Ginny sat back in the guest cottage, wrapped in the thin bathrobe she had found in the bathroom after taking a shower. She felt horrible; they had tested a flu spell on her today, and now she had a horrid fever, a blocked nose, and a killer throat.
She had been in the same damn guest house for nearly a week now. Sometimes they would come, drag her in to Fernir's real home and continue to test out new spells on her, weakening her daily.
The only real company she had, besides Fernir and the random Death Eater he would bring in to torture her, was the house elf who restocked her fridge every week. Not that the creature would ever speak to her, and after a while, Ginny ceased trying to coax some sort of conversation out of it.
The paper would have been nice to read, but all Ginny had were those bloody Muggle books, and she only really skimmed through them. None held what she desired; news.
She wished to know how her family was doing, and why no one had come to help her. Were they even trying?
"We have something new for you today, blood filth," Fernir explained as he shoved her into the usual room, "Tell me, what coincides with pain?"
Ginny remained silent, taking in the sight of his partner that day; Blaise Zabini.
"Answer me, girl," Fernir snarled, delivering a swift kick to the back of her shins that knocked her to the floor, "Pain and what? What to the old stories say?"
Ginny was shaking. She always started to shake at the beginning of things, then she would stop, trying to remember she had to be brave. But when hours of screaming and near passing out moments had past, she shook again.
"Don't you know?" Fernir demanded, poking her back with his foot, "I'd think any Pureblood would... Any literate one anyway."
"I can read," Ginny remarked defensively, causing Blaise to snort. She felt Fernir kneel down behind her, his mouth very close to her ear, "Pleasure goes along with pain."
"Don't touch me," she snarled when his hand landed on her shoulder. He chuckled and rose, walking around her at a deathly slow pace, "Zabini here is about to get married to a lovely Pansy Parkinson... I'm sure you know her."
"My condolences," Ginny remarked, shooting Blaise a cheeky smirk, a hint of arrogance coming to her when his eyes agreed. Fernir raised an eyebrow, "Now, Mr. Zabini here always found a little Ginny Weasley to be so attractive, I figured I'd let him test out these spells."
"What spells?" Ginny demanded, her breathing quickening as Fernir returned to the door, then left, leaving her alone with Blaise Zabini. She could take him; he wasn't that strong.
"The Dark Lord is interested in testing people's limits," he lectured, slowly circling her with his wand lazily clutched in his right hand, "Limits are not always painful."
"You're twisted," she stated bluntly before she could stop the words from leaping out of her mouth, "You're disgusting!"
"Shut up," he snapped, wrapping his fist in her hair and dragging her across the room, no destination in mind, "Shut up! I'm only doing what I was asked to do!"
"Lie to them!" she pleaded, her hands desperately scratching at his to get them out of her hair, "Just... Just tell them you pushed me to the limit, and then leave!"
For a moment, he almost seemed to be considering it. Perhaps he had not completely lost his soul, like most of them did. But, that image was shattered when he placed the tip of her wand against her neck, muttering something delicately under his breath. For a moment there was nothing, and he released her, taking a step back. It was as if he was watching her reaction. Then it hit her, and she threw her head back, a loud moan echoing in the small room. She never saw it, but he smiled.
Ginny shivered as Fernir marched her back across the snow-covered field to the guest cottage in the distance, a thin cloak covering her shoulders.
"Pity I left the room today," he mused, his wand stabbing into her back, "From what I could hear, today was a good day for you."
She stayed silent, glaring at the forest around his property. Someone could get lost in there...
Ginny glanced over her shoulder briefly, then whipped back, slamming her fist into his cheek, then tearing off toward the forest. The depth of the snow made it so difficult to trudge through, and she nearly made it this time.
Nearly.
Ginny was taken to a different room today, nowhere near Fernir's Manor. No. She was in an elegant room, books surrounding her, and directly placed in front of Voldemort.
She hadn't seen him in months. Her first day in the guest house was their last meeting, and during the months that had spanned between them Ginny had hated him.
Hatred that she felt was deeply embedded in her now, and even looking upon his gloating smile made her want to leap across the desk at which he was seated and tear out his eyes. She waited, and stood before him in silence, a grimace on her face.
"I won," he purred, leaning back in his chair as her escort departed from the room, "I won my war."
Ginny's heart suddenly broke, and though she tried to stop them, tears began to form in the corner of her eye, "I hope you aren't waiting for some sort of praise."
"From you? No," he chuckled, knotting his pale fingers together and grinning, "We killed many of your little friends... Your father fell victim after you were taken."
Ginny's jaw tightened and he laughed, his cruel voice piercing her body, "Not even a tear? No matter. You'll be pleased to know many of them escaped... Mostly to Scotland, I assumed."
And Harry?
"Potter is with the ones who escaped," he hissed, his arrogance faltering slightly, "But we'll get him sooner or later."
"Of course you will," she remarked, a small smile tugging at the corners of her sad lips, "One day, you'll beat the boy."
For some reason, he did not seem as angry with her. Instead, he merely grinned, "Ah, little Ginevra. You've been so helpful to me... I now know when people will break through torture..."
"I'm pleased I could be of service," she spat, tucking a piece of her lengthy red hair behind her ear, "Are you finished with me? Am I here to be disposed of?"
"You've heard too many stories," he announced, letting out a sigh, "No, I intend to give you away as a gift."
"Oh?"
A gift? What sort of gift was a human being?
"One of my men has been... more than faithful to me," Voldemort stated proudly, "And I want him to be with a woman, a pretty little woman, like yourself."
Oh, now she knew what sort of gift she was. Ginny glared at him, "I won't do it."
"You don't have a choice," he hissed, rising from his seat, "I remember you wanting to belong to Potter for so long... If this doesn't destroy a little bit of your mind, Phoenix, I don't know what will. Come in!"
Ginny's head whipped back when she heard the door open, and her jaw actually dropped, something it had never, ever done before. There stood Severus Snape, his eyes wide with shock, a shared emotion.
"I promised you a reward, Snape," Voldemort chuckled, placing a hand on Ginny's shoulder tightly, "What better than a new wife to help you find a manor?"
"My Lord, this really isn't necessary," Snape stammered, his eyes locking with hers for a moment, then flicking back up to Voldemort, "You should just kill her... Save you the trou-"
"Nonsense," Voldemort boomed, silencing Snape, "You need a woman in your life, Snape. Loneliness is best served during war, and we are no longer at war."
"My Lord..."
"Snape, I am giving you a gift in such a pretty packaging," Voldemort ground out, "Are you refusing it?"
It? She felt as though she wasn't actually considered a person; more of a thing.
"No, thank you," Snape finally got out, his eyes taking in Ginny for a moment, "I appreciate the offer."
"Good," Voldemort mused, "Now come give your new wife a kiss, then leave."
Ginny's eyes widened, and she shook her head a fraction of an inch, hoping he would notice. Whether he did or didn't, he ignored her, and swooped in, planting a very chaste kiss on her firmly shut lips.
"You two are suited," Voldemort informed the pair quietly, "Now leave. I'll have the money for your new manor wired to your account at Gringotts by tomorrow morning."
"Yes, my Lord."
"How could you just... accept me?" Ginny exploded when Snape finally let her go. More like pushed her away upon arrival in his flat, but that was not important.
"I quite happen to enjoy being alive!" he snarled, ripping his cloak off and tossing it over a couch, "You think I like this anymore then you do?"
"I'm not accepting it!" she shrieked, her eyes narrowing as he stalked over to a liquor cabinet and began opening random bottles, "I'm not your wife!"
"The Dark Lord pronounced us husband and wife," Snape countered, "He now has the power to do that!"
"I don't give a damn about what he has the power to do!" Ginny exclaimed, taking a moment to look at the shabby flat they had apparated into. Gods, he lived here? No. She needed to stay focused, "You'll let me go this instant, or I swear-"
"Stop being a child," he snapped, cutting her off, "What do you plan to do? Beat me into surrendering your wand?"
Ginny froze, watching as he took a deep chug of some sort of dark liquid. She stumbled forward, "You... You have my wand."
"I collected it the night you were captured," he admitted, glaring at his reflection in the window to his right, "So yes, I do."
"Give it to me..." she asked weakly, moving toward him, "Please... Please, I need my wand..."
"I highly doubt that," he snorted, his eyebrows rising, "Do you think I would give it up so you could apparate out to safety?"
"I just... haven't touched it in ages," she whimpered, her fingers twitching, as if they were reaching out to grasp her good old wand, "Please... Please let me have it."
"In time," he grunted, "For now, we need to decide what to do with our... situation."
"There's nothing special that needs to be done," she emphasized, following him around the flat as he moved from room to room, her eyes narrowing when he placed locking charms on all of the windows,
"You give me my wand, I run home. It's easy as that. If anyone asks, I attacked you from behind."
"I doubt anyone would believe someone like you could attack and stun someone like me, someone who is a great deal older, and has more skills with a wand."
"I bet I could if I was given the chance!"
"Yes, well I don't plan on giving you that chance."
"Why not? Snape, I-"
"Don't spit my name as though it disgusts you... You're no longer a Weasley, let me remind you."
"How dare you! Don't think this is... legal! Only things done by the Ministry-"
"What Ministry? You've been locked away for months, you know nothing!"
"Tell me what I-"
"The Dark Lord seized the Ministry almost a month ago!" he snarled, his face very close to hers as they stood glaring at each other in the hallway, "The Minister was killed, and the last defense was your Order."
"The one you betrayed-"
"Don't give me that song and dance, Ginevra," Snape boomed, "I'll have none of that in this household!"
"So what, you order me around and I do what you ask?"
"I ... I don't know! I don't want a wife!"
"Well I don't want a husband!"
Finally... They agreed on something.
Ginny sulked after Snape all the way into the deep vaults of Gringotts. She had spent her first night in Snape's flat on his lump old couch, while he locked himself away in his room, apparently trying to suffocate himself with his pillow. All of the doors were locked, and when Ginny managed to pry one open, she shrieked in horror when an alarm went off.
She spent a great deal of the night tied to the couch.
He had barely any food in the house, so he was forced to take her out to breakfast at some Muggle cafe down the street, in which they asked if his daughter would like some more coffee. If she hadn't been so annoyed with the situation, she'd have laughed. The look of pure rage on his face when he tightly replied to the waitress Ginny was his wife was enough to make her snort aloud, but she merely smiled at the sympathetic look the woman shot her.
"Your vault received a considerable amount this morning," the driver informed the couple as they drove along the underground system to Snape's vault, "Nothing illegal happening?"
Ginny snorted loudly, "Did you not see who just came into power?"
Snape shot her a glare over her shoulder, and she cocked an eyebrow, challenging her to berate her. The driver chuckled, "Now now, let's not insult the Lord Voldemort... He owns Gringotts after all, since the Ministry is gone."
"And don't forget it," Snape snapped as the cart pulled to a stop, "Wait here, Ginevra."
She crossed her arms angrily and glared at the back of his cloak as he swept toward his vault, pulling a small silver key out from his pocket. There was a chance that they could just leave him there in the vault...
"If I paid you, would you drive away right now?" Ginny inquired softly, leaning closer to the driver. He glanced at the open door, then smirked, "Run away from Snape... You're mental."
She shot him the foulest look she could muster, then fell back in her seat, letting out a puff of air. Well, it's not like she was going to just sit there and wait. Defiant as ever, she clambered out of the cart and strolled up to the vault, her jaw dropping when she noticed the mass amounts of gold inside, "Merlin's beard..."
Snape stood up straight, whipping back, "I thought I told you to stay in the cart!"
"Ha," Ginny snorted, rolling her eyes and sliding in, "I got bored... Don't think I'm going to listen to you just because Voldemort said we're married, which doesn't count just by the way."
She crouched down to examine a small stack of coins, something that she had never really seen up close before, then let out a startled yelp when Snape slammed the door to the vault shut. Ginny leapt up, her eyes wide, "What the Hell are you doing?"
"I'm perfectly capable of getting out, as are you, when I say you may leave," he ground out tightly, glaring at her, "But we need to make a few rules before we leave."
As he advanced on her, Ginny nearly toppled back into a pile of glittering coins, causing him to smirk, "First of all, I do not mind arguing with you, because I know that I can win."
Oh really? Well, apparently he didn't remember Ginny was a small version of her mother, who never lost a pointless fight yet.
"However, in public you will follow proper protocol as a wife and do as I say," he continued silkily, towering over with a grin tugging at his lips, "The Dark Lord basically performed a marriage... You'll never be called Weasley filth again."
Ginny stared at him blankly, then broke out into what she had been shouting at him for nearly an hour the previous night, "Do you not see the age difference between us? How is this not bothering you?"
"I'm not happy with it, but I can adjust," he snapped, his eyes flashing, "I've learned how to make tiring situations seem enjoyable, and I'm sure we can do the same with this, wife."
"I'm not your wife!"
"Yes, yes you are," he droned, rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, "No matter what you say, nothing is going to make a difference."
"We'll see."
Ginny trudged out of Gringotts behind Snape, squinting when she stepped out into the sun and Diagon Alley. How the Death Eaters could transform this place into an equivalent Knockturn so quickly was completely beyond her understanding. There were no flower shops on the side of the road, no one selling little sweets to the children. There were people, yes, but not her sort of people. Rich ladies walked in expensive cloaks, probably wives, and usually smiled at Snape when they passed him, and gave her some sort of look over before gossiping to themselves.
Thankfully the Prophet no longer cared about the romances of the world's leading people, as she was sure her 'marriage' to Snape would be somewhere in that dratted paper.
A thought suddenly struck her; Fred and George owned a shop just a few alleys over. What had happened to them? Were they hurt?
Perhaps they could hide her...
Snape looked over his shoulder, most likely checking to see if she was still there, and Ginny pretended to be studying a few cauldrons in a shop window as they passed.
"Keep up, Ginevra."
"Keep up... You keep up," she muttered stupidly under her breath, glaring at the back of his head.
Finally, when she timed it just right, she took off toward a split in the road, hearing Snape shout after her as she ran. Freedom! Freedom! Freedom ... For about ten seconds. A pair of strong arms suddenly shot out and wrapped around her waist, winding her completely. She struggled vainly, reaching back and trying to slap the person who dared to touch her, "Get the fuck off me!"
"Oh, c'mon Mrs. Snape," Draco Malfoy snorted, wiggling a little to control her, "It's not very nice to run away from your husband."
"She is a feisty little one, isn't she," Lucius Malfoy added as Snape caught up, "My, my, Severus... You've got yourself a fun one."
"I'm sure she's been waiting to do that all day," Snape growled, grasping her arm and dragging her away from Draco, "I'll deal with you later."
"Aw, c'mon Uncle," Draco chuckled, his hands in his coat pockets, "Maybe she needed a run... Being locked up for months give people the urge to do it-"
"Very funny," Snape grumbled, shooting Ginny a dangerous look, "We have houses to go look at... Come along, dearest."
"How can you like this one?" Ginny seethed as she followed her so-called husband around a rather dark and dreary manor, "There are no windows... How are we supposed to know if it's day?"
"There are such things that tell time, like clocks," he replied sarcastically, leading her down into the basement, "I like the dungeons... An excellent place to store my Potions equipment."
"So you actually enjoyed Potions?" she snorted, raising her eyebrow at the damp room, "You didn't just teach it because you were asked to."
"In the beginning, I did," he said simply, tugging on a set of chains that were hanging from the walls, "These may come in use if you decide to run off again."
She glared at him sourly, but mentally grinned. Her ten second run for freedom was enough to make him realize she wouldn't hesitate when presented with the opportunity, and until only moments ago, he spent most of his time walking behind her.
"Don't you dare even joke about that," Ginny prattled, crossing her arms over her chest and wrinkling her nose, "You couldn't get me into one of those... Not that I'd let you try or anything."
"Oh?"
Before she knew what had happened, he was pulling her toward the chains, and she barely had time to plant her feet on the ground to keep him from pulling her across the room.
"Let go!" she demanded, viciously trying to rip her hand out of his. With a little difficulty, he heaved her up against the wall, then clamped one shackle down, and while she was distracted with that hand, he shoved another on the other, leaving her chained to the wall.
"Now listen," he ordered calmly, despite the constant string in insults she sent his way under her breath, "I'm not asking much of you. I plan to buy this manor since it is the largest one we have seen, and you will have all the personal space you need. In turn, all I ask for is respect when we are in public, is that understood?"
"No!" she shrieked, rattling the chains, "No! I'm not... I'm just going to..."
Oh, Gods she was going to start crying. No, she couldn't. Not in front of him. It was just; the stress of it all was finally mounting. She hadn't seen her family in months, or her friends. Torture had almost been a way of life in her prison, and now she was forced to endure more of it?
"All you want is respect?" she murmured, stepping out a little to him, "You don't want what other men want from a wife?"
Her voice was low, husky, one that always made Dean melt when she wanted something. Severus Snape, however, cocked an eyebrow, "Are you trying to be seductive, Ginevra? I'm not a little schoolboy."
Her face fell, slightly shocked, "You can't tell me you expect us to sleep in separate rooms! Aren't you... normal?"
"Though you are physically attractive, yes," he relayed, his eyes traveling over her slowly, "I have no desire, at the present time, to consummate our marriage."
She let out a sigh of relief, almost looking at him thankfully. He smirked, "Though I will require you share a bed with me."
Her eyes widened, "I thought you just wanted respect?"
"I want a proper wife who will share a room with me," he reflected curtly, "I've already been clear that I do not plan on touching you."
"I suppose so..." she muttered, shaking her head, "But... I need to ask you some things."
"Not now," Snape remarked, "I need to go sign the deed to the house."
She watched him walk off, his back stiff and straight, the complete opposite of every older male she knew. They were always so relaxed; this would be difficult.
"Wait!" she called, shaking the chains, "Let me go!"
"Perhaps you shouldn't have run off... I'll be back."
Ginny stared down at her steak, then across the table to Snape, watching as he cut it with ease. They had purchased the darkest, gloomiest manor in all of England, it seemed, though Ginny did enjoy how big it was. Perhaps it was the little girl in her reminding her she was there, but Ginny had always wanted a large house. Growing up in the Burrow left much to be desired when it came to owning things.
Also, with such a huge house, she spent most of the day exploring, after Snape had unshackled her. They argued over where the master bedroom would be, and in the end found one on the floor above the pair of rooms they both liked and figured a compromise would be the easiest solution.
"You said you had questions for me," Snape stated gruffly after swallowing a piece of steak, "Would you like to ask them?"
She set down her knife and fork, then leaned forward, "Right... Uh. I was wondering if I could see my family?"
May as well go for the tough ones now. Snape continued eating his dinner, not really caring, or so it seemed, that she was nearly falling off her chair waiting for his reply, "No."
"What?"
"Ginevra, I wouldn't mind you seeing your family, but I'm afraid most of the Order has fled the country, and I promised I wouldn't let you out of England until everything was settled."
"What about Fred and George? They live here."
"I don't see any harm in that, as long as they do not come here... I have no intention of trying to defend myself from your angry brothers when they think I've cursed you into marrying me."
That would actually be interesting. She was sure Snape could handle her twin brothers one at a time, but she didn't think they would allow him that chance. Ginny cleared her throat, "Alright... Do you plan on teaching anymore?"
"No, never," he grumbled, meeting her gaze, "I do not want to return to that life."
"Then what do you plan to do?"
"The Dark Lord has required me to follow his orders until he has things under control, and I will do what he asks of me."
"He tells you to jump, you ask how high sort of situation?"
"It would be no different to Remus Lupin ordering you to go out on patrols, let me remind you."
"Yes, well, Lupin isn't an evil genius bent on dominating the world."
Had she made this comment to Lucius Malfoy, or Fernir Greyback, she was sure there would have been shouting, perhaps a curse here and there. Snape merely smirked, and took a sip of his wine, "No... I suppose he isn't."
"I hardly call that bed attire, Ginevra," Snape commented as she exited the bathroom, switching off the light behind her. She cocked an eyebrow and looked down at her Chudley Cannons jersey she had found amongst a pile of clothing that was left in the house. Snape promised to have all of her things from her apartment in by the next day or so, and for now, she was stuck with what she could find. Surprisingly, he had not suggested she sleep nude, which was what many boys her age had hinted whenever they were sharing sleeping arrangements.
"I found something comfortable," she stated bluntly, planting her hands on her hips, "Is something wrong with that?"
"Please don't stand like that," he pleaded, his eyes returning to the book he had been skimming through on the bed, "You remind me terribly of your mother."
"That's not a horrible thing, you know," she snapped, climbing into the bed beside him, her eyes suddenly drifting over to his bare chest. He was sleeping with a pair of pants on, but that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to look elsewhere. He was not chiseled, nor was he overweight. He was thin, his arms with some extra muscle, and a long scar along his side. Pale.
"Where did you get that?" she inquired, nodding down to his scar when he glanced up at her. He looked down, then sighed, "That damn Hippogriff Hagrid insisted upon keeping-"
"Buckbeak?"
"Yes, that one," he droned, a little irritated with her interruption, "Nearly mauled me when I was taking a stroll around the grounds one afternoon... Of course it was kept rather quiet, but Dumbledore was always good at keeping things quiet when he needed to."
Her eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of Dumbledore from his lips, but she said nothing, her jaw set tight.
Severus Snape actually seemed a much more relaxed man than she had expected. His words flowed freely, and he did not seem to treat her as the filth many thought her to be. Perhaps it was all those years of solitude that made him eager to talk.