Ginny, Ron, and George wandered Diagon Alley. Frequently, they passed Death Eaters with whom they were forced to exchange the required praises. Neville and Hannah had given them a small purse full of coin that lightened with each shop they stopped in. Parcels were stacked in the boys' arms until their faces disappeared behind them. Food, ribbon, fabric for clothes, extra napkins and wine goblets... Ginny read down the shopping list, crossing each item off one by one.

"Come on, Gin. My arms are killing me," said George. His voice was strained under the weight of his burden.

"Almost done! Let's make one last stop at Gambol and Japes for some luminous balloons."

Ron and George cheered up at that. They followed their sister, already discussing which joke products they were going to buy.

Like the Leaky Cauldron, Gambol and Japes joke shop was covered in propaganda posters. Some corners of the parchment were curled up and quivering in the cool breeze. The Weasleys eagerly headed inside. However, the sight they were met with made them freeze in the doorway.

The endless shelves of colorful products--dungbombs, stink pellets, Dr. Filibusters fireworks--all of it was gone. Even the shelves along the walls were empty, save for stacks of black cloaks and parchment. At the center of the shop were five long tables, all of them filled with Death Eaters. Twenty or so. The second the Weasleys stepped inside, all twenty pairs fell on them.

One could have heard a quill drop.

"Oi! What're you doing in here! It's Death Eaters only!" shouted a blonde wizard, who would've been handsome if it wasn't for his sallow skin and the dark circles under his eyes. He approached the trio and placed a hand on his heart. Ginny was the only one who returned praises since the boys' arms were full.

"S-sorry," said Ginny with her eyes as round as acid pops. "We thought this was the joke shop."

"It WAS the joke shop," the blonde Death Eater replied impatiently. "It's a Death Eaters barracks now. All towns are required to have one. How else are we supposed to keep you all in line?"

George spoke out behind the stack of parcels. "Then what happened to the managers? Gambol and Japes?"

"Early retirement," he replied with a shrug and wide grin.

That earned him a few mischievous chuckles from his comrades.

"Let's get out of here," whispered Ron.

"Listen to your mate." The blonde Death Eater placed his hands on hips, pushing back his cloak to expose the wand in his pocket.

Without another word, the Weasleys rushed out the door, Death Eaters laughter following them.

"You think they recognized us?" Ron asked in a shaky voice once the door was shut all the way.

"They would have said something, wouldn't they?" said Ginny. "They must be new recruits."

"Maybe we should go back and tell the others. Just in case."

"Yeah, all right."

The younger two turned to leave but George stayed where he was, staring at the front of the shop.

"Was that there before?" he asked.

Ginny stopped. "Was what there before?"

"That." George jerked his head at the shop.

Ron and Ginny returned to his side and looked. They saw the shop covered in its usual propaganda, only now there was a large red symbol painted on the door, right over a poster with Voldemort's face. The symbol was a bit crude, as though quickly placed, but simple enough to make out: a wand pointing upward, wrapped in thorns, with a rose blooming from its tip. Below it was the number 1235.

Ginny stepped up and pressed a finger to the paint. It came away red as blood, as though she had pricked her finger on the thorns. "It's fresh."

"Must've been done in the minute we were inside." Ron looked up and down the street, trying to spot the culprit. Besides more Death Eaters pacing around, Diagon Alley was void of people.

"But what is it?" asked George.

"Clearly, it's some kind of graffiti," said Ginny. "But what it stands for I have no idea."

"Let's take it back to the Leaky Cauldron." Ron had a wary eye on an approaching group of Death Eaters. "See what the others think of it."

Ginny carefully peeled it away from the door, ripping the posters beneath. Once she had it rolled up and tucked in her cloak, the Weasleys hurried back down the street to the Leaky Cauldron.

When Scrimgeour pushed Harmony into the bedroom, she could do nothing to stop her fall. Knees hit the wood floor with a thump that rattled the window. He slammed the door closed, and they were alone.

"Stand."

She stood.

Damn you, she thought, to Scrimgeour and to her body that betrayed her.

"Let's take a look at you."

He pressed himself in close to her, too close for comfort, and stared into her face--much like Neville had. Only, the way Scrimgeour stared made frightened thoughts race through her mind.

Suddenly, there came a light pressure wrapped around her left arm. Her Serpentine charm? Could it be? No, it couldn't. She wasn't supposed to feel anything. But the longer he stared, the stronger the pressure became.

"So this is the Heir of Voldemort." He spoke so low that barely even she could hear.

She stared right back into his yellowish eyes, hoping beyond hope that he could sense her boiling hatred for him in that moment. He took a step back to look her up and down, from her dirty black boots to her curly hair that sorely needed a wash.

"Not very impressive, are you?" He clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment.

Lift the curse and I'll show you just how impressive I can be, old man, she thought, aching to grab her wand. And with that thought, her fingers twitched. It was hardly a centimeter, but still, they had moved. A small victory, but one that filled Harmony with hope. She had to fight. She had to reach deep into that well of power within and surpass Scrimgeour's influence.

He began to pace around her. She followed him with her eyes.

"I cannot possibly see why the Dark Lord Voldemort would want you," he said from behind. She hated not being able to see him. "You are pretty, I must admit. And youthful. But I'm sure the Dark Lord can get any young woman he desires. So why you?"

Perhaps it's my uncanny ability to destroy a man with a single flash of magic, she thought, amused. Or perhaps it's my witty sense of humor.

He paced back around until they were face-to-face again. He whispered to her, and she could feel the hotness of his breath.

"He tortured me. Dismembered me. Broke my bones and peeled the skin from my body. He did that to me. All. Because. Of you."

His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck. She screamed out in her mind, but no sound passed her lips. Animalistic anger distorting his features, he pushed her until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. She fell back onto the bed, with him on top of her. His hand squeezed and breathing became impossible. Bending down so they were nose-to-nose, strands of his tawny hair framed her face.

"Do you have any idea what that kind of torture does to a man?" he hissed, spittle landing on her cheek. "I was once a steadfast and reliable wizard. One people turned to when they felt unsafe. But now, my whole body tremors at the mere thought of him. He has ruined me."

Her sight was going blurry. The Serpentine charm was frantically slithering across her chest to her right arm, like it was trying to work feeling back into her body and wake her from the curse.

"You have no idea--no idea--how good it feels to have that monster's most precious possession at my mercy. I could do whatever I wanted to you. I could make you endure exactly what he made me endure. It would only be fitting, as his heir. As his whore."

A sudden knock on the door broke the tension. Scrimgeour blinked several times as though awaking from a dream. He sat up, hand easing off her neck, and air rushed back into her lungs. Her vision burst with light and clarity. He took a deep breath in, and then slowly released it.

"My apologies, Miss Granger," he said as pleasant as could be. "I'm getting quite ahead of myself. I ought to exercise more self control. We do have the whole evening together, after all."

He rolled off her and stood, straightening his robes. He opened the door a crack to peer out.

"Oh, hello! Yes, how thoughtful of you, dear. Thanks very much."

Scrimgeour opened the door a little wider--enough to keep the sight of Harmony on the bed hidden--and procured a large tray full of steaming food, along with a full decanter of red wine. He shut the door with his hip and placed the tray on a table by the blazing fireplace.

"Don't think that Hannah girl likes me very much."

He went straight for the wine, filling a glass nearly to the brim. He brought it up to his nose and inhaled. After a satisfied grunt, he tipped the glass back and finished it in four gulps.

"Lovely," he said, smacking his lips. He set the glass down and looked over at her, beckoning to the food. "She was kind enough to give us two plates. But...you're not hungry, are you? You don't mind if I help myself."

Harmony couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. If you eat my food, you mad bastard, I swear...

"Didn't think you'd mind," he answered for her. He sat himself down at the table and dug into the delicious-smelling meal.

Harmony's mind roared with fury!

And with that swell of emotion deep in her core, the feeling came back to her body. She was hot with anger, heart pounding in her chest. She was free! And there was only one thing in the world she wanted to do in that moment.

When Scrimgeour settled down at the table to eat, Harmony tested each appendage; flexing, gripping her hands into fists. Lifting her head a few centimeters, she could see his side was facing her. He would still be able to see her out of the corner of his eye. She had to be careful and wait for the precise moment.

Scrimgeour picked his meat apart with a fork and took a bite. He groaned in pleasure.

"Delicious. Too bad you're missing out, Miss Granger."

Not for long.

He set his fork down with a clatter and stood halfway out of his seat to reach the decanter and pour himself another glass.

Harmony's hand slipped inside her robes for her wand and she whipped it out.

"Cruci--!"

"Accio wand!"

Harmony's wand flew from her fingers, landing in Scrimgeour's lap. He had already had his wand out in the hand opposite the one facing her. Perhaps he had noticed her tiny movements.

He laughed, standing up with a wand in each hand. "I suspected it was only a matter of time before you broke through my Imperius."

Harmony launched off the bed, diving for her wand. He maneuvered out of her reach faster than expected from a man his age. She stared him down, fists clenched and furious.

"Naughty, naughty girl. Try and Crucio me!? The audacity. Let's give you a taste of your own medicine...Crucio!"

A pain unlike she had ever experienced before ravaged her body. From head to toe, every inch of her was stabbed with a million invisible daggers. She collapsed to the floor, writhing. With tears pouring down her cheeks, she opened her mouth to scream. Scrimgeour cast off his Crucio and her scream faltered to pitiful cry. The pain was gone, but her body still ached. She lay there, gasping for air.

Scrimgeour clicked his tongue again in disappointment.

"You little minx. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Slowly, Harmony sat up. Even the littlest movement made her muscles cry out in protest. She looked up at him, half her face hidden behind a curtain of wild hair. She spoke, panting:

"I'm...going...to kill you."

A snide smile spread across his thin, pale lips.

"You're adorable." He chuckled. "Stop trying to sound like your Master. You're much less intimidating than you think."

Before she could return to her feet, he cast her underneath another Imperio. He doubled the effort into casting the curse this time. It hit her so hard in the chest that she stumbled back a step.

No, no, no, no! Her thoughts screamed as the feeling in her body once again vanished. She was no more use than a doll to be played with.

"Lay back down on the bed, dear," Scrimgeour cooed as though coaxing a child to obey. "Just where I want you."

Harmony's body took her back to bed.

"That's a good girl."

Scrimgeour moved his chair at the dining table so he could eat while keeping an eye on her. Fork in one hand, wand in the other, pointed at her. Once he filled his belly with meat and potatoes, the chair creaked as he sat back. He began chatting with her as though they were old friends, speaking of days before the war, before Voldemort "ruined everything." All the while, he kicked back glasses of wine, one after the other. His speech lost its articulation. Cheeks grew flushed as ripe grapes and his eyes became glassy, losing focus.

Silence fell as he reached a lull in his monolog. He gazed up at her laying on the bed and stared, a look of determination deepening on his face. Then he jumped up from the chair and came over to her with unsteady footsteps. He watched her for a long, tense moment. All she could do was look back at him, helpless. She was afraid to even guess what he was thinking.

"Now, where were we?"

Scrimgeour reached for her when, mercifully, a knock sounded at the door. Scowling, he spun around to face it with fists clenched.

"One moment," he muttered to her, annoyed. He reached the door in three strides, and then turned the handle and cracked it open...

Ginny and her brothers dropped the wedding goods off to the supply room behind the bar. Neville and Hannah were beyond grateful, offering them free food and mead. George and Ron immediately took them up on their offer.

Ginny's thoughts, however, lingered on Hermione. She knew her old friend could take care of herself. The witch had managed to live with Voldemort for months, for Merlin's sake! Ginny was sure there wasn't a single thing Hermione couldn't handle. And yet...still she worried.

Scrimgeour was a man of justice. At least he had been. Something about him broke after his time with Voldemort. She hated to think it, but there was no telling what he was capable of now.

"I'm gonna head upstairs, actually," she said. "I should let the others know about the new Death Eater barracks."

"Sure, Gin," said Ron while Neville handed him a full pint. "We'll be right up. Cheers, mates!"

The boys all clashed pints and began chugging.

Hannah shook her head. "Why do I have the feeling I'm going to be peeling these boys off the floor tomorrow morning?"

Ginny gave her a tight grin and left them to it. She went upstairs to the bedrooms. The first one she came upon was the adults suite. She paused outside the door to listen and heard low voices being quickly exchanged. It sounded as thought they were in the heat of an argument.

Ginny turned the handle and slipped inside. Two queen-sized beds lined each side of the room. At the center was a large dining table around which Harry and the adults sat. Harry nodded to her before turning back to the conversation.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Moody said, "but we need to accept the fact that Molly might not be returning to us."

"No, no, absolutely not!" Mr. Weasley slapped his hand on the tabletop. "I cannot accept that!"

"This is Voldemort we're talking about," Lupin added. "When have we ever heard of anyone surviving capture by Voldemort?"

"Scrimgeour."

"We got lucky with that one," said Moody. "If Miss Granger hadn't practically fallen in our laps, we would've lost him."

"Well, Molly isn't stupid! She would find a way to convince him to keep her alive."

"We're not saying she is stupid, Arthur." Lupin held up his hands in defense. "But she is human. I do not doubt he is subjecting her to a...certain kind of interrogation--"

"--Torture, you mean." Mr. Weasley wrung his hands.

"You saw how Scrimgeour took that. And he had only been with Voldemort a few hours!"

Mr. Weasley shook his head vehemently. "I can't just leave it like this. We have to at least try and save her. She's my wife, for Merlin's sake! The mother of my children!"

"What do you think, Harry?" Lupin turned to the young wizard sitting beside him.

Harry straightened in his seat and Mr. Weasley gave him a pleading look. "Well...knowing Mrs. Weasley, she would rather die than give Voldemort information about us. And once Voldemort realizes that..." Harry shrugged, shaking his head at the father of seven. "What I'm saying, Mr. Weasley, is that it may already be too late."

Mr. Weasley's face fell at his betrayal and he covered it with a hand to hide his tears. Ginny went over and hugged him from behind.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Lupin said gently.

"Don't." Mr. Weasley's voice trembled. He could not meet their eyes.

A moment of silence fell over the group. Ginny thought she spotted Harry wiping away a stray tear. Molly must have been the closest thing he ever had to a mother. It wasn't just the Weasleys who were losing someone.

"So..." Moody broke the silence, "what of our prisoner? Perhaps we should have a little interrogation of our own."

"What, you mean torture her?" Ginny asked, releasing her father.

Moody waved his wand in the air. "I can be very persuasive, Miss Weasley."

"Absolutely not. You're not harming a hair on her head!"

"Come off it, Ginny," said Harry. "She's not our friend anymore."

"You can't seriously be supportive of torture."

"Well, maybe not that. But a forceful conversation might be what we need. Can you imagine all she knows about Voldemort's plans?"

"Precisely." Moody sat back in his chair, giving Harry a proud look.

"And what of all that talk of wanting her to trust us?" she argued.

"You believed that?" Harry's brows shot up in surprise. "I only said that so she'd let her guard down. There's no way we can trust each other after all she's done. The only way I'd reconsider is if she killed Voldemort herself."

Ginny looked at him in disbelief. "So how is this going to end?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Is this going to end the way we expect mum's interrogation to end?"

"You mean...kill her?"

Ginny stared at him, dreading his answer. Harry looked to the others. It was Lupin who spoke.

"We cannot deny the fact that Voldemort is stronger with her. If it comes down to it, and we need every advantage we can get..."

His words trailed off and Ginny let loose her breath.

"Unbelievable," she muttered and turned on her heel to walk to the door. She opened it and spun back around to them. "I suppose we're no better than Voldemort, then."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. Her heart was pounding and she stood there a moment in the hallway to catch her breath.

Without another thought, she strode up to Scrimgeour's room and struck her fist on the door.

Scrimgeour cracked open the door and Ginny barged in past him. Harmony's heart leapt in relief at the sight of her. When Ginny's eyes found her laying there on the bed, she rounded on Scrimgeour.

"What in the world is going on here?" Ginny moved to stand between them.

"She's napping."

Ginny's head whipping around to look at Harmony and then back to him. "She looks terrified!"

"She had a nightmare."

"Bollocks!"

Ginny stepped closer to the bed and searched Harmony head to toe with her eyes to check she wasn't harmed in any way.

"Take the Imperius curse off," she demanded.

Scrimgeour snorted, collapsing into a chair. "I may be inebriated, young lady, but I still know that's a rubbish idea. She'll kill us all and make a break for it back to her lover."

His last word broke out into laughter. Ginny stared off to the side and Harmony could tell there were a million thoughts racing through her mind, judging and calculating. Then she blinked and faced him.

"She won't make a break for it and she definitely won't kill us," she stated with confidence.

"Oh, really?" Scrimgeour leaned over and perched his chin in his hands.

"Really. I talked with the others and...and they've decided to trade Hermione for my mum. Like we did with you."

He frowned. "That's new information."

"Yeah, well, it was decided while you were off getting drunk in here, wasn't it?"

His yellowish eyes narrowed at her.

"What I'm saying is," she went on, "is that she'll be hitching a ride with us back to Voldemort, so there's no reason to keep her restrained like this."

He scratched the stubble on his chin in thought. "Can't we at least wait until morning?"

"No. It can't," Ginny said with teeth clenched.

When her resolution didn't falter, he leaned back in his chair with a look of disappointment.

His speech was slurred but still understandable when he muttered, "A pity. I had quite the evening planned."

"Lift. The. Curse."

"Alright, alright." He waved his hands in the air, standing. He tipped over slightly, unsteady on his feet, and then brought out his wand.

When he waved it, Harmony's body was released. She gasped, enjoying the way her lungs expanded. It was amazing how something so simple as breathing of her own accord now felt like a priceless commodity.

Ginny jumped forward to help her sit up. Harmony flexed her muscles, reintroducing herself to the feel of them. The Serpentine charm wrapped around her belly, still painfully constricted. Which only meant one thing. Scrimgeour still meant her harm.

"Get me out of here," Harmony whispered.

"Love to." Ginny helped her to her feet.

Both the young witches glared at Scrimgeour as they left the bedroom. His eyes never left Harmony's.

She knew, with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, that this wouldn't be the last confrontation between her and the ex-Minister.