DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own anything Harry Potter affiliated. If I did, I would be sending this off to a publisher—not posting it online.

Chapter Six

Outraged, Ron crossed the room to pull Ginny off of Harry, but was again tossed back upon touching his sister. "Bloody hell! What's the big idea?"

Harry moved Ginny off of his lap and placed her on the seat as he stood to face Ron. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop threatening Ginny, Ron," he said.

"Threatening? Me threatening her?" Ron sputtered. "She's the one tossing me across the room!"

"Because you're threatening her."

"Enough, both of you," Hermione shushed, reaching out to calm Ron and glancing back to make sure a certain witch wasn't going to come bursting through the door, even with her Muffliato on the room.

Ron took a deep breath, shrugging off Hermione's hand. "Is it true?" he asked, looking between his best friend and his sister. "Are you pregnant?"

"Yes."

"And the father?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Taking Harry's hand, Ginny looked at her brother with no hint of fear or remorse. "Harry."

Hermione watched, looking between Harry and Ron, both looking like they were about to explode. "Please calm down, both of you—"

"No, Hermione," he said, poking Harry firmly in the shoulder. "I want to know. How long have you two been sneaking around? What really happened out in the forest?"

"Oh please," Ginny said, anger glinting in her eyes as she rolled them. "You don't know what you're talking about Ron."

"I just hope it was fun, Gin," he said looking past Harry at her. "Gettin' yourself knocked up and all!"

"Ron, that's it!" Harry couldn't take it any longer. He knew Ron would eventually run out of steam and they'd be able to explain, so he stood there—keeping himself between the pair of siblings to prevent Ron from setting off Ginny's defenses—but Ron was taking this too far. "You don't have any clue what you're talking about!"

"Ron, please," Hermione pleaded, reaching out to grab hold of his arm, "calm down!"

Ron jerked away from Hermione's grasp, shoving her into the ottoman when she stumbled and fell. Harry tried to reach her, catch her, but was too far to catch hold of her before she collided with the object and strewed the meals Mipsey had brought them. Anger boiled within Harry, but his first priority was Hermione's safety. Rushing to her side, he helped her up to sit on the neighboring couch and looked her over quickly for any cuts from the various broken dishes on the ground around her.

"Hermione!" Ron said as he reached for her, the horror of what he'd done crossing his face as she cringed away from him. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—"

"You never mean to, Ron," Harry spat at him, blocking his way. "But you always do."

"Fu—"

"That's it!" Hermione fumed, stepping between them. "Everyone sit!"

"But…"

"NOW Ronald," she insisted, pointing to one of the open chairs. "One more outburst from you and I'll hex you!"

"But Hermione! He knocked up my 15 year old sister—"

"Silenco!" she said, with a quick flick and swish. "Now SIT, before I let Ginny at you."

Fuming, but silenced, Ron plopped into the chair furthest from Harry and Ginny.

Hermione shook her head at his antics, as Ron took to tapping his fingers on the armrest in annoyance for not being able to express his anger as he watched Harry and Ginny sit as close as possible to each other. "You know," she said, turning towards the couple. "You're not helping."

Harry sighed. "Sorry," he said, shifting slightly so that Ginny was next to him instead of on top of him. "After everything we've been through, it's hard not to be close."

"What exactly happened?" Hermione asked. "How did this happen? Because I know you both, and three days ago you were close, but not this close. And you weren't nearly close enough for Ginny to end up pregnant—and you would have to have been close," she insinuated trying not to blush, "for a while before going missing for Ginny to already be sure she's pregnant. So talk."

"Well," Ginny said, reaching for a piece of toast that was knocked off the tray. "Where to begin?"

"I suppose we should start by saying we weren't gone for just three days," Harry said looking sideways at Ginny.

Day 1:

Ginny's eyes snapped open, the sound of a door closing behind her. 'Where am I?' she thought. She could hear someone breathing behind her. Rather than sit up and look around, she closed her eyes to appear to be sleeping for a little while while she got her bearings. Beneath her, she could feel a mattress. Her eyes weren't open long, but she knew for sure she wasn't in her dorm. And, from her occasional stay there, this bed was nowhere near as comfy as the hospital wing, so she could rule out that she somehow made her way back to the castle or that someone found her outside after wandering the grounds in the middle of the night.

There was some sort of light in the room, she could tell that much with her eyes closed—possibly a window? The only other thing she could hear was the steady breathing of the person who entered the room. From how loud it was, she guessed it was a relatively small room, and from the smell it was at least clean. 'At least I can rule out a dungeon!'

"If you want to have time to use the loo and freshen up," a woman's voice suddenly said behind her, "you best stop pretending to be asleep and get up. We've got a strict schedule to keep."

Ginny sighed and sat up to face the voice.

The room was small, with an angled ceiling—she must be in the attic of a house—with a window seat and a small door which she could see led to a small bathroom. There was a dresser, where her companion picked up a tray and brought it over and set it near her on the bed. Ginny reached for a piece of toast out of instinct, but pulled her hand back at the last moment. The woman laughed. "You're going to want your strength," she said, but Ginny pushed the entire tray away in response. "Fine, suit yourself."

Picking up the tray, Ginny watched as she left the room and closed the door behind her. Running to it, Ginny went for the knob, but realized there wasn't a knob and she must have opened it with magic. Sighing, Ginny went over to the window to try to open it. It was fairly dark outside, but instinct told her that the sun was going to rise soon from the way the light was beginning to filter from the trees surrounding the house. The window had a lever to allow fresh air in, but there were bars covering the opening that prevented her from getting even her wrist out of the window.

She ran to the adjoining room, but it only contained a sink, toilet and bathtub. Ginny sank against the tub, hugging her legs to her chest.

She was trapped.

Day 2:

When Ginny woke some time later, still curled up next to the tub, it was now light out. The door to the bathroom was thrown open and before her eyes could adjust to the lights from the bedroom she heard a quick shout of "Incarcerous!" and she found herself bound and blindfolded.

Suddenly, she was hoisted from the floor to her feet and pulled from the room. Two sets of hands took her down a hall. Ginny tried her hardest to break free and run away, but before she could get an arm loose she felt a wand jab into her side. "Quit it girly," a burly voice said. "You're not going anywhere until we want you too. There are forces at play that you couldn't possibly imagine."

Continuing down the hall she was sharply turned into a room and abruptly pulled to a stop. The hand on her arm tightened, she suddenly felt crowded, as she felt something cold slide over her head. With her eyes still covered, she could feel the room moving—as if she were spinning even though she knew she was standing still. When it stopped she was pushed into the wall and her tied hands were hoisted and secured over her head.

"Ginerva Weasley," a voice drawled. "I'm going to enjoy this…"

Day 30:

Ginny woke, her body screaming in protest the way it had every morning since she had first arrived. Every day it was the same: wake up and have a tray of food brought in by the same woman. After she ate, it was a blindfold followed by the moving room—was she spinning or was the room spinning? She couldn't tell. Then the torture of the day would take place before going back to the bedroom. The same woman who brought her breakfast would then administer salves, ointments and potions to fix whatever damage her tormentors would cause.

It was the same every day for the last month, but the last couple of days she had started her own protest. Instead of picking at the bland food they brought her each day, she had started fasting. While it was hard to ignore the food sitting so close to her, it strangely made the various curses and beatings more bearable having something else—something under her control—to focus on.

That morning, after they had secured her arms above her head on the wall, they did something different. They took her blindfold off. Initially she wasn't shocked to see Death Eater masks, but she was shocked to see the woman who brought her food each day and healed her wounds, sitting in a chair across from her.

"It's come to our attention Miss Weasley," one of her daily tormentors said, "that you're refusing to eat your meals. We can't have that."

Ginny watched as this woman, who—although clearly being in on whatever was going on here—was her only bit of relief from her daily suffering, was hit with curse after curse, until she couldn't sit upright and they tied her to the chair so that they could continue.

That day, they didn't point their wands at Ginny once and when they were finally finished punishing one of their own they blindfolded Ginny and returned her to her room where her untouched tray from the morning still sat in the same place on her bed. Without hesitating, she went straight to it and ate every bite. The next morning, when the woman carried in her normal tray, Ginny at every bite again. Neither of them acknowledged what had happened the day before, and Ginny realized based on the slowly healing bruises and slight limp that while her healer could come in every evening and treat her, she wasn't allowed to heal herself.

They carried on with their odd routine.

Day 60:

After another month in captivity, the routine stayed the same, but some days they'd bring her into the room, attach her to the wall, and leave her there all day until she'd jump at the smallest sound. Other days they would remove her blindfold and bring in others—she assumed muggles based on their clothing and confusion—to torture in her place. If she begged them to stop, they'd kill them out of spite on the spot. If she looked away, they'd carry on longer. She had no choice but to watch and ignore their panicked, pained faces as they screamed.

She tried to escape the horrors in sleep, but then came the dreams.

Day 120:

Four months had passed.

Ginny was no longer sleeping, fearing the nightmares that plagued her. In the mornings, she'd do her best to get up and moving and eat what she could, but she was so exhausted. She tried, knowing that if she didn't eat others would be punished, but most mornings it just came back up. On these days, her healer had started bringing her a second meal in the evenings while healing her to try to space things out, but it wasn't doing much. Ginny was knackered and getting weaker by the day.

Day 186:

Ginny pulled herself out of bed and towards the bathroom to try to splash some cold water on her face. Today was a day where they left her to her thoughts in the room, but the uneventful days were just as bad for her as they days they made her writhe in pain. She almost preferred the curses to being left alone to wallow in her thoughts.

It had been months, and yet no one had come for her. Not an inkling of a rescue or anyone coming to save her. With each sleepless night, Ginny was losing hope. Returning to her bed, she perked up slightly when she heard voices outside of her room.

"We have to stop, at least for a bit!"

"Absolutely not. We must stick to the plan—"

"To hell with the bloody plan! All this looping, it's all for nothing if she's dead on her feet—or simply dead."

"Look here! It's your job to keep her going, so—Keep. Her. Going!"

Ginny closed her eyes when the door opened but sat up when she felt the bed dip. She hadn't been able to get much down this morning and so she pulled the tray close. Looking from the tray to the healer, she was confused to see an addition to the tray. Alongside her normal rations of food were potion vials that had never been there before.

The first she recognized from childhood illnesses as Pepper-Up potion. The second looked like a pain relief potion, but the third she was unsure of.

"It's dreamless sleep," her healer said, observing her confusion. "I can't give you much or very often, but in case I can't come back later tonight you're to take it before you go to sleep."

Ginny was skeptical of her motives, but one thing she was sure of in this place was that if anything happened to her, this woman would be severely punished. 'And clearly there is something bigger going on.'

As the days continued, Ginny played that overheard conversation in her mind, trying to pan out any clues or hints she might have missed. There was a plan, she was part of it—but what was it? The beauty was the more sleep she got the more her mind returned to her. She could feel herself getting stronger and it wasn't long before she realized the key piece of information that she was overlooking. 'Looping,' she thought to herself. 'They have a time turner!'

It all made sense: The strict daily routine of taking her from her room and down the hall to the spinning room, as she had taken to calling it, where they would reset the day. The biggest revelation she had was that she hadn't been forgotten. It wasn't that no one was coming for her. They couldn't come for her before the day was reset, but that only raised more questions—most importantly, why her?

With a time turner, they could keep her here with no chance of rescue indefinitely—but that didn't make any sense. What would be the point of keeping her there forever? Sure she was a Weasley, a blood traitor, but she wasn't a member of the Order with access to any top secret information. 'And besides,' she thought, 'they've never once asked me questions.' She was Harry's friend, but if they truly wanted to strike a blow to Harry, Hermione would be the better grab, as horrible as a thought that was as she wouldn't wish this on anyone.

Ginny started paying closer attention to everything: the differences in the voices of her captors to determine how many captors there were, the number of steps from her room to the room they took her to each day, which way they turned.

Everything suddenly mattered.

There was a reason for keeping her—and she was going to figure it out and figure a way out of here. Starting with opening that door! Everyday her healer entered and exited without use of a doorknob or a wand. Ginny just had to focus what energy she had left in the evenings on opening that door.

Day 365:

It finally happened one day—a change in her routine.

Ginny woke up, ate what she could and made a mark on the wall behind the door like she had been since she discovered she was in a time loop. Every morning she made the mark, and every evening when she returned the mark was gone as if it never existed.

Because it hadn't.

When they came for her, it was later in the morning than normal. Right before they came for her a bird outside her window chirped, the same way each day. But today the birdsong came and went and no one came for her. She began to panic.

Perhaps this was a new form of torture, to throw her off their game.

Perhaps this was her one and only opportunity to escape and she still couldn't get the door to open. (There was some progress—she had managed to light her room once, but never tried again for fear of being caught.)

Perhaps she had finally outlived whatever usefulness she was to their plans.

Entering the room 27 steps down the hall from her own room, she was shocked not to be held up in the center of the room, to feel the cold medal across her skin before the world spun around her. Instead they took her immediately to her spot on the wall and tethered her there.

"Happy anniversary," a cruel voice drawled.

Another voice laughed from the far side of the room. "We've brought you a present!"

Her blindfold was ripped off. In the center of the room was the chair that made her heart land in her stomach. That was the chair that her healer was tortured in what felt like ages ago. It was the chair they tortured innocent people in to see her squirm.

Today that chair was empty, and she was confused.

The door to her right opened and Ginny closed her eyes tight. She didn't want to know who they were bringing in for her to watch today. Perhaps she could keep her eyes closed and they would get it over quick. After all, if the day was reset each morning, didn't that mean that the person they brought in wasn't dead anymore?

Ginny let the pleasant thought soothe her soul for a moment before sighing. She couldn't risk it not being true—she had no idea who the were bringing back or how it all worked exactly. If her torment would save the life of the person being placed in the room, she'd watch every moment of it.

Opening her eyes, she watched as they pushed a young man with a sack over his head into the chair and bound his arms and legs to the chair. She didn't have to wait for them to remove the sack to know who was in that chair. After all, she was the one who had insisted that they all wear their Weasley Christmas sweaters to the party that night. And here he sat, with an 'H' emblazoned across his chest.

"Harry," she breathed. She barely spoke the word, but he stilled instantly. How he heard her over his own struggles was beyond her.

They lifted the bag from his head and his eyes frantically searched the room until they met with hers, his silenced mouth trying to scream her name, but it was no use. He couldn't make a sound.

A single tear escaped her, and she inwardly cursed herself—she hadn't let them see her cry in months! But she couldn't help but think about how hurt had looked when she had stormed out of the castle and left him behind so long ago. She'd take it all back if she could.

"Awe," the second voice cooed, "I think she's missed you!"

Ginny put her emotions on lock down as Harry bucked against his restraints. They wanted her to react this way. They wanted her to cry and beg and plead for them to let him go. But she learned, all those months ago she learned the rules to their sick game. So she locked everything up and prepared to watch them torture Harry.

A scream escaped her as she felt the pain of their curse rip through her body. She was prepared to watch them attack Harry, but she was wrong. Today they were going to use torturing her as a way to torture Harry.

'Focus, Ginny!' she thought to herself. She'd been through worse at their hands and she wouldn't give them an excuse to turn their wands on him. She could handle the pain. And besides, who can remember pain, once it's over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh—and Ginny's flesh would be healed before starting the day again.

She locked eyes with Harry. While he couldn't read her thoughts she poured every ounce of happy memories into her gaze, trying to reassure him that she'd be okay before bracing for the next slash of a wand or scream of a curse.

Eventually, nearly lifeless, she was dragged from the room. Her limbs had gone numb by the time they pulled her down. As they covered her eyes to take her back to her room, she could hear Harry thrashing in his chair, knocking himself over in his struggle for what was the third or fourth time that day.

Once she was alone, unbound and tossed on her bed carelessly, she finally let the tears come. They probably knew she cried when she was alone, but holding it in and not letting them see was her way of winning—and she was proud that even in her shock she only let one tear escape where they could see.

Ginny pulled herself together well before she heard the steps coming down the hall. She silently thanked Merlin that her healer would be here soon to ease some of the pain. It had been a few days since her last dose of dreamless sleep, so hopefully she'd be allowed a dram to help her sleep without seeing Harry's haunted face, echoing her screams soundlessly.

For the second time that day she was surprised. It wasn't her healer entering the room, but Harry being thrown in before the door slammed shut on his heels.

A/N: Anyone want to take a guess as to what the bold passage is from? (No cheating!) It was such a perfect line for this moment that I had to borrow it. Appropriate credit and thanks will be posted at the start of the next chapter.

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