Disclaimer: Characters and places in this story belong to J.K. Rowling.
Malfoy Mansion stood as a testament to old money and old power. Gargoyles lined it's roof, sneering down upon any that dared trespass. A spiked gate encircled the property, doing a successful job of keeping the riff-raff and the muggles out. Any remotely skilled wizard would have no trouble breaching the walls of security. When they reached the door, however, they would realize their folly. The enchantment on the front door worked with the mind of the master of the mansion. Those who were welcome were greeted by an automatically opening door. Those who were not would be greeted with a scraping sound as the stoop slid into the house, tumbling the unsuspecting visitor into an oubliette or "place of forgetting," where they could rethink their relationship with the master of the house. Most were able to magic themselves out rather quickly. Still, even a few moments in it's oppressive darkness gave them cause to rethink the purposes of their visit.
Draco was sitting in his study, going over some paperwork. He'd found himself doing quite a lot of paper pushing since his father's passing. His mother had died years ago when she'd served the wrong sort of cheese at one of Voldemort's little reunions. It had all seemed terribly tragic at the time. Now... Well when one thought about it, the situation was almost amusing. She'd been crazy as a loon by that time, with all of the abuse she took from Lucius. It was kinder that she die then, rather than suffering at Saint Mungo's now. As for his father's death, he felt only a feeling of great relief. Lucius had been a man of absolutes, and he had died hating Draco absolutely. The feeling was mutual. Draco could never forgive his father for the abuse of his mother or the total lack of caring that Lucius had shown when she'd died. He'd had a look of utter disgust on his face and said something insanely stupid like "The Dark Lord detests common cheddar!" This was only one incident in a plethora of little anecdotes about his father. It wasn't anywhere near the worst. The worst had been with Marigold. He didn't think of those memories for very long, just shut them away deep in his psyche where they couldn't harm anyone.
He stared at the piece of parchment in front of him. It had been written by his father and was a list of sorts entitled "Torture Implements That Must Be Checked Bi-Annually."
"Shit was he twisted," Draco uttered in a low voice. "I suppose I should send someone down there to clean the rubbish out. I can't see myself needing a 'wheel of pain' anytime in the future."
He chuckled a bit, before putting the parchment in the pile he'd made of things to do later. He'd decided to do something that no Malfoy had ever done. Call in the Ministry. He'd go to Normandy for a weekend and have them take all the Dark Arts rubbish away. Sadly, he doubted they'd be willing to come over and play housekeeper. If he could find someone reliable, he'd still have a good weeks worth of work. After all, the house elves had been killed off a long while ago by a pair of drunken Death Eaters, so everything would be on his shoulders.
He had almost finished with his father's papers when he heard a great booming knock, followed by a creaking sound, then a scraping sound, and finally a yelp. Curious, he walked into the foyer to see what exactly was happening. He found the front door open, a great pit where the stoop usually was and a girl clinging onto the door jamb.
"This is not how I pictured this going," the girl grunted as she tried to heft herself up into the house. She seemed unaware of his presence.
Draco just stared.
All of a sudden, the door swung shut, there was a great yelp of pain, followed by a thud, and a scraping sound. Rather than contemplate what had just happened, he rushed to the access stairway to the catacombs. He'd never been anywhere in the catacombs except for the oubliette. He was pretty sure that he didn't wish to wander around aimlessly beneath the house, knowing that with the Malfoy reputation anything could be lurking down there.
When he arrived at the oubliette, he said the password quickly, and bolted into the room. He noticed two things immediately. First, the oubliette was filled with light. She must have gotten her wits about her rather quickly. Second, the girl was astonishingly beautiful. Shortly thereafter he heard one word. "Stupefy!"
When he came to he was bound hand and foot. The girl was pacing the oubliette in a quick and angry sort of fashion. She was still shockingly beautiful. Skin like alabaster, so white he could see the delicate tracing of blue veins in her neck. Her hair was red, if you could define the color in one word. It looked to be about a billion shades, from the palest amber to a bright fiery flame, all mixed together, and tumbled across her shoulders in big, soft ringlets. She was very small, standing a good head shorter than him, and much too thin for her own good.
She looked painfully familiar. With all that red hair she was probably related to the Weasleys... Had there been any female Weasley's at Hogwarts? Yes... the youngest was a girl... Ginny. He was almost certain her name was Ginny. Well, his psyche murmured in an acid tone. Now that I know her name I'm most assuredly going to get out of this virtually unscathed! Perhaps if I leer at her a bit more it'll help the situation?
She turned to glance at him with a look that was a mixture of utter hatred and complete confusion. He didn't like her looking at him like that. No one with a little button nose like that should ever look that angry. She continued to glare, and some of the confusion dissipated. It was replaced with a sneer of sorts, as if just looking at him gave her a bad taste in her mouth.
"You're awake, are you, Malfoy?" She spit out his name. He really didn't like her doing that.
"Ginny?" He paused for a moment, savoring the way her name felt on his tongue. He shook himself, as much as one who is bound hand and foot can do, and continued. "Is there a reason you've knocked me out and tied me up? I mean," he added with a smirk. "If this is some weird sexual sort of thing, all you had to do was ask..." God Draco? Could you have said anything more inappropriate?
Evidently Ginny felt it was inappropriate too, for she crossed the room and slapped him with a force he hadn't thought her capable of. He watched her shake her hand and mutter a string of expletives that looked extremely ridiculous coming out of a five foot sprite like her.
Draco's brow knitted and a look of concern crossed his face. "You've hurt yourself," he softly chided her.
"I don't slap people all that often, and the door pinched my fingers," Ginny replied in an explanatory air. Her voice quickly changed as she realized who she was addressing, her tone became very indignant. "Why am I explaining this to you? It's your fault, and I'm not the one tied up at the moment, so I get to ask the questions!"
"How is it my fault?"
"I get to ask the questions!"
"Humor me," he replied dryly.
"I'm not going to argue about this forever!" She had the air of a petulant child, and Draco was becoming worried over her sanity. "Alright, Mr. "How-is-it-my-fault." Do you not recall the whole door incident?"
"Oh that!" Draco said. "That's really more of a misunderstanding. I didn't even know it could do that, so it's hardly my fault now is it?"
Ginny looked at him, unconvinced by his logic. "You have a door that opens while the stoop is pulled away, then slams shut forcing a person into a pit of some sort, and you weren't aware?"
"No, no," Draco corrected her. "It usually just does one or the other. I didn't know it could do both at once." At her look of skepticism her elaborated. "The door opens for the wanted and the stoop pulls away for the uninvited. It's really very effective."
She snorted derisively. "Couldn't just the stoop accomplish that? Why have the door open of it's own accord?"
"Ambiance," he replied matter-of-factly. "Look, could we get back to the point behind this whole bondage thing? I've got quite a few things to get done."
"Fine," she replied. "I've only one thing to ask you. Why Neville?"
He was so taken aback by her question he began to answer her honestly. "He understood the situation perfectly and I..." he trailed off as he realized what he was saying. He looked at her suspiciously. Why was she asking him about Neville? God I hope she doesn't work for one of the tabloids... he groaned inwardly. He realized that she was still waiting for an answer, and asked in guarded tones, "Why Neville what?"
She let out an exasperated sigh. "For a moment I thought we were getting somewhere, but I see that went out with us sharing a cup of coffee after all this. What did the man I loved know that was so bloody important it got him killed?"
Draco took a deep sigh. He had known Neville was going to propose to someone this Christmas, had been happy for him. He'd always assumed it was one of the silly ones, like the Brown girl. The old boy did quite well for himself. "Look, Ginny, I'm terribly sorry about Neville's death. He was supposed to be the last person any of them would have looked for, but somehow they must have caught up to him..."
Ginny looked him dead in the eyes. She had truly amazing eyes, eyes that were a rich chocolaty sort of brown, with a ring of dark brown, almost black, around the irises. Eyes that Draco felt he could drown in, if he was ever given half a chance. Right at the moment they were brimming with unshed tears. If I could see them happy just once, I could die and not regret a moment of it. Draco stood a little straighter and mentally shook himself. Now was most certainly not the time to be writing love sonnets about Ginny's eyes.
"Why?" She repeated, her voice and body shaking, as if it were taking every ounce of the energy she possessed to keep her emotions in check.
He answered her simply and honestly, as he knew he should have done in the first place.
"He knew where I was. Neville was my Secret-Keeper."
Malfoy Mansion stood as a testament to old money and old power. Gargoyles lined it's roof, sneering down upon any that dared trespass. A spiked gate encircled the property, doing a successful job of keeping the riff-raff and the muggles out. Any remotely skilled wizard would have no trouble breaching the walls of security. When they reached the door, however, they would realize their folly. The enchantment on the front door worked with the mind of the master of the mansion. Those who were welcome were greeted by an automatically opening door. Those who were not would be greeted with a scraping sound as the stoop slid into the house, tumbling the unsuspecting visitor into an oubliette or "place of forgetting," where they could rethink their relationship with the master of the house. Most were able to magic themselves out rather quickly. Still, even a few moments in it's oppressive darkness gave them cause to rethink the purposes of their visit.
Draco was sitting in his study, going over some paperwork. He'd found himself doing quite a lot of paper pushing since his father's passing. His mother had died years ago when she'd served the wrong sort of cheese at one of Voldemort's little reunions. It had all seemed terribly tragic at the time. Now... Well when one thought about it, the situation was almost amusing. She'd been crazy as a loon by that time, with all of the abuse she took from Lucius. It was kinder that she die then, rather than suffering at Saint Mungo's now. As for his father's death, he felt only a feeling of great relief. Lucius had been a man of absolutes, and he had died hating Draco absolutely. The feeling was mutual. Draco could never forgive his father for the abuse of his mother or the total lack of caring that Lucius had shown when she'd died. He'd had a look of utter disgust on his face and said something insanely stupid like "The Dark Lord detests common cheddar!" This was only one incident in a plethora of little anecdotes about his father. It wasn't anywhere near the worst. The worst had been with Marigold. He didn't think of those memories for very long, just shut them away deep in his psyche where they couldn't harm anyone.
He stared at the piece of parchment in front of him. It had been written by his father and was a list of sorts entitled "Torture Implements That Must Be Checked Bi-Annually."
"Shit was he twisted," Draco uttered in a low voice. "I suppose I should send someone down there to clean the rubbish out. I can't see myself needing a 'wheel of pain' anytime in the future."
He chuckled a bit, before putting the parchment in the pile he'd made of things to do later. He'd decided to do something that no Malfoy had ever done. Call in the Ministry. He'd go to Normandy for a weekend and have them take all the Dark Arts rubbish away. Sadly, he doubted they'd be willing to come over and play housekeeper. If he could find someone reliable, he'd still have a good weeks worth of work. After all, the house elves had been killed off a long while ago by a pair of drunken Death Eaters, so everything would be on his shoulders.
He had almost finished with his father's papers when he heard a great booming knock, followed by a creaking sound, then a scraping sound, and finally a yelp. Curious, he walked into the foyer to see what exactly was happening. He found the front door open, a great pit where the stoop usually was and a girl clinging onto the door jamb.
"This is not how I pictured this going," the girl grunted as she tried to heft herself up into the house. She seemed unaware of his presence.
Draco just stared.
All of a sudden, the door swung shut, there was a great yelp of pain, followed by a thud, and a scraping sound. Rather than contemplate what had just happened, he rushed to the access stairway to the catacombs. He'd never been anywhere in the catacombs except for the oubliette. He was pretty sure that he didn't wish to wander around aimlessly beneath the house, knowing that with the Malfoy reputation anything could be lurking down there.
When he arrived at the oubliette, he said the password quickly, and bolted into the room. He noticed two things immediately. First, the oubliette was filled with light. She must have gotten her wits about her rather quickly. Second, the girl was astonishingly beautiful. Shortly thereafter he heard one word. "Stupefy!"
When he came to he was bound hand and foot. The girl was pacing the oubliette in a quick and angry sort of fashion. She was still shockingly beautiful. Skin like alabaster, so white he could see the delicate tracing of blue veins in her neck. Her hair was red, if you could define the color in one word. It looked to be about a billion shades, from the palest amber to a bright fiery flame, all mixed together, and tumbled across her shoulders in big, soft ringlets. She was very small, standing a good head shorter than him, and much too thin for her own good.
She looked painfully familiar. With all that red hair she was probably related to the Weasleys... Had there been any female Weasley's at Hogwarts? Yes... the youngest was a girl... Ginny. He was almost certain her name was Ginny. Well, his psyche murmured in an acid tone. Now that I know her name I'm most assuredly going to get out of this virtually unscathed! Perhaps if I leer at her a bit more it'll help the situation?
She turned to glance at him with a look that was a mixture of utter hatred and complete confusion. He didn't like her looking at him like that. No one with a little button nose like that should ever look that angry. She continued to glare, and some of the confusion dissipated. It was replaced with a sneer of sorts, as if just looking at him gave her a bad taste in her mouth.
"You're awake, are you, Malfoy?" She spit out his name. He really didn't like her doing that.
"Ginny?" He paused for a moment, savoring the way her name felt on his tongue. He shook himself, as much as one who is bound hand and foot can do, and continued. "Is there a reason you've knocked me out and tied me up? I mean," he added with a smirk. "If this is some weird sexual sort of thing, all you had to do was ask..." God Draco? Could you have said anything more inappropriate?
Evidently Ginny felt it was inappropriate too, for she crossed the room and slapped him with a force he hadn't thought her capable of. He watched her shake her hand and mutter a string of expletives that looked extremely ridiculous coming out of a five foot sprite like her.
Draco's brow knitted and a look of concern crossed his face. "You've hurt yourself," he softly chided her.
"I don't slap people all that often, and the door pinched my fingers," Ginny replied in an explanatory air. Her voice quickly changed as she realized who she was addressing, her tone became very indignant. "Why am I explaining this to you? It's your fault, and I'm not the one tied up at the moment, so I get to ask the questions!"
"How is it my fault?"
"I get to ask the questions!"
"Humor me," he replied dryly.
"I'm not going to argue about this forever!" She had the air of a petulant child, and Draco was becoming worried over her sanity. "Alright, Mr. "How-is-it-my-fault." Do you not recall the whole door incident?"
"Oh that!" Draco said. "That's really more of a misunderstanding. I didn't even know it could do that, so it's hardly my fault now is it?"
Ginny looked at him, unconvinced by his logic. "You have a door that opens while the stoop is pulled away, then slams shut forcing a person into a pit of some sort, and you weren't aware?"
"No, no," Draco corrected her. "It usually just does one or the other. I didn't know it could do both at once." At her look of skepticism her elaborated. "The door opens for the wanted and the stoop pulls away for the uninvited. It's really very effective."
She snorted derisively. "Couldn't just the stoop accomplish that? Why have the door open of it's own accord?"
"Ambiance," he replied matter-of-factly. "Look, could we get back to the point behind this whole bondage thing? I've got quite a few things to get done."
"Fine," she replied. "I've only one thing to ask you. Why Neville?"
He was so taken aback by her question he began to answer her honestly. "He understood the situation perfectly and I..." he trailed off as he realized what he was saying. He looked at her suspiciously. Why was she asking him about Neville? God I hope she doesn't work for one of the tabloids... he groaned inwardly. He realized that she was still waiting for an answer, and asked in guarded tones, "Why Neville what?"
She let out an exasperated sigh. "For a moment I thought we were getting somewhere, but I see that went out with us sharing a cup of coffee after all this. What did the man I loved know that was so bloody important it got him killed?"
Draco took a deep sigh. He had known Neville was going to propose to someone this Christmas, had been happy for him. He'd always assumed it was one of the silly ones, like the Brown girl. The old boy did quite well for himself. "Look, Ginny, I'm terribly sorry about Neville's death. He was supposed to be the last person any of them would have looked for, but somehow they must have caught up to him..."
Ginny looked him dead in the eyes. She had truly amazing eyes, eyes that were a rich chocolaty sort of brown, with a ring of dark brown, almost black, around the irises. Eyes that Draco felt he could drown in, if he was ever given half a chance. Right at the moment they were brimming with unshed tears. If I could see them happy just once, I could die and not regret a moment of it. Draco stood a little straighter and mentally shook himself. Now was most certainly not the time to be writing love sonnets about Ginny's eyes.
"Why?" She repeated, her voice and body shaking, as if it were taking every ounce of the energy she possessed to keep her emotions in check.
He answered her simply and honestly, as he knew he should have done in the first place.
"He knew where I was. Neville was my Secret-Keeper."