Sydney awoke with a start, only remembering passing out a second earlier. She had been placed into a warm bed with lots of thick blankets and fluffy pillows. The room was pleasant, the sun shone through the windows, and she felt extremely happy. She threw the blankets off her to examine herself. She had been completely healed, bathed, and changed into a dark black dress. She looked up and saw her robes hanging off the bedpost, the tip of her wand sticking out of its pocket. She quickly dressed and threw her hair back into a ponytail.

At the end of the room, there was no door, but a note in an envelope. She opened it and read:

You are in a safe location. Do not leave until you are better. You know where to find us.

There was no signature, no "Dear Sydney", no initials at the bottom of the page. Nothing. If this was such a safe house, she wondered, then why couldn't they just say in the message where to find them, instead of making her guess? She didn't like that her letter was typed. She didn't like any of it, but then again, she thought, maybe she was being too cautious.

With a wave of her wand, she apparated.

/

The screams of Ron carried its way down into the dungeon where Harry and Hermione were kept. No matter how hard she pressed her hands to her ears, she still heard his wails as clear as anything. She had chains around each wrist and ankle, only allowing her enough room to take a few steps, and sit down somewhat comfortably.

Harry, on the other hand, was strapped to the wall, completely rid of all of his clothes. He had a dirty rag tied around his head in his mouth to keep him from talking, and spikes dug into his wrists and ankles from his cuffs. He was in excruciating pain, but didn't want to show it. He had to remain strong for Hermione, who hadn't even been able to look at him since they got there. He felt terribly awkward, being in the state he was in front of his friend.

The doors to the dungeon opened, shining in brilliant light so bright they had to squint. Descending down the steps were 3 shadows. The one in the middle was tall and stoic and Hermione could tell by his posture he was a death eater.

"Ginny!" Harry gasped through his gag. There was something different about her. Her hair was messy and dull, it hardly shone any of her brilliant natural red color. Her nicely round face was thin and her clothes were looser than normal. She looked like she had been starved.

As the death eater released Ginny's hand, he began to fix Ron into shackles similar to Hermione's. Ron looked like hell. He had symbols carved into his chest, bruises all over him, but they at least had the decency to let him wear his boxer shorts.

"Ginny, run!" Hermione screamed, but she just sat down, staring at her arm.

"She won't run, stupid girl!" Fenrir laughed, "She's high as a kite. She probably doesn't even know where she is."

"What did you do to her?" Hermione demanded.

A shadow came into the light from upstairs and descended down the steps gracefully. Fenrir quickly strapped a shackle around Ginny's throat and returned upstairs, passing by the figure with reverence.

Ron could see who it was first, and he spit a bloody mess right at him, missing, but still going noticed.

Voldemort raised his hand, and a force of magic punched Ron right into the gut, sending him falling back into the wall. Hermione admired Ron for this, and felt such sadness looking at his bruised, beaten body. His eyes met hers, and her heart skipped. He looked more rough, more adult. Less like the Ron she knew, more like a caged predator.

"Hello, Gingerbread, how are you feeling?" Voldemort asked with fake concern as he fiercely grabbed Ginny's hair, pulling her head back to look at him. Her pupils were fully dilated, staring at him, twitching. She recognized Voldemort's voice, which was ok to her, because he wasn't seeming so terrifying anymore, but his body looked different. He kept changing shapes; one moment he would look like a young handsome man, the next, he looked like an old decrepit homeless woman.

"Who are you?" she asked, baffling the others.

"Why, its me, darling? Its Harry!" Voldemort lied.

Harry screamed underneath his gag without much results. Hermione and Ron both tried to convince her otherwise, but she began to see Harry staring down at her. She was confused, Harry was right in front of her and Hermione and Ron kept telling her he wasn't.

Voldemort released his grip and smoothed her hair back, making Ginny feel incredibly loved and warm. She wanted to kiss Harry. She wanted to do much more things with him. She reached her hands up and embraced who she thought was her crush, pushing her lips into his. They were incredibly soft, incredibly talented. She kissed him to the screams and objections of the others for a long moment, relishing in the way his tongue flirted and lapped the tip of hers. He tasted earthy, and his breath felt so warm and nice on her face. He touched her neck which made her shiver. She began to kiss him more fiercely, delighted by it. He playfully bit her bottom lip before he pulled away.

Voldemort wiped his lips with his robes and smiled down at the girl, knowing she still saw him as Harry.

"I will kill you!" Ron shouted, fighting and thrashing against his shackles. He was wild with rage, completely brute anger fueled him. He fought with what little strength he had left, and failed. He crumpled to the floor, defeated.

Voldemort laughs at this, and pats Ginny on the head. She reaches out for more, heat rising from her core for him. The dark lord puts the palm of his hand on her forehead and shoves her back, making her fall delightfully on her back. The feeling of falling delights her in many ways, and she just closes her eyes, reveling in her enjoyment.

"Oh, my apologies Harry!" Voldemort said once he faced his nemesis. "Forgive my death eaters, they sometimes get carried away." with a wave of his wand, clothes appeared, the straps disappear, and shackles just like Hermione and Ron's appear.

Harry ripped out the gag from his mouth and lunged to Voldemort.

"You sick bastard!" Harry screamed, hands clawing just inches short of Voldemort's firm stance. He smiled evilly, loving the look of complete anger on Harry's face. "I will kill you! I swear to God, for everything you have done, I will kill you!"

"Oh, you will tell God on me?" Voldemort laughed. "If there is a God, then may He smite me dead right now!" The Dark Lord held his arms out, looking up to the ceiling, waiting for something to happen. A few seconds later, he rested his arms, and smiled cruelly at Harry. "I guess God doesn't hear you, Harry."

Voldemort descended up the stairs, smiling to himself. "Oh, and Harry-" he called. "Sleep well, for tomorrow, you will die."