Prisoner of War

Mature

Summary: Curiosity gets the better of eighteen-year-old Ginny as she tries to prove a point to her older brothers and disappears in Knockturn Alley. After a stunning spell the young Weasley finds herself suffering from the horrors of being a Prisoner of War. While Harry refuses to believe that she may be dead, Ginny turns to an unlikely source of help at Malfoy Manor.

Warning: Although allusion is made regarding the horrifying treatment toward female prisoners of war, this story does not contain explicit descriptions of sexual mistreatment.

Chapter Eight: Safe and Sound?

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry watched as the green jet of light hit the Death Eater in the chest. Draco Malfoy's body tumbled through the air and landed with a squelch in the mud. I've just killed Malfoy. He became aware of his rapid heartbeat as the adrenaline coursed through his body. With a deep breath, his agitation began to disappear, only to be replaced with a strangely calm and almost detached state. That doesn't matter. Ginny was the only person that mattered in all of this.

He turned his attention to his girlfriend, who had now slumped to the floor. As he began to move towards her, the effort it took to pull his feet from the mud reminded him of how long he'd been standing in the quagmire that surrounded the manor. The joy he was feeling at seeing her was rapidly disappearing with every step he took. What was going on? What had already happened?

"Ginny?" he asked as his voice trembled and, for the first time, he started to doubt his relationship.

She did not respond to him verbally, nor did she even look at him. Instead, she chose to look at Malfoy's body. Her shaking hand emerged from her cloak and brushed along the Death Eater's hand and to his wrist, searching for a pulse.

"Gin?" he said in a worried voice.

Her face was white as she turned back to him.

"He's dead," she replied, her voice sounding hollow and dry.

He never thought that he would ever get used to hearing those words, but he had. It was down to the woman who was in front of him now that he had learnt to stop feeling guilty about deaths.

"You can't waste your life away with what-ifs, Harry. I mean, if I thought of all the what-ifs from my first year, I'd torture myself non-stop. You just can't keep blaming yourself. Sirius loved you and the last thing he would want is for you to stay in a self-pitying state of misery. He would want you to live instead of just surviving. His death was not your fault; people die in wars, Harry."

And she was right. The last thing that Hagrid, Sirius, Remus or his parents would want was for him to be so consumed by guilt over the deaths of others that he forgot to live. Dumbledore had told him when he was eleven that it 'did not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live'. And he had found that was just the same with guilt and the attendant nightmares. You needed to keep living your life. There had been no war in history that had ended without a single death and it was the same with this one. But he had not yet reached the stage where people that died were just a meaningless statistic. With each death there always came a certain sense of numbness and grief. These were the very things that Dumbledore said kept them fighting on the right side of the war. The difference between the Order and the Death Eaters was that they knew what it was like to feel human emotions.

He glanced at his former classmate's still body. To the casual observer it was untouched with no sign of injury. But he could see the look of shock in those cold grey eyes. He felt a large lump rise in his throat but dismissed the stirrings of compassion straight away; he didn't have time for it. The former Slytherin was one of Voldemort's lap dogs and he was not going to shed any tears or lose any sleep over a dead Death Eater, especially a Malfoy who had been torturing Ginny. Malfoy was a git, a cold hearted bastard that had joined Voldemort's ranks as soon as he had turned seventeen. His death would change nothing, in fact it could only make things better.

"Yes, he is," he said in a detached voice.

His eyes scanned around for signs of other Voldemort's cronies. If the only Death Eater around was dead then it would make things much easier. He and Ginny had to get out of here as quickly as possible and a lack of potential enemies around had to be a good thing.

"You just killed him," she said in a subdued voice.

Harry did a quick double take as he looked at her pale face. Her voice had sounded weak and fatalistic, two qualities that he had never heard in it before.

He had expected things to be different, knowing what had happened to Jessica. He knew that she would not be the same person that disappeared down Knockturn Alley. But he had not been prepared for her to be so subdued. Ginny was never quiet and she wasn't the sort to accept things meekly.

"Ginny…Gin," he said softly as he walked over towards her. "Gin, what did they do to you? Are you okay?"

She nodded at the dead body in front of her. "He helped me," she muttered. She was mumbling so incoherently that he could hardly make out the words that she was saying. She kept her eyes fixed downwards, her head bowed as if in respect. "And now he's dead."

He looked back at her with a confused look across his face. What on earth was she going on about? Malfoy was a Death Eater and one of the people that had kidnapped and tortured her. He studied her face trying to discern from it what was going on. "I'm sorry, Gin," he said softly, "but I don't understand what you're saying."

"He helped me." Her voice was slow, tired and devoid of emotion. "He let me out. He was the spy, Harry."

"Malfoy was Dumbledore's spy?"

She bowed her head into a small nod. "He gave me this," she explained in a drained voice. In her hand was a small piece of rolled parchment. She lifted it up to show him as if it explained everything. Harry looked at her, confusion written all over his face.

"It's a letter to Dumbledore and a Portkey to St Mungo's, just like he gave to Jess and the others."

His head was thumping. He could not take all this in. How could Draco Malfoy be a spy for the Order of the Phoenix? It was absolutely and utterly ridiculous. If he had been told this on Saturday morning he would have just laughed it off as a joke. Everything he knew about the Malfoys made them firm Voldemort supporters, not spies for the Order. It just worked against all natural logic. But as the skies started to lighten and his eyes returned to the still, lifeless body, the impossible started to seem possible.

Yet if it was possible that Malfoy had been recruited to fight on both sides of the war, then why the hell hadn't Dumbledore told him? When was the elderly Hogwarts Headmaster going to tell him everything instead of deciding what he thought was fit for his ears to hear? After all, he was the person that was destined to face Voldemort, not Dumbledore; surely at nineteen-years-old he should know all the inner plans of the Order of the Phoenix.

He heart sank. Had he just killed an ally? Killed someone who was helping them out? But he hadn't known … how could he have been expected to know? He looked from Malfoy's body back to Ginny's dejected face.

None of that mattered right now. He could talk to Dumbledore later and tell him exactly what he thought of his plans to leave him out the loop once again. There was nothing he could do for Malfoy right now. But he could help out Ginny and she was the only person that he cared about.

"But what about you, Gin? Are you okay?" he asked as he offered her his hand, but she shrugged it off and he felt like he had just been kicked straight in the stomach. He let out a long low breath; he was not going to give up on her, on them, that easily. "Come on, Gin, say something to me."

"Nitwit."

"Nit what?" he said with a small smile, looking straight into her eyes. "How are you?"

"I've felt better." Her lips tried unsuccessfully to form a half smile. Her mouth had no hint of its usual grin and her eyes were dull and lifeless instead of glittering with mischief. "You've looked better, too. It looks like you haven't slept in days."

"I couldn't; not until I knew you were safe," he said as he offered her a weak smile. Glancing around them once more, he continued, "We have to get you out of here."

"What about Malfoy?" she asked in a fragile voice.

He shrugged, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "We can't do anything for him now."

"Is that what you would have said if that curse had hit me?" she asked in a flat tone. "What would have happened if I had died before anyone could do anything about it? Would you have just left me here?"

"Of course not," he replied instantly, his voice full of indignation.

"Well," she demanded, "what's the difference?" The tears that had been welling in her eyes finally started to trickle down her bruised face. "What makes me so damn special? I'm not important, so why is everyone so focused on me? I'm not special, Harry."

"You're right; you're not special," he said firmly as he took her hand and held onto it tightly. "Special is too ordinary for you and you're extraordinary. You're incredible because you are you. You're the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I go to sleep. You're the person that makes my days worthwhile, worth living. Gin, you're the person I want to marry."

If he had expected to break through and reach her, he was disappointed. She looked at him straight in the eyes as she pulled her hand away. "And Draco Malfoy doesn't do that for someone."

"I don't know, Gin, seriously, I could not tell you. But you are my only concern, right now," he said as he saw the sky start to turn into a deep red, a sense of urgency starting to flood through him. "And you need to get out of here, it's just not safe. We both need to. We're taking a huge risk still being here."

Her head bowed into a small nod.

"Can you Apparate without splinching yourself?"

"I've got a Portkey."

"Right," he replied with a small nod, "and will it get you home safely?"

"He said it would take me to St Mungo's," Ginny replied as she gestured towards the body lying at her feet. "Looks like there's no reason not to believe it."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. He was desperate to actually do something to help and was still unwilling to trust the word of a Death Eater, even if they were a spy. "I can make you a new one in a second."

"It's okay," she said, shaking her head. "I've just got to walk out of range of the wards." She paused and looked directly at him in the eyes. "I'll see you later, then, Harry?"

He thought his heart would break at her casual dismissal. Giving her a small nod, he fought the urge to follow her. It was obviously not what she wanted at the moment.

He watched as she slowly and carefully got to her feet and started to walk away. She didn't give him a backward glance and he could feel his heart start to sink as watched her start to disappear. She had not smiled at him once; her entire face had been completely impassive throughout their conversation and her normally lively brown eyes looked dead.

The only time that he had seen her looking like this before was at Charlie's funeral when she had desperately tried to keep her tears in check. That had been less than a year ago, but so much had happened since then it felt like a lifetime.

Well, this time he was going to be with her every step of the way, and that would start right now. He got to his feet, leaving Malfoy lying on the floor, and ran after her.

"Ginny?"

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. "Yes?" she asked. Her voice sounded weak and tired.

"You know I love you, right?"

She nodded and met his eyes for the briefest of seconds, before she glanced downwards, pushing a matted lock of hair behind her shoulder.

"And I couldn't live my life without you, so I'm here for whatever you need," he said, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice.

"I know," she replied in a soft voice before turning away.

His heart plummeted. That was the first time he had ever said 'I love you' to Ginny and she had not responded with the same three little words. Ginny was his heartbeat and it felt like it was slowly stopping with every step that she took away from him. It hardly mattered that Draco Malfoy had died. After all, Malfoy was a Death Eater and had been one since his sixth year at Hogwarts. His death meant nothing compared to losing her.

Since Ginny had joined him in the Hogwarts library during his fifth year, offering him a moment of hope in a very hard eighteen months, she had become his rock. She didn't adopt the critical tones that Hermione used, or the nodding responses of Ron, but she listened to him, thought through ideas and helped him search for a solution. Ginny Weasley was his equal in every way possible.

He could not lose her. She kept him sane in all the madness of war and was always there when he had needed her. And he was going to do the same for her. He needed to bring her back to his side somehow, no matter how long that took.

Ginny closed her eyes as the doors to her private room in St Mungo's slammed shut. The noise echoing around her mind and the last of the Healers finally disappeared. Over the last couple of hours she had been fussed over by at least half a dozen Healers, Healers-in-training and several Medi-witches. She was sick of listening to them and trying to answer their questions. She had chosen to feign exhaustion so that she could avoid the same process with her family and members of the Order. A sense of relief had filled her body when the Healer-in-charge, Healer Talbot, finally respected her wishes and said that everyone, including the Order members and her family, were all to leave her alone until she had had some rest.

She just could not bear to see anyone at the moment. No matter what they said, it was her fault that she was in this position. She was the person that had decided to go wandering in Knockturn Alley and managed to walk into a trap and get kidnapped. It was her fault that Malfoy was dead and Harry was fighting the guilt of killing him. She had lost the Order of Phoenix a spy, hurt Harry and was tainted after letting Lucius Malfoy touch her body.

Her whole body ached with tiredness; all she wanted to do was sleep and let everything disappear in her dreams. Yet as she felt her eye lashes resting on the top of her cheek, she could see the lustful look on Lucius Malfoy's face, followed by the look of shock in Draco Malfoy's cold grey eyes flashing in and out of her mind.

Come on, Gin, get a grip.

She let out a long, deep breath, thankful that her ribs had been one of the first things the staff had healed. If only the rest of her would heal as easily as her broken ribs and disappear as easily as her bruises. If only the dirty feeling that ran throughout her tainted body would wash away as easily as the dried blood had done off her face and hair.

She felt a wave of light-headedness wash over her. Her body was giving into exhaustion, even if her mind wasn't. It would be a long time before that would let her relax.

I need to sleep, she told herself. I'm safe and I need to sleep. Come on, Gin, get a grip, no one can hurt you her. You're in St Mungo's, for Merlin's sake; it's safe.

She forced herself to focus on her deep breaths and felt the tension in her body start to diminish. Once she was feeling relaxed, she let her breath settle into its normal pattern.

I'm safe now.

Ta-tap, ta-tap, ta-tap.

The sense of panic and worry increased in her body. It was the cold, harsh sound of metal meeting stone as someone walked up and down outside her room. She felt her breath quicken into a series of fast and shallow pants. Hardly any air filled her lungs and in her panic, her eyes flew open. He's back, he's come back and he's going to take me back. The footsteps were increasing as someone paced outside her room. Don't be stupid, he can't come into St. Mungo's; he's a known Death Eater, wanted by the Ministry. It's just a Healer, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a Weasley or Harry. They aren't going to leave you here alone, so they are bound to be outside that door.

Harry. It's Harry out there.

A shiver ran down her spine and a plummeting feeling settled in her stomach. She felt she did not deserve him, especially after failing to muster those all important words, 'I love you'. To her shame she had found herself just nodding and walking away instead of talking to him and telling how she felt. What on earth is wrong with you, Gin? You should have been running over and collapsing in his arms. He risked everything for you and you could not even tell him that you love him. He was the only person you thought of in that pit. He was the person who restored your faith in love after what Riddle did.

Why couldn't life be simple and let them be two teenagers in love? Without the wars, the guilt and the mistakes. All she had wanted to do was love Harry and become his wife, yet there always seemed to be obstacles linked to Tom Riddle that attempted to stop their happiness and mute their feelings for each other. She longed for the times when all she had to worry about was her parents and six over-protective brothers.

She gently closed her eyes; maybe things will be better in the morning. Her own hollow laugh echoed around her head. Would things ever be normal again?

Ginny was sitting cross-legged under the large Christmas tree filling one corner of the room. She was at The Burrow for the school holidays, snuggled in front of the large fire. She pushed her legs out as she stretched her body; she had just enough room between the tree and the fire to lie down flat. She had never been able to sleep on Christmas Eve and was often awake into the early hours of Christmas morning. She would lie in her bed and wait until the last weary Weasley had traipsed up to their room.

Her cue for heading back downstairs was hearing the door of the bedroom opposite closing as her dad finished his act as Father Christmas. She would then quickly make her way down the stairs, being careful to watch for the noisy ones that could creak and give her away as she made her way back to the living room. She would run across the room and spend hours examining all her presents under the tree, trying to work out what they were.

The sixteen-year-old picked up a small gift from the bottom of the tree, twisting the name tag up so she could see who it was for. Butterflies filled her stomach as she read the words, 'To Ginny, Happy Christmas, May this be the first of many, love Harry.' She smiled broadly. Her mum was rejoicing because this was going to be the first Christmas in nine years that she would have her whole family home. But she was celebrating for another reason; this was going to be her first Christmas with Harry.

She had spent Christmas with him before; in fact, this would be the fourth year running that she would be involved in a Christmas with Harry. But this was the first Christmas that she was going to spend the holidays in a relationship with him. She was his girlfriend and just for the next forty-eight hours, she was not going to be concerned with what was going on outside the walls of The Burrow. With Harry and her whole family home, this was going to be the best Christmas that she had ever had.

Ginny examined the small box that fitted into the palm of her hand. The cubed shaped present was wrapped in deep red paper with a gold ribbon tied around it. She ran her fingers along the soft paper before holding it to her ear. She smiled; Harry always wrapped her gifts in Gryffindor colours. Carefully she shook it, trying to work out the small rattling sound as something slid from side to side in the box. Well, it was either a toy car, a key ring, a golden Snitch or an item of jewellery. She ran her hand softly over the silk paper trying to get some more clues. She wasn't Fred and George's little sister without picking up a couple of their tricks.

"Miss Weasley," came a voice from the dark, "what do you think you are doing?"

"Father Christmas," she mocked softly, trying to draw Harry out of his hiding place, "is that you?"

"You do know that I only bring Christmas presents to good boys and girls, the rest just get lumps of coal in their stockings?"

"Well, that's me done for," she said with a small grin. "I guess there's no way I can change your mind, Saint Nick?"

"Looks like you're going to get more than a couple pieces of coal in that stocking."

Her smile grew. "Well, you learn something new every year and it looks to me that I have got a few presents under this tree. So, are you going to come into the light? There's a nice warm bit of floor between me and the fire with your name on it."

"Have you been writing my name all over the house again, Gin?" he said as he took a couple of steps into the light. Her heart jumped as she tried and failed to keep her eyes from dwelling on the boxer shorts he was wearing. "What are we going to do with you? You're mum will have your guts for garters you know."

"I'm mum's angel, her little girl. I thought you knew that."

He let out a small laugh as he rested his arms on the back of the sofa and looked over at her. "If you say so. So, is there a new broom down there?"

She scanned the pile and tried to hide her disappointment, this was the third year in a row she had asked for a new broomstick, but with a war going on, a new Cleansweep was an expensive luxury her parents couldn't afford. She shrugged as she looked at him. "No, it looks like it's only prefects that get new brooms. That's how it worked with Ron, Charlie and Bill anyway."

"Well," he grinned at her, "you never know what Father Christmas will add to the pile between now and a reasonable hour when everyone else gets up."

"Well," she flashed him one of her most innocent and sweet smiles as she proceeded to tease him, "I'm not too fond of waiting, I tend to like to be involved in the action, so how about we start our Christmas now? I swear I won't tell anyone else."

"I'm learning that more and more, Miss Weasley," he replied with a slight hint of mischief within his playful voice.

She lifted the small box back to her ear so that it was level with his eye line and shook it softly again. "So do I get my Christmas present, now, Mr Potter?" she asked sweetly, adopting an air of innocence.

"Well, it wouldn't really be fair," Harry said as he walked around the sofa and towards her. He smiled as he sat down next to her on the floor. "I mean, no one else is getting their presents yet."

"I don't want them all," she teased, "just one."

"I don't know, Gin," he said in mock seriousness. "It wouldn't be fair to the rest of your family."

She smiled innocently back at him, all the while her eyes glistened with a hint of mischief. If he was going to play games then she had learnt from the best and become an expert. Softly, she leaned in and placed a small kiss on his lips, before pulling away quickly, leaving him wanting it to last longer.

"How was that for a present?"

"I've had better."

"Really?" she questioned as a smile curled across her lips. "Do you want to show it me then? Because frankly, Harry, I can't imagine what you are talking about."

"My Firebolt."

She let out a small giggle. "I thought so."

"Closely followed by being with you, of course."

"Naturally," she replied, trying to stay calm. She allowed Harry to pull her closer, her heart jumping as the gap closed between them.

Butterflies filled her stomach and her body trembled with anticipation as he ran his hand down her back. Her heart cartwheeled and her whole body jumped as his hand reached her backside. Their lips meet for the first time that night. As his lips parted, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss and letting her tongue explore his mouth as they brushed against each other. But before she could get carried away with setting her hands to the myriad of tasks that definitely pushed against the boundaries her parents had placed upon them, she froze as she heard a noise on the stairs. The young lovers pulled apart suddenly as the noise grew louder. She placed her finger on his lips as she listened to the noise and tried to identify the footsteps.

"Shit, that's mum," she explained in a quick whisper.

A look of panic flashed in Harry's eyes and she shot him an encouraging smile. That was Harry all over for you; he could face Death Eaters without breaking a sweat and was quickly becoming one of the greatest Wizards of the age, but would quake at her mother's wrath.

"What do we do?" he asked in a voice filled with a sense of urgency and panic. "After the conversation your dad had with me the other day, they'll skin me alive."

"Not if they don't find out," she smiled. She got to her feet. "You surrender to things too easily, Potter. You need to learn the Weasley way of life."

She felt her heart pounding against her chest as she offered him her hand, which he took. A sense of sheer adrenaline took over her body as the fear of getting caught by her parents heightened. She had had a similar conversation with her mother as soon as she had stepped back in The Burrow at the start of the Christmas holidays. And she did not fancy finding out whether her mum's words had just been empty threats. Being found downstairs alone with and kissing Harry, who was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts while she was just in a nightdress, was not going to look good.

Ginny squeezed his hand, as he quickly made their way through the living room and into the kitchen. Her eyes scanned around the kitchen, looking for an escape route that did not lead out into the cold, snow-filled garden. She felt a smile form across her lips as she glanced at him and then the cupboard under the stairs. As if he was reading her mind, he bungled her into the cupboard.

"Brilliant," he whispered.

"Well, I do try."

"Gin," he started.

"Shh," she raised her finger back to his lips, "mum."

Harry sat down as the Healer-in-Charge of St Mungo's private rooms, Healer Talbot, walked out of his fianc's room. The Healer was a stern, elderly looking witch who was in her mid-nineties. She had dark grey hair that hung in a long French plait at the back of her head and a disapproving glare, which she offered to Harry and the Weasley brothers as soon as she came through the door. It was almost as if they had been making too much noise while she had been examining Ginny and were now deemed guilty and in need of reproach.

He knew Healer Talbot by reputation only. She was said to be a talented witch and a great friend of the Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones. Like her friend, she was often described as 'firm, but fair' when people asked what she was like. She had a 'strict witch with a no nonsense' bedside manner. Although, the rumours whispered very quietly on the wards of St Mungo's said that her bark was much worse than her bite.

Harry had been pacing up and down the corridor for the entire time that the Healer was in the room with Ginny, feeling increasingly frustrated and impatient. On arrival at St Mungo's he had found Dumbledore waiting to see him, insisting in polite tones to find out what had taken place in the last few hours. However, he had put off talking to the Hogwarts Head Teacher until he had seen Ginny.

He knew that he needed to talk to his old Headmaster, but now was not the time. Deep down he knew that he would have to explain his actions and he was worried by the small sense of guilt that was starting to fill his body. But the sheer sense of relief that Ginny was out of the hands of Death Eaters was rapidly covering the guilt. He had made it quite clear to the leader of the Order of the Phoenix that he was not going anywhere and was not going to answer any questions until he was a hundred percent certain that Ginny was going to be okay. He was going to be there the moment that Ginny wanted and needed him.

Harry glanced over at Mr and Mrs Weasley as the Healer walked directly towards them and past him. He choose not to voice the surge of frustration that was filling his body due to the fact the elderly Healer had chosen to talk Ginny's parents instead of him, her fianc. When were older and supposedly wiser wizards going to stop treating him like a teenage boy and respect him for the man that he had become? So what that both him and Ginny were still young, they were in love and she was his fianc. Their ages should not be used to devalue the feelings they had for each other. He should have been the first person that the witch had come to talk to.

Mr Weasley held tightly onto his wife hand as he braced himself for hearing bad news. The normal jovial face of Arthur Weasley showed the strain of his daughter's captivity. The few wrinkles on his face had multiplied and his already thin hair had lost a few more strands. Mrs Weasley had faired little better since her little girl had gone missing. Her normal plump face had thinned and paled so that she now looked as white as a ghost, except for the area around her eyes which was bright red. Her hands had been trembling with nerves from the minute her daughter had been admitted to St Mungo's, but she had started to calm a little in her husband's firm hold.

"Mr and Mrs Weasley?"

"Yes," Mr Weasley confirmed as both he and his wife instantly got to his feet and he gave her hand an extra squeeze. "How is she? How's my little girl?" he asked in a soft voice, desperate for both answers and some form of hope.

"Physically, she well and healing very satisfactory," the experienced Healer replied in a business-like tone. "When Ginerva-"

"Ginny," Harry announced, finding it hard to keep his anger under control as he got to his feet and walked over to the Healer and her parents. "Her name is Ginny."

No one dared called Ginny by her full name, except maybe her mother, unless they had either a death wish or wanted to feel the full force of the fiery redhead's temper.

The old witch frowned at him. Her disapproving glare deemed him unworthy of interrupting or questioning her. Especially in a situation when she had such important information to tell them.

"When Ginny arrived, Mr and Mrs Weasley, she had substantial injuries to both her mind and body. She was suffering from a series of broken ribs, particularly the ones that are connected to the sternum, which, left untreated, can lead to problems concerning the lungs. She had deep and infected cuts on her face and a large amount of bruising across her entire body. On my questioning of Miss Weasley, she confirmed my fears that she had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse for a number of hours. She is still very weak and suffering from exhaustion. It appears that she used large amounts of energy and her natural reserves in fights against her captors."

Tears had escaped from Mr Weasley's eyes as he had listened to the description of his daughter's condition. Yet there had been a hint of pride that had glowed across his face as the Healer spoke about Ginny's resilience. "That's my girl," he whispered softly to his wife.

"Our girl, Arthur," his wife reminded him in muffled tones as she raised a tear stained handkerchief to her face. "She never does give without a fight."

Arthur Weasley smiled at his wife as he pulled her even closer to him. "Well, she does take after her mother, Molly dear."

"She need a series of healthy meals, loving care and Strengthening Solutions over the next few days. Although there will be no physical difference to her state prior to capture," the witch continued as if she had not been interrupted, "she needs to remember to take it easy and have lots of bed rest. She should not be partaking in any form of any strenuous activity for a while nor leaving the house."

"Good luck," Fred muttered under his breath.

"Physically, she is as well as anyone can expect. She is obviously a very healthy and active young woman. And I have to say, if her physical health was my only concern, I would be releasing her today with a set of appropriate potions."

"But," Harry said, waiting for her to mention the problem that had been a nagging doubt in his mind since he had seen her on that field with Malfoy.

"The problem arises, Mr Potter," the elderly witch explained, focusing her attention on him for the first time, "when you look at the non-physical issues. To be brutally honest, I am very worried about Miss Weasley's mental state." Her voice softened and you could hear a clear Scottish accent as she broke away from her business-like-tone. "Ginny has been through a terrible ordeal, the full extent of which one can only imagine. It has taken great spirit and courage to even be at the stage she is now, but that was not without consequences." She paused briefly before continuing. "This is something that she is not going to recover from overnight."

"We understand that," said Harry slowly, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I just want to know what we can do to help."

"Ginny is going to need all the support and love you can give her. She has a large loving family and lots of friends, and she is going to need all of that," the Healer replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "But I'm afraid at the moment she is rejecting any form of help. She is feeling a mixture of guilt and a deep sense of shame. I'm afraid for the present time she does not want to see any of you."

"Any of us?" Harry questioned in a hollow voice.

She studied his face for a minute before replying in a voice that contained her first hint of compassion as she spoke in a soft tone. "Yes, Mr Potter, any of you … for the time being."

Tears fell down Mrs Weasley's pale face; she looked like she could hardly stand to hear anything else. "How can she think that? How can she feel like that and not want to see us? Does she not know how much we love her?"

"Everyone reacts differently to traumatic experiences, Mrs Weasley. However, it is not unusual for people to turn away from the people who love them the most, especially after enduring what your daughter has in the last couple of days. As no doubt Albus has already explained."

Mr Weasley nodded. "So what do you recommend we do?"

"You need to give her time and don't pressure her. Be there, talk and listen to her, but don't rush things. There are parts of the body, and indeed the mind, that can't be healed overnight." Her voice had lost the sternness that had characterised their earlier exchanges. "It is important to make things as normal as possible and not treat her any differently. She is still the same person that you all love so much, but she has chosen to lock that part of her away. We just need to be patient so that we can help her bring that part of her back into the light.

"However, due to her mental state, I have left her with a draft for a dreamless sleep, which she has been instructed to take. Therefore, for the moment I recommend you let her sleep. She needs to build back up her strength. And looking at you all, it is something I would like to suggest for the rest of you. The next few days and weeks are going to be hard and you will need all the strength you have. Go home and get some rest, and come back refreshed later."

Healer Talbot gave them a small nod. "Now if you will excuse me I have other patients to see. I will be back to check on her in a couple of hours."

"Thank you for your time," Mr Weasley said as he watched the Healer disappear down the corridor. "Well, boys," he said as he took command of the situation, "I think its better that we listen to the advice of the professionals and you all go home and get some rest."

"Are you sure, dad?" Bill queried in a stubborn tone that clearly showed he was not overly keen on the idea of leaving.

"Positive," he replied in a firm tone Harry had never heard him use before that clearly showed the matter was settled.

Bill was the first to get to his feet, slowly followed by the others. None of them really wanted to leave but they could see the sense in what the Healer had said. And, truth be told, now that the adrenalin wasn't pumping through their systems, their lack of sleep was beginning to get the better of them.

Harry stayed quiet as one by one they hugged their mother before walking reluctantly down the corridor. Ron was the last to leave, scowling at Hermione as she pulled at his arm. No matter how old they were, the brothers would always listen to what their parents had to say on important issues. Out of respect for their parents, they waited until they reached the end of the corridor before the conversation burst into life.

Arthur Weasley looked resignedly at Harry as he studied the younger man's face, glancing at the closed door to the private room. "I'm guessing that you're not going to go home, Harry," he said in a resigned tone.

"You're guessing right, Mr Weasley."

The elder man nodded his approval as he turned to his wife. "Now, Molly dear, I know that you won't want to leave here, but how about a strong cup of tea with maybe something a little extra in it upstairs?"

"I can't leave her, Arthur, she's my baby."

"We are not leaving her, but she's asleep now and no one is going through those doors at the moment." Mr Weasley said in a gentle but encouraging voice. "And I'm sure Harry will tell us if anything happens. Besides, he will be the first person she wants to see."

Harry admired the confidence that Mr Weasley had, he was not sure that Ginny wanted to see him.

With that, Mrs Weasley offered him a weak smile before heading down the corridor with her husband's arm around her. After watching them disappear up the stairs to the caf, Harry scanned up and down the corridor to check that it was clear. It didn't matter at all what the Healer had said; I'm going through that door to see her. I'll be in that room the second that she wakes.

Slowly, he got to his feet and pushed open the door to the private room. It was a cold white room with a couple of chairs, a table and only the one bed in the centre. In the middle of the bed, her knees drawn up tightly to her chest, was Ginny. Her face was almost as white as the spotless sheets on the bed. Her red eyes were wide open, staring aimlessly out the window.

"Gin," he said softly.

She turned her head to look at him and offered him a small smile. As he watched her lips curve into its familiar smile, an instant flood of relief started to fill his body. "Hi, Harry."

"You look better," he replied as he walked towards her bed.

"Well, I couldn't have looked much worse," her small smile grew into the beginnings of a grin. For the briefest second her eyes twinkled and Harry saw her body relax.

"Too right, Weasley." Encouraged by her smile, he paused as he reached the end of her bed. "They said that you did not want to see anyone, so if you want, I can go."

"You're not just anyone, Harry."

"That's a good thing, right?" he asked, unsure of whether he wanted her response. She had been so distant in the last few hours.

"Of course, it's a good thing," she replied, using her hand to pat the bed beside her and invited him to sit down on the bed with her. "What happened with Malfoy?" she asked, fixing her tear stained eyes on him and her voice filled with concern. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he replied automatically. She glared at him, refusing to buy his off pat response. "Okay, I'm not fine. But I'll survive now you're back."

Ginny frowned. "We need to do more than surviving; we need to live. Don't you think?"

"Yeah," his smile grew, "so what are we going to do about it?"

She reached over and took his hand as she spoke in a soft voice, "I don't know. But what I do know is that together we'll work it out, we always do."

He studied her face for a moment. Where had this new attitude come from? How had she spun around three hundred and sixty degrees so quickly? The Healer had said it would take time.

"Not that I want to question things, but what made you change your mind?"

She shrugged. "I've had a lot of time to think, think about people who love me."

His smile grew. "I've never stopped."

"Neither have I," Ginny said softly. "I know I'm not going to be okay overnight and neither are you. So, Mr Potter, you can drop the 'I'm fine act', I know you better than that. We'll work through it, okay?" She looked him directly in the eyes. "And the first step is for you to take me home."