A/N: Sorry this took me so long to write, it was really difficult! Forgive me for any mistakes, I ended up having to rush this.

Chapter 36

Reversal

While the Fellowship was traveling to and resting in Lothlórien, Sirius Black's condition in Edoras was greatly improving. After pacing around Éowyn's room several times he found that he could walk very well as a dog and with much less difficulty as a human. Many of his bandages were removed, and his overall appearance was much healthier.

Another significant change was the way in which he was being received by the palace residents and soldiers. Where he was once a nuisance permitted only through the influence of Théodred and Éowyn, he was now treated quite well by most of the people he encountered on his walks, who were becoming used to his presence. Very few people looked at him with distaste, and he often received pats on the head or (if he was lucky) some scraps of food.

These developments couldn't have been more timely for Sirius. Éowyn was unexpectedly requested to leave Edoras for a brief period of time to visit a village where some refugees from a recent orc attack had gathered. Although certainly not a major issue, the question of caring for her dog was brought up, and Éomer suggested that Sirius, now looking better, should be set free. Théodred's insistence and the dog's newfound popularity, however, made the issue a benefit rather than a danger, improving his situation; Sirius was given the freedom to roam around the palace and even sleep in Éowyn's unoccupied room at night.

Sirius was elated with the development not just because he could wander as he pleased; mostly, he was glad not to be stuck with Théodred. His rather favorable opinion of the strange prince had vanished when Éowyn revealed her feelings for him, and had been growing steadily worse. Éowyn, who had initially been so reluctant to reveal her feelings, was eager to describe Théodred's admirable attributes once she had disclosed her secret, and nearly every night Sirius would force himself to listen to all the wonderful things she had to say about her cousin. Inwardly, Sirius kept these things in mind, and in observations of Théodred convinced himself that Éowyn's opinion was misguided.

Sirius tried very hard to convince Éowyn to reveal her feelings to Théodred, certain that if he heard her repeat some of the things she had said to Sirius the prince would immediately turn her down, but Éowyn mournfully admitted that Théodred almost definitely did not have the same feelings for her and refused to glean a hint of her secret admiration to him.

But Théodred knew that while Éowyn was gone Sirius needed someone to talk to so that he wouldn't have to be a dog all day. So Théodred intended to spend a lot of time talking to Sirius. And Sirius intended to do something productive with that time.

The more Éowyn spoke about it, the more Sirius was convinced that she could never be happy loving Théodred, and the more resolute he became about doing everything he could to prevent them from getting together. And so he decided that the first chance he got he would directly address the problem to Théodred and see what happened from there.

It was evening, just past dinner, on the day of Éowyn's departure (which had occurred earlier that morning) when Sirius the dog casually approached Théodred's room, pausing to growl at Wormtongue, who was skulking about in the hallway. The door was partway open; Théodred was discussing something with Éomer, who was just leaving when Sirius arrived. He slipped in through the open door and approached Théodred.

Théodred looked unusually disturbed; Sirius optimistically took this as a good sign.

The prince closed the door to his room, and Sirius transformed.

"You look very well," Théodred said, still sounding less cheerful than usual.

"I still can't take too many steps around the room without falling over…but I guess I do feel a lot better."

"Éowyn was very upset about having to leave you."

"Yeah, I guess she won't have very much company on the trip, if you and Éomer didn't go."

"We were unable to…there are…different matters…" Théodred hesitated. "Matters of war," he said quietly.

"War?" Sirius repeated, surprised. "War with who?"

"The attacks on our villages by orc bands has increased…and they are beginning to look more strategic than random. Éomer believes that they are under the direction of Saruman."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"That is because you are a foreigner. Saruman is very old; he has maintained a positive relationship with us for centuries. For him to suddenly turn against us is…well, it is quite a surprise, to put it lightly."

"But Éomer's pushing for war."

"He believes the attacks will continue unless we attack the force behind them…and he may be right. But I cannot condone any action against Saruman."

"Why not? I personally don't care much for Éomer, but it sounds like he's got the right idea."

"Éomer is too headstrong. Saruman has requested that I meet with him, and Éomer wants me to assemble an army to accompany me to Isengard…but I…" Théodred paused, and his eyes fell to the ground. "My father," he said quietly. "I tried to speak to my father, but he is too ill to understand, and…and I would not wish to make the decision to go to war without him."

Sirius hesitated, then finally brought himself to ask, "Are you sure that…I mean…I mean you must realize that if your father…if he doesn't…get better soon, then…you're going to have to make decisions like that, all the time."

Théodred nodded. "I know my responsibilities. And I know that if my father…if my father remains ill for much longer, things will become very difficult, because Éomer is at conflict with me on many issues, and he is a strong voice here. And yet…" Théodred stopped. "I…wish to speak no more of this. Is there something more pleasant we could discuss? Perhaps you could tell me of Éowyn, and what she has been speaking to you about for these many long nights."

Sirius weighed his options. Théodred was upset about other things right now; should he really give the prince even more to worry about?

Of course I should. What better time is there?

"Actually, Théodred," Sirius said, "Éowyn is…um…the things we talk about…well…we talk a lot about you."

"About me?" Théodred said, and a broad smile formed on his face. "What does she say of me?"

Sirius forced himself to continue. "Well, she…she actually…sort of confessed something to me."

"Oh?"

"I promised not to tell."

Now Théodred looked conflicted. "Then…then perhaps you should not…"

"No, I really have to tell you…for her own good."

"What is it?"

"She's…well…in love with you."

There was a pause.

"Are you certain?" Théodred asked, his feelings difficult to discern by his expression.

"Yeah…she told me she didn't want to tell you because she thought…because she knew how wrong it really was, the two of you growing up like siblings and everything…and she knew how everyone else would disapprove…and how you didn't really feel for her in that way."

Théodred's expression was still unreadable; Sirius waited anxiously for his reaction.

"Why…did you find it necessary to tell me this?" he asked slowly.

"Well, she…she's sort of become obsessed with you, I think. And even though she claims she knows you don't…well…love her, like that…I think she's still entertaining the idea. So…I thought if you…well…maybe if you spoke to her about it, you know, just sort of…assured her that you really don't love her…then maybe she could start thinking about some other options."

"Other options?"

"Well…you know, she's something of a princess and everything, and she's supposed to get married someday, but she seems to think that if there's some wild chance you love her then she shouldn't marry anyone."

"I see."

"Then…you'll talk to her?"

"I…" Théodred stopped, and there was a long pause.

"I could talk to her for you," Sirius offered. "I mean, if you told me what to say, and…were willing to face her afterward…"

"No, no," Théodred said quickly, "I…I should speak to her."

"I think you should do it as soon as she gets back."

"Yes…yes, I suppose…" Théodred still looked deeply disturbed.

"Is there…is there anything else I can do for you?" Sirius asked, trying to sound as friendly and not intrusive as possible.

"Well, I…" Théodred hesitated again. "I really cannot understand why you had to tell me this."

"You don't agree that it was for her own good?"

"No, I understand why you told me, but I do not understand…why you needed to tell me…why I could not see it for myself…" Théodred paused, then said quietly, "I suppose I was blinded by my own feelings."

"Your…own feelings?" Sirius repeated.

"Yes, I…I suppose I have a confession for you as well…I have been in love with Éowyn for several years now."

Sirius was so stunned by these words he did not hear the clunking sound coming from just outside the door.

"I had no idea the feelings were mutual," Théodred continued. "The thought never even crossed my mind…"

"But you…you see why it can never happen," Sirius said quickly. "The two of you…you could never…"

"It would not be acceptable," Théodred agreed.

There was a pause.

"Then again," Théodred started, while Sirius' eyes widened with dread, "for Éowyn to have a man who can transform into a dog sleeping in her room every night…that would not be acceptable either, would it?" Théodred smiled suddenly. "You have eluded everyone in this palace so easily."

"Not that easily," Sirius said quickly. "If I didn't have you, none of this would have worked…and…can you really think of anyone you can trust with the knowledge that you love your cousin? If word got out…think about what Éomer would say!"

Théodred's smile faded. "Éomer…yes…he would be a problem…" But the smile returned. "Still, weighing the possible negative outcomes against the positive…I believe it may be worth the risk."

"But it…if anyone found out…"

"It may stir some problems, but it would not be unprecedented," Théodred said, becoming excited. "In ancient times it was considered uncouth not to marry a close relative…"

"Marry?" Sirius spluttered, finding all of this very difficult to accept.

"Do you…oppose?" Théodred said, seemingly suddenly aware of Sirius' protests.

"Well…yes, of course I…Théodred…I'm trying to think of Éowyn's best interests here."

"Is keeping you in her best interests?"

"Well…"

"How is this any different?"

As Théodred stared at him with an almost hostile look, Sirius tried to quickly think of a solution. At the moment he could think of no argument sure to win over the prince, and his original plan had completely failed. He would need more time.

"I…" Sirius forced a smile. "I was just trying to…you know…make sure you didn't rush into things or anything."

"So you…so you agree with me?"

"I…I think it's great that you and Éowyn…I mean…I think you might…er…make a great couple."

Théodred smiled. "Your help has been invaluable, Sirius. If you had not told me…" he shook his head. "Thank you. I see why Éowyn holds you in such high esteem."

"I only did what I thought was right."

Théodred, still smiling, became lost in thought; Sirius promptly turned into a dog and exited the room. As he strolled down a dark hallway, he heard a voice say, "Here, doggy."

Sirius turned slightly; Wormtongue was behind him. Sirius continued walking, pretending not to notice Wormtongue's presence, but Wormtongue quickened his pace and stopped in front of the dog.

"Sirius," he said with a wicked grin, and he suddenly produced a dagger from somewhere inside his robes. "What a fool I was…Wormtail can transform into rat. I should have assumed that Éowyn's special pet was much more than that."

Sirius stared up at him, trying his hardest to keep a blank, doglike expression.

"Follow me," Wormtongue said, and he began walking. When Sirius did not follow, he turned around and said dangerously, "I know you can hear me. And if you do not do what I say, I will kill you. I could easily make it look like an accident…no one would take much care to investigate the death of a dog."

Sirius bared his teeth, but followed. Nothing seemed to be going according to plan.

Wormtongue led him into an unoccupied food storage room. "Transform," he commanded, holding out the dagger.

Sirius did so. He thought about fighting off Wormtongue, but it would probably do him no good. If he managed to get out of the storage room he had nowhere to run; the palace guards would easily catch him, and without Éowyn around Sirius doubted there would be anyone clever enough to help him get out of the mess.

At any rate, it seemed Wormtongue didn't want to kill him. That would have been much more easily done if he were a dog.

"What do you want?" Sirius, now human, growled.

"Ah yes, I recognize you now," Wormtongue said, smiling evilly. "Tell me…whatever happened to those two others? What of the charming young lady I had captured along with you?"

"Get to the point," Sirius hissed, resisting the urge to attack him.

"I overheard your little conversation with the prince," Wormtongue said, looking delighted with himself. "I had previously been spying on the discourse between Théodred and Éomer, but…yours was invariably much more interesting."

"And now you're planning to reveal my secret?"

"Oh no…I intend to…make a deal, of sorts."

"You're going to blackmail me."

"I…am not familiar with that term, but…I believe you will understand what I mean when I explain it to you."

"What is it you want me to do for you, in order to pay for your silence?"

Wormtongue smiled again. "You do understand. Although it is not so terrible as you may think. I believe we share a common interest, you and I."

"And what's that?"

"Neither of us want romantic ties between Théodred and Éowyn."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Leave Éowyn out of this."

"As you have already entangled her in the complications of your presence here, that would be impossible."

"Then get to the bloody point."

"Éomer wants Théodred to accept an invitation sent out by Saruman, but Théodred is reluctant. I want you to convince Théodred to go along with Éomer's plan."

"And what will that do?"

"Théodred will be gone before Éowyn returns. While she is here, and he is away, you may pursue whatever plot you wish…without having to tell her what Théodred feels for her. I will assist you in convincing her to abandon her fantasies about Théodred, if you like…and by the time the prince returns, Éowyn could be yours."

Sirius actually rather liked the idea, but he wasn't about to let Wormtongue know it. "That's ridiculous. How do I know you'll help me?"

"You don't really have a choice, do you? I can reveal your secret."

"And…and what exactly is your aim in all of this? Why do you want Théodred to do what Éomer says?"

"Because otherwise Saruman will be very unhappy."

An unsettling feeling rose in Sirius. "Éomer wanted Théodred to go to Isengard with an army, ready to attack. Why would that make Saruman happy?"

"Only Saruman can answer that."

Sirius' eyes widened. "No," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?"

"Of course not."

"I don't believe you! You're going to kill Théodred…that's why you want him to go armed, with soldiers…"

"Saruman has no interest in killing the Prince of Rohan. That would give him an incredibly bad reputation, and he has gone to great lengths to conceal his involvement in the attacks on the Westfold."

"But…but he…"

"Saruman has requested Théodred's presence to secure peaceful relations. If he wanted an all-out war he could begin one, immediately, by having his orc troops directly attack Edoras. It would take Rohan completely by surprise, unlike attacking an armed peace delegation."

"Then why does Théodred need to come with a whole army? I still don't understand…"

"There are some stray orc bands and gangs of wild men who would attack a vulnerable delegation on its way to Isengard. With a host of men at his command, Théodred would be well-protected. So you see…Saruman does not want him dead. His safe return is key."

Sirius shook his head. "I won't help an evil dark wizard achieve his plans just to prevent some silly romance. I'm not that unprincipled."

"It would not be just for that. If Théodred decides to travel to Edoras with only a small complement, he could be attacked, as previously mentioned…and if he does not go at all, events could easily lead to war with Rohan." Wormtongue paused and added thoughtfully, "And based upon my question earlier, it would seem that I know a much greater deal about the situation of your friends than you do…that lovely young woman, and the man who was interrogated by Éomer."

"What do you know?!" Sirius shouted immediately.

"I know that they are not dead, and much more besides," Wormtongue said with a smile.

"You…you're lying…how could you possibly know…"

"How could I not? You last saw them very close to Isengard, where I travel occasionally and make contact with its master, who sees things far beyond his own realm. Saruman knows where your friends are."

Sirius was torn. Wormtongue was obviously evil, but what he said made sense; whatever evil plan was being served here didn't sound much worse than the normal course of events. And if there was even a chance that Tonks and Lupin were alive, and Wormtongue knew about it…

"Okay," Sirius said quietly. "I'll try my best to convince Théodred to agree with Éomer's plan."

"Excellent," Wormtongue said.

"But you have to swear," Sirius said quickly, "that Théodred won't be killed."

"I swear it."

There was a pause.

"All right then," Sirius said, and he turned into a dog and left.

------------------------------

Draco Malfoy heard shouting.

He lingered by the door to Voldemort's study, straining to hear what was being said, but all he could determine was that his father was fuming about something, and Voldemort was less energetically disputing it.

When Lucius eventually did come out, he did not walk past Draco. He did not ignore his son as he had been doing for weeks. He faced him, and said quietly, "We need to talk."

Draco frowned slightly and followed his father to his room. Draco had not had access to a clear mirror for a very long time, and seeing his father's gaunt, dirty, unshaven face, with its sunken eyes and mats of hair stuck to the sides, he could only imagine how horrible he himself must look.

Of course, Draco figured he couldn't possibly look as bad as his father. Lucius had taken to heavy drinking and wandering aimlessly outside the tower, where the Mouth of Sauron (whom Draco had spoken to on a few occasions) claimed there was really nothing of interest. Draco hadn't questioned his father about his behavior; he hadn't spoken to him at all for so long, he had just assumed that some day, when this was all over, things would get better and they could start talking again.

But now Lucius was pulling Draco aside, and things were far from over and farthest from better.

"Sit," Lucius said. Draco momentarily thought about protesting that he'd rather stand, making a show of his independence and opposition to his father's orders, but then Draco realized that he really would rather sit, and so he did so.

Lucius sat across from him.

"My son," Lucius said, looking at him in a very focused manner, "we must get out of here."

There was a pause.

"You mean…leave the tower?" Draco asked, wondering where this wild idea had come from.

"Yes," Lucius said, nodding vigorously.

"But…why?"

"Why?!" Lucius repeated, as though it were the most ridiculous question in the world. "Because this place is evil, Draco! There's dark magic everywhere, and we need to get out!"

"Father," Draco said slowly, "you…you're a Death Eater. You've always been around dark magic."

"Not of this sort. We have to get out of here, right now, before it consumes us! Don't you understand? There will come a point where we will no longer be able to leave. That point is approaching. We must get out before we are irrevocably drawn into its hold!"

"Is that what you were arguing with the Dark Lord about?"

"Yes."

"And did he say we could leave?"

Lucius swallowed. "He…he said I could leave, but you must stay."

"Why?"

"He said…he had things to teach you. That you were not yet fully a Death Eater. I told him that I would teach you, but he said that he wanted to teach you himself. And then he said that you would not want to leave…that you wanted to be here."

Draco blinked in surprise. Being back at home, being at Hogwarts, compared to this place? How could Voldemort think Draco wanted to stay?

"I asked him if he would try to stop me, if I left," Lucius continued. "He said that he would not stop me unless I brought you with me."

"Then…then why do you want me to come with you, if it's so dangerous?"

"Because you are my son, and I would risk anything for your safety."

It could have been a touching moment, but rather than soften up after this comment, Draco became angry. "Is that so?" he said. "You brought me to this place, or don't you remember? You dropped me in front of the Dark Lord and told me to be a good Death Eater. I told you I wanted to go home, and you said I had to do my duty, that that was more important!"

"I was wrong. I had no idea…I have served the Dark Lord for many years, and I have never felt so…powerless…as I have in this place. I feel as though my spirit and reason are being broken down and…" Lucius paused, unable to express his thoughts.

"You should never have brought me here."

"I know. And I will make up for that…I'll take you home. Right now. We can leave…we have nothing to bring with us…" Lucius paused. "Except the girl."

"The…what? You mean Ginny?"

Lucius nodded, and said quietly, "We can take her with us. I know you like her."

"You don't know anything," Draco said angrily.

"You are just as much a prisoner here as she is, you know. You do not have the freedom to leave this place."

"If I asked the Dark Lord, he would let me leave."

"I already told you…"

"I know what you told me," Draco said viciously, standing up. "And I know exactly what you're doing. You're not trying to help me or protect me. Ever since we got here you've been jealous of me, because the Dark Lord likes me more than he likes you! And now you've set up this convenient little escape plan, because you think you can prove to the Dark Lord that I want to run away with the Weasley girl, like I'm some kind of selfish coward! Well I'm not! I'm not leaving!"

"Draco," Lucius said desperately, "you must trust that I want to help you…"

"You're mad!" Draco shouted. "Even if you believe what you're saying, you're so insane I couldn't possibly trust you!"

Lucius stared at Draco as he ran out of the room. Draco stood in the dark hallway, clenching his fists. If he were at Hogwarts right now, he'd get Crabbe and Goyle together and seek out Harry Potter to vent some of his anger. But here there was nobody to vent it on.

Then again…

Draco walked up to the door to Ginny's room. As he reached to open it he suddenly stopped, blinking.

What am I doing?

Draco, feeling a little dazed, walked away from Ginny's room and wandered farther down the hallway.

"Malfoy."

Draco turned; Voldemort was beckoning to him.

Draco silently followed Voldemort to his study.

"Sit," Voldemort said.

Again Draco considered rebelling against the order, making a speech about his hatred of this place and unwillingness to follow orders, but again he was overruled by fatigue and sat. Voldemort took his seat at his table.

"Your father just spoke to you?" Voldemort asked; he had a book out on the table and began writing on some parchment while speaking to Draco. Draco found this rather odd, but didn't comment on it.

"Yes, he did."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

This was a strange question. "No," Draco said.

Voldemort looked up. "I…see."

"Why did you call me in here?"

"I thought you might have questions for me."

There was more meaning in this statement than Voldemort was letting on.

"A long time ago," Draco said slowly, "you told me that…you liked it that I was straightforward with you. But you said I should be careful not to overstep my bounds."

"Yes."

"What exactly are my bounds?"

Voldemort smiled. "An excellent question…and one that I cannot immediately provide an answer to."

"Is it safe for me to ask you any questions I want, though?"

"I…would say yes."

"Okay then…so…" Draco thought for a moment. There were plenty of questions that had been pressing his mind ever since his arrival in Middle-earth, but he had held them back. After the enraging episode with his father earlier, Draco, although calmer, felt reluctant to hold them back any longer.

He decided to start with the simplest one: "Why are we here?"

"Why do you think?" Voldemort answered cryptically.

Draco didn't like that answer, but tried not to look too frustrated. "Well…I…can't think of anything, really. Anything that makes sense. It seems like…we've gained nothing from being here."

"It seems that way, but that is not true."

"Then maybe you could make things a bit more clear for me."

There was a pause.

"Have you ever read The Tales of Beedle the Bard?" Voldemort asked.

"I…have," Draco said, wondering where this was going. "I mean…my mum used to read them to me, when I was little."

"Have you heard the story of the Deathly Hallows?"

"That…that's the one with the three brothers, right?"

"Correct."

There was a long pause.

"Muggles are so inferior to us in nearly every way, and yet if they knew about us they would laugh at us," Voldemort said suddenly.

Draco didn't know what this statement had to do with The Tales of Beedle the Bard or Middle-earth, but he decided to let Voldemort continue without voicing his confusion.

"Look at Muggle history," Voldemort said. "They began with the most primitive instruments, and have advanced over time, building on what they previously had…improving it. Muggle medicine from two hundred years ago is nothing comparable to the way it is today. Their computers, their automobiles, their technological devices…" Voldemort paused. "They began weak creatures of the dirt, and look how far they have come."

Draco's eyes widened. In his mind, and probably the minds of every witch and wizard from his world, Voldemort would be the last person to praise the accomplishments of Muggles.

"Look at us," Voldemort said bitterly. "We were at once so superior, so advanced…we laughed at their vain attempts to transcend their meager lot in life, and yet where are we? Where have we come in these centuries, these millennia? We look at The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and the story of the Deathly Hallows, and we marvel at those ancient artifacts. We have no idea how they were created. Nicholas Flamel and the Sorcerer's Stone…no one has been able to replicate his work, not in centuries. Our history is rife with tales of searches for lost artifacts, of question marks concerning the power of a weapon like the Sword of Gryffindor, or the possibility of the existence of the Chamber of Secrets. How can we not know these things?! Would a Muggle scientist look back on an achievement of centuries past, and not be able to replicate it?!"

Voldemort unexpectedly slammed his fist on the table. Draco stared in awe at the Dark Lord, who seemed to be making perfect sense.

"We have not only stagnated, we have withered," Voldemort said, a green fire in his eyes. "If Salazar Slytherin were to return to Hogwarts now, he could probably take up teaching, for I doubt the curriculum has changed much since his day!"

There was a pause.

"The ancients," Voldemort said, with more control, "those masters of magic, the inventors of wands and the Deathly Hallows, the creators of charms and curses and prized artifacts…they had something that we do not."

Draco stared at him. "What…what is that?"

Voldemort gestured around him.

"Middle-earth?" Draco said confusedly. "But…what does that have to do with anything?"

"The magic in our world is polluted. Can you not sense the immense power in this place? Can you not sense that in this tower is Dark Magic, pure Dark Magic, not bound by the constraints of a wand or a magic word?"

"I…" Draco said anxiously, "I…I don't really understand…are you saying…are you saying that in our world magic used to be more like this, but over time it somehow…got weaker?"

"Yes," Voldemort said, nodding vigorously.

"But…how did that happen?"

"The Muggles." Voldemort was excited now, and Draco had the impression that the Dark Lord was realizing a lot of this as he explained it.

"What did they do?"

"They polluted our blood. They weakened our power."

"But…there's purebloods who can't…you know…make Sorcerer's Stones…"

"They are brought down by those around them…" Voldemort paused. "And there are always weaknesses in the line…imperfections that are glossed over, or lied about and forgotten."

"But…I still don't really get it…"

"Look at how many wizards are in this world. Less than a dozen! And yet there are beings like elves, and even some Men, who possess magical abilities. If the wizards of this world decided to educate all equally, what would happen?"

"Well…they couldn't educate everyone equally, because some are better at magic than others."

"Precisely! In our world, the great wizards of ancient times lowered their standards. The Tales of Beedle the Bard describe wizards using magic without wands. There was once a time when no one used wands. Wands were invented to help the weak, those unable to produce spells without extra assistance…it is rather like a Muggle cripple receiving a false leg, giving him the illusion of normality, masking his weakness. But in our case wands became so convenient they were used by everyone…because they made magic easier, because it was fair for all to produce the same spells."

"But…if there are some purebloods left…maybe they could do magic without wands. Maybe they could learn to be more like the ancients."

"In our polluted world, such a thing is difficult…" Voldemort's eyes twinkled as he spread his arms wide. "But here…my magical capacity is strengthening. Soon…soon I shall no longer require a wand to perform magic."

"So we're here to become powerful," Draco said. "We're here…so that we can…so that we can unlock our true potential."

Voldemort nodded.

Draco was awed by this. He tried to focus, tried to sense, as Voldemort had, his strengthening power, but all he could feel was a slight tingling that was probably the product of imagination.

Then he thought of his father. His father had sensed it. He had described the dark magic as being pure. But his father was afraid of it. He couldn't handle it.

The only part of it all that didn't make sense was the bloodline theory. Most Death Eaters forced themselves to overlook Voldemort's Halfblood status, but Draco couldn't. If Voldemort was right, and purebloods should be the only ones who could unlock their potential, then Voldemort shouldn't be able to, because he was polluted by Muggle blood.

Draco didn't think it had anything to do with blood purity. He decided that it must be about the strength of the individual; specifically, he and Voldemort were strong enough to handle the power of the magic in Middle-earth, and his father wasn't. That was why Lucius was losing his mind. He wasn't strong enough.

"Have I satisfied your questions for the time being?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes."

"Then I must return to my studies…" Voldemort paused. "I am glad we had this discussion, Draco…and I am pleased to see that you…seem to understand me."

"I do understand," Draco said quickly. "I…thank you, for…for explaining it all to me."

Voldemort went back to his book, and Draco left. As he walked along the dark hallway, he marveled at the thought of performing magic without a wand, without uttering incantations…each day that Draco stayed here, he could be becoming more powerful.

Suddenly the place didn't seem so bad.

And then Draco thought of Ginny. Soon Voldemort wouldn't have to use a wand on her…soon his torture would no longer have to be confined to a handful of existing spells.

The magic of this place…pure Dark Magic…

Draco stopped walking. He leaned against a wall and stared at the ground.

His father had offered him a chance to escape with Ginny. Even if it had been a lie, the thought of fleeing with her, of carrying her in his arms as he ran past orcs and all manner of evil creatures, the thought of leaving the darkness of Mordor behind him…

The magic of Barad-Dur that Voldemort so desired, and that Lucius so feared, just might not be the kind of magic that Draco was looking for.

He didn't need his father's help to run away. Both his father and Voldemort clearly believed that Draco didn't want to leave; both even especially so after his argument with his father and Voldemort's convincing revelations about magic.

Now would be the perfect time to escape.

But bringing Ginny with him would be tricky. He could easily escape on his own; his father took long walks outside the tower, so getting out would be easy. And even if he were caught, Voldemort would want to ensure his safe return, so the worst that could happen would be a stern lecture.

If he brought Ginny with him, not only would that make it more difficult to escape the tower, it would be difficult to travel considering her poor physical condition, difficult to get past suspicious orcs, difficult to carry supplies for both of them…and Voldemort might not be so lenient with him if he escaped with Ginny.

If he left alone, he could find Dumbledore. He could help Dumbledore get to Ginny, to rescue her, and with the all-powerful Headmaster on his side it would be much easier to get Ginny out of the tower.

But while he would be gone, Ginny would be exposed to more weeks without food, without his company, without anything to look forward to except her long hours alone.

If he left her now, and returned later with help, she would be even more grateful to him, because certainly after his departure she would have lost all hope. He would renew her hope, and she would cry with joy, and smile at him, and thank him for coming back and rescuing her when all hope seemed lost, for returning to her after she had been suffering alone for so long…

He couldn't do that to her.

It wasn't about the feeling of power whenever he betrayed Voldemort's wishes and did something for her. It was about her.

Draco went over to Ginny's room and opened the door.

He was surprised to find her standing.

"I…I thought you were him," she said, blinking.

"Oh," Draco said, standing a little ways away from her. It was so different, seeing her standing up like that. She was almost as tall as him. He was so used to looking down at her.

"I…I like to stand whenever he comes," she explained, noticing his confusion. "I…I want to show him I'm not weak…that if he wants me on the ground he has to force me there."

"Earlier he ordered me to sit down, and…I did it," Draco said quietly. "I thought about defying him, but…I sat, because…because it was more convenient for me…and here you are, standing…when I know it must be hard for you to."

"It's not that important…not like…not like lying to his face, and stealing food and bringing it to me."

"It doesn't take courage to play both sides. That…takes a coward."

There was a pause.

"I love you," Draco blurted.

"What?" Ginny said immediately.

"I-I…was thinking about…leaving. Just the two of us. You know…escaping."

Ginny stared blankly at him.

"I kept lying to myself about you," Draco said, walking slowly over to her. "Lying to myself about…everything, really. I've had so many people telling me what I want…all my life I've been told what I want. But now I see it. It's all clear to me…what I want is you."

Ginny looked confused, almost frightened. "You…you can't be serious, you…mustn't be…you must be tired, or…"

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Draco asked, still approaching her. "It's all clear to me now. I want to escape, but I can't do it without you. I need you…"

Draco stopped in front of her. Ginny stared at him. Draco reached out. He touched her. A shiver went down her body. He kissed her.

Ginny suddenly pulled away from him and started backing away, looking terrified.

Those few seconds were like an eternity for Draco. He had just kissed her, just revealed everything to her, and she was trying to get away from him.

She didn't love him at all.

The rage Draco had felt when he talked to his father, the rage that had been latent, hardly contained, ever since his arrival here, exploded. He grabbed Ginny and pushed her into the wall.

"How can you look at me like that?!" he shouted, right at her face, his fingers clenching over her arms. "How can you treat me like this after everything I've done for you?!"

"Let go of me," Ginny cried, tears streaming down her face.

"What is wrong with you?! Why are you afraid of me?!"

"You're hurting me…"

"You think I'm like my father, don't you? You think I'm mad, don't you?!"

"You are mad…"

"How can you think I'm like him?! I've protected you! I brought you food, I lied to the Dark Lord, and you're treating me like I'm…"

"Let go of me!" Ginny screamed, now struggling to get free.

"Shut up! You don't deserve to talk to me like that! After everything I've done…"

Ginny somehow managed to wrench an arm free. She slapped him as hard as she could. Draco released her other arm, and she stumbled to the corner, as far away from him as she could get.

"Get out of here," she said viciously.

Draco turned and stared at her. The fiery rage was gone, now replaced by cold menace. "I would have freed you from this place. I was willing to risk my life to free you from this place."

"Get out!"

"I loved you."

"You never loved me! You're just like your father! This place is evil, and it's driven you mad! You don't know what you want!"

"No," Draco said quietly. "I did love you. I loved you because of your courage…because you were willing to face the Dark Lord, and defy him, even when you alone were there to do it. And I loved you because of your strength…because you took all that torture, and you made it look like nothing."

Ginny's hostile look faltered, and in her eyes was the slightest bit of doubt.

"But I guess I was wrong," Draco said, some of the anger returning. "I was wrong to assume that because you were brave and strong that also meant you were a good person. I can see now that you're completely selfish…you're so afraid of what I'm capable of doing to you you don't give a moment to consider my feelings." He paused. "It's funny, isn't it? The only person here who's shown me a shred of compassion is the Dark Lord."

"Then go back to him," Ginny said viciously, the doubt gone. "Tell him how much you love him. You'll get a lot more from him than you did from me, I bet. He'll give you a nice pat on the head, and tell you how good a Death Eater you are, and you can hear all the praise you want, because he's the only person who will ever give it to you…because you're evil, and you won't be getting any praise from me."

"I hope you're happy now. I hope that when you're sitting all alone, after he's tortured you, you're satisfied with the thought that I won't be coming to comfort you. And I hope that when you're starving, when you feel like you could eat the dirt on the ground, you're glad that I'm not there to bring you food. I hope you're proud of your decision, that even though you suffer you can suffer righteously with the knowledge that you turned down someone who wanted to help you because he wasn't good enough for you."

Draco turned and left. As he walked out the door, he heard Ginny sob, "Never come

back!"

I won't.

-------------------------------