6. Obliviate/Forget
Ginny sat back on her heels, panting, trying to make sense of what she'd seen. Ron had always been so sure Snape was evil . . . all the evidence supported him . . . he'd killed Dumbledore. . . .
But Dumbledore had wanted to die.
Maybe it wasn't real, she decided. Maybe it was some kind of boggart-esque creature that knew how to form elaborate collages of peoples' worst fears. She ran her hand over the stone basin and found the word PENSIEVE engraved in tiny capital letters near the bottom. She'd heard of pensieves before. According to Ron, Dumbledore used to have one in his office. They were used to store painful and unwanted memories. Painful, unwanted, true memories.
Ginny exhaled slowly. If it were true, if Snape had been good all this time, then she had an ally in this house. He could help her escape, help her pass information to the Order, feed her secrets about Tom's plans. . . .
And before she could convince herself it was a bad idea, Ginny was out of the practice room and racing down the hallway. She threw herself down a flight of stairs, not caring that she was making enough noise to wake the dead. She half-expected some curse to hit her as she stepped into the forbidden corridor of Death Eater apartments, but nothing happened. She slowed just enough to read the names engraved into the knockers: Yaxley. Travers. Thicknesse. Lestrange. Twelve doors passed before she finally came to the one she wanted. Snape.
She grabbed the knocker and slammed it repeatedly until Snape came to the door. "Weasley?" he said, looking utterly surprised.
"Professor," she whispered breathlessly.
"You're out of bounds, Miss Weasley."
"Professor Snape. Please. Let me come in."
"It isn't safe for you here," he drawled.
"Please." She lowered her voice. "I know the truth about what happened to Dumbledore."
His face hardened. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"I saw your memories." She still didn't have her breath back. "Can you deliver a message to the Order for me? Will you tell them I'm here?"
His eyes widened, though the rest of his face didn't move. "Miss Weasley, I'm afraid you're very much mistaken."
"And if I hear more about his plans," she continued urgently, ignoring his denial, "will you pass them on to the Order? If I write notes, will you deliver them to Ron?"
"Weasley," Snape hissed through clenched teeth. "Shut your mouth this instant."
"Severus," she said desperately. "Severus, please, can't you help me get out of here?"
He seemed startled by her use of his given name. "I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about, Miss Weasley, and if you don't get out of my sight this instant I'll have no choice but to report you to the Dark Lord." He leaned forward just a little and mouthed, "Run."
"Professor. Please."
"There are sensors," he breathed. "The others know you're here."
"Can't you just tell my brother - "
A door down the corridor slammed open. Snape cursed under his breath and pulled out his wand. "Obliviate," he murmured, and all Ginny could do was stand on Snape's doorstep, mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a goldfish's, trying desperately to remember how she'd gotten there.
"Severus?" a high-pitched voice called from the other side of the hallway. "I heard shouting."
"Everything's fine, Bella," Snape said cooly. "Go back inside."
"No, no, no," Bellatrix cooed, drawing her wand as she crossed down to Snape's doorstep. "What have we here? Weasley? The Dark Lord's new favorite? What are you doing here?"
"I. . . ." Ginny struggled to remember. "I. . . ."
"Come, come, now. Don't be shy," Bellatrix said delightedly. "Tell Auntie Bella what you've been up to."
Ginny was shaking. "Nothing," she whispered. Bellatrix tutted.
"You shouldn't be here, love." The older witch twirled her wand between her fingers.
"T-Tom said - "
"Tom!" Bellatrix spat, glaring at Ginny with the ferocity of a hyena. "Tom! You will refer to him as the Dark Lord." She pointed her wand directly between Ginny's eyes. "Understand? On your knees, Weasley!"
"Bella," Snape said lazily, "I hate to interrupt, but perhaps it would be wiser to let Miss Weasley off with a warning."
"A warning?" Bella turned to face Snape, a manic glint shining in her eye. "She's been warned. The Dark Lord told her this was out of bounds, and she ignored him!"
"She made a mistake. She's a child. Children are rather stupid. You ought to know, your sister has one."
"Still," Bellatrix said hotly, "she needs to be taught a lesson. You know all about lessons, don't you, Severus? What with your cover and all?"
Ginny's boldness was returning fast. "He barely taught us anything at Hogwarts, actually," she interjected cheekily. Both adults turned to look at her. Bellatrix grinned ferociously.
"Ahh, not so good at teaching, eh, Severus?" She had her wand trained on Ginny's face again. "I'll have to give you a demonstration." Ginny glared into the wand. "I believe I told you to kneel, blood traitor."
"I don't have to take orders from you."
"Punishment is not beneath me, my dear. Kneel."
She stood her ground. "You won't hurt me. You were right before, I am the new favorite around here. Tom wouldn't like it if you - "
"You will not call him by that name!"
"I've always called him Tom before!" Ginny shouted back. Snape had retreated into his apartment. It was just the two of them.
Instead of yelling, Bellatrix lowered her wand thoughtfully. "Before?" she said distantly, a condescending tone marring her voice. "Ah, yes, you're the little traitor from the Chamber of Secrets, aren't you?" She began to laugh. "Did you love him, Weasley?" Ginny's courage was waning fast. Her heart picked up speed, pumping blood into her cheeks. Bella grinned. "You did, didn't you! Imagine that. A little tiny traitor, in love with the greatest wizard of all time!"
"I didn't love him," Ginny said in a low voice. "I never loved him. I never will love him. I . . . I love Harry Potter! And he's a greater wizard than Tom Riddle could ever hope to be!"
With a growl, Bellatrix let a flurry of sparks fly from her wand into Ginny's face. "I believe I told you," she said, all playfulness gone from her voice, "to call him the Dark Lord. And I believe I also asked you a question: what are you doing here, Miss Weasley?" Ginny began to tremble.
"I was exploring. Tom - the Dark Lord - he told me I could explore until dinner." She refused to look away from Bellarix's eyes.
"Do you know what I think?" Bellatrix whispered finally. "I think you're lying to me." Ginny's heart sped up. "Do you know what I do with liars?"
"You can't hurt me. Tom will - "
"I can't kill you," Bellatrix corrected. "I can hurt you all I want." She leered at Ginny. "I believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your brother." A tsunami of grief knocked the breath out of Ginny's lungs. "Ickle Billykins wasn't it? The one with the werewolf bites all over his face? That's the one. It was a good killing, too. One of my best. I had him on his knees, begging for mercy, screaming with pain. . . ."
"Stop!" Ginny cried, her voice strangled with emotion. Bellatrix's grin widened.
"You Weaselys, you respond well to torture," she continued. "I think we'll start with a little . . . crucio!"
The pain hit Ginny like a ton of bricks. She hit the ground, screaming, clutching at her sides. She was exploding; every cell of her body was a firework, and they were all about to burst. "S-s-s-stop," she panted when Bellatrix paused in the torture. "P-p-p-p-please. . . ."
"'Please'?" Bellatrix echoed, a sadistic grin engulfing her countenance. "Is that all you can say, little traitor? Sectumsempra!" Ginny shrieked as the hex attacked her, thrusting knives through her skin, slashing tears into her flesh. Blood rushed to the surface of her skin, coating her entire body with the sticky red fluid of life.
"Oh, please," Ginny begged, tears merging with the blood on her face. She was disgusted with herself for begging, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Oh, please, please, p-please, stop. . . ."
"Crucio!" Bellatrix cried again, and again the pain exploded inside her. She felt her organs twisting, writhing. Bellatrix laughed above her, cackling as Ginny died at her feet.
"Harry" Ginny gasped, eyes slipping closed. "Harry, come save me . . . Harry . . . help. . . ."
And then, without warning, the curse was lifted, and a good deal of the pain disappeared. She heard him, far above her, his high, cold voice, screaming curses at Bellatrix, and she heard the Death Eater crying out in fear and pain, but all she could focus on was the dull ache that rang through her body. Then strong arms wrapped around her, and she let her body go limp as her rescuer—or captor, depending on how you looked at it—carried her away from the forbidden corridor.
"What were you thinking, Ginevra?" he demanded harshly as he bore her up the stairs to her bedroom.
"I . . . I'm sorry." It hurt to talk. It hurt to do anything. She couldn't even open her eyes. She tried to remember why she'd gone down there in the first place, why she'd needed to see Snape, why she felt an inexplicable urge to trust that murderer . . . .
He placed her carefully on the bed. "Reparo," he whispered, and the skin around her wounds laced itself back together. He laid a cool hand against her forehead. She moaned at the contact, reaching up to take his other hand and positioning it against her cheek. The temperature of his skin soothed the ache in her head. "Ginny," he sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Let me go home," she replied faintly. He sighed again and lay down next to her, keeping his cool hands pressed to her face. "Am I going to die?" she asked, pushing her eyelids back.
Tom smirked slightly. "No," he said after a pause. "No, I think you'll be alright."
"Oh." She let her eyes fall shut. "That's a shame."
He didn't say anything for a moment. Then: "You desire death?"
With an effort, she opened her eyes again. "If I can't go home, I don't want to exist."
Tom pushed the hair back from her face. "This is your home now."
"Then why am I treated like a prisoner?"
"Because if I let you, you'll leave."
Her heart ached.
"And you'll bring your Order back here to upset my plans," he continued. She sighed and rearranged his hand on her face. "Go to sleep," Tom advised. "Bella won't hurt you again. I'll speak with her."
Bella. That horrible creature had a nickname? "I hate her," Ginny said bitterly.
"I know."
He didn't know. He hadn't heard the way she'd taunted Ginny, the way she'd accused Ginny of actually loving Tom. "She wants me dead."
"She won't touch you again. None of them will."
"She wouldn't let me call you Tom," she lamented quietly, tears coming to her eyes.
He kissed her forehead gently. She couldn't bring herself to feel repulsed. "You can call me Tom," he assured her, smiling slightly. "Sleep," he ordered, getting up from the bed.
"No," she said stubbornly. "I'll have nightmares."
"You won't have nightmares."
"I will."
He sighed. "Do you want me to stay?"
"I . . . no, of course not."
He smirked. "You don't have to lie to me, Ginevra, nor must you conceal your emotions. You're injured; you're traumatized. It's perfectly understandable. So I ask again - and no lies this time - would you like me to stay with you?"
She looked him dead in the eye. "I don't need you."
A ghost of a smile fluttered across his face. "Sleep, then. I'll wake you for dinner."
Just to spite him, she stayed wide awake all afternoon. Her head pounded relentlessly, an aftereffect of the torture, and a sharp pain in her abdomen made it difficult to sit still. Eventually, she threw back the covers and padded down the stairs to the kitchen. Maybe the elves would have healing potions.
"Hello, Miss!" squeaked an elf as she pushed open the swinging doors. "What will you be having today?"
"I need a potion," she said, squinting against the bright lights hanging from the ceiling.
"What kind of potion?" the elf asked cheerily.
"Healing."
"You'll have to talk to Basson," the elf told her. "He's in charge! I'll take you to him. Right this way!" He scurried across the kitchen to a large stove with four giant silver pots atop it. An elf in a chef's hat was perched on a stool, stirring and tasting and adding pinches of spices to the pots. "Basson!" squealed the elf at Ginny's side. "Miss Weasley has a request!"
Basson put down his spoon and bowed low before Ginny. When he looked up at her, he gasped and bit his lip. Tears filled his golf-ball-sized eyes. "Yes, Miss?" he asked in a wavering voice.
"I need, um . . . what's the matter?" Ginny asked.
"You're here to punish Basson, aren't you?"
"No. Of course not. I just needed something for my head."
"But the omelets this morning," Basson lamented. "They were not to your liking. Basson is a bad elf, yes he is, yes he is!" With a wail, he shoved his hands into the water boiling on the stove.
"Stop it!" Ginny cried. The elf's screams made her head pound. "I liked the omelets. They were delicious. I was just trying to make your master angry. They were quite good. Please stop."
Basson took his hands out of the water cautiously. "You mean, you liked Basson's cooking?"
"Yes. I did." The throbbing in her head was becoming unbearable. "Do you have a healing potion?"
"Basson doesn't," the elf said sadly. "Master will not give Basson any potion materials, not after Basson tried to bake a soufflé that would make the elves fly!" He sighed wistfully. "Bad Basson," he said softly to himself.
Ginny pressed her palms against her eyes. "Thanks anyway, I guess," she muttered, turning to leave the kitchen. The elf by her side tugged at her sleeve.
"Miss, are you well?"
"I'm fine. Just a headache."
The elf's mouth formed a little round O. "I'll call the master," he assured her, scampering away.
"No," Ginny called after him, "you don't have to . . . ." But the elf was out of hearing range before she could finish the sentence. Sighing, Ginny made her way out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs back up to her room. She threw herself onto the bed and pulled the covers over her face, blocking out the light. She began to assess her various aches. She had at least one broken rib, and probably a concussion, too. If only Basson had had a potion . . .
The door flew open, and the covers were ripped back from her head. The blinding light of the sun streaming through the window attacked Ginny's skull; she moaned and threw an arm over her face to block the abhorrent light. Tom stood at the side of her bed, looking down on her quizzically. "Really, Ginevra," he said disapprovingly. "Hiding from me under the covers now?"
"Not hiding," Ginny groaned. "Need dark."
He pointed his wand at the window, and a long shade appeared, blocking the light from the room. "I hear you've taken ill," he said, sitting on the bed.
"Headache," Ginny said as nonchalantly as she could. "You can go. I don't need help."
Tom shrugged. "I wasn't doing anything of importance." He pressed his hand against her forehead. "You feel warm." He muttered an incantation, and a goblet appeared. "Drink this," he advised, handing her the cup. "It should numb the pain."
"Oh, now you're a certified Healer?" Ginny said sarcastically, but she drained the goblet. "That's disgusting," she added. "I'll bet it's poisoned."
"Oh, yes," Tom said, rolling his eyes and motioning for her to hand the cup back. "I've saved your life - what is it now? Three times? Four? - just so I can get you in this exact position to poison you. That makes all the sense in the world."
The potion worked quickly, eliminating the ache in her head within half a minute, but the soreness in her torso didn't lessen.
"Better?" Tom asked. She shook her head.
"I think I have a broken rib," she said through gritted teeth.
Tom cursed. "I'll kill Bella," he muttered under his breath. "Where does it hurt?"
"Here," Ginny said, pointing. Tom gently pressed his fingers into her rib cage, feeling for any broken bones. "Ow!" she shrieked, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from her skin. "Bloody hell, that hurt!"
Tom straightened up and drew his wand. "Episkey," he said, and Ginny gasped as the spell pulled her rib back into place. She took several deep breaths, relishing the fact that respiring no longer brought her pain.
"Better?" Tom asked. She nodded. He put a hand on her forehead again. "Your temperature's decreased quite a bit. You will join me for dinner in two hours."
She didn't argue. It wasn't worth the effort. She just nodded and rolled over, closing her eyes.
"Do you want me to stay?" he asked, pulling the covers up over her.
"I don't need you."
"I know. But do you want me?"
"You can leave if you want to. I'm fine."
"Yes, but do you want me to stay?"
"I - I don't need you."
"Ginny."
"Tom."
He sighed exasperatedly. "I'll stay until you fall asleep," he compromised.
"I don't need you."
"I know. It's just in case."
"Just in case what, I have a heart attack?"
"Just in case you change your mind," he whispered.
She was going to respond, but the potion had made her head fuzzy and she couldn't remember the retort. So she just sighed and let herself drift to sleep under the watchful eye of the man she couldn't bring herself to hate.
