Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Also – I'm late on the update. My apologies.
Also - kudos to those people who laughed at the Astronomy tower line in the last chapter. I like to amuse myself sometimes, and it's extra better when people laugh with me.
OoOoO
Strong arms grabbed him, and threw him back against the wall. Draco's head bounced against the paneling, and lights flashed in his vision. He knew what was coming though, and dropped to the floor just as the curse flashed against the wall, tearing out a chunk of wood, right where his head had been a second ago.
Draco rolled to the side and cast his own curse. The Death Eater fell back, stunned. Draco set out another blasting hex. The same one he'd sent off when he'd first burst into Goyle's house. It'd taken out half a dozen Death Eaters on his entrance. It took out the remaining three now. The curse left him feeling drained.
Draco got to his feet and took a moment to lean against the wall. It wasn't just the curse that had left him feeling drained – it was the past eight hours. After he'd learned about the attack on the Hogwarts Express, Draco had Flooed over with Dumbledore. The train had been badly damaged. It'd taken several hours to rescue students from the wreckage and then identify those that were missing. Twelve students. Including Ginny.
Draco had performed a search for bodies on the wreckage. He'd felt both relieved and terrified when no bodies were found. They were taken; not dead.
After that, it was a quick trip into Knockturn Alley. He'd Apparated away before anyone could think about stopping him. He'd found Macnair with the help of an informant, and capturing the man hadn't been easy. He'd taken out half of Ravus Umbra before incapacitating the former executioner and taking him to the dungeons in Malfoy Manor. He had crucioed the man for half an hour before he broke and told Draco that the students were being held at the Goyle's estate.
Draco had sent Macnair through the Floo to the nearest Auror office, and then rejoined the Order with the information. He knew that the Order must know how he'd gotten the information – and yet no one seemed to mind all that much.
Draco looked around him now, and spotted movement in the corner. Someone was trying to get up. He sent out a stunner and then cautiously lifted his hand from the wall. He stayed on his feet.
He knew he wasn't at his top form. The battle at Ravus Umbra had left him a little battered, holding a crucio for as long as he did left him drained of energy, and attacking Goyle's house – well, his head ached and his body twinged from the damange from the attack. Nothing too bad. He had a shallow slice to the neck where a hex had gotten uncomfortably close to hitting its mark. His knee sent up flares of displeasure – he'd wrenched it trying to dodge the slicing hex. His head throbbed from hitting the wall.
Overall though, he was in much better shape than he should have been.
Draco paused. He'd just battled nine Death Eaters. He was a genius – not a soldier. He shouldn't have walked away this easily. Something wasn't right.
Draco stepped over to the nearest Death Eater and pulled off his mask. He blinked down at the face. He didn't recognize this man. Or did he? It was vaguely familiar. Draco frowned and his fingers tapped out their familiar pattern as he thought. 1-3-2-4, 1-3-2-4, 1-3-
He blinked, the memory coming to his mind. Travers, Harris. 23. Arrested for minor crimes, theft and disorderly conduct, two years ago. Draco had seen it reported in the papers. But if Draco didn't recognize him as a Death Eater, than he must be incredibly new, and it was incredibly unlikely he'd be promoted to something at big as guarding the Goyle's house full of kidnapped students.
Draco flicked his wand and pulled all the Death Eater's masks off. He surveyed the fallen combatants. He recognized only three other faces – also petty criminals. All relatively young.
Why on earth had these novices been tasked with such a large task?
Unless it was a trap.
Draco froze for a moment, considering that possibility. But surely any trap would have been sprung by now. And Bill had checked the wards thoroughly before the Order had launched their assault. Nothing had been amiss.
So if it wasn't a trap, then it was a diversion. The students were a diversion.
Draco frowned and left the room, walking a little stiffly to favor his knee. Who would go through the trouble of kidnapping twelve students and take no firm precautions for keeping them?
The students had been no-namers as well. No one important. No one with any ties to the Ministry or the Order – all except Ginny, of course, and –
Draco paused in the hallway. Only Ginny had been high priority.
He knew what that meant. Ginny had been deliberately targeted.
There was only one person who would do that, only one person who would want to hurt Draco that way – and it wasn't Voldemort. He was too focused on Harry.
Draco quickened his pace. His knee protested, but Draco pushed the pain away. He all but ran down the main hall and to the back, where Macnair had said the children had been held.
He could hear voices and children crying. He rounded the corner and pulled up short. Sirius and Remus were in the middle of placating the children. Harry and Hermione were standing by Ron; Hermione was clutching his hands and saying something to him.
Arthur Weasley was speaking with Dumbledore, his face white.
Draco swept a glance at the children, counting them, even though he already knew what the result was going to be. Only eleven students were present. Ginny wasn't here.
Draco reached out for the wall again. It felt solid underneath his hand, and suddenly the ground didn't seem all that stable. He tipped against the wall, then slid down it, rather ungracefully, to sit on the floor. Something strange was happening inside his chest. It felt like learning Lucius had been sentenced to death all over again. It felt like loss.
Bill ran in, wand out and breathless. He looked around, taking note of Draco on the floor, but more focused on the students as well. Draco watched Bill. He watched the eldest Weasley search the students for a familiar head of red-gold hair, and when he didn't find it, he watched him count. And then recount.
And then Draco watched Bill's expression change from hopeful to terrified. His skin paled. His eyes widened. His jaw worked, and then he asked, "Is she-?"
Draco briefly wondered if his face had done that – but he knew it hadn't. Any expression of fear had been trained out of him. He knew his face was just as flat as his voice when he said, "She's not dead."
Bill turned to him, all the Order members did.
Draco shrugged. "Only new Death Eaters guarding the house? No students of priority taken? Easy enough to find Macnair? This was just a diversion."
He saw that Dumbledore understood. The rest were taking a while.
"Diversion for what?" Bill asked.
"For me," said Draco. "This was just…it was just the start of a game."
"A game?" Arthur Weasley echoed, voice outrage. He took a step forward. "You think this is just a game?"
Draco looked at him. He could see all of the emotions on the Wealsey patriarch's face. It was raw and honest and uncomfortable to watch. "When a cat plays with a mouse, the mouse never thinks it's a game."
He got to his feet. His body ached and stung, but his head felt oddly numb. "Let's go to the Manor," he said.
He led the way out. He heard the murmuring behind him, but his brain felt to heavy to decipher words or feelings. He found the nearest fireplace and Flooed over to the Manor. He stepped out in the front entrance hall. The others – Bill and Dumbledore, Arthur Weasley and the Golden Trio followed.
Tolly was there, wrapped in his towel. He had a box in his hand. "This arrived for master." And then his eyes widened. "Master is hurt! Master is injured!"
"That will be all," Draco said.
"But Master-,"
"Leave!" Draco snapped, and the elf bobbed it's head and vanished.
Draco looked at the box in his hands. It wasn't very large, a shoebox size at most. It was wooden, and expertly carved. He walked to the waiting room adjacent the hall and set the box down on the writing table there. He reached to open it, and then something twisted so viciously inside of him that he couldn't even touch it. He flinched back, stepped awkwardly on his injured knee, and staggered.
"Draco!" Bill caught him, worry evident in his voice. "Draco, what is it?"
Draco opened his mouth, trying to respond, and whatever fear that had seized him, dried up his mouth. He could only shake his head and pull away from Bill.
"Is it the box?" Bill asked, and stepped towards it, hands reaching out.
"Bill, don't!" Draco found those words at least, to warn him, and Bill stopped, startled.
"Draco, what is it?" he asked again.
"Don't – don't open it," said Draco, because even though he was trying so hard not to think about what could be in the box, even though he was working his mind to the full capacity not to have those images in his head, he logically knew what it could be. He didn't want Bill opening up that box to discover his sister's finger or hand or heart or worse.
And maybe he was showing some fear on his face now, or maybe it was the fear in his voice, because Bill paled again, and understanding swept across his face.
"It's a game to her," said Draco. "And I don't know… I don't know how vicious she'll be." He glanced to the others who had come in, glanced at Mr. Weasley. "I'm sorry. This is because of me."
And then he stepped forward to the box, because he wasn't a Gryffindor, no, not at all, but he was a Slytherin. Gryffindors would face the worst head on, and then lick their wounds in private. Draco would face the worst head on, and then figure out how to dole out a punishment that was ten times worse.
He reached for the box again, and his heart seemed to constrict and his hands shook, but he opened the lid and stared inside.
Red hair was in the box. Red-gold hair that was tied in a thick tail with a ribbon. Red-gold hair that was stained with dried red-brown blood.
Hair.
Ginny's hair.
He knew it was hers without casting any charms. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath in. His heart seemed to ease, seemed to beat a little slower. Just hair. It was just hair.
"What is it?" Bill asked, and Draco stepped aside and retired to the wing-backed armchair beside the table. He closed his eyes again.
He heard the exclamations, he heard the fear and the outrage and the terror.
Hair. A soft first step to Claire's game. She was being cautious. She was being cautious because she must be working under certain limitations. Voldemort's limitations. He knew that Ginny and Voldemort had a strange relationship. He doubted that Voldemort would let his current plaything damage Ginny irrevocably – not when she'd possessed his journal, a piece of his soul for a full year. No – Ginny was safe, for now. And the only way to play this game was to hand it over to the professionals.
He opened his eyes. "Tolly."
The house elf appeared. He was holding a med-kit in his hands. Draco rolled his eyes. "Get the Aurors, Tolly."
The room fell silent. "What?" Arthur Weasley demanded.
"Ginny's been kidnapped," said Draco. "I plan to file a report."
"A report?" Ron yelped. "It's Death Eaters, Malfoy!"
"It's Claire," said Draco. "She's made a rather public attempt on my life already, and at a Ministry-sanctioned event none-the-less. The Aurors will be very motivated to find her, and they have more man-power and tools at their disposal than I have."
"She'll be killed!" Arthur protested.
"I was sent her hair," said Draco. "Not her finger, not her hand, not her head. Her hair. The Dark Lord won't allow Claire to do any irrevocable damage, so right now, the only satisfaction Claire is getting is my reaction. And I'm not giving her one."
Arthur stepped forward. "You're playing with her life!"
"Don't you dare accuse me of that," Draco said, feeling anger rise in his chest. "I am doing my utmost to protect her, by not involving myself. Believe me, I'd love to track Claire down, I'd love to sweep in and save Ginny and drive a knife through Claire's heart – but that only falls into what Claire wants – that will only escalate the damage done to Ginny. And I won't be responsible for that."
"The Ministry is incompetent against the Death Eaters," Arthur protested.
"You just helped Kingsley get elected," Draco countered. He shook his head. "Trust me. You know I wouldn't do anything to get Ginny hurt."
"We trust you, Draco," Bill affirmed.
Draco nodded his thanks, and then turned to Tolly. "The Aurors. I'll meet them in the blue parlor." The elf nodded and disappeared with a pop. Draco put the lid on the box of Ginny's hair and picked it up. It felt oddly heavy in his hands. He looked at the Weasley family. "Ginny's related to a very powerful man. It will help her now."
He moved to the door.
"Oy, Malfoy, you're not married to her yet," Ron called behind him.
Draco turned and frowned. "Not me," he said, and then looked around the room. "Do none of you get it?" he asked, somewhat exasperated. Form their looks of incomprehension, they had no realization. Draco pinned a dark look on Ron. "Your brother, Ginny's brother, is the Assistant to the Minister. When I file this report with the Aurors, the entire Ministry will be alerted and tasked with finding Ginny. And that's even without Percy being notified." Draco shook his head. "Do none of you have any idea...?"
He turned back and headed to the blue parlor, wondering how Percy managed to put up with it all for so long. It was easier than thinking about Ginny. Because while Draco knew he was doing his best to save her life, the logic wasn't enough to overcome the dread.
Was this love, then? Is that why he was so afraid? So afraid it over-ran even the strongest logic in his head?
If so, it was a horrible emotion, and he didn't know if he wanted it.
OoOoO
Ginny screamed.
She finally screamed, and when she finally did, she wasn't sure if it was fear or pain or just anger.
And Claire – Claire only laughed. Not in triumph. Not in victory. But in mocking. Like a bully laughs after pushing a child, and the child falls down.
Ginny caught in her breath, tried to suppress the scream, but then Claire leveled her wand, and the pain started again – but it wasn't the pain that made her scream.
It was the conjured mirror that was levitated above her – so that Ginny could see herself reflected in it. She could see herself pinned down on the floor, could see her shirt pulled up, exposing her stomach, and could see the words that Claire was branding into her skin.
'Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle'
It was like her hair all over again. The words were worse than the actually pain – but Ginny was beginning to realize that this was where Claire succeeded, in the mind-games. Sure, the pain was bad. Her stomach hurt, the brands hurt – they burned like a hot poker from the fire, and it radiated up and down her body – but the words were worse.
Ginny had once belonged to Tom – when she'd been possessed, and she'd been a child then, defenseless and helpless, and she still had nightmares to this day, still hated the sound of thunder – and so the words were far worse.
And the act of the torture was worse. Ginny was magically pinned down, unable to move, arms stretched up above her, just as defenseless and just as helpless as when she was a first year student against a magically possessed diary.
Ginny knew it was a mind-game. The mind-game was working.
Claire pulled out a vial from her robe, but then hesitated, looking down at Ginny's stomach. She flicked her wand again, and Ginny bit back a shout, and a tiny heart appeared over the 'i' in Riddle, like an infatuated child would write. Claire laughed, mocking again, and then tossed the contents of the vial over Ginny's stomach.
Ginny screamed at the sudden sharp pain, tears stinging her eyes. The liquid hissed and steamed and let out a foul stench.
"It will scar now," said Claire. "It will be there forever. Every time you and your boyfriend try to be intimate, he'll see those words, and he'll know who you belong to." Claire smiled, smug. "I really just evened the game, if you think about it. He's already got his brand." Claire gestured to her left arm, where Draco's scar was. "Now you can match each other."
Claire paused, considering. "Matching scars. Now there's a thought. Maybe I should do some work on your arm." She nodded. "But first, I think he needs another incentive." Claire flicked her wand again.
There was no blood on Ginny's stomach. The words had cauterized as soon as they were seared into her skin. Claire's spell made the words break open and bleed. Claire stepped forward, and Ginny wanted to fight, but all she could do was uselessly struggle as Claire grabbed her shirt and ripped it off her body, leaving Ginny in her bra and jeans.
Claire roughly dragged her shirt through the blood. Ginny choked back a cry of pain and anger. Claire laughed again. "I'll send this in the mail, and then be right back for round two."
She left, the door clanging shut behind her. The bonds holding Ginny disappeared, and she gasped in relief, curling up over her stomach, her arms covering the horrible, stupid words.
Her hand reached up to the necklace again, and she wrapped her fingers around it. She didn't know if it was working or not, but she'd been holding it ever since yesterday morning, ever since she was first brought here.
"Find me," Ginny whispered. "Find me."
"I already have, Miss Weasley."
Ginny's eyes flew open in shock. She pushed herself up to a sitting position and stared at Lucius Malfoy, who stood in the center of the room, as if he'd just Apparated in, even though Ginny hadn't heard him arrive. He stood tall and poised, regal and serene. And very much alive.
"You're dead," Ginny said.
Lucius gave her a bored look. "My presence would suggest otherwise."
Ginny got to her feet, still awkwardly covering her chest, because somehow being in a bra in front of Lucius Malfoy was more startling than him being alive and present.
"Are you a ghost?" she asked.
Lucius removed his outer robes, fine gray silk, and stepped forward. He pulled it over her shoulders. "Do I feel like a ghost?"
Ginny shook her head and gratefully slipped her arms inside the sleeves and wrapped it tight around her, wishing for a belt.
Lucius frowned at her head. "I suppose the haircut is due to your imprisonment here, and not some new fangled fashion?"
Ginny ducked her head, one hand rising to her head, self-conscious, even though that was ridiculous, because she had been kidnapped, and had little say in the matter.
"You have good bone structure, but you really shouldn't go shorter than a bob," Lucius remarked idly. "But let's not get distracted. I believe you are in need of a rescue?"
"If it's not too much trouble," said Ginny, a little faintly, because she couldn't quite get over the fact that her boyfriend's dead father was currently rescuing her from the clutches of the dark wizard he used to work for.
"It was smart of you to wear the necklace," said Lucius, and then his lips pursed. "Also, very foolish."
"Aren't the two contradictory?"
He smirked. "Hardly. Now if you'll take my hand, Miss Weasley, we shall abscond from this prison to a more suitable locale."
He held out his hand, and Ginny reached out, having to push up the sleeve of his robe to grab his hand. But no sooner hand she reached out, the door opened and Claire stepped through.
Ginny flinched back. Claire stopped short.
Lucius flicked his wand. "Avada Kedavra."
Claire didn't even have time to gasp in surprise, or cower in fear. The green light struck her before her mouth could even gape open, and she fell straight to the floor.
Dead.
"That's how you deal with a nuisance," said Lucius. "No grand schemes. No witty sayings. No gloating." He turned to Ginny and leveled a look at her. "Take simple, decisive action." He held out his hand again.
Ginny took it, decisively. "There's time enough for gloating when it's all over?"
He smiled, all teeth. "Precisely."
And then they Apparated. Or rather, didn't Apparate.
It was more like they melted through the floor and through time and through space. Ginny's head felt heavy. Her mind felt dizzy.
"Sleep," she heard Lucius say, and so she did.
It was quite a while until she woke up again. Or rather, if felt like quite awhile, but it could have been no more than minutes.
She woke up in a bed, a hospital bed by the look of it, all white blankets and white walls and white ceilings. There was someone sitting to the left of her, someone speaking quietly to a dict-a-quill while paging through a stack of papers. Someone with a soothing voice and extensive, posh vocabulary.
Ginny turned, expecting Draco – and seeing him for a moment in the man's posture – very straight, but with a particular stiffness in the neck that spoke of tensed muscles. And then she saw the square glasses and neatly brushed red hair.
"Percy."
Percy turned, immediately setting aside his work, and smiled. "How are you feeling, Gin-gin?"
Ginny couldn't even bring herself to scowl at that hated nickname. She held out her hand, and Percy took it gently.
"What happened?" she asked.
"You managed to escape a Death Eater hold," said Percy. "You're currently in Italy. The Ministry managed to track you down, and sent out an international rescue squad, but by the time they found you, you'd already managed to escape. They backtracked your escape from a Death Eater sympathizer, but everyone was gone. All except the body of one Claire Jameson. You, obviously, won't be charged in her death."
Ginny shook her head. "It wasn't me."
"You had help?"
Ginny paused, wondering what to say. Percy sat back in the chair. "Does it have anything to do with the rather powerful protection charm you have around your neck?"
Ginny reached up to touch the necklace.
Percy sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, a pinched look setting over his features. "Please tell me it wasn't Lucius Malfoy."
Ginny pulled her hand away. "He's dead."
Percy opened his eyes and gave her a look that made her think of Draco again, all poorly concealed impatience.
She shrugged. "He's supposed to be dead."
Percy heaved a sigh, but then leaned forward and patted her hand again. "Well, I suppose it's not all bad if he saved you."
"You suppose," said Ginny, mock affronted, and then wondered, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm not officially here," said Percy. "But it'll take a while to get Mum and Dad here, and they said you'd wake up soon, so I thought I'd stick around." He gestured to the frankly alarming stack of parchment. "Paperwork can get done mostly anywhere."
Ginny pushed herself up a little in bed to get a better look at it, but then stopped and hissed in a breath. Her entire stomach ached, and she pressed a hand against it.
"Oh, so you should know," said Percy, his voice falling serious. "The…brand on your stomach." Percy stopped for a moment and rubbed his head. "So – they have a really good cosmetics program here in Rome – so I had someone come over to take a look. It was a bit of a complicated procedure – but basically you have new skin growing, and some new muscles, so just… take it easy for a while, huh?"
Ginny stared at him, and then pushed down the covers and pulled up the white pajama top. Her stomach was red – a little inflamed from the procedure – but the skin was smooth and flawless. No marks remained. She let out a breath of relief that was a half-sob, and then pulled the top back down. "Thank you."
Percy shrugged, like he was uncomfortable with the thanks. "Yes, well...,"
He trailed off, and Ginny, curious, reached up to her head. Her hair was still short.
Percy held up his hands. "I wasn't about to make a fashion decision for you. But – if you did decide you want it regrown, let the nurse know, okay?"
"I think that's usually pretty expensive," said Ginny, and then she wondered how much the new skin on her stomach had cost.
Percy huffed out a breath. "You're my sister, Gin-gin. I'd say I'd foot the bill, but honestly, most of the Italian Ministry is so embarrassed that Death Eaters are using their country for hideouts – and even worse, that the Assistant of England's sister was kidnapped – that I'm pretty sure they aren't going to charge."
Ginny paused to consider that. "Oh."
Percy huffed out another breath, checked his watch, and then stood. "Mum and Dad will be here soon. I'll head out now."
Ginny reached out to grab his hand. "Why don't you stay?"
Percy shook his head and pulled away from her grasp. "You know that's not a good idea. In fact, I wasn't even here, okay?"
Ginny didn't like it. She wanted to protest, but Percy's expression was tight around the eyes, and he looked tired, like he hadn't slept well.
"Okay," she said.
Percy smiled. "Take it easy, Gin-gin."
He gathered up his things and left the hospital, as quiet and as unobtrusive as he usually was.
Ginny sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Sleep came naturally.
OoOoO
Please leave a review!
Oh - also, I should note that I didn't edit this chapter too much - wanting to get it up as soon as it was written. I apologize for any typos/bad grammar.
Also also - That was not how I intended to do away with Claire's character. There was a far more extensive plot, and there were witty sayings and grand schemes and a little bit of gloating, and then when Lucius arrived to save Ginny, he shot me a rather annoyed look and killed Claire. And then pretty much told me what he told Ginny. That truly capable and intelligent characters don't connive or gloat; they simply do what needs to be done. And then they gloat afterwards. Which, I was like, "But she deserves a worse fate!" (because I really had planned quite the intricate piece of revenge) and then Lucius told me, "Only amateurs allow their emotions to get in the way of what needs to be done."
And he has a point, you know. There's something very cold about his complete lack of hesitation/emotion in his actions, like she was just a piece of business, not even a person. And I thought it fit, because she's so vicious, and caught up in the mind-game of it all, it makes sense that she wouldn't even see something coming like this - so matter-of-fact and impersonal. Because Claire liked to make everything personal.
Anyway - that was far too much discussion about imaginary characters talking to me - but I thought you might appreciate the insight into the why and how of killing off a character. And yes, Lucius' resurrection will be explained.