The Arcane Amour
By Luckyluckylucky
Disclaimer: All characters, situations, and settings are the property of J.K. Rowling and no other... especially not mine.
Summary: This story follows Ginny Weasley's sixth year at Hogwarts, the untold story of what happens at Hogwarts under Voldemort's control. I try to keep things as accurate as possible, so if I get anything technically wrong, I would love for you to PM me!
Prologue: Just a Dream
The hulking Manor stood silent and foreboding, its shape towering over the Earth and blacking out almost half of the night sky. None of the classic, arched windows bore any sign of life or candlelight, and the only visible glow to be seen was a sliver of golden crescent moon, hung low and horizontal against the sky.
She slipped off her shoes and laid them carefully on the icy marble floor and eased the door shut on the image of her naked husband, slumbering soundly.
Her bare feet struck the ground with a rhythmical beat as she fled through the impenetrable darkness. Fortunately, she knew her path like second nature, her long, pale blonde hair streaming out behind her, the only visible gleam in the endless corridors.
Her white hands traced along the walls, counting the ridges of doorways, and at the thirteenth door, she cast a wary eye into the shadows and slipped inside.
"Draco!" Her son laid diagonal across his luxurious bed, half-naked and in a dreamless sleep. Horrified, she could see the half-empty flask on his lamp stand, the glimmering purple potion swirling in an innocuous manner.
"Enervate!" His pale, almost lavender eyelids slid back, and Draco blinked, disoriented.
"Mother?" his voice rasped.
"Yes, love, wake up. We are leaving tonight, earlier than planned, I'm afraid."
His grey eyes, darkened with sleep, registered awareness. "But what about the—"he began, but Narcissa cut him across sharply.
"Not now!" she hissed. "Don't ask anymore questions, just do as I say! Get dressed and be silent, and maybe we shall—"
"Escape?" a silky voice hissed from behind her. Wandlight flashed, blinding Draco, and he heard his mother fall to the floor with a thud. Draco's fingers leapt to the spot where he placed his wand earlier, but somehow it was already between his father's pale fingers.
"Just a dream, son," Lucius sneered, before slashing the blackthorn wand inches from his son's shocked face, erasing the memory of his mother's panicked, bloodless face with an icy, cobalt glow.
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