AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This story was written almost three years ago, and is a prequel to my 'Him... a father?' series, which I just finished uploading on here. The writing isn't up to par with my current writing ... Well, I'd like to think that I've gotten better. I don't really remember this story, but people have definitely expressed an interest in me posting this. So I'll move it over slowly and format it to work on fanfiction.

If you don't like the couple, I don't mind. It's a weird pairing, but I don't need people telling me it's "disgusting" etc. I get that they would never be together in canon, but this is to explain why they were together in the previous series that I've posted. That's it!

You will also get to see Draco with his first wife, Joyce. So, I suppose there's a bit of their background in this story too. I think there's more background about everything that's happening before 'Him... a father?' started, but I haven't read this in a long time, so don't quote me on it.

So enjoy, if you're interested. If not, don't bother to read. (:

"Dean?" Ginny shouted, pulling her thick scarf around her neck, then stuffing it into her jacket, "C'mon! Let's get this over and done with!"

She shuffled around the entrance to Dean's bakery, then let out a huff, kicking a bit of slush off her boots. It was late December, and like most nights in the past week, Ginny and Dean were on night patrols for the Order. Although her assigned partner was adequate, she wished Harry and Minerva would stop giving her night tasks. First of all, it was dark, and currently, freezing outside. Because of this, Dean went into his usual habit of complaining about each and every little thing until the shift was over with. Their break-up in Ginny's fifth year had been awkward, and after a brief rekindling in her sixth year, and then another break-up, made things even more irritating for her.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he grumbled, stepping out of the back room and locking it, completely dressed in his warm clothing, "Our shift doesn't start for another ten minutes."

"Yeah, but if we start earlier, we can end earlier," she stated, pulling her scarf up a little more to cover her entire neck, "Then I can get to bed before five in the morning... I nearly fell asleep stacking books yesterday!"

Ginny had been hired to work at a book store in order to fill her spare time, and not look too suspicious, while also earning some Muggle money to spend around London. Most of the Order had found odd little jobs here and there. Dean worked in the bakery, Seamus at a sporting goods store, while Ron fleeted between the hardware factory and several fast food restaurants in the area.

"Lupin will kill you for waking him up ten minutes early," Dean snorted, pulling on a wooly grey hat, then a set of gloves, "But it's your funeral."

"Shut up and let's go," she grumbled, stepping through the glass door and out into the cold. The wind nipped at her exposed skin, making an attack on her freckled face and hands. With a soft grumble, she realized she had forgotten her gloves, but could not bring herself to ask Dean if he had a spare pair.

So, as Dean locked up his shop, and gingerly placed a few locking spells on all the doors and windows, Ginny moodily stuffed her hands into her coat pocket, hoping they would just stay warm in there.

"So where's our round tonight?" he asked gruffly. Ginny shrugged, then began to stomp her feet lightly on the ground, trying to get some blood flow back into them, "I think we're doing the graveyards in the suburbs."

"Great."

"Can we get a coffee though, first?" Ginny whined, glancing at the glowing Muggle store, Starbucks, her mouth instantly watering for one of their coffees. Dean rolled his eyes and gripped his wand, "No. What if we need to fight?"

"There hasn't been a duel on our shift for nearly a week!" she argued heatedly, her breath coming out in wisps in front of her face, "Please... It'd warm us up!"

"No."

"Who said you get to make all the choices anyway?" Ginny snarled as they walked to their designated apparation point, "Maybe we can do something I want for once!"

"We always do things you want," Dean snapped, turning into the alleyway and stopping beside a pair of metal trash cans, "I want to get this over and done with as soon as possible, alright?"

"Fine," she seethed, stepping in closer to him and folding her arms, "Fine. Let's just go, ok?"

"Fine by me, we'd only be doing our jobs."

Ginny stewed silently as Dean cast the apparation charms. Her temper around him was always so violent, and her brothers usually teased her about it, saying she had gotten it from her mother. Which, when she thought about it, was probably true. Not that it was a bad thing; her mother had all the male members of the family whipped into routine.

Once her world had stopped spinning, she found herself and Dean standing on an empty road, the dim lights from a few farm houses glowing in the distance. The cattle were all indoors, obviously, which meant it was going to be a very quiet night. Dean adjusted his coat, shoved his wand into hiding, then started along the side of the road, casually glancing into the forest every so often, or pausing to study an open field. Ginny always preferred to patrol in the city, but there had been too many Death Eater meetings out in the middle of nowhere, and by the time anyone from the Order caught wind of it, everything had been said and done, and the wizards were gone.

Ginny hurried up to keep the same pace, monitoring the other side of the road for activity. It was a relatively silent area, besides the doors opening from the farm houses. Sometimes they would spot a pair of children, clad in their snowsuits and leaping into snowdrifts. Other times, a man or woman would be trudging down their driveway to stuff a bag full of garbage into the trash can, then toddle back up to their homes. Muggles were always so interesting to watch. Many wizards, even some in her Order, never really took the time to appreciate them. Ginny did, and when she did notice them, she noted they were devilishly smart, and not to be taken lightly.

"You know Ron and Luna have been getting really close," Dean commented after some moments of complete silence, "You think they're gonna start dating or something?"

"I'd laugh if they did, but probably," Ginny replied, shrugging her shoulders, "Mum would be happy he finally found someone. All that's left to marry off is me and Charlie."

Ginny's brother Charlie was never really the marrying type. Since he had moved back to England, he had a few one-nighters with some of the girls he met, but usually preferred to stay single, since, apparently, women made his life stressful.

Ginny, on the other hand, was quite open to a relationship, as long as it was with the right person. So far, no one had really met her expectations. Harry came close, but he was still hesitant to date anyone, since many of his close friends, including herself, had already been targets for the Dark Lord to try and hurt. It hurt that Harry would not consider trying something again with her, but she had learned to move past it; she had to.

"Did you hear McGonagall offered Hermione a job to teach at Hogwarts?" Dean babbled, trying to keep some sort of conversation going between the pair, "She turned her down... I wonder why?"

"Hermione doesn't want to be locked up at school anymore," Ginny stated, firmly remembering her happy departure from the castle last June, "We finally finished... I think 'Mione'll work there, just not yet. We've all only been out two years, at the most."

"Hmm."

Oh, wonderful. The grunt meant he really had nothing more to say, and would wait until Ginny started up the conversation again. She usually didn't, unless she really needed to, which seemed to bother him.

All the more reason to do it. Ginny grinned.

Their shift continued on uneventfully, and when Ginny felt her toes turning numb, she glanced at her watch, noting they had five minutes left, "Let's just leave! I'm freezing!"

"We need to complete a full shift, or Harry's going to grill me again," Dean grumbled, rolling his eyes,

"Honestly... I dunno who made him king."

"Dumbledore," Ginny intoned in a matter-of-fact sort of voice, raising her nose at him, "Don't you remember his will?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything promised to Harry," Dean droned, "Including Dumbledore's position. I remember."

"Funny to hear the name Dumbledore..." a low voice hissed behind Ginny, "Such a loss for the Order."
Ginny followed Dean's lightning quick reaction and whipped out her wand, then turned back to the voice, finding not one, but atleast five robed men behind her, all their wands trained at the pair.

"Evening," one chuckled, "A pair of Phoenixes out for a stroll?"

"We're enjoying such a lovely night," Ginny snarled, making out the sound of Lucius Malfoy's voice when he spoke to her. Talked down was more like it. Dean stiffened beside her, then made a move to step in front of her, but she glared at him, causing him to remain where he was. Dean cleared his throat,

"What do we owe the pleasure of being in the company of such fine gentlemen... like yourselves?"

"Just out for a walk," a young voice chimed, "Out for a lovely evening."

"Among other things..." a cold voice, a new voice, hissed, causing the five Ginny had counted to step aside. She had caught sight of the dark Lord Voldemort only once since he had changed into his new form. Before, all she had known him to be was Tom, her very handsome Tom. Now, however, he was horrible. Moonlight skin that would make the stars envious, and piercing maroon eyes that caused Ginny to shake under their very gaze.

Dean inhaled sharply, and Ginny noticed his hand falter while gripping his wand. Ginny decided it would have to be her that made the first move, "May I ask why you're here? We're primary members... I don't see why you'd even associate with us."

"I'm glad you know your place, little blood traitor," he purred, "However, I have a task for you, something that I'm sure a primary member can handle."

Dean finally remembered he owned a voice, and spoke up, "What can we do for you?"

Ginny shot him a glare, wondering why on Earth he would give in so easily, but his eyes read he wasn't ready for a fight. Now that she really thought about it, she wasn't ready for a fight. She was standing in the middle of nowhere, freezing her arse off. If they weren't going to hurt either of them, then the pair may as well do what Voldemort wanted.

"Such a polite young man," Voldemort laughed, shooting an amused smirk back to his followers, "I want you to give this to Minerva McGonagall." He thrust a letter into Dean's hand swiftly, "Don't read it... It's for her eyes only. Understood?"

"Yes," Dean hissed through gritted teeth, stuffing the letter into his pocket, "We'll just be off then."

"Now, now, now, don't be hasty," Voldemort chuckled, raising his wand once again at the pair, "Malfoy... How many people does it take to deliver a letter?"

"One, my Lord."

"Good, and how many does to take to hold hostage for some extra... leverage?"

Ginny's eyes widened when he looked directly at her, and she stiffened when Lucius replied, "One."
Dean stepped in front of her suddenly, "I don't think we need to make this a hostage situation... I'm sure McGonagall will do what you ask?"

"Are you now?" Voldemort snickered, waving his Death Eaters forward, "I'm not, and need some... insurance."

A heavy hand clamped down on her arm, and she lashed out, slamming her fist into the mask painfully. However, the pain must have been shared, as her captor suddenly released her and stumbled backward, clutching his face.

Before her mind could even think of a spell to use, she was screaming on the ground, her body shaking as a curse ravaged it brutally. Her world fell into darkness, and she heard Dean let out a muffled cry. Defeated, Ginny rolled onto her stomach, trying to protect to more venerable parts of her body. However, a savage kick to the side by a thick boot caused her to let out a gasp as the wind was knocked out of her lungs. When her beating finally ceased, she glanced up through oddly heavy eyelids, and she noticed, to her shock, that Dean was gone. He had just left her! Left her to die with them!

"Get her up," Voldemort hissed as a rough pair of hands seized Ginny by the arms. She groaned weakly and watched as a Death Eater scooped up her forgotten wand on the ground, pocketing it. A cold hand cupped her chin harshly and turned her face to the side, as if someone was examining her. Ginny brought her eyes back in to focus, and swallowed thickly when she noticed how close Voldemort was standing to her. Mustering whatever she had left, she spat at him.

Oh, it was worth the Muggle beating she received for it. She had gotten used to rough housing, since she did grow up with an army of brothers, but this was brutal. Her lower lip was swollen, and her nose felt broken after the boot that collided with it. The numbness that was once solely in her toes had spread up to most of her body, and she barely heard Voldemort rasp out for his followers to cease.

"She's still Dumbledore's girl," he mused, standing over her and rolling her onto her back with his foot, "At least she's a Pureblood... You're hands won't be sullied."

"She's a blood traitor though," someone snapped, causing Voldemort to look in their direction sharply, "She... She turned her back on us."

"I know you want to kill her, Avery," Voldemort toned silkily, "But what good is she dead?"

"What good is she alive?"

Ginny recognized that voice; Severus Snape. The very same condescending voice that taunted and sneered at her for years during school. He sounded slightly different, but perhaps that was because she had not seen him in almost a year and a half.

But by Gods how she loathed him.

"She's insurance," Voldemort replied casually, "If McGonagall disagrees, we can kill her. Slowly. Perhaps we'll find some Phoenix to watch... I'm sure it would be a good time."

How could someone speak about another human's life so casually? Ginny tried to sit up, but for some reason her head wouldn't stop spinning.

"And if they agree? What do we do with her?"

"Giving her back would make a bit of a mockery..."

She wished she could have heard the rest, but her world began to fuzz over, including the sounds around her, and before she knew it, she had passed out.

Ugh. Her head was pounding when she finally came round, and as she opened her eyes, she noted everything was still a little blurry. For nearly ten minutes she lay on whatever soft surface she had been placed on, and each time she tried to move her face, she whimpered. They hadn't actually healed her. Well, the nose was fixed, as it was no longer gushing blood, but all the cuts and such were still there, but now they were scabs, no longer fresh. It made her wonder how long she had been sleeping there.

Clutching her tender face, she eased herself up, taking in the small room. There were large, floor-length windows, covered by white curtains, which seemed to light up the room with the moons glow. It was still dark out, and as she got up to explore, she realized what she was one.

Nearly all the walls were made of glass, and covered in similar type curtains. From what she had seem, there was a kitchen with the basic necessities, a bathroom attached to her bedroom, and a sitting room with a bookshelf and a writing desk. Other then that, there was nothing. No upstairs, no spare rooms; she was in a bloody guest cottage.

There was a door leading outside from each room, but all were, of course locked. At first, she tried pounding on the glass, hoping it was weak enough to break. When that failed, she began throwing books at them, then slamming the small, wooden chairs against her barrier, letting out a frustrated sob when nothing gave way. Magic was the only answer. It must have been holding everything together.
Purely out of anger, she ripped all the curtains off her windows, tearing them to shreds. For some reason, the white material just bothered her, and they needed to be out of her sight. Next, she moved onto the books, dragging them off the shelves and glaring at the title, screaming when she noted they were all Muggle books - science fictions, romances, horror, everything Muggle!

She began ripping books off the shelf, angered at this sick sense of mockery. The last book on the shelf, To Kill a Mockingbird was the final straw, and she grabbed it. Frustrated, Ginny took a seat on the hard couch and began tearing out the pages, one by one, and tossing them onto the floor. Once she had finished, she hurled the empty cover at her glass walls that held her in the imprisonment. A shrill scream finally escaped her lips and she glared at the walls; silently cursing them with every fiber in her.

"Well, well, well, looks like our little Phoenix doesn't appreciate what we've given her."

Ginny barely heard Voldemort's soft voice as she was roused from her fretful sleep. When she was finally more conscious, she decided it would be best if she remained where she was; sprawled out across the couch.

"Perhaps she would be more comfortable in a cell?" Voldemort mused, and Ginny flinched when she felt a finger gently touch her hair. She gingerly opened her eyes, then jumped when she stared directly up into a maroon pair of orbs glaring at her, "Morning, princess."

Ginny pushed herself up and slid down to the end of the couch, taking in the sight of Voldemort, Severus Snape and Fernir Greyback standing around her, all eyes glaring.

Why on Earth Greyback was there she had no idea. From all her knowledge, Greyback usually stayed with his kind, and left the wizards be. However, there had been a lot of clampdowns and arrests on the werewolf community in the recent past, so perhaps Greyback felt he needed some sort of protection.

"Where am I?" she demanded, her voice strained, though coming out strong, despite the frightening figures looming over her. Fernir's face hardened, "You're sitting on my couch in my guest house... That you so wonderfully made your own."

Ginny shifted awkwardly, and she suddenly realized her jacket, scarf and boots were missing, something she had sort of ignored last night during her blind rage.

"Your silence stuns me, Phoenix," Voldemort sneered, clasping his hands behind his back, "We have such a big day for you... Don't we?"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied, almost automatically, his face pale with a non-caring glow. Ginny glanced around the glass walls, her eyes catching one of the doors. If the three had gotten in, why would they lock them? If she could get to them and make a run for it, perhaps she could escape.

"There are several tests we plan to run on you today," Voldemort explained placidly, almost enjoying the way the blood drained from Ginny's face, "I'm interested to see how much the human body can stand, and we haven't had such a nice test subject in quite some time."

"Can't you just get a Muggle?" Ginny spat, hating the way the words came out of her mouth nearly as much as the idea behind it. Voldemort smiled, "Now, now, that would require me going out and finding a strong enough one. No, you'll do."

Ginny wailed as her body shook on the stone floor of a cell. She was boiling, yet freezing. Her skin was being stretched, yet at the same time it felt too tight on her body. They had been testing spells out on her all day, and slowly, she knew it was killing her.

"Please!" she begged, arching her back off the floor, her cheeks tight from the tears that stained them, "Please, no more!"

She wasn't Harry. She wasn't strong enough to handle anything that was thrown at her, and she could accept that. This was too much.

"I thought the Order would have broken them in more," Greyback sneered, kicking a bit of dust in her face as he and Snape circled her, "You were there, Snape... Don't they torture them a bit first?"

"It's highly unlikely many of them will ever feel real pain," Snape murmured, "Some of the younger ones are so fortunate."

Ginny finally felt the curses end, but she still ached. With a whimper, she dragged her body toward the wall, resting against it weakly.

"You think he'll let us kill her?" Greyback inquired, his voice dripping with amusement. She heard Snape clear his throat, "I don't know, nor do I care. I'm finished here."

"Aw, c'mon Snape," Fernir called as Snape crossed the room toward the door, "She's not even bleeding yet!"

"I have night rounds," Snape snarled, his black eyes darting up to Fernir's face, "And I need some sleep... Do what you wish to her, I don't care."

Ginny's eyes widened as Fernir turned on her sharply, his wand raised to her face, "Oh, trust me, I will."