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She bolted up, her eyes snapping open, a scream escaping her lips. She saw nothing around her, only the visions, those phantasms, memories- memories that weren't hers.

The truth flashed in her mind for one moment before being pushed back by an excruciating pain and not of the physical kind. In that moment, she simply let the scream consume her. Forgetting all that she was, she relived the flames of her past.

In one desperate movement, she ripped the needles from her arms, the needles that were keeping her alive. Frantically, she whirled her head around, seeing but not taking in anything. She drew her head down in a quick sob, hardly noticing the blood that scaled her arms. As it touched her cheeks, Ginny screamed once more, and the first attendant came toppling.

"Ward!" he screamed, rushing to her, his glasses crocked on his face. "Ward, she's awake! She's awake!"

He grasped her bleeding arms, attempting to calm her. She whirled around, staring straight into his eyes.

They were emerald, a shade of emerald that reminded her of something she had only seen once before.

"Harry," she whispered to the man, as the doctor hurried in and jammed a sedative in her arm.

***

When she awoke once more, she forgot who she was, where she was- everything. Slowly, Ginny turned her head on her pillow, taking in the room. It was small but held many pieces of equipment, including a machine which the wires attached to her ran through. There was a bedside table as well, but it was empty of everything. Funny, if it had had flowers and a lamp, it would have been a picture of St. Mungo's.

Cautiously, she lifted her head. Sounds of activity erupted from the halls, barked orders, equipment churning, but mostly wails of various patients. Ginny blinked, unsure what to think. She had never been to St. Mungo's before, so there was no reason she should think that it would be.

She became aware of a sore pain, growing more intense each moment she lay in that bed. For the first time, Ginny tried to remember what had happened, how she had come to be here.

Closing her eyes, a flash of red light entered her mind, as well as the heated colors of flames and the dark cloaks of the Death Eaters. Slow recollections gathered in her mind, but she had this strange feeling that something was wrong, as if something was blocked off from her memory. Somehow, something was missing, and the emptiness it left sat inside her hollowly.

"I know you are awake."

Shifting her position painfully, Ginny saw the brown-eyed man. His hair, left to hang, was a greasy black, and his voice was dry and emotionless. As with all of his likeness, he wore a dark cloak and all black clothes that reflected the nature of his spirit.

"Where… where am I?" she stammered, not having the strength to sit up. "Who are you? What am I doing…?" Ginny tried in vain to lift her head, not wanting to appear weak and helpless in front of this man.

"What do you remember?" the man asked coldly, seemingly non-interested in answering her questions.

Closing her eyes, Ginny tried once more to remember that night when…

"Done." The voice, mystical and hissed, rang through her mind. Then, it faded to black, leaving only the semblance of a memory, a memory that had never occurred.

"They came," Ginny whispered, opening her eyes. "They came, and they destroyed everything in sight. There's nothing left now; nothing but ashes in hearts."

"I did not ask for a poetic masterpiece," he snapped at her, somehow remaining to keep his voice the same tone. "I asked what you remembered."

"I…" Ginny began, the words not coming. "I don't…" Nausea passed through her as she tried in vain to remember that night. Only brief flashes came, but they were empty flashes, as if she had heard about the incident, not witnessed it herself.

"You don't know?" Now, his tone was accusing. "Of course, I had forgotten: in your silly stunt, one of our stunning spells collided with your head. And for what?"

Ginny felt the question was rhetorical. Sighing, the man continued.

"So, of course, they've sent me here to attempt to integrate you back into society. A rather dull and hopeless task for someone of the status. But, what the Dark Lord says goes."

Yes, that was the way it was now. It seemed too horrific, too harsh to be true, and yet, it was.

Feeling miserable, and not only physically, Ginny twisted her neck painfully to her arm, only to see ink black numbers imprinted there. She let out a strained cry.

"What have you done?" she questioned.

"Basic protocol," the man replied. "Every wizard has one; even his obedient servants." The man lifted his sleeve for a brief moment so that Ginny could see the numbers tattooed on his arm as well. Below it was a snake-like tattoo, the Dark Mark, displayed proudly in loyalty to his master.

"But none of that matters really," the man said. "The important part is that you understand the rules."

"Rules?" Ginny questioned.

The man sighed. "Every society has its rules. Perhaps you had the misconception that you would be allowed to roam freely and chaotically like before."

"We never…"

"No interruptions!" he shouted. "The only reason you were spared was because of the deal your brother made for you. You were are still underage and were only two when the Dark Lord ascended to power. Clearly, you had no say in the choice your family made to become fugitives in society." His tone was bitterly sarcastic.

"Deal?" Ginny asked coldly. "Why would you honor such a deal?" Yes, Percy had betrayed them, betrayed them all. She wished she hadn't remembered that. Then again, maybe she did, so that she could curse his name as he deserved. She wondered what his payment was.

Integration, she decided. Integration into society, a society we had no wish to be part of. Then, Ginny corrected herself. I. The others are dead, but I'm still alive to suffer for Percy's choice. Lucky them, they get paradise, while I'm stuck in hell.

"As much as you may think it, the Dark Lord is not one who breaks his word. Not unless he has to." The man gazed at her. She shifted uncomfortably. "Know this: no deal will save you beyond now. Step one foot out of line, and you will be punished… severely."

"I can't even lift my foot," Ginny said dryly, "much less stand."

The man continued to glare. "Smart remarks will gain you nothing. Notice, I hold a wand; you do not."

"Why not kill me?" Ginny laughed, almost giddy at the thought. "You killed the others, why not me? Make it easier for you and say I died of shock when I woke up. Or that your stench was too much for me."

Immediately, the man was on top of her, pinning her down. His dog-breath and greasy hair dripping down on her cheeks were almost as unbearable as the pain.

"Never… disrespect… me… again," he hissed, "or you will find yourself in a position infinitely more painful than death."

She had several smart remarks at the tip of her tongue. Still, Ginny froze. Something about the words was vaguely familiar.

"Snape," she whispered subconsciously. "Severus Snape. He's coming for you. He's coming…"

The man- Snape, as she had named him- snapped back, dropping his expressionless mask for one brief moment. Regaining his composure, he asked icily, "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"My name."

"I… that's your name?"

Snape looked down upon her, studying her intently. Finally, he spoke, "While you were in your coma, the doctors said that you'd suffer from seizures, migraines, and memory loss. Perhaps this is another effect."

"Or maybe it's the visitor badge you're wearing," Ginny replied dryly.

Snapping his head down, Snape ran his hand over the badge. "Very funny," he replied, looking up. "I can tell you are going to be a difficult patient, as I warned my master. Be warned: courage will do nothing for you. Perhaps in your world it is prized. But here, it is a deathtrap. The meek will survive; those who try and defy authority will not be viewed as heroes but as villains of the worst kind. Terrorists." Pausing, he added, "And they will be viewed as dead."

Ginny didn't look away. The words touched her in that unreachable place again. Perhaps, in your world…

But, this was her world, a cruel and unforgiving, hostile and authoritarian one. It was the only one she had ever known, the one she had grown up in.

Then why does it seem so wrong? she wondered.

Not noticing- or perhaps ignoring- her silence, Snape continued, "You will be given a week to recover before you are shipped off to Hogwarts. If you need more time than that, then you will simply have to suffer. I won't be sorry." His lip twisted into a slight sneer. "Lucky you; you finally get to learn your true talent rather than that joke of a Muggle life you were living. Have you ever even seen magic?" Not bothering to wait for her to respond, he continued, "Perhaps you will learn obedience. If not, well, you know where to find me."

His sneer widened, and Ginny knew the only time she'd ever look for him was when she killed him. But right now, even lifting her arm was a battle beyond her. Besides, he was right: how could she hope to compete with him when she didn't even own a wand?

But a voice inside of her told her that someday, whether it be near or far, she would show him what she knew. Someday.

As he turned to leave, she called out, "How long?"

Snape stopped. "How long what?" Then, predicting her question, he answered, "You have been in a coma for a year."

A year. A year she had been drifting beyond reality. No wonder she felt so out of place. Part of her longed to be in that coma once more; at least there she wouldn't have to face whatever was ahead of her.

Lying, Ginny replied, "Oh. But I meant to ask, how long have you been in the Dark Lord's disfavor?"

Snape snarled at her venomously before turning and stomping out furiously. Ginny watched him go along with all of her unanswered questions.

He'd probably lie anyway, she reflected. He was probably lying now. Not that they had talked about much. She got the feeling that he disliked her. Well, hated her actually.

He's coming for you. Her own words startled her, and she found herself wondering what she had meant by them. It was probably just nonsense.

Still, part of it hadn't been: from his position, she couldn't possibly have seen his nametag, even he believed she had. This disturbed her greatly, so she pushed it away.

Sighing, Ginny wondered what was next in store for her. Probably nothing good. As much as she regretted her bleak future as she lay there hollowly, she felt that she had somehow deserved it.

I can only go forward now, she thought. After all, what's done is done and can't be undone.

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