It took longer than I wanted, but I've finally updated.
Many thanks go to you, my readers and reviewers – I could not do this without you. An especial thank-you goes to rowan-greenleaf for her help and encouragement.
Ginny woke to the sound of a distant bell clanging the hour. Her heart leapt to her throat and for a moment, she didn't know where she was. With an inadvertent look down to see her bloodied robes staining the sheets, she remembered, though she could hardly say that abated her fears. She could feel her heartbeat behind her eyes, slowly darkening her vision. A few deep, shaky breaths calmed her rapidly beating heart.
It was dark and her vision was grainy; she could see only weak spots of colour alongside the darkness. The bloodstains on the sheets appeared only as darker swatches that seemed to swirl before her eyes, moving as she watched them. Her eyes burned and her whole body ached. There were no deep and steadying breaths that could help her with that pain.
The bell had ceased its tolling, and in the darkness, Ginny's mind flew through every horror she had witnessed.
It was impossible to keep the tears back, as much as she tried. She choked on them, her breathing uneven, and tried to muffle the sound with her hands, shoving her fists in her mouth to keep everything inside.
But it was too late at night. She felt sick, her stomach growling against her will, and her mind, with a sick volition of its own, was determined to linger only on thoughts of her mother. Nothing could remove the image of her, fighting, screaming, bleeding, from her mind.
She wanted to die.
It wasn't like at Hogwarts, where she knew what she was fighting for, where she knew that her defiance meant something. Everyone she ever loved was dead, and there was nothing to be gained from fighting.
She wished she knew how to give in.
•••
"Good morning, Draco," Narcissa said, setting her teacup down with a soft chink. "You're late."
Draco looked down at the table piled high with food. His stomach writhed. "Bitsy was late waking me up," he said, pulling out his chair.
Narcissa's icy eyes regarded him sharply, as if looking for signs he was lying. If he was, he gave none, and she returned to taking dainty bites of her egg.
"Where are Father, Aunt Bellatrix and Rodolphus?" Draco asked, waving away an elf attempting to ladle porridge into his bowl.
His mother didn't deign to look up. "Your father and your aunt were called away this morning. Rodolphus," she sneered his name, "has yet to come down."
He made a noncommittal noise and motioned for an attendant elf to serve him. When it had bowed back to its place by the wall, he spoke again, slowly this time, weighing his words. "I don't suppose you know what Father was planning with the Weasley girl?" He kept his tone neutral, studying his mother for any sign of interest.
She stiffened. "The Weasleygirl? I don't know what you're talking about, Draco."
This was a sign of interest. He moved a piece of egg around his plate absently. "Never mind, then."
Silence overtook the table for only a brief moment. "What exactly are you talking about, Draco?" It was her most commanding tone, the one with a dagger's edge embellishing her words.
He flicked his eyes up to hers, measuring. "Nothing at all."
She put her fork down quietly. "No, of course not," she murmured, too much mockery in her voice.
So she had known less about the girl than he. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the arrival of his uncle.
Narcissa flicked her gaze towards him. "So nice of you to have joined us, Rodolphus."
A half smirk twisted his face in two. "So nice of you to have me, Narcissa."
Draco watched the exchange with interest. It wasn't often he got to see his mother and her least favourite relative in close contact. He had never really known why the two didn't get along; Rodolphus, while Pureblood, was of a decidedly less prestigious family than either the Malfoys or the Blacks, but that sort of distain didn't quite encompass enough.
His uncle turned to him. "Draco," he said, with all the sarcastic grandeur of a vagabond.
"Uncle," Draco returned, giving him the barest nod of recognition. "Mother was just asking about the girl."
Rodolphus smirked. "Were you, Narcissa? I hadn't known you were so interested in my work."
She levelled him with an icy gaze. "I had no idea it was your work, Rodolphus."
He pulled out a chair and sat down. "I shouldn't have expected you to," he said, a hint of something dangerous behind his words.
Narcissa made no response, and the rest of breakfast passed in silence.
•••
Ginny awoke from her tormenting dreams when a shaft of cruel light sliced across her eyes, tingeing the scene of death with pink and yellow.
Her throat was raw and dry, and the soft whimper that escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up clawed harshly at it. Even breathing hurt. Her eyes still burned, though she thought she must have slept more than twelve hours. She raised a cold hand to soothe them and relished in the small joy of simple respite.
She struggled onto her elbows, ignoring the way her body screamed in protest. From there, she managed to push herself into a sitting position, leaning her bruised back lightly against the headboard for support. The room looked the same as it had yesterday; she noticed, with a flutter of mixed fear and disgust, that just below the shut curtains was a spatter of dried blood.
Terror froze her.
The curtains were shut, but she knew they had been open yesterday – and then she felt her heart leap to her throat and her stomach coil tightly shut; she had been on the floor yesterday. She had no memory of either shutting the curtains or entering the bed, which meant someone had done just that when she had been unconscious. And if they had done that, she knew they could have done any number of things as well.
Hot tears trailed down her flushed cheeks, dropping and darkening the sheets below her. A thought flashed suddenly and mutinously before her – the memory of how mediaeval wizards tested for the purity of their wives; the fingers that reached and searched for proof. The thought made fresh tears fall. It was too disgusting, too horrifying, too real; to think that it may even be necessary—
She fought the idea back, trying to think logically. The only pain was where she had been hit, she reasoned; there wasn't enough blood to think it was even a possibility. But this logic only made her cry harder, her throat constricting around the sounds she didn't dare let out.
She was choking back feverish tears when she heard the sound of a man's walk outside her door. Hands clasped desperately over her mouth, she froze; the old childish idea that if she stayed still enough, quiet enough, inconspicuous enough, she'd be let alone resurfaced. She hardly dared breathe as the footfalls became louder. She bit down on her fingers, forcing back the tiny noises that threatened to squeeze their way out.
The footfalls halted just before the door.
She bit down harder, willing whomever was outside not to enter. For a moment, it seemed as though they wouldn't. The seconds ticked by in silence.
And then, the soft creak of the knob turning. She was too taken by fear to move; her cheeks were wet with tears, but her hands wouldn't move to wipe them away.
The door was pushed open and the dark haired man who had taken her from her mother entered. Sickeningly handsome, with a disgusting half smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Sleep well, Ginevra?" He said, in an almost pleasant voice.
She gave no response; he didn't deserve one.
He took a few languid steps towards the bed, and Ginny, her frozen limbs finding movement again, scrambled back.
He chuckled and caught her wrist in his hands. "Crying, Ginevra? What a pity," he murmured. "The poor girl is sad."
A flash of hatred burned in her eyes, and he felt her muscles twitch and quiver. A silent spell and a flick of his wand froze her limbs again. The smile he entered with returned and he released her wrist. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he turned towards her and began conversationally, "So, you refuse to speak to me. Understandable." Here he paused a moment. "Or do you have anything to say?"
She opened her mouth experimentally, and finding that only her arms and legs were frozen, growled, "I will never have anything to say to you."
He chuckled again. "Making a liar out of yourself already, Ginevra?"
She glowered at him, shaking in mixed fear and rage, and said, "Why are you here? What do you want with me?"
"Ah ah ah, little girl," he said. "I hope you're not forgetting who's in charge here." She gave no response, and he smiled. "Much better." He said nothing for a time, taking pleasure in the fact that she would not ask again. Finally, he said, "I'm bringing you downstairs. Someone wants to meet you." His lips curled upwards in amusement.
She shook her head fiercely. "No. No! I'm not going anywhere with you!"
He sighed. "You silly, silly girl. I wasn't giving you a choice."
An intricate motion with his wand and a softly muttered spell loosened her limbs and bound her hands before her. "Get up," he said. "I'm taking you downstairs."
Her lips quivered and her voice shook, but she said, "No."
"Oh, Ginevra," he murmured, "you are a stupid little girl." He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her robes down, baring her bruised skin. "Lucius?" He asked.
She nodded reluctantly.
"His cane?"
"Yes," she muttered.
He drew his hand away and pulled her robe back up. "So crude," he said. "I would never do something like that." She looked up at him. "No, I really much prefer the Cruciatus."
He spoke conversationally, but there was no mistaking the meaning behind his words. "Coming, Ginevra?"
She remained still for a moment, then, taking a ragged breath, she pushed herself off the bed and walked slowly around to him.
He smiled. "Good girl. If you're good on the way down, you might even get some breakfast."
He put a hand around her upper arm and led her out of the room. She was led through winding halls and down a vast marble staircase; quickly finding herself lost, she gave up trying to map her way through the Manor, instead looking at the grandeur around her.
When they reached what she assumed was the kitchen, bustling with elves and smelling of something heavenly, she was having trouble staying upright. The man seemed to realise this, and pulled out a wooden chair from the table laden with peeled vegetables.
"Sit," he said, "and don't move."
She didn't think she would be able to get far even if she did move, and watched him move deeper into the kitchen, speaking brusquely with what appeared to be the head elf.
He returned a moment later with a tinier, shaking elf by his side. "For her," he snapped at it.
The elf climbed onto a stool beside the table and slid a plate before her, bowing low as it stepped down and backed away a few steps.
"Get away from us, vermin," he snarled, giving it a kick.
The elf didn't even whimper as it bowed again and hastened away.
He pulled up a chair across from Ginny and sat down, lazily slinging an arm across the back of it and twirling his wand in the other. "Aren't you going to eat?"
"I can't," she said.
His eyes flicked up to hers before he chuckled. A flick of his wand and the ropes around her wrists fell away, only to bind her legs to those of the chair. "Now, are you going to eat that, or shall I have one of these elves throw it out?"
"Is it…poisoned?" she asked.
"If we wanted you dead, you would be already."
She looked up at him mutely, as if trying to gauge the veracity of his words, before taking the toast on her plate and biting it. She ate it quickly, followed by two slivers of carrot and half a hard boiled egg.
She cleaned her hands on the napkin just as the elf who served her returned with a small glass of water. She drank it eagerly.
The man flicked his wand to free her legs and took her by the arm once again. "Now," he said, "Let's go see the lady of the house, shall we?"
•••
Draco was seated opposite his mother, toying with a handful of grapes – a habit he got from his aunt, though he didn't know it. Narcissa had expressed her interest in seeing the Weasley girl after breakfast, and Draco wasn't about to let this opportunity go. He was certain this would give him more information on her sudden appearance at the Manor.
His mother had said nothing to him since breakfast; she was, he assumed, too caught up in trying to understand the situation.
The sound of footsteps startled mother and son out of their respective reveries. Narcissa rose gracefully to greet them as they entered.
"There," Draco heard Rodolphus say in undertone, motioning to where the girl should stand.
Draco sat up straighter, taking in the tableau spread before him; the brief thought that someone should paint it flickered through his mind – it would make an interesting subject for a painting. His mother in her silken dove-grey robes looked down haughtily at both Ginny Weasley – her robes torn and bloody – and Rodolphus, standing authoritatively beside her.
"Are you the Weasley girl?" his mother asked.
She muttered something unintelligible.
"You'd do well to treat your betters with respect," she said coldly. "Look up when you speak to me, and don't mutter." Ginny looked up at her with something dark and fierce in her eyes. "Now, let's try that again. Are you the Weasley girl?"
"Yes," she said with exaggerated enunciation.
"And your name is…?"
"I don't see why that shou—"
Rodolphus gave her a little prod in the side and hissed, "Answer the question."
She glared at Narcissa. "Ginny," she snapped. "My name is Ginny."
Narcissa's nose wrinkled slightly in delicate distaste. "Ginny? What a horridly common little name."
Draco thought she looked about ready to launch herself at his mother. "It's short for Ginevra, mother," he said lazily.
Ginny's eyes snapped to his in mixed surprise and fear.
Silence blanketed the room. Ginny flicked her eyes away from Draco's, settling them on the mantelpiece behind him. In that moment of sudden tension, no one seemed willing to speak.
It was Narcissa who spoke first, once again taking control of the room. "Well that name is hardly any better," she spoke derisively, but the words held no real cruelty. When it seemed silence would once again overtake them, Narcissa hastened to speak, this time cutting directly to the point. "Why were you brought here, Ginevra?"
Ginny looked up at her, shocked. "I—What do you mean why?"
Narcissa seemed to remember Rodolphus was in the room and turned quickly to him, saying, "Leave us."
He spoke mockingly. "Don't you want to know why she's here, Narcissa?"
"I said leave us, Rodolphus."
He ran his eyes around the room, settling briefly on Ginny before crooking his lips up in a half smile. "I do wonder what you stand to learn from her, Narcissa," he said as he left.
She waited until his footfalls had quietened before she returned her gaze to Ginny and said, "Tell me why you were brought here."
Ginny mumbled something quietly, then, remembering Narcissa's words, said again, with hyperbolized care, "I don't know."
"You don't know? What do you mean you don't know?" There was something vaguely hysterical in her tone. "What did they say at your trial?"
The corners of her lips curved downwards as she fought back a sudden wave of emotion. "I never had a trial!" Her voice shook. "All I got was a l-letter!"
"A letter?" Narcissa asked. "What letter? What did it say?"
"Why don't you ask your husband?" Ginny snarled.
Draco could see the shine of tears in her eyes; as his mother strode towards her, he stood up, not certain what he meant to achieve by it.
Narcissa slapped her loudly, branding her cheek red.
"Answer the question!" she snapped.
Ginny opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a cold voice saying, "Well well, what have we here?"
Narcissa stepped away quickly, in a moment seeming to shrink into a trembling schoolgirl. "Bella! I didn't know you'd be home so soon! Is Lucius…?"
"In the foyer, little sister," Bellatrix said. "Does he know you've taken his little pet for a walk?" She walked towards Ginny with a dark smile playing on her lips.
Narcissa shook her head.
"Well, that is a problem, isn't it? I don't believe he even told you of the girl, did he?" Her tone was too sweet.
"No," Narcissa said quietly.
"And little sister wanted to know all about it, didn't she?" Bellatrix took Ginny by the arm. "Well, we'd better put the pet back in her cage," she said, beginning to pull at her.
"No, no, let Draco do it."
"Draco?"
"Lucius will be suspicious if you're gone."
Bellatrix laughed. "Well then. You heard your mummy, Draco. Put the girl back where she belongs."
Draco regarded at the three women before him and gave a lazy sigh. "Come, Weasley."
Ginny looked desperately between the three of them.
"You heard him," Bellatrix whispered, releasing her arm. "But don't worry, we'll have time to play together soon." Her words sounded like a threat.
"Come, Weasley," Draco repeated.
Ginny, flicking her eyes up towards Bellatrix, smiling cruelly down at her, followed him to the doorway. "I hate you," she hissed.
Draco ignored this and, taking her by the wrist, led her out of the room.
Do review, lovely reader.
