"Why, if it isn't the littlest blood traitor," drawled a voice, "I was wondering when you'd drop in."
Ginny froze.
"Malfoy?" she whispered and slowly turned. To her right on a gorgeous black leather couch sat Draco Malfoy, looking the picture of aristocratic power. He slouched back lazily in the seat, arms reaching across the back on either side. His perfect hair and chiseled features were almost statuesque, but his arrogant smirk reminded Ginny that she was facing a Malfoy.
"Yes, little Weasley? You look a little surprised to see me." He arched a perfect eyebrow.
"I . . . I . . ." Ginny was still trying to reconcile it all in her mind. She was utterly exhausted. All she had wanted was to arrive at Hogwarts and collapse in a puddle of tears and exhaustion, and now by some strange magic, she was staring down the enemy.
"Perhaps you were not clear when you called out the name of your destination," drawled Malfoy, leaning toward her, "or perhaps you bumped into the wrong grate?" His voice dripped with saccharine politeness, and Ginny's confusion kept her feet firmly planted to the ground as he stood and continued, "Maybe your Floo powder was bad. I've heard that can happen." He circled her slowly, like an animal on the prowl, and met her eyes.
"No . . . I . . ." She tried again, but his look caused her to lose her words again.
"Or maybe, little traitor, I've been tracing you all the way from your pathetic little home." She felt her blood freeze as his cold grey eyes met hers, his words full of perfectly controlled venom. "Perhaps I have gained complete control of the Floo network in and out of Diagon Alley."
Ginny, startled into action, whirled on the fireplace and glanced at an ornate container that had to hold Floo powder. Using the Accio charm, she threw a fistful into the fireplace. The flames sparkled green, but Malfoy ignored them. His gaze penetrated her skull. It was terrifying.
"Hogsmeade!" Ginny shouted, and stepped into the fireplace. Of course he could follow her, but since he couldn't exactly run her down in the middle of the Three Broomsticks without arousing attention, she hoped she could Apparate from there. She stepped into the flames and whirled away. The last thing she saw was Draco's fierce grey glare.
Ginny fell down onto a plush oriental rug, face to face with expensive dragon hide boots. Draco towered over her.
"Perhaps, little traitor, I have you here and you can't escape."
Ginny was on her feet in a flash. The original shock of landing in what she assumed was Malfoy Manor was replaced by adrenaline the second time. She bolted for the door, throwing a hastily aimed hex at Malfoy and another to lock the door behind her. Thankfully this room opened into a great hall, and what was clearly the front door was only a short distance across a magnificent parquet floor. Ginny flung the door open and felt a strong arm grip her around her waist.
Draco pulled her close to his body and she could feel how solid his chest was through her robes. He shut the front door and half carried, half dragged her back to the fireplace room. Ginny, used to her brothers dragging her about in a similar manner, kicked and clawed, but he ignored her. Angry tears began to well up in the fiery redhead's chestnut eyes, and when Draco let go, she kicked him as hard as she could. With a low growl of pain, Draco grabbed her arm and pushed her face first into the wall. He held her there with the weight of his body and hissed in her ear,
"You are a feisty little wench, blood traitor. You really ought to learn your place. Shall I teach it to you, or will you behave on your own?" Ginny struggled against him, but he was too strong.
"You are truly evil, Malfoy," she managed, "and I don't intend on learning anything you have to teach me." He pressed her into the wall, his whole body pressed against hers.
"Fine then. But let me warn you, little traitor, that I think you are worthless. I do not like being disrespected by worthless creatures. I want you to do as I say, Weasley, and I always get what I want." He reached into her robes and Ginny's world froze. Surely Draco Malfoy wouldn't do that. He felt her stiffen and laughed softly. "Don't like being this close, little one? Don't worry. I'm just making sure you don't send any more bat bogeys my way." He slipped out her newly acquired wand and snapped it on the wall. It cracked with a definite finality and he tossed it to the side.
"Now," he whispered in her ear, "about this running away business." Ginny shivered. His words fell like heavy stones into her heart. She could sense that this Draco was much different than the boy he had been during her fifth year. He was powerful, and deadly so. He spun her so that she faced him, the wall at her back. He grabbed her right wrist and pointed his wand at it. His hands felt cool against her racing pulse. "Invenio necto" he whispered, drawing the tip of his wand in a circle around the blue veins that stood out from her pale wrist. Ginny gasped as the circle glowed with a bright white light and then revealed the Malfoy crest. The light sank into her skin, leaving no mark, but Ginny could feel the magic burning. It spread up her arm, growing more painful as it reached her neck and spread through her whole body. Her vision swam, and when Draco released her she sank to the floor.
Draco looked down at the unconscious young woman at his feet. Her red hair spread out like a halo on the wooden floor, and her freckles stood out on her pale skin. Draco smirked; the last two years had been good for the fiery Weasley. Her awkwardness had been replaced by real beauty, and Draco Malfoy was never one to ignore a beautiful woman. He picked her up and carried her to a room upstairs. The room was shuttered and the wallpaper was peeling, and other than a rickety wooden chair and a pile of blankets, it was void of furnishings. It was on his mother's list of rooms to redecorate, but in a manor of over a hundred rooms, Narcissa had higher priorities. Draco deposited Ginny on top of the blankets and left the room, making sure that he locked and warded the door three times over. Then he went back to his study to wait for his father to return.
Lucius Malfoy was a patient man. He had realized over two decades ago that Voldemort would certainly be able to gain power, but would never be able to maintain it. Voldemort liked to rule with fear, and as a result, the Death Eaters were a brutal bunch. Even as Lucius shuddered when his sister-in-law recounted her vile adventures, he realized that their addiction to violence would lead to a chaotic world, not a world worthy of his control. Lucius was after control.
"Draco!" he called, opening the door to his son's study, "Ah, good. Did you find the Weasley girl?"
"Of course, Father. I had to make some minor adjustments to the Floo network, but it's all back to normal. They'll have no idea she's here." Draco's boots graced the top of his desk, and he had the Daily Prophet in his lap. "She's no threat. Stupid little thing. I almost don't understand why you were so upset when she got away last night."
"She is a threat because we don't know what she knows. Perhaps she knows where the other members of that foolish group are. Sources tell me that her other brother—the dragon tamer—and the werewolf are out of the country. If I could get to them, I'd feel more comfortable about launching the next stage in our plan."
With a smirk rather like his son's, he changed the subject. "You should have heard them celebrating. They are growing wilder. The violence tonight was entirely unnecessary, but they act like it is a matter of pride to shed the blood, regardless of the Dark Lord's orders. His control will surely slip."
"I don't see why I had to remain here during the celebration. I should have liked to witness that. I'm sure Aunt Bella was as ridiculous as usual."
"I wanted that girl. After those idiots like your aunt killed her family, I need her to find her brother and whomever else I can. If you hadn't lost her through the Floo, you could have come as well."
"It wasn't my fault. Goyle should have stunned her when he entered her room, instead of deciding to 'take her wand.' Bloody fool. If I hadn't noticed she wasn't downstairs, we would have never been able to locate her so quickly."
Draco pulled his feet off of his desk and threw the paper on top of it. An image of the burning Burrow glared from the front page. "When are we going to have control over this?" he asked, gesturing at the headline: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Strikes Known Friends of the Boy-Who-Lived.
Lucius glanced at the paper. "In time, Draco." He read the headline again and smiled. "It appears that they have yet to discover that the Boy-Who-Lived is now the boy who died."
He heard a cry from above. "Did you remember to ward that room?" Lucius asked sharply.
Draco looked at the ceiling. "Yes, but I suppose I forgot a silencing charm," he said, moving to stand, but Lucius raised a hand.
"I'll go," he said. "I'd like to meet our guest."
Ginny awoke with a dull ache all over her body. She was completely disoriented and freezing, despite the summer heat. Shivering, she curled up next to the wall and pulled the blankets around her. The memories of the last day came flooding back, and she remembered her brother's empty eyes, Harry's cold body, and the mark on Hermione's door. She wondered if the bartender in the Leaky Cauldron was a spy, and if Ollivander had set her up for this.
She realized that she was crying. Could she trust anyone?
She certainly could not trust Malfoy. She recalled his cruel words and the helpless feeling of being completely pressed against the wall, and the strange spell he had performed on her. Her helpless tears turned bitter, and then angry. Who gave Malfoy the right to treat her like a house elf? To patronize her and then belittle her, and then perform dark magic on her?
Filled with fresh rage, Ginny went to the door and began to pound on it with both fists. Her hair was completely unkempt by now, and it streamed around her face so that wisps of red clouded her teary vision. She beat on the door until her fists were bruised purple and she collapsed, crying out, in a heap in front of the door. When the door swung open a few moments later, it caught her shoulder and she cried out again.
"You!" she yelled angrily, but was instantly quiet when she was faced with the calm power of the father and not the smirk of the son.
"Hello, Miss Weasley," he said softly. She was silent as he looked her over slowly, finally crossing her arms and mentally daring him to try anything. He smiled cruelly. "No need to fret. I won't hurt you," he said, and she suddenly felt the tickle of Legilimency.
"Stop!" she cried out. "That's—stop!"
His smile did not fade, but the tickling feeling subsided. "You really need to take better care of your appearance, my dear. Why don't you get some rest? Tomorrow is a big day. You don't want to look like you've been crying all night." He shut the door and Ginny screamed after him, a long, wordless cry of anger and despair all rolled into one. He opened the door forcefully, and this time it caught her hard in the shoulder.
"Miss Weasley, I forgot to mention that you are permitted to scream all you wish, but not only is this room warded and locked better than anything you might imagine, but I am also placing silencing charms all around it. Sleep well."
His polite words were underscored by a wicked glare, and after the door shut, Ginny sank to the floor. Gathering the blankets around her, she fell victim to the exhaustion of her prolonged nightmare and fell into a fitful sleep.