Warnings for the entire story: Graphic violence, rape.
Carrow's whip landed across Ginny's bare back with a crackle of magic. The pain spread across her skin like wildfire, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. Behind her, a small chorus of voices booed in the Great Hall—they'd probably been hoping for more of a spectacle, but she was determined not to give them one.
A second lash, and she arched uselessly away from the blow, her naked breasts pressing against the rough wood of the whipping post. She dug her nails into her palms until the skin broke, focusing on the pain in her hands, shackled high above her head, to distract herself from the fierce burning in her back.
The third blow drew blood, she was sure, because she felt its warmth ooze down her skin all the way to the waistband of her skirt. She wondered if the stain would come out.
The trickle grew to a flow, and then a stream. By the time the whip landed a sixth time, she was starting to feel light-headed. She sagged against her restraints, the manacles carving into her wrists as her legs refused to support her any longer. Someone in the crowd cheered, though most were silent now. Even the most mean-spirited of the Slytherins could get queasy at the sight of so much blood, it seemed.
The two final lashes came through a haze. She thought she might have screamed, but she couldn't be sure—maybe the cry had come from someone else entirely. Then Carrow stepped up to the wooden post and undid her manacles, and she collapsed onto the floor.
Within seconds, Neville was beside her, wrapping a cloak around her shoulders and helping her up. Michael materialized on her other side, and they half-supported, half-carried her away from the front of the room. Nobody tried to stop them as they made their way down the rows of tables and out of the Great Hall. Just before the doors closed, Ginny heard Alecto Carrow clap her hands and announce that dinner was served.
The two boys halted a few steps away from the Great Hall and helped Ginny to the floor.
"We can't stay here," she mumbled even as she welcomed the opportunity to kneel and rest for a moment.
She doubled over, gripping the edges of the cloak in her bloodied palms as she hugged herself tightly, ignoring the chafing of the cloth against her raw back. She'd felt so exposed. She never wanted to feel that way again.
"We're not," Neville replied. "Don't worry. We're just taking a quick break."
Michael fumbled with something beyond her field of vision, and moments later, Neville was gently nudging her to sit up again.
"Take a swig of this," Michael said, holding up a thin vial half-filled with a bluish liquid. "I got it from Madam Pomfrey. It will help."
He was right. As soon as the potion hit her tongue, a jolt of energy coursed through her, running down her spine and then into her weakened limbs, giving them strength. She swallowed, and the potion's warmth diffused throughout her body, not quite numbing the pain, but making it more bearable, at least.
She blinked, her vision clearer and her mind more alert. "How come I've never heard of it before?"
Michael shrugged. "It's very expensive, apparently. She keeps it locked away for emergencies."
Ginny's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "I didn't know I qualified as an emergency."
She gave the vial back to Michael, and then Neville offered her his hand again, though she barely needed his help to stand, this time.
"We still need to get to the infirmary," Michael said. "Pomfrey said the potion would wear off."
Neville nodded. "I'll go with her. Can you get a message to Abe? Tell him what happened. Tell him it's getting worse."
The other boy met Ginny's eyes with an unspoken question, and when she assured him that she was strong enough to go the rest of the way with just Neville's help, he took off towards the Room of Requirement.
Ginny held on to Neville's arm for support as they began walking down the corridor that led to the infirmary.
"Maybe it's time for you to leave, Gin," he said after a few moments. "It's too dangerous for you here."
She pulled away from him in outrage, then stumbled and reluctantly let him steady her again.
"What do you mean, 'for me'? If it's not too dangerous for you or Michael or any of the others, then it's not too dangerous for me."
Neville avoided her gaze, his eyes focused on the path ahead, but his jaw was set tightly as he replied: "Don't pretend you don't know. What he did to you in there—that crossed a line, even for him."
Ginny didn't ask what he meant. He was right—she knew. She knew all too well.
She shut her eyes against the memory of Amycus Carrow slicing through her shirt and bra with a single swipe of his wand, the Great Hall erupting in hoots and jeers at the sight of her bare chest. She'd tried to cover herself with her arms, but he'll pulled them up and away, taking his sweet time closing the manacles around her wrists before he finally turned her to face the whipping post.
"I didn't look," Neville said, so low she barely heard him. He still wasn't looking at her, but he'd blushed slightly, and his grip had firmed on her arm.
"That's okay. I don't care."
But he was shaking his head, the pink in his cheeks spreading to the rest of his face. "No, it's not okay. And I swear, I didn't, I—"
"I know," she interrupted.
How could she explain that it didn't matter—that it was too late anyway, and in that sea of hostile, leering eyes, she might have found comfort in knowing there were two at least that were a friend's?
But Neville wouldn't understand. So she simply said:
"I know you didn't. Thank you."
Madam Pomfrey seemed to have been waiting for them. The door swung open before they reached it and she motioned them in hurriedly, herding Ginny towards a bed and drawing a curtain around it before pulling off her cloak. She swore loudly as she took in her injuries.
"Those bastards. It's even worse than last time."
"She got eight lashes," Nevilled piped up from behind the curtain. "I'd only had six, and Michael five. It's a good thing you got us that potion, or we might not have made it here."
The nurse grumbled under her breath as she directed Ginny to lie flat on her stomach, then began to clean her wounds. Once she was finished treating them with two different kinds of salves and bandaging them, she covered Ginny with a sheet and then pulled the curtain open again. Neville was sitting on the edge of the next bed, and he stood immediately, stepping towards her.
"Easy," Madam Pomfrey said, holding up a hand. "She's going to be fine, but she needs to rest. It's your turn, now."
Neville's eyes widened in surprise. "My turn? I'm not hurt."
"You were last week." She crossed her arms, staring him down imperiously, even though he matched her in height. "Take off your shirt and let's see how well you're healing."
"But…"
Neville's eyes darted to Ginny, then back to the nurse, who rolled her eyes.
"Oh, come on. She's endured an entire school's eyes on her through all this. It couldn't hurt to give her something nice to look at for a change, now could it?"
Neville turned red as a beet at the implication, and Ginny repressed a chuckle. He wouldn't like it if she laughed at him. Despite her comment, Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtain closed again to give Neville some privacy while he began undoing his buttons. Then she gasped, and Ginny almost jumped out of bed in panic.
"When did that happen?" the nurse exclaimed, her voice tinged with horror.
Ginny really would have gotten up then, except for the fact that the potion was wearing off, like Michael had predicted, and a flare of pain in her back forced her to lay still. She craned her neck trying to see past the edge of the curtain towards whatever it was Madam Pomfrey was talking about.
"Yesterday," Neville said reluctantly. "I got into a fight."
"What is it?" Ginny called out. "I want to see!"
Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtain open, ignoring Neville's protests, and Ginny took in the sight before her with a mixture of anger and disbelief. Neville's chest and stomach were covered in ugly bruises, their shades ranging from blues and purples to yellows and browns. He looked like he'd been pummelled.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, searching for her friend's gaze. He returned it with a grimace.
"I would have, but Carrow had already caught you sneaking those kids out of detention and…"
He cut off, but she knew the rest. That was when Carrow had thrown her into a cell and announced that she'd be whipped the following day at dinnertime.
"Who did this to you?" she asked as Madam Pomfrey pulled Neville's shirt the rest of the way off and made him sit on the nearby bed to examine him.
He didn't reply, only throwing her a quick glance that meant they'd discuss it later—he clearly didn't want to reveal too much in front of the nurse. Not a teacher's work, then.
Madam Pomfrey tended to Neville, rubbing an ointment on his bruises that made them shrink visibly within minutes, and feeling for broken ribs before clearing him to go.
"What about Ginny?" he asked.
"Ginny is spending the night here. She can't move right now, and I need to keep an eye on her anyway."
"Then could I stay? Please."
Madam Pomfrey looked between the two of them, and then sighed. "Fine. You can stay. You've already dirtied a set of bedsheets, anyway."
She left them alone together, promising she'd be back in an hour to check on Ginny again.
"You don't have to do this," Ginny said quietly as Neville pulled a chair over to sit closer to her. "You'd be more comfortable in the dorms. I'm safe here."
He shook his head fiercely. "I'm not leaving you."
She knew better to argue when he had that look on his face. And besides, she was grateful for the company.
"So, are you going to tell me what happened?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and for a moment she thought he would try to evade her again. Then he said: "I got into a fight with a bunch of those scumbags. You know which ones—their daddies are Death Eaters so they think they own the place now."
Ginny nodded. He didn't need to name them—they were the same boys who'd cheered when her clothes had come off and booed when she'd refused to scream as the whip came down.
"But why?"
He shrugged. "I let them rile me up. I shouldn't have. I think if I'd just walked away they'd have let me go, but…"
He rolled his eyes and gave a self-deprecating smile, but Ginny could tell when he was keeping something from her. She extended her arm from underneath the covers to place a hand on top of his, and he sobered up, squeezing her fingers lightly.
"Tell me why, Neville. What did they say?"
He had a pained look in his eyes, now, but at least he wasn't trying to avoid her gaze anymore. "Stuff about you. About… what Carrow was going to do to you. Please don't make me repeat it, Gin."
She squeezed his hand back and closed her eyes. She should have known. What else would have gotten Neville to start a fight he couldn't win? The only thing that angered him these days was when someone spoke ill of those he loved—his family, or his friends.
"You were right before," she told him.
He raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
She bit her lip. She didn't like admitting this, but she had to. "About it being dangerous. For me."
Neville's face lit up. "Are you going to leave then? You have to. As soon as you're better. You can sneak out through the secret passage like Seamus did, and Abeforth will get you to safety..."
Ginny let him speak. She couldn't bring herself to interrupt him when he looked so hopeful, all of a sudden. She waited for his tirade to die down, though she wasn't really hearing him anymore. Instead, another voice sounded in her head, a voice that hissed low with cruelty and menace—Amycus Carrow's voice.
When he'd finished whipping her, just before he unfastened her hands, he'd paused behind her for a moment, his body blocking her from everyone else's view while he casually slid a hand down to her chest and gave her breast a brutal squeeze.
"You're mine," he'd whispered in her ear. "Don't even think about disappearing like the others. I'll find you, wherever you go. And if I don't, I'll just have to punish every single one of your friends in your place."