A Phoenix Does Not Fear Ashes Chapter 25: Destruction, a harry potter fanfic

Once again, sorry for the wait, but the lack of reviews of Chapter 24 was disconcerting to say the least. I've tried to make this chapter perfect.

Also, if you've read my Beautiful series, not many of you have, I have finished the final part of the trilogy, but am unsure as to if I want to post it. If you ask, I just might send it to you and get your opinion on it.

The song is the work of 30 Seconds to Mars, not mine. Although repetitive, it's excellent and I suggest listening to it.

JKR owns all Harry Potter characters and I own the ones I created.

-Katy

Grab your gun

Time to go to Hell

I'm no hero

Guilty as charged

Search and Destroy

Found my faith

Livin' in sin

I'm no Jesus

But neither are you my friend

I'm a whore

A birth of broken dreams

The simple answer

Is never what it seems

A million little pieces

We've broken into

A million little pieces

I've stolen from you

Search and destroy

Sold my soul

Heaven into Hell

Sick as my secrets

But never going to tell

I'm to blame

Burden of my dreams

The curse of faith

Is a blessing I believe

I believe

Oh, I believe

I believe

Search and destroy

Let go

Let me go

Let go

Let me go

Search and destroy

A million little pieces

Stolen from you

Search and destroy

A million little pieces

To start

-30 Seconds to Mars, Search and Destroy

XXV

Chapter Twenty-Five: Destruction

They just weren't city people, Ginny thought with a smirk, as she and Draco slowly relaxed the deeper they wandered into the think, inky shadows of the towering forest, the knots in their necks and shoulders slowly untwisting as they became more and more hidden with each footstep.

Maybe one day, she thought as she reached over and grabbed Draco's hand, they would return to the city they were currently fleeing, but not for a long time. Not until the world was safe, if it ever was.

There was a very big chance that their entire mission would be futile; and they were both acutely aware of this.

They had fought their way out of the townhouse, leaving a trail of masked bodies and charred remains amongst broken dishes and torn drapery as they ran from the city.

They both stopped about five miles deep into the forest, slowing to a light jog until they fully stopped, throwing down their bags and immediately creating wards around their campsite, each taking turns holding their hands in the air and revolving slowly in a circle as sparks glowed from their wands.

As soon as the campsite was secure, Draco began rummaging through the bag as Ginny stared at the secret map in her locket, pinpoints of light illuminating her face in the darkness.

Finally, he pulled out a small lamp, lighting it with a few matches, before reaching back into the bag, his hand reemerging with two old apples which they had salvaged from the townhouse.

Ginny glanced over at Draco, dragging her eyes forcefully away from the mysterious locket. As she saw what sat in his palms, her stomach growled.

Dinnertime.

As her teeth slowly sunk into the supple flesh of the apple, juice rising into her mouth to greet her tongue, her mind wandered into the future once again. Would they be able to live?

She hadn't given it much thought until this moment; she and Draco had hardly had any time to think since escaping the massacre. They'd spent the past few weeks running through forests as their arms scratched against sharp branches, plotting their next move as they tossed another piece of paper onto the growing pile of discarded ideas, hiding in shelters only to be found once again, and feeling only constant hunger and fear.

The last time she had had a full meal, one that hadn't consisted of merely an apple or food snatched from a garbage can in the dead of night, had been at Snape's house, a lifetime ago.

The last time she had not lived in fear was before the night of the massacre; in fact, she had spent much of the time at the Headquarters with Draco trying to get over the same sense of dread and fear she felt constantly now. And yet, it was different.

Now, she knew she could protect herself. Now her fear was for others, not herself.

And it had been forever since she had been able to truly sit down and think. All of her time had been so consumed by attempts of surviving, by hiding, by fighting, by running, she hadn't had any time to think.

Now, as she and Draco sat down across from one another, the gas lamp separating them, her mind wandered as she chewed slowly.

Would they live?

No, she decided, they wouldn't live for a long time, not until the fighting and running was over. What they were doing wasn't living, it was surviving. Their only hope to actually live was to survive the war. And, admittedly, she wasn't sure how good the odds were for them.

They had defeated nearly every Death Eater sent their way. They were unstoppable, merciless. And yet, would it be enough to defeat smirking Lucius? The cruel, laughing Bellatrix? Red-eyed Voldemort himself?

She wasn't so sure. They could only try.

She suddenly felt a longing to feel her one of her brother's words surface onto her arm, to read the comforting words that they were also alive. But none appeared, they couldn't.

It was simply too much of a risk. The only reason they would send a message was if they were about to be captured.

She frowned slightly before looking across the lamplight at Draco, his blond hair a soft silver color matching the moon.

"Do you think my brothers are safe?" She asked, her voice small.

Draco frowned slightly, having been knocked out of his own reverie by her words; he spoke softly, considering his response, "Yes, I believe that they can take care of themselves. They were all magnificent wizards, some of the best I had ever met, even before I trained them. Now, they know nearly a thousand ways to disarm and kill an opponent magically, not to mention with weapons and their own hands. They know they are being tracked magically; they are wary and cautious. And they're Weasley's. They are members of one of the biggest wizarding families in the world. There's a reason your family is so large: you guys don't die off very easily."

Ginny laughed quietly at his last words, they were fairly true. Her family had lived through the First Wizarding War with minimal loss of life and, so far, she had only lost one cousin in this one.

"However," Draco continued, "Voldemort always sends more Death Eaters when he knows your family is involved. He pretends that your family is just a worthless clan of blood traitors who he couldn't care less about but, truthfully, your family is one of the only ones with enough power behind it to take him down singlehandedly. Why do you think he tried to make Percy cross sides? Lucius said once that the Dark Lord was extremely unhappy when he learned Harry had befriended your family. It isn't because he wanted to turn Harry to the dark side; he's always wanted to kill Potter. He didn't want Harry to have friends as powerful as your family. So, yes, I think your family is perfectly safe. They can take care of themselves."

"So Voldemort is purposefully targeting my family?" Ginny asked quietly.

Draco felt a sense of dread in his stomach. He suddenly remembered the secret he hadn't told Ginny, that she had been targeted on purpose, her rape hadn't been a coincidence. His voice was uneasy when he spoke, "Yes. About that, Ginny…"

Ginny's face snapped upwards at his tone and loss of words. He was Draco Malfoy, his words never unsure, his tone always fearless, "What? What aren't you telling me?"

How'd she know he wasn't telling her something? He wondered to himself, confused. He breathed in deeply, deciding to take the plunge, "I didn't tell you because I didn't think you needed any more fear in your life. When we were fighting on our first Death Eater raid, the witch I was fighting told me something. I have no idea how she found it out, but your rape wasn't on accident. I suppose Death Eaters had been ordered to do that if they ever spotted you. They wanted to weaken your family."

He watched, his heart breaking, as he saw Ginny's face close off, her eyes turning to ice. "You thought I didn't have a right to know this?"

He felt a sudden spike of icy panic, something he didn't feel often, as he scrambled for words, "Ginny – it's not that. I was trying to protect you!"

Her brows knit together into a scowl and Draco swallowed past a lump in his throat, his palms getting clammy. She did not like that answer. At all.

Ginny felt anger boiling up inside her body, pushing for release. She let him have it. "I do not need your help, Draco. I can protect myself. I've destroyed Death Eaters, I've beat you in fights. I have handled myself before and I can handle myself now. You really think I can't handle the truth?" She took a deep breath, steadying her voice as she went in for the kill, her voice laced with poison, her eyes narrowing in on her target. "You're a misogynist. Just like your father."

Draco was silent, his jaw clenched in anger, his fists balled. Ginny stood up suddenly, violently snatching her bag off of the ground and storming to the opposite side of the invisible circle they were enclosed in, as far away from him as possible.

XXV

Draco's eyes slowly opened, focusing on the dark stone ceiling hanging threateningly above his head, as if silently swearing to suddenly fall down and crush him to death.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment longer, his mind slowly churning, trying to make sense of what he was seeing as feeling slowly returned to his body.

He turned his head gingerly, his body stiff and sore from abuse and lack of use. As he looked, the stone floor feeling cool against his back, he saw he was in a cell, the bars casting slender shadows across his face.

He tried to sit up, but was pulled back down by the shackles attached to his wrists. As he pulled on them, pain sparked through his wrists.

Looking closer, he saw the skin under the cuffs was raw; he'd been in the cell for a while.

Footsteps echoed through the hall, bouncing off of the cold, stonewalls to greet his ears. His body became momentarily paralyzed; he would recognize the sinister sound of those footsteps anywhere.

"Good morning, Draco," Lucius formally, yet with a hint of cheeriness, greeted him as if he was seated across the breakfast table, rather than shackled to the floor of a dungeon.

"Why am I here?" Draco snarled, demanding answers.

Lucius frowned slightly, disapprovingly, before his face settled back into its usual expression of superiority and indifference. He gave an exasperated sigh, "I really hate repeating this story."

"What do you mean? Who have you been talking to?" Draco asked, his voice harsh.

"Really, Draco, you're in no position to be making demands." His father reminded him, indicating to the shackles with a tap of his cane. "I haven't been talking to anyone, Draco. Every time you pass out, you wake up once more confused as to how you got here. I think you may be suffering from amnesia. Which, frankly, makes you a bit useless." Lucius said the last part with another small frown, as if truly sorry his son was suffering from memory loss.

Who knows, thought Draco, maybe he was truly sorry; Lucius was always a difficult character to predict. He was always unsure when Lucius' compassionate side would suddenly surface.

"But, despite the fact that you can't remember how you got here, I do think you can remember the plans you made with the Order. And I'm going to make you tell me about them." Then, Draco felt a bolt of pain fly through his body, leaving him rigid and gasping for air, for relief.

He wasn't ready to give his father what he wanted, but he had to ask, "What plans do you want to know about, Lucius?"

Lucius laughed cruelly, "What plans?" He asked incredulously, "The plans you made before running away, Draco. You don't expect me to believe that you simply ran away without allying yourself with the Order, do you?"

Again, Draco felt pain, this time blacking out momentarily before regaining consciousness. His father was still speaking.

"And why would the Order simply accept you with open arms? You're one of their biggest enemies. So, Draco, what I want to know is what did you tell them?" Lucius was hissing, his face flushed red as he became more infuriated with every word.

Draco was confused, his groggy mind still working to decipher his father's ramblings. "I didn't offer them anything."

This time, the pain was so great that a scream ripped from his lungs, tearing open his mouth, and shattering the cold, silent air of the dungeon.

Lucius smirked, pushing up his sleeves. Draco felt a sense of dread; his father only pushed up his sleeves when he was about to perform extraordinarily powerful curses.

"Are you sure you don't know, Draco?" His father's voice was soft, a fatherly gentleness cloaking the malice and venom underneath as he leaned over and pushed back his sons bangs from his sweat-soaked forehead.

He knew the pain was about to come; he would have lied if he had had any idea what his father was talking about. But he didn't. All he could do was slowly shake his head and brace himself before the pain rocked through his entire body, shaking him to the core.

For a few moments, every nerve of his body was lit on fire, his head beginning to throb as sweat poured down his back from the intensity of it. The pain was indescribable, something not naturally felt by humans, a pain not naturally occurring in the world.

This kind of pain didn't exist, Draco's mind screamed to him as his eyes squeezed tight, his body writhing as it tried to find a way to escape the pain soaring through it.

He laid still, his heart slamming against his chest as he melted into the stone floor, a pool of sweat mixed with blood accumulating under him. As his eyes drooped closed, he heard his father whisper to someone, "It's really too bad we killed the Weasley girl."

At those words, Draco's heart leapt in his throat before he saw, through his eyelashes, his father raise his wand and all feeling disappeared from his world as he floated in a desensitized state, all senses dulled.

He continued to float, his mind wandering, his body completely numb, he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel. He couldn't taste or smell anything.

And then, reality hit. His father had cursed him. He was undergoing sensory deprivation.

Hate swelled within his stomach. Sensory deprivation was a torture technique his father had used often on prisoners of war. After a few days of feeling absolutely nothing, curses felt about a thousand times stronger. The pain was enough to break the strongest of men; it was enough to make anyone wish for death.

Draco had been awoken countless times from his sleep in the middle of the night to the screams of prisoners undergoing this cruel shock of torture.

He had once talked to a man who had survived the technique. He had explained, stuttering, cringing against a stonewall, that it had felt as if his body had erupted.

Erupted. That was the closest the man had gotten to explaining it, before he had drawn into himself, mumbling.

The torture method often made survivors succumb to the sweet bliss of insanity.

Draco's mind slowly faded and he opened his eyes to see the sun shining on his face.

XXV

He sat up, examining his wrists where he thought he had once been shackled, and looked around the clearing for Ginny.

Shielding one of his eyes with a hand and pushing back a few strands of hair as he did so, he glanced around the circle to see her looking back at him.

She smiled slightly, a sheepish smile, and crossed the clearing to sit beside him.

She breathed slowly inwards before letting it out in a puff, her words following quickly, as if at any moment her embarrassed mouth could stop saying them, "I'm sorry. I realize now that you were only trying to protect me." Looking away, she was silent before she looked at him and smirked, "And, we need to stick together because, let's face it, you'd get your ass kicked without me."

Draco laughed softly before smiling at her, "Apology accepted, Weasley."

He kissed her lightly on her forehead before standing and stretching. "No Death Eaters came by last night to check on our magic usage." He mused, "That's unusual, the last time we set up wards they surrounded us for twenty minutes."

Ginny's eyebrows knitted together and she spoke slowly, confusedly, "They came by, Draco. They were here for about an hour. You were sleeping like the dead. I tried to shake you awake but you wouldn't move. I thought you actually were dead for a moment. You're always awoken so easily."

Draco frowned slightly and shook his head; he decided not to remain on this minor mystery in his tangled web of a life. He stood, sighing slightly, and shook his hurting joints out after a long night of sleeping on the ground.

He quickly searched one of the bags, pulling out a small pan, two eggs he had snatched while they were in town, and a few matches from its dark depths. He expertly lit the matches, gathering a small pile of kindling, and held the pan steadily over it.

Serving Ginny an egg, which she ate with her hands because, unfortunately, in his mad rush to find useful things, he had forgotten silverware, he told her that she needed to check her map for any close by Death Eaters.

Swallowing a mouthful of eggs, Ginny posed with one handful of egg halfway toward her mouth as she noted, "You seem almost as if you're hoping they're near us."

Draco smirked, "Well, I am. We're supposed to be hunting, aren't we? And we need to find some supplies."

Ginny nodded, shoving the last handful of eggs into her mouth and wiping her greasy hands on her jeans before grabbing the locket at her neck and opening it carefully, peeling back the picture of the Order to reveal the map hidden beneath.

Examining it, Ginny noted that there were four death eaters, each within a mile radius of them, adding, "They're probably the ones who were sent to hunt us last night."

"Mhm" Draco said absently, reaching over to wipe a piece of egg off of Ginny's chin and smiling.

XXV

They floated silently beneath the trees, the towering giants above casting dark, imposing shadows over the two of them. Their eyes were alert, every sense afire.

It was a new sensation, or maybe one she hadn't felt in a long time. She didn't know whether she'd never felt it or whether it had merely always been there, in the back of her mind, this ability to feel and see everything around her.

As she and Draco drifted through the soft, cold underbelly of the forest, she felt as if she could sense anything. Her eyes could see things directly behind her, her nose smelled odors she had never picked up before, her ears picked up minute sounds muted to anyone else.

She had finally fallen into Draco's range, she finally knew how he felt, how he sensed everything.

She didn't know how, but it had suddenly come to her, after months of patience and practice, she had finally aligned herself with the world.

He made it look easy, she decided as he slid ahead of her, a knife gripped in his left hand, the small painted moon glinting silver in the sunlight, another strapped somewhere beneath his clothes. He made this connection, this ability to simply feel and detect as if it were merely practice.

It was really just being on an entirely different level than everyone else.

They padded through the forest until they parted ways suddenly, nodding to one another with unspoken words.

Tightening her grip on one of her blades, she kneeled down to grab another from her boot before she examined the map once more.

After examining the location of her target, she set off at a run, moving in a slight arc through the forest. As she ran, her pulse and heart sped up as the adrenaline and thrill of a potential fight sang a sweet song of victory through her veins. Trees reached out their spindly fingers to snatch at her coat as she flew by, tearing at the thick corduroy jacket she wore, the greenery casting a bright green tinge to her world under the early morning sun.

Her breath came out in puffs, floating up to greet her brown eyes. She couldn't help wondering to herself when it had become so cold. Then again, she had no idea what the date was.

Her parents had thought of putting everything in the tiny locket that bounced against her chest, everything but the day and month. She smiled to herself; maybe she just hadn't found it yet.

Twenty minutes into her run, Ginny was nearing her target. She slowed to a stop and bent down, putting both of her knives back in her boots.

She walked a little while longer, her heart rate slowing as she looked around silently, examining the world she found herself in.

The sound of water reached her ears; the soft lapping of miniscule waves gently hitting rocks. The trees above her head curled, their branches intertwining to form a roof above her head.

And then suddenly, the giant, ever-present trees opened up into a clearing of tall grasses topped with lavender surrounding a small pool.

She stepped forward, leaving the comfort and shelter of the trees behind and sat herself on a small rock, curling her knees beneath her chin as she stared into the glassy, reflective surface of the small pond.

It didn't take long. She soon felt the cool edge of a knife at her neck.

Her pulse sped up to a rapid pace as she stood slowly and turned under the will of the hand gripping her shoulder.

The witch before her smiled wickedly when she recognized Ginny's face, "Well, what do we have here?"

Her voice was a purr as she contemplated exactly what she would do with her new captive.

She whispered into Ginny's ear, "What's your name, pretty thing?"

Ginny waited a few moments to respond, "Ruth."

The girl laughed harshly in response, "Hand over your wand!" Her voice cracked through the air, clashing violently with the gentle purr Ginny had heard moments before.

"I– I don't have it." Ginny said, unconvincingly, as she glanced down at the wood handle sticking out of her jacket pocket.

The girl, she was a girl around Ginny's age, snatched the wand out of Ginny's pocket, her platinum blonde hair whipping to reveal black streaks underneath.

"Oh… there it is." Ginny added lamely.

The girl smirked, her royal blue eyes flashing as if to question whether Ginny was an idiot.

She jerked Ginny around by her hair, returning the sharp blade once again to her soft throat, and forced her to walk.

XXV

They reached the Death Eater camp with minimal struggling on Ginny's part, except for the occasional quick movement, to see if her captor still had a good grip on her red hair.

When they reached the camp, all was quiet. Several tents were pitched, pots and pans were out, fires burning beneath them. Smoke rose into the air.

The blonde girl snorted before yelling harshly, "Wake up, you useless bastards! I caught something interesting!"

Nothing moved in the camp.

"I said wake up, goddammit!" She started screeching, "I caught the Weasley girl!"

"Oh, did you now?" A voice came from behind her.

Ginny smirked as the girl whirled around, bringing Ginny with her.

The redhead felt the blade at her neck tighten against her skin; blood began to drip slowly down her neck as the girl stared up in fear, and probably a tinge of awe as well, at Draco.

Ginny made her move, stabbing the girl in the side with her elbow before she turned rapidly, pushing down the blonde's arms with one arm while she punched her in the nose with her fist.

As the blonde crumpled to the ground, her platinum hair spreading behind her head like an irony-filled halo, Ginny turned to face her partner.

"No trouble here?" She asked, pointing toward the deserted camp.

Draco was leaning against a nearby tree, absentmindedly playing with one of his knives, "None at all. All three of her team members are dead. I hid their bodies in the trees." He said, pointing upwards. "It took you long enough" he added, "I sat up there for about an hour."

Ginny snorted, "I was busy being captured. We need to talk about why I'm always the damsel in distress. But first, what are we going to do about her?" Ginny pointed to the blonde, who was still on the ground, clutching her face as blood poured through the spaces between her fingers.

"I have a special job for her." Draco replied

Ginny neared the blonde again, taking all of the weapons from her, including Ginny's own wand, before she pointed one of her knives at her and mimicked the blonde's soft purr, "What's your name, pretty thing?"

"Ruth." She spat, blood landing on one of Ginny's boots.

"Alright, Ruth–" Draco began

"Her name isn't Ruth, Draco. That's the name I gave her when she captured me. She's lying to us."

Draco immediately realized that this wasn't going to work. He became angry quickly, modeling after his father. If anyone could scare people, it was Lucius. "Do you know who I am?" He demanded, his voice sharp as red spread through his face, a vein popping out in his forehead.

She nodded her head, "D–Draco." His name came out as a whisper, as if she feared saying it.

He quickly changed modes and smirked, "Then you should know exactly what I'm capable of. Let's try this one more time: What's your name?"

"Aurora." She said quietly, her royal blue eyes were wide.

XXV

They stood in the empty clearing, Ginny stuffing the last of the stolen goods from the Death Eater camp into her bag as Draco untied Aurora from a nearby tree.

"Here's the deal, Aurora" He began, his voice low and soft, "You will apparate to Malfoy Manor. You will insist to see Lucius Malfoy. And when you see him, you will deliver this message: tell him that Draco and Ginny are hunting for Death Eaters. Tell him that we will destroy any number of his Death Eaters until he calls off the hunt for Ginny. Remind him that he knows what I can do. And tell him that I trained Ginny. Tell him that, unless he wants to lose whoever he sends after us, he will call off the hunt for Ginny."

Aurora stood silent, her slender, athletic body filled with tension.

"Did you get that, Aurora?" Draco asked.

She nodded and repeated it all back to him.

He smiled, "Great. Now, tell that to Lucius first. He will kill you if he finds out you told anyone else."

Draco reached his hand out and took Aurora's wand from Ginny. "And one last thing, Aurora, tell Lucius to watch his back."

Draco handed her the wand and the platinum blonde disappeared, heading off to her death, but not before her hateful blue gaze met both Ginny and Draco's eyes.

XXV

They took off running just as she disappeared. They would only have a certain amount of time before Death Eaters swarmed the area. They needed to find a safe place to hide. Quickly.

It seemed strangely contradictory, Ginny mused as she darted quickly through the woods, her long red hair whipping behind her. It was so contradictory to tell Lucius that they wouldn't hide anymore. They knew he would respond by sending more Death Eaters to their location. They had no choice but to run and hide, which was exactly what they had just told him they weren't doing.

What were they doing, really? Draco had something up his sleeve; Ginny knew it. He just hadn't shared his plans with her.

So, she would wait.

Suddenly, Draco grabbed Ginny's wrist, snapping her toward a large oak tree and pushing her toward it.

He didn't have to say it, she knew what he wanted: Climb.

She quickly pushed herself up the tree, gripping the hard, unforgiving bark with her hands, wincing in discomfort as splinters found their way beneath her nails and other larger parts bit into her palms.

She reached toward a large branch, pushing herself upward with her feet, plopping herself down on a branch and turning to see Draco perched to her left.

They waited.

She sighed silently, another waiting game. It seemed that they spent half their time waiting, half their time running these days.

Her mind wandered to one of her favorite topics, a topic that she knew she could find endless puzzlement out of: death. She had often spent moments allowing her mind to run in circles, chasing that elusive answer to the always-prevalent question– What happens after? She had never found an answer; rather it had just terrified her.

But she had always found some sort of comfort within the deep abyss in which her mind would wander. As she was lying awake in the rooms of the Headquarters, her eyes burning from lack of sleep caused by the incessant and terrifying nightmares that plagued her sleep, her mind would often wander to the morbid topic.

In a way, it was always a tad bit comforting, although scary at the same time. If there is merely nothing after death, then why shouldn't she spend her life doing whatever the fuck she wanted? But if there was a god, shouldn't she do the best for humanity she could?

She had to admit, she found the idea of complete nothingness easier to swallow than an eternal existence, but even the idea of an empty, feeling-less void about as hard to believe.

In the end, though, she supposed it had given her some sort of consolation, as she stared up at the white, paneled ceiling of her room, sleep attempting to wrench her eyelids closed.

It was nice to know that there were things she couldn't imagine, things she could never imagine experiencing.

She hadn't thought about what comes after death for a while. She smiled faintly at the irony; the time she didn't think about death was the exact time in which she was in the most danger of meeting it prematurely.

Her mind snapped back to reality just as a twig snapped somewhere below in the forest. She gripped the tree branch she knelt on, drawing a knife out of her boot.

Ready to pounce.

They came quickly, weaving steadily through the woods, their untrained feet interrupting the silence that the forest was typically enveloped in.

As the hooded figures neared, pushing past low-hanging branches with brushes of their hands, Ginny heard a cold, calculating voice.

"It seems as though my son has vanished. No matter. He should be more willing to give up after he gets a little sleep."

With a quick pop, Lucius vanished in a swirl of smoke and black robes, apparating back to Malfoy Manor, Ginny assumed.

Not having time to ponder upon what his father's cryptic words meant, Draco exchanged a quick look with Ginny before they both jumped out of the tree, dropping silently on an enemy.

Ginny quickly dispatched the Death Eater she had landed on with a calculated stab to the heart. She bent slightly from her upright position on his body, a hand sliding forward and a foot backward to steady herself as her right hand flew upwards, the dagger gleaming brutishly before it sank into the robed chest with one fluid movement.

She didn't have time to search for Draco, only time for a fleeting wish that she had pulled up her hair before she turned to face her next two attackers. She smiled slightly as she realized she hadn't actually seen them approaching; her Draco senses were still intact.

She felt one within two feet behind her and struck out with her foot, landing a kick to his chest before she quickly twisted around, catching the man before he fell, and fluidly dispatched him by slicing through his throat.

Dropping the body, she turned to face her other opponent, who had only had time to move forward from his previous position about twenty feet away. Ginny took a running leap at the man, serving him a kick to the face, which knocked him to the ground.

As he slumped to the ground, Ginny skidded to a halt next to him and quickly plunged her blade into his heart. She turned her back to him before the light faded from his eyes.

Ginny looked around the area, watching Draco fight with two separate Death Eaters at the same time. As he turned to kill one with a fluid stab to the throat, the second Death Eater raised his blade to Draco's back.

With a smirk, the Death Eater drove the dagger toward the unprotected skin of Draco's neck. As his dagger fell through the air with the gifts of gravity and muscle propelling it, it met an obstacle with a sharp clang and fell to the ground.

Ginny smirked, having just saved Draco from a possibly fatal blow, and thrust her dagger upward, impaling the Death Eater through the soft spot behind his chin.

He fell to the ground, dead from a direct blow to his brain.

Ginny turned from him, her face expressionless, her heart devoid of any sympathy for the four people she had just expertly and mercilessly executed, and looked at Draco.

He lifted one side of his face into a sort of half smile, his eyes slightly sad as he looked at Ginny, at what he had created. His light blond hair was mussed and matted with a rust-colored liquid, blood splatters covering his t-shirt and jeans, which were both ripped in places, and each of his hands gripped a dagger.

Ginny concentrated her brown eyes on the daggers he held, one of them inlaid with a golden sun, the other with a silver moon, as Draco examined her.

She was covered in blood. Her clothes ripped at the elbows and knees from where she had landed on them or simply moved too quickly for the fabric to withstand. Her hair was tangled, parts sticking to her face with the glue of sweat and blood. Her fingernails were dirty, the dagger she held slick with blood. And yet, she was untouched. None of the blood was hers, all of the other damage was self-inflicted.

He had always thought she was a force to be reckoned with, but none of these Death Eaters had even seen their deaths coming. She had moved at lightning speed with precision as accurate as a surgeon's scalpel.

She might be better than you, a small voice in the back of his head smoke softly. He pushed that thought down, he may have taught Ginny everything he knew, but she hadn't had the chance to apply all of her knowledge, as he had. She wasn't that good. Yet.

She was, however, good enough to take into any battle now, Draco thought to himself.

He felt a mix of dread, pride, and fear in his heart. He dreaded having her fight Death Eaters so viciously; she could meet her match, couldn't she? And yet, he was proud at her accomplishments. If anyone deserved to be able to violently protect themselves, it was her. And he had taught her everything she knew; it was as if he was watching a student graduate. But he was still fearful of how he had changed her. Was it possible that he had fundamentally changed her personality as well?

Draco shook his head at his fears; if battle prowess was connected with personality traits, then he was fucked.

Sounds from the woods interrupted his thoughts. He listened carefully: footsteps.

He motioned to Ginny and they both climbed into a tree, waiting for an army to enter the clearing and see the evidence of a massacre.

Instead, a woman walked into the clearing.

He heard a sharp intake of breath that she made as her eyes landed on the bodies lying in the shade of the trees. The first thing he noticed about her was that she wore a Death Eater cloak; the second was that her nails were painted a soft, pastel green and a small tattoo the pattern of a full moon was inked into the skin of her left wrist, below the Dark Mark.

Draco began to examine the woman's rumpled look as Ginny slipped quietly from the tree, sneaking behind the woman and snaking her arm around her neck.

The woman stiffened in surprise at the cold touch of the blade, her hand flying to her throat as if she had to feel the cold knife with her hands to make sure it was real. As she did, Draco saw a small flash of red.

As Ginny rested her blade against the soft skin of the woman's throat, Draco tensed up, "Ginny, wait."

The redhead turned swiftly, forcing the other woman, whose hair was a dark brown, around with her. "What?"

Draco dropped from the tree and padded toward them, his knife held gently between two fingers, ready to fly into life at a moment's notice.

"Gin, look at her tattoos." It seemed to him as if everyone was wearing their heart, or allegiance, on their sleeves these days, sewn by a permanent, magical needle and thread.

Draco grabbed one of the woman's arms, tugging her sleeve over her elbow to show the two tattoos beneath: a dark skull with a snake slithering out of its open mouth and the simple tattoo of a full moon.

Ginny looked at it blankly, her brown eyes slightly irritated, her tone slow and painfully patient as if she was speaking to a small child, "Yes, that says she's Death Eater. Death Eaters are bad. Why are you preventing me from killing her?"

Draco smirked at her tone, "Look at the other tattoo, Gin. She's a werewolf."

Ginny's brown eyes opened widely in shock for a moment and then closed, "Draco, Voldemort has enlisted werewolves into his army before."

The blond man nodded, "You're right about that. They were willing volunteers too, but have any of them ever been members of the Order?" Draco pushed up the werewolf's other sleeve, where the old tattoo of the Order sat, shining brightly in the midday sun.

XXV

The werewolf, Murphy, had told them many things, her round face passionate and green eyes animated as she recounted her story. She and her pack, who had once been loyal to the Order due to Remus' involvement, had been captured by Voldemort and virtually enslaved. They were Death Eaters now and had no choice in the matter, or else their families would be killed.

Draco and Ginny released her, after asking her a few questions. As she walked away, Draco called her name and brought her back, quickly performing two spells on her with Murphy's wand.

The plan was that she would report the bodies to Voldemort, however, Draco knew that the Dark Lord would search her memories for clues. When he saw a conversation with a Weasley and the traitorous son of his right hand man, Voldemort would kill Murphy.

So Draco altered her memories, which would return later, after the Dark Lord had examined her mind.

Second, he gave her Order tattoo the ability to communicate him and Ginny, in case of emergency only, he said.

And then, they released her, watching silently in the trees like sentinels of the forest, their eyes watchful and guarded.

XXV

They made camp that night nearly twenty miles from where they met Murphy. Draco smiled as they put up the final wards; his body ached from all of the walking, a sore was appearing on his foot, but they were finally making some progress. If they kept up a pace like this, they could be at Hogwarts in a little more than a month's time.

They fell asleep quickly, before the Death Eaters appeared that night. They stomped through the forest, calling their names tauntingly in soft whispers. The Death Eaters knew for a fact that they were in the area, knew that they were moving by foot.

They probably even knew where they were going.

Ginny awoke with a start at the sound of her name, curling into her blanket in an attempt to find some sort of protection from the men crawling around the forest. Her breath came out in tiny puffs, visible in the frosty air. She called softly for Draco, but he didn't stir.

After ten minutes of listening to the men walk around, she crawled over to him, her red hair hanging in front of her face, and pushed him, trying to get him to stir, but he didn't move.

As a last attempt, she punched him squarely in the jaw, but Draco didn't respond; he didn't roll over, didn't make a sound, he barely moved his chest to breathe.

XXV

"Good morning, Draco. Are you going to tell me what you know today?" Lucius grinned maliciously down at his son.

Draco came to slowly, his eyes slower than usual to focus on the sharp planes of his father's face, a bone structure he shared.

"What do you want?" Draco mumbled groggily, his eyes finally coming into focus, the rest of his body becoming alert.

His senses were more sensitive than they usually before. The shackles on his wrists, which held his hands above his head, felt as if they were cutting through his skin; the lamp light pierced his eyes; he could smell his father's French cologne from where he sat, nearly three feet away.

Lucius slammed his cane on the stone floor, sending a sound like that of a whip cracking through Draco's ears and skull, "Be polite," Lucius barked.

Draco put on his snarkiest smile, "I'm sorry father, I meant to ask, 'what would you like to demand from me today, father?'"

Lucius beamed, as if under the impression that his son truly meant to be cooperative; Draco knew it was a façade. Lucius was seething inside. "Draco, I wanted to know what you told the Order."

The shackled blonde smiled inside; he loved denying his father what he wanted, no matter the pain it would bring, "I don't know what you mean, Lucius."

He saw his father's mask slip for a moment; his stone grey eyes hardened, his jaw tightened slightly, before the mask smoothly slipped back on and Lucius said pleasantly, "You left me and your mother all alone and joined the Order. But they wouldn't have taken you, my son, unless you gave them a reason to. What did you tell them? Why did they trust you?"

He smirked, his face curling into the familiar, derogatory smile his father had taught him, "What are you talking about, father? Clearly they accepted me because of my warm personality and the quality conversation that I provide."

Lucius whipped out his wand immediately, his patience having disappeared. He held it steadily at his son's throat, "Would you like to rethink your answer, Draco?"

His voice was so cold, Draco almost changed his answer, but he held fast instead, the set of his mouth stubborn.

With a shower of sparks, his body was wracked with pain, his nerve endings feeling as if they were curling.

The pain ended as quickly as it had begun; Draco leaned his head back against the stone wall supporting his back, pressing his cheek against the cold slate and closing his eyes; he centered himself, preparing for the next onslaught of torture.

It was worse this time, he realized. Before, when his father attacked him, it hadn't been nearly as bad. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to hold out.

Draco knew he couldn't tell his father the truth; the reason the Order had accepted him with somewhat open arms was because of Snape. He then decided that he would do what he did best: he would lie. But first, he had to deceive his father; he couldn't offer information too willingly.

"What did you tell them?" He heard his father demand as he realized with surprise that his ears had been ringing.

"You will never find out what they know," Draco spat at his father, his body tensing as he was the wand flick toward his manacled body and a flash of red shot through the air.

He thought he would die. Surely, he would die.

He had to die.

His ears rang with pain; sweat ran down his face, drenching his shirt; his hands clenched around the chains holding him; his fingernails split and bled.

Those were the sensations he knew; the pain was incomprehensible.

It ended. It had felt like an eternity, but it had ended.

Shaking, his body drenched in sweat, yet freezing all the same, he passed out; his last thought was that he now knew why the Longbottom's had gone insane.

XXV

He opened his eyes to see the yellow light of the midday sun shining down upon him, burning his eyes. He blinked, clearing away the tears that had risen in his sleep-deprived eyes.

"Draco." It was a sigh, a sound of relief.

He turned his head to see Ginny standing a few yards away, her hands clutching a rag and a dish as she stared at him with large, fearful eyes.

He tried to sit up, his body protesting with pangs of pain, his hands throbbing as he tried to grab at pieces of earth to support himself.

He ignored it, pushing through the pain, which he assumed had been caused by the fight the day before.

"They came again last night. They stayed even later, of course, seeing as we slaughtered a few of their members yesterday." Ginny said, her eyes on her hand as she washed the pan she had used to cook herself breakfast. She felt tears come to her eyes; she felt fear rarely, but now she could feel it racking through her body. "Draco, what's wrong?"

"What do you–" He tried to play it off, but his sentence was cut short as a shock of pain ran through his body.

She turned to look straight at him, her red hair glimmering in the sun, her large, brown eyes scrutinizing. "You're clearly in pain right now, although what we did yesterday should have only left a few sore muscles. You look like you've been tortured. Your eyes are bloodshot and you slept in until noon. I doubt that you've ever slept in before. And last night, I was screaming your name. You didn't even move. It was like you didn't even hear me."

Draco looked at the ground for a moment, picking at a few blades of grass, "I've been having nightmares. They consist of the same themes that my nightmares usually consist of: My father, torture, demands, dark stuff. But this time, it's real. What I feel in these nightmares, it doesn't have the fogginess of dreams. I can't explain it to you, but it's like I'm not actually sleeping."

Ginny put down the pan and crossed the space between them to sit next to him; he laid his head on her shoulder. "I know what it's like to be afraid," she said, her voice soft, "I know what it's like to feel as if you can't escape from your nightmares, but Draco, you're strong enough, I promise you."

She ran her fingers gently through his hair before kissing the top of his forehead.

"I love you." He murmured, his eyes drooping shut.

"I love you too, Draco."

XXV

Ginny opened the map to search for possible threats. The sun was setting; Draco had napped all day. They had packed all of their belongings and we preparing to take down the wards after Ginny checked for Death Eaters.

There were two, about half a mile away in the direction they were headed.

Draco nodded and stuffed his knives into his belt as Ginny told him where the Death Eaters were hidden.

She grabbed her bag, stuffing her knives in her boots, and quickly helped Draco take down the wards.

As the sun lit up the sky in a splash of violent red one last time before quickly giving in to the oncoming shades of dark blue, they set off at a run, each heading toward where they knew the two Death Eaters lay hidden.

They killed them both with precise, timed maneuvers, like a practiced execution team. Ginny snuck up behind one Death Eater, quickly slitting his throat where it was exposed just beneath the mask. Draco sliced the tendon in the knee of the other Death Eater, watching him fall to the ground before stabbing him in the heart.

They picked up their bags and continued moving, weaving their way through the dark forest, their hands clasped, fingers covered in the dried blood of the enemies.

XXV

It was nearly four in the morning, by Draco's estimate, when they made camp more than twenty miles away from their last campsite. They hadn't encountered any other Death Eaters along the way; Draco contributed this to the fact that Lucius didn't know exactly where they were.

They quickly put up the wards, protecting themselves from being seen, heard, or smelled and another ward to ensure that anyone who came within range of the wards couldn't detect them.

They were invisible.

Draco quickly gave Ginny a peck on the lips before he collapsed in his sleeping bag and drifted off to sleep.

XXV

"Draco. I will ask you one last time. What did you tell them?" Lucius growled, his voice holding poison.

Draco quickly calculated his position. He knew he couldn't withstand another torture spell. He couldn't talk his way out of this, either, considering he was chained to a wall. He sighed internally.

"I told you father, I'm not going to tell you." Draco said, his voice weary.

Lucius drew his wand slowly, pointing it at his son.

"Alright, I told them all of the wards you use to guard Malfoy Manor" Draco said quickly, trying to prevent his father from torturing him again.

"You did what?" Lucius demanded, his voice cold.

"I told them about your wards; I told them all of the incantations you use to protect Malfoy Manor. That's why they agreed to allow me to join the Order and protect me from you."

Draco didn't see it coming; one moment his father was standing three feet away, the next moment Lucius was on top of him, one large hand holding both of Draco's hands above his head as Lucius punched him with the other.

"You slimy little bastard!" Lucius yelled, hitting Draco in the face.

Draco felt a crunch; his nose was broken, again.

Lucius stood up and Draco laid his head down on the floor, feeling his warm blood rush onto the cold stone floor.

Lucius, his long hair pulled into a ponytail, his arrogant features distorted by the rage, kicked Draco in his torso.

Draco felt a sickly explosion of pain; at least two ribs were broken.

He felt another explosion on the side of his face as his father's leather boot connected with his jaw; his head cracked against the stonewall.

He felt blood running down his scalp before he blacked out again.

XXV

He woke up, his eyes burning in the bright sunlight. He cried out; it felt as if his body had been ripped apart.

He heard footsteps, felt the ground shake, and Ginny appeared above him, her face horrified.

"Draco–" She started to say, but stopped at his movements.

He shook his head, "Get me a mirror." His voice was cracked, as if he'd spent a dehydrated week in the desert.

She returned in a few moments with a cracked mirror and held it for him to see his reflection.

It was worse than he had imagined. His nose was clearly broken; blood ran from one nostril. His blonde hair was matted with blood, the color more brown than blonde; the color of rust. His lip was busted open and bleeding, a few teeth missing from his mouth. On his jaw and beneath his left eye, two blue bruises bloomed. His left eye was swollen shut, the eyelid a flushed red color.

Draco smiled a grim smile, "Ginny, now you've seen the aftermath of one of Lucius Malfoy's beatings.

XXV

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Katy