may have for the next year. It was well-known that many meetings were held in the area. The deatheaters rule over the wizarding world allowed them to be as open as they felt the need. No one resisted them….except, of course, the Order's resistance.
It seemed that the Dark Lord had been fore-warned of the Order's plans because the carefully planned attack turned into an ambush. They had even known the exact positioning of each apparation point in the local area. It had been like plucking flies from a net as each member of the resistance was captured the moment they appeared.
A hand had snaked round her mouth and ropes twisted round her unsuspecting body as she was dragged to the ground.
Ginny's capture was a great triumph to the deatheaters that year. Ginny's capture, girlfriend of the great Harry Potter and initiator of numerous attacks, would have been a victory for of any of her enemies, of which she had many.
Since that day, Ginny had sat in her cell, cried, slept and eaten little. Her most regular visitors were the slaves that brought the food and an interrogator. This person varied from day to day, but the pain and wounds that she suffered from these visits was always the same dull and throbbing ache. This was one of the few things that she could depend on. The pain that they initiated never served enough to break her into submission. It was never enough to tell the Order's location or it's members.
No matter how hard they tried, Ginny would not speak. They could not afford to destroy her or drive her to madness as it was her valuable information that they desperately needed.
The pain served a purpose for Ginny though. The daily doses reminded her that she was still flesh and blood. She was still alive and although not whole, she was at least breathing and perhaps of some use to the order yet.
……………………
Ginny lay curled on the floor, arms wrapped around her bruised ribs. Footsteps echoed down the corridor and paused outside her cell. A male voice muttered a spell and the door swung open. The man stepped inside and paused for a moment. Ginny lay still, afraid to turn round or stand. The man was not prepared to wait, however, and stooping, grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into a standing position.
Raising her head slowly, she recovered all the dignity that she could muster and stared Draco Malfoy in the eye. She held his gaze and straightened her shoulders, drawing herself up to her tallest height. This had little effect, however, as he towered over her small body his shadow fell across her pale skin.
His face was set, emitting no indication of emotion. The pause gave Ginny no preparation for the tumult of curses that flew towards her. Her back hit the cell wall behind and she slide to the cold floor dazed. Her body was lifted through the air and flung towards the opposite wall. Her shirt was torn and her skirt had ridden up her legs, but she did not attempt to recollect her dignity. She was too used to this by now and had no energy to fight...but she would not betray Harry. Her body lay there, unmoving, waiting for the next curse.
But it did not come. Instead, Draco walked arrogantly towards her and bending down, pulled her skirt back down till it covered her thighs. Ginny did not move, but wondered what was going through his mind. She no longer feared for her safety, but she would like some warning.
Draco then straightened up, stepped over her body and walked out of the cell. Ginny was left, her heart racing from the pain cursing through her body as old wounds opened up on her shoulders.