It's one of those nights. The type where you sit in a quiet corner and stare into space, remembering the good times and the bad times of the past. The type where you laugh and cry at the same time because someone you loved dearly is now gone; where you want to scream and rage at the one who made your life hell. I had plenty of people to scream over, and plenty more to cry over…
Curled up on the cold stone of my cell, I pressed my back against the wall. I shivered from the cold seeping into the torn and worn clothes I have been wearing for the last few weeks. My eyes, I know for a fact, are unblinking and wide. I have perfected the appearance of a woman driven insane. Perhaps I am insane now, and that is why I am remembering everything…everyone. Everyone I had not seen since the surprise attack on the Burrow.
The middle of an Order meeting…the room burst into flames. Harry, Ron, Hermione….my family…Harry. The screams haunt my dreams to this very night. The fear and terror on their faces rise up out of my subconscious every time I close me eyes. And that is why I perfected my look, my eyes wide so they will never be tempted to close; unblinking so they will never be closed for even a nanosecond. "Run! Run! Run!"
A deep shiver runs down my spine. Harry… All of them, so young… Coughing came from all directions. No one could see… No one could continue talking… we couldn't see…Harry… Even the members from the First War were captured, or burned to death.
"Ginevra," croaked a voice. Sirius. My eyes burned with the need to closed, to see his face and imagine him at a better time. "Go! Quick… we can't be saved; take the folders to the American ministry… Voldemort must be stopped by someone…" …Anyone. That was what he wanted to say. He had died so suddenly, an Avada Kedavra bursting in the window. It had barely missed me. It had hit him though.
Sirius, who had survived Azkaban and had the strength to go through torture day after day. Sirius was the one who was used to no meals, no water for days; he could last here in ways I could not. His eyes stared unseeingly, glassy, at me. I could see the terror written on my face as clearly as if they were mirrors….mirrors…twins…Fred and George…the twins!
No! I cannot let that night return to me again. Not tonight. Tonight I need to focus, but it's oh so hard! A year ago tonight was my first kiss with Harry. New Year's eve with the fireworks booming loudly and brightly above us. Everyone else grabbed the closest person to them; Harry was right next to me. I reached up carefully and….
The room was in flames before Harry had even finished talking enough to order the fire put out. The flames leaped up high as they devoured papers and latched onto clothing. "Har-" the cry tore from my lips as the floor shook and I tumbled to the ground. Harry…the twins ran from the room, firing jinxes towards the front door…Harry! No!…He lay dead in front of me. He had been reaching for me, to pull me out of the crossfire.
Go away! I don't want to remember that night!
Hermione danced carefree in front of us. Luna and I were laughing with our hands clasped as we threw our arms around our own walking encyclopedia. "Mione," Luna said with a giggle, "have we told you how much we love you?"
"Not recently," Hermione laughed, hugging us back. I tucked my head on her shoulder with a smile. Since mum died Hermione had been there through everything. She had arranged a proper funeral when there was no time for one; she set up Percy's and Audrey's wedding; helped delivery Fleur's first child, Adelina.
"Well, we do. You are the best woman on the planet," I grinned, "and I am sure my charming brother would agree." I released her from the hug and shoved her gently into the arms of my brother Fred.
My heart twisted with longing and my eyes burned worse than they ever had before. Tears? Not possible after so long with my eyes dried. I swore to never shed a tear over any of them again. Not until they were avenged. I am not ready to strike, not yet. I couldn't be. Could I? No, impossible. I am too weak, too tiny, too wandless to strike back. I…
"Look, Malfoy, it's a teeny tiny weasel scared from her den," a coarse voice guffawed in my ear tauntingly. I was held by my hair so high my toes barely touched the ground. Lucius Malfoy smirked in front of me, catching my chin and purring, "No need to be scared. We aren't going to hurt you….if you cooperate."
"Go to hell." I spat, voice raw from the smoke from the fire. It still raged behind us. I could smell the burning flesh of the dead, hear the screams of those still inside. Was I the only one taken out?
"I vacation there, Miss Weasley," he responds coolly before pointing his wand at my face. "Goodnight, Miss Weasley."
Everything had gone black after those famous last words of his. I still do not know if I was the only one taken from the burning home. I am never allowed out of this cell, and Malfoy will never reveal anything to me on his 'visits'. Every Monday at midnight I would be graced with his presence and we would 'work for a compromise' for both our situations. His situation is he's in trouble with Voldemort for not having any information on hidden Order members; my situation is being locked in this cell to rot.
"Miss Weasley," the cold voice flies to my ears from beyond the door right to the second. I do not give him the pleasure of responding, not even when he comes in and glares sharply at me. If looks could kill…well, I am already dead, so it would not matter. "One typically greets another back. Shall we have another lesson in manners?"
"Ginevra," croaked a voice, "Go! Quick… we can't be saved; take the folders to the American ministry… Voldemort must be stopped by someone…"
"Anyone," I murmured. I lifted my eyes to the man before me; dull brown met malicious grey in a silent battle of will, and Malfoy let me win. A false victory to inspire faith of him in me. It will not work, just as it had not worked the week before nor the week before nor the week before, and so on. "Do you need something, Mr. Malfoy?"
"So you finally decided to talk?"
I stare up at him, "Talking is a waste of breath when done by a filthy blood traitor like me, is it not?"
It is time to strike. I can not deny it. Three months, three months, since I have walked in the sun, since my friends and family were murdered. My little niece had been inside that house, and this man…I will not even start on this man in front of me.
He smirks, "At least you can learn, unlike your brothers." His words shock me into blinking, and he notices his own small triumph for blinking is as much an expression of dismay to me as crying and begging is for anyone else I hear down in these dungeons.
"I live to please," I say, voice monotonous but the sarcasm is clear in my eyes.
Lucius Malfoy snorts and kneels down in front of me, assessing me. "You have not eaten. Again." he comments. It is one of those odd comments he makes at times, as if he truly cares, when visiting me in my lowly cell that makes me wonder what he was hoping for, for saving me from the fire. A thank you?
"There's no need to," I offered him a shrug of my shoulder.
"No need?"
"Exactly, no need."
"There's no need to get so worked up," Harry laughed at me, "The Death Eaters wouldn't be able to find us if we stood naked in front of them."
"Not an image I wanted," I grumbled, wrinkling my nose. "Shouldn't we check with our spy, though? Something tells me we're in danger! Sirius can feel it, Remus can feel it; Tonks, Mione, Luna, dad, me…we all feel it, Harry!"
Harry shook his head and rest his hands on my shoulder, almost like I was a patient in a psych ward. He spoke to me like I could barely understand his language, "No need, Gin. Okay? We are safe, it's been confirmed You-Know-Who doesn't know where we are. C'mon, we're late for the meeting." Leading me by the hand down into the kitchen, Harry whispered reassurances and I simply sighed at him.
Entering the room, my eyes sought Sirius's. The light in his eyes faded as he read my message clear: Harry did not believe us. I watched as he turned and whispered the news to Tonks and Remus, and I walked over to Hermione and Luna on the other side of the table. We whispered to each other about how we could convince Harry to heed our warnings; half way through the meeting, I was called on to speak. I stood and opened my mouth, then fire. Flames erupting all over the room, windows blowing in, screams from Order members; shouts to find our way out and quick.
"Ginevra?" I blinked a few times as Malfoy came back into focus, visions of the past fading away once more. His eyebrows were knitted together as he eyed me. "You spaced out again," he commented.
I did not deem a reply necessary. He would just taunt me with it, I was sure of that. But I could not help a nagging feeling... How does he notice these miniscule moments?
"What do you see when you do?" Malfoy asked, cocking his head in amusement and…was that pity in his eyes? Hurt? "Do you see their deaths? That last night your friends lived? Do you remember what was spoken of at that last meeting?" This was the usual. Him and his would try to drag out information on what the Order had known since someone besides myself supposedly survived and got our records out and to America. I had not been out of here since that night, but I was kept updated; their cruelest form of torture. "Are their faces as hideously pale in your memories as they were when dragged from your burning headquarters; eyes as empty?"
"Screw you," I whispered, lifting my eyes to meet his as I slammed my fist into his gut. He doubled over onto the ground and I brought my other hand out from behind me, a heavy piece of rock I had carved from the wall clasped in it, and slammed it down on his head. "Go. To. Hell. You. Asshole."
I punctuated each word with another hit, watching the blood spurt out from the gashes in his head beneath the caving in skull. I dropped the rock as I took in that I just murdered someone. And not just someone, Lucius Malfoy. I murdered my captor, my torturer, and my only visitor.
I scooted away from him and stared. Catching my reflection in a puddle of water, I saw my eyes were wide and wild, crazed; my hair was knotted and curling dirtily around my face and shoulders; my complexion pale and gaunt. I looked insane and felt it, too.
"Lucius?" I whispered at his still form. I waited. And I waited. And I waited some more until I realized I was holding my breath and I was about to pass out. Then I crawled over slowly and patted down his robes in search for his wand. I had to act now. Someone would come in in search of him and see his body, and they would know I killed him. And I would be killed, too. I was so tired though, so very tired; attacking him took all my energy. It was all I had…
His wand in hand, I curled up near his body, only because I was too exhausted to move away from it again, and closed my eyes. For once, I did not see the faces of my family and friends swimming before my eyes. Instead, I heard the tolling of a far-away clock marking midnight as even my thoughts faded away.
I opened my eyes to blinding whiteness. That was not expected in a cell underground. I clamped them shut once more, groaning in pain as I rolled over. Then I realized: I was not laying on the cold hard ground, nor was I wearing rags. Gasping in shock, I sat up, eyes flying open and taking in the Hospital Wing.
"No…" I whispered. It was a nightmare, a waking dream…something. It had to be.
"What're you….What are you doing up?" hollered a younger Madame Pomphrey in shock. "Lay back down immediately, young lady!"
"Pomphrey?" I asked, staring at her, "Poppy Pomphrey?"
The medi-witch blinked at me. "Yes, yes, that's me." She walked over stiffly and began mixing potions together. As soon as she was in reach, I threw my arms weakly around her, "Oh, I never thought I'd see anyone again!"
"Young lady, remember yourself," she cleared her throat though she was blushing from the obvious compliment. "Lay back immediately, and take your potions there. I shall go get the headmaster."
"Dumbledore?"
"Yes, Dumbledore, child, who else?"
I curled under the blanket and cuddled back into the pillows as the medi-witch departed. I eyed the potions on the table warily; I have had bad experiences with potions given by that witch, and I also could not be sure this was not an illusion created by Voldemort. I was ready to stand up and try to escape, but my legs would not hold me up and I collapsed to the floor.
"Brilliant," I muttered at myself, face palming.
I laid on the floor and stared at the white ceiling, trying to think up an excuse for Madame Pomphrey when she comes back to find me on the floor instead of in my bed, potions still not drunk on the table.
"Hello?" a voice called, the hospital wing's door creaking open. "Madame P? We got a problem here…"
"She's gone to get the headmaster," I called back without thought. Suddenly three heads popped around the side of the curtain: sloppy black hair that reminded me of Harry with bright blue eyes, shoulder length, curly hair and blue eyes, and sandy blond-brown with brown eyes. They stared at me on the floor in the hospital gown.
"Dude, the rumors were true!" the middle boy said, tossing his long hair back. "Mystery girl does exist."
I scoffed, "Can you help me back onto the bed, then treat me like an observation later?" The brown-eyed boy stepped forward wordlessly and helped me up. "Thanks. I'm Ginny... O'Connor."
"Sirius Black, at your service, m'lady," the second boy bowed dramatically.
The first boy waved, "James Potter, Miss Ginny."
The boy who helped me up offered a tiny smile, "Remus Lupin."
I stared at them. James, Sirius, and Remus…three of the four Marauders. The biggest pranksters of Hogwarts history; Harry's dad, godfather, and their friend. All standing in front of me. That would mean…
"What's the date?" I asked hurriedly, heart racing. "How long have I been out?"
"It's January 6th, 1977," Sirius said, producing a folded newspaper from his bag and passing it to me. Five days ago I killed Lucius Malfoy…or twenty years from five days ago I will kill him. I took the paper and frowned in disbelief at the headlines. Fudge won the seat of Minister of Magic; Dumbledore celebrates his tenth year as headmaster; Lily Evans and James Potter are made Head Girl and Head Boy; Lucius Malfoy is to marry Narcissa Black in less than a year if he doesn't find the "girl of his dream".
Oh. My. Merlin.
"Oh, I'm going to be sick…" I tossed the paper back at him and grabbed the nearest garbage, wincing in pain from the movements. Heaving over the can, my throat burned horribly.
"What are you three doing here?" I recognized that voice! It was McGonagall! "Good heavens. Poppy, I thought you said she was doing better!"
"She was, and I - Good Heavens! You three, out. Minerva, please hand me that vial. She's throwing up blood. Out, Black!"
"But we -"
"Out!"
"But I -"
"Potter, don't make me take points!"
"Madame Pom-"
"No!"
Harry and I were arguing with Mad-Eye about getting me trained to fight and duel. Mad-eye was more old-fashioned than a woman from the seventeenth century would be. Woman should not be dueling, he said, nor should they even train to.
"But Tonks is a girl!" I cried determinedly.
Mad-Eye responded gruffly, "And do you know how often I keep her off of missions? What the auror's office assigns her to do and what I assign her to do are two completely different viewpoints, Miss Weasley."
"But -"
"No."
"Mad-eye, please -"
"Potter, you're on my last nerves with this."
"I need to -"
"I said no!" He banged a closed fist on the table, making me jump with a yelp as a candle toppled over. I put the fire out quickly and then faced him with my hands on my hips. "Don't be thinking' that look will get what you want, lass. It barely works for your mother on me, it won't be workin' for you."
"Mad-eye, will you at least teach me some defensive spells? I can't expect you or some other Order member to drop in while I'm a bloody damsel-in-distress."
The ex-auror eyed me up and down and let out a frustrated sigh. "One you will need more often than you think, Weasley, is how to stop internal and external bleeding of any kind. If you are held captive, you will be beaten, under-fed, tortured. This spell can be performed without a wand to heal punctured organs, heal your throat if you eat too much and throw up blood, or are tortured with physical objects."
Removing a knife from the counter, he sliced the knife over his wrist and let the blood drip onto the table. "Curatio." he waves his other hand over the wound and it knitted together before our eyes. I felt my mouth drop, and Harry was staring intently at the markless skin as if the harder he looked the better he would remember the spell.
"Curatio," I whispered to myself, mentally shaking me head to be rid of memories. Louder, I repeated, "Use curatio."