~Ch. 9- In the Clutches of Hell~
Dark.
Black.
Cold.
It was dark, cold, and pitch black, and the hours seemed to be unmeasurable for Ginny as she lay there. She wasn't sure how long she had been there, or how long it had been since she was first kidnaped. But it wasn't the dark that scared her. It was the loneliness.
Draco Malfoy. Her thoughts kept wandering to him as she began to think. Would he come for me? Would he really risk everything just to make sure I'm alright? Thoughts of his rejection filled her head, and then thoughts of his kindness, his compassion... the true Draco Malfoy.
And she began to think he was there. It was an illusion, she knew, but it felt better to imagine that he was trapped there too, with her. "I'm sure we'll get out of here soon..." She murmured. "It won't be so bad..."
The fear was definitely getting to her. * The sky was just beginning to lighten, warming from black to charcoal gray. The pre-dawn air was still brisk, but Draco didn't feel it. His hands and face were already numb from the wind, his body stiff and frozen from spending the night clinging to a broomstick.
But he had succeeded where the Ministry Aurors had failed. He had found Voldemort's lair, by following the faint buzzing in his blood, that seemed to radiate from the scar on his upper arm. The tattoo of a skull with a snake protruding from it's mouth, that he'd been glad to conceal from everyone. He could hardly bear to look at it, himself. The Dark Mark..
Before, it had brought him nothing but agony, fear, and shame. But now it had brought him to Ginny.
Nearing the decrepit tower, Draco didn't bother to try and disguise his presence. There was no possible way he could have. Not from his Father. And not from Lord Voldemort. He slid of his broom, painfully stretching out limbs that had been cramped for hours. He had no plan. No memorized speech. But for the first time since the night of his birthday, he didn't feel lost, as if he were wandering through unfamiliar places where he didn't belong.
Collecting himself, Draco strode towards the entrance with affected arrogance, taking long strides to disguise the trembling of his legs. He rapped on the door.
Nothing happened. * Tears ran down Ginny's cheeks for what seemed like the millionth time. Her imprisonment was frustrating, and Ginny was sure that Voldemort had somehow known this would happen. Knowing this, she tried to stop crying, but the tears only fell all the more.
What is going to happen to me? Are they even going to come? Is Harry looking? Is Ron? She huddled against the wall a bit more, hunching up as far as she could with her ropes and chains. Draco... I need you. Please don't leave me here, all alone... I'm not strong enough... I need you. Don't leave me here... don't leave me here...
The knock on the door scared her, and her heart pounded furiously. Who could possibly be knocking? Who was it that had come? Swallowing hard, she decided to voice her concern. Moving as close as she could with the distance the chain reached, she called out towards the door.
"Hello?"
Her voice was soft, just loud enough so that the mystery guest would be able to hear through the door, but she hoped it wouldn't carry all the way up the stairs.
Draco heard the tremulous greeting, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. Ginny was alive.
For the past four hours, he'd not even allowed his mind to venture anywhere near thoughts that resembled worry over what might have been happening to her. Such thoughts had been labeled extremely dangerous and set off-limits.
But that didn't stop him from feeling a staggering sense of relief. But, of course, they were not out of the line of fire yet. Not even close.
Carefully, he tugged open the heavy door. Of course it wasn't locked. Voldemort was paranoid enough to seclude himself in this godforsaken wilderness, but arrogant enough to leave his door unlocked. That's just how he worked. Draco shivered at the fact that he understood some part of the Dark Lord. He didn't like that he understood anything about him.
A crack of dim light illuminated only a sliver of space inside. He stepped in, blinking, his silvered eyes slowly adjusting. "Ginny?" He called out in answer to her, equally as soft.
The thin stream of light that filtered in from the doorway made Ginny wince, shutting her eyes. The darkness had engulfed her, and now the light burned her eyes to look at it. After a few moments, her eyes managed to adjust to the new light that was brought in, and Ginny's gaze fell upon the figure.
"Draco..." She hardly dared to murmur, and she moved forward, tugging on a chain that held her.
"Draco, you came..." Her voice almost cracked, and she couldn't help but smile in excitement. "Draco..." She longed to hug him, to take him in her arms, to feel safe, but it wasn't possible. Not with her body bound and chained to the wall.
She swallowed, repeating his name again, softly. "Draco... please don't go." Her voice was a plea this time. "Please promise you won't leave me here to die... please... please..."
Draco felt as if he were bleeding inside, to hear Ginny begging him like that. Ginny never begged. She was strong. Gods, what could she have seen, to put that tone in her voice?
That's when everything that he'd not been allowing himself to think about came flooding to him in a rush of crumbled walls and barricades.
He swallowed, throat so tight and closed-up he could barely breathe. Then, suddenly, he was across the room and clutching her against him, his arms enfolding her almost desperately. He couldn't speak, but in that moment, just holding her was enough to reassure him, bring him a small measure of peace.
Draco's embrace was all it took to make her sob again, and Ginny leaned against him, tears flowing from her eyes as she was simply glad beyond telling to see him. "You came... You really came for me, Draco." She couldn't hug him back, but merely pressed closer against him.
"Don't let them find you, Draco... I don't want them to do anything to you." She swallowed hard. "Since... since I don't know how much time we have, I'd better tell you everything I know."
She bit on her lip, snuggling against him a moment before speaking. "They aren't going to kill me. For some reason, You-Know-Who wants me alive. It has something to do with the bracelet I got in France... It has some sort of Dark Magic or some sort of Dark power, but I'm not sure what. And whatever it is... I can't take the bracelet off, and for some reason I have to be alive..."
She shivered, her voice going much colder. "But there are far worse things than death."
Draco looked down at her, his eyes turning steely gray as he repressed some emotion or memory that he was afraid to show her. "And Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to put you through every one of them, until he gets what he wants from you."
He didn't release his hold on her, but he loosened it a bit, enough to lean back and see her more clearly. One hand reached up to wipe gently at her tear-stained face. "I came here for you, Ginny... but I knew I couldn't come without my Father and the Dark Lord being aware of it. We don't have much time. I don't know what I'm going to do..." He shut his eyes briefly, then let go of her, the hand that had touched her now going to the sleeve of his robe, pulling it up.
Showing her the mark that tormented him at every moment, sleeping or waking.
"I just didn't want you to have to go through this alone," he confessed to her, letting the sleeve fall back down. His muscles tensed a little, trying to counteract his feeling of vulnerability. He almost dropped his gaze, afraid to see what her reaction would be, and yet, he was unable to look away.
Yet, there was no need for him to be afraid. Ginny's look was only compassionate and understanding. "I know, Draco." But her words meant more than they sounded at first. After a moment, she continued.
"Sometimes I can look at people... and I can tell things, just by looking in their eyes. Sometimes I can tell, sometimes I can't. It's not something I can tell all the time, just merely a gift... I can look and sometimes I can interpret feelings... emotions. Sometimes I can see dark... light... anger, hatred... kindness, love... Other times I saw nothing."
She frowned. "When I first saw you, Draco, I could see darkness. I figured it was because you were Slytherin... because you were evil and cruel and a terrible person. In Harry, I saw so much pure light. I guess it drew me to him. But when I saw your pain on the Hogwarts Express..." She paused again, continuing to look into his eyes.
"I looked into your eyes and didn't see that darkness. There was light... Light, trapped within a shell of darkness.. A taint. Something dark had a grip on you. I noticed it on Harry, too, but it wasn't like yours. His was only from the scar.. Yours... Was much more powerful."
Her eyes lingered on the spot where the mark was for a moment, then they returned to his own. "I don't judge you because of that. It isn't your fault. I can tell this isn't what you want. You don't want to be like Him. You don't want to follow in your father's footsteps. When I talked to You- Know-Who, he confirmed it. He told me that you were his. That he had claimed you as his own. With a mark..." She looked to him.
"And he told me he was going to mark me as his, too..."
Draco opened his mouth to speak, his gray eyes darkening as her words washed over him, lathing his internal wounds, slowing some of the sluggish bleeding that had been killing him, bit by bit, for months now.
But they could not help to heal the new wound that had been inflicted on him, with his fear for her. He couldn't predict what the Dark Lord and his Father might have planned. Ginny believed in him. Believed in him, trusting that he would protect her if he could.
He wanted to. He wanted to more than anything. And it was this strong desire to keep her safe that at last superceded the last of the agony he had carried with him since the night of his birthday. All that mattered was Ginny now. Draco felt at once a sense of relief and a sensation like someone had punched him in the stomach. In letting go of one weakness he had taken up another, one far more damaging to his heart.
He cared about Ginny. Now she could be used against him. She cared about him. Now he could be used against her.
He felt confused. He didn't know what to believe- the romantic stories of love conquering all, tales he had always scoffed at as being naive and stupid... or should he trust his muddled instincts, that were screaming they were both in terrible danger, because Lord Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to manipulate them both to achieve any terrible end he wanted.
But as he simply stared at her, all he was feeling flashing through his expression as if his eyes were truly windows to his soul, his lips slightly parted as he struggled for something to say, anything to say... the mark on his arm tightened and burned, the sting a mere echo of what he'd first felt as it was pressed into his skin. And he knew the Dark Lord had come.
His arms slid away from her, and he stepped back slowly, his gaze going to the stairs. Where Voldemort waited, watching them.
A wave of panic washed over her as Draco moved back, and Ginny's gaze followed him to the stairs. It all hit her like a ton of bricks. Had the Dark Lord himself planned this? Had he known that she would wear the bracelet? Had he known she would become close with Draco?
And suddenly, she knew how much danger he was in. And how much danger she was in. He wouldn't leave her. He would try and stay and protect her. But he'd only be tortured, killed perhaps. And she'd have to do whatever they said. She'd have to do whatever it was with the bracelet. She'd have to listen to them. There was only one thing to do. As Draco moved back, Ginny fought and pulled her gaze from Voldemort.
"Run."
Her simple command wouldn't be taken seriously. Not by Draco. He wouldn't leave her alone. She had to make him leave. She had to get him out of there. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if he was hurt because of her. And it was going to happen if he didn't get away.
"Draco, if you care anything for my life, RUN!"
The Lord Voldemort that descended the last step, walking towards them with a relaxed gait, was not the Lord Voldemort Draco had imagined in all his nightmares and darkest fears. This Voldemort had a charming smile, flashing white, even teeth. This Voldemort had thick dark hair, and healthy tanned arms, crossed loosely over his chest. This Voldemort had smile lines around his mouth, adding maturity to the handsome face.
The only place that Draco could see the evidence of the real, soulless creature that he knew must inhabit that body, was in the eyes. They were the color of midnight skies and thick viscous blood. And when the charming smile touched the Dark Lord's mouth, the eyes swirled with pure malice and... evil. There was no other word for it.
"Run?" Voldemort echoed Ginny softly, with a trace of bemusement. "Where do you suggest my wayward young Death Eater run to, Ginny? To the arms of your fellow students, people who would never trust him? To Dumbledore, that weak, sentimental, Muggle-loving, fool?" Voldemort shook his head. "There is nowhere my servants can go that I cannot find them. Not with the Dark Mark branded upon them."
Ginny swallowed hard, staring over at the one called Lord Voldemort. "No. I know he'll be found. But at least, if he is out of here, then he'll be saved from you for a little while longer."
She pulled up her courage, knowing that Draco could be in mortal danger. She had to focus the Dark Lord's attention off of him. "I won't do what you want, Voldemort." She almost hissed. "And I won't belong to you. Ever."
Draco could only stare at Voldemort, cinching an iron band around his control to the point where he could barely breathe. But at least his face didn't give anything away. Not that he had any secrets left. But he still had his soul. That was more than he could say for his father.
I don't want to end up like him. I will NOT be a slave.
Draco did thing only thing he could do. He walked over to the illusion that was Lord Voldemort, and went to one knee before him, like a knight of the old ages bowing before his liege. He looked up to the face of the Dark Lord, showing nothing of what he truly felt. But though he was looking to him, Draco was speaking to Ginny. "There's nothing to save me from."
He was lying. The one skill he had truly raised to the level of perfection. He didn't know what exactly he could accomplish, he only knew he had to stop Voldemort from directing his anger at Ginny. They were both trying to save each other. Draco would have felt touched, if he weren't so busy concentrating on shutting all his emotions down.
Ginny stared in horror at Draco. No. Draco, don't abandon me like this. He knows about us! He KNOWS! He must! Draco... He'll only make you force me. He'll make you hurt me. And you'll have to do it. To do what? To prove what? To save me? No. No, Draco. I can't let you.
"You're lying, Draco Malfoy. You're terrified as much as anyone. And you're a sniveling coward if you think crawling to the Dark Lord is going to prove anything. You'll just crawl to whatever side is winning, and when the tides change, you'll go right on back. Don't make everyone hate you, Malfoy."
She swallowed, just hoping that it wasn't too late, just hoping that Draco would just be smart and leave, that he would hide forever, and even if she was to never see him again, at least she'd know that he was away, away somewhere safe.
Voldemort glanced between them both, a half-smile lifting the corner of his mouth. Then, without warning, the Dark Lord, evil incarnate.... threw back his head and laughed.
The sound sent chills marching down Draco's spine. It was like listening to the crack and roll of thunder intertwined with the clarion ringing of bells. It was like music and shrills screams of agony. And Draco couldn't help but flinch at it, though he had held back every wince when Ginny had snapped her piece. But he knew, or at least he thought he knew, that she was only trying to do the exact same thing as him. Didn't she know he wasn't worth it?
However, with Voldemort, there was no such thing as a certainty. Take for example his appearance. Draco had come expecting a horrifying vision of a non-quite human visage burning with red eyes. Instead he finds Voldemort has made himself into.... almost an older version of Potter, actually. It was quite unnerving. But not as unnerving as that laughter.
Voldemort wiped invisible tears from his eyes, the laughter subsiding. "I believe I shall allow you two to remain at my side after your tasks. You're really quite enjoyable. I haven't been so amused since Peter Pettigrew came to me with James and Lily's secret." He turned his unearthly eyes on the blonde-haired boy still kneeling before him.
"Get up, Draco. You have made your attempt to subvert my suspicion. Let me reassure you, I have no doubts you shall remain loyal to me..." The Dark Lord grinned malevolently. "Because I have exactly what you want in my control. And there's nothing for holding influence over someone like having possession of exactly what they want."
Draco's face remained perfectly impassive, perfectly unreadable, but his hands betrayed him, clenching into fists at his side.
Fire.
If there was one thing the red-haired Weasleys shared in common, it was fire. And fire was exactly what was burning in Virginia Weasley's eyes.
At first, it had been a look of shock. The Dark Lord had completely surprised her with his actions. She had not expected him to be so... so... Ginny couldn't even come up with a word to describe the way he had completely caught her off-guard.
She was expecting Draco to be used against her, for whatever purpose the strange bracelet had. Yet, with his words, it was almost the opposite. Draco was the wayward son, and Voldemort was the father, dangling her as the prize in front of him.
He was as trapped as she, Ginny realized, as she watched Voldemort and Draco. And that made her angry. Fire blazed in her eyes as she struggled against the magical bonds that held her.
"Leave Draco out of this." She almost snarled. "Leave him out of this. You know I can be more useful. I know I have something that you want."
Draco could not stop his eyes from flickering to Ginny, astonished that such a delicate-looking slip of a girl could put forth such a display of vehemence. And all for him. To defend him.
He had to do something. He turned to her, wrapping himself in another layer of truth and lies. "Ginny, please," Draco half-whispered, half-hissed. "Stop. Just stop trying to save me. You've been trying to save me since that day on the train. So we danced, so we shared a classroom during the attack." He didn't mention the kiss. "You think that preempts everything I have been, everything I have lived with for seventeen years? You think you can change my life in less than a week?" His gaze was veiled, almost frigid in its coolness. "You're a fool, if so."
Ginny clenched her fists, staring over at Draco. "I believe you can fight it, Draco. I believe that you're changed." But seeing the resolve in his eyes, she heaved a sigh, continuing.
"But I guess I'm wrong. I seem to be naive in matters like this. I was naive about the diary, and I'm simply being naive now if I think I can change you." She studied him closely.
"Who am I to change someone?"
Draco just looked at her, his eyes the purest silver they had ever been. When Draco remained in stoic silence, Lord Voldemort spoke for him.
"You're nobody now, Ginny Weasley. But you soon will be somebody. You're more important than you can possibly imagine."
Both Ginny and Draco looked to Voldemort in surprise. He chuckled at their expressions, but did not laugh, thankfully. What silly children they are, he thought contemptuously. So blinded by love and attempting to use games they know nothing about. This will be easier than I had predicted...
Voldemort waved a hand towards Ginny, and the manacles that bound her fell away from her wrists. "Come, both of you. It is much more comfortable upstairs." He began the twisting climb to the top floor of the tower, with every confidence they would follow.
And follow they did. Draco and Ginny faced each other at the bottom of the steps. He made a gentlemanly gesture. "After you." With a look he couldn't decipher, she moved ahead of him, reluctantly following after the Dark Lord. They climbed in silence, neither knowing what to say. Draco's nerves thrummed with fearful anticipation. He knew whatever Voldemort was going to tell them, it wasn't going to be good news.
They reached the sumptuous chambers to find Voldemort sprawled casually upon a velvet couch adjacent to a cheerily crackling fireplace. The picture seemed entirely surreal. And Draco began to wonder if he was trapped in another dream. Neither of them accepted Voldemort's offer to sit. Shrugging, he summoned a glass of wine to his hand, sipping from it. At least, Draco hoped it was wine. It was red.
At last, Voldemort looked up to Ginny with a faintly amused expression. "You're wondering why I needed you alive, aren't you, Virginia?" He nodded his chin to her wrist. "It's the bracelet. You've activated it. And it won't serve its purpose if you're dead, or if it is removed from your person."
Ginny frowned, her eyes gazing down at the bracelet as she studied the intricate band of silver. "I guess that would explain why you haven't decided to just kill me or try and remove the bracelet somehow."
Yet, there was something about the bracelet that held more than just her arm. The twists seemed to change, almost as if the bracelet itself were alive, and it almost felt to her like it was digging... not painful, like into her skin, but through her... like it was digging into her soul.
She removed her gaze slowly from the bracelet, back to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord Voldemort who looked too much like an older Harry. She almost felt a bit... comfortable, around him. That was very dangerous.
"So, if this bracelet is now only usable by me... what exact is the bracelet's use? I haven't seen anything different because of it... not strength, or intelligence.. it doesn't seem to change anything." She looked genuinely curious now.
"What exactly is its purpose?"
Voldemort twirled his cup in is fingers, watching the fractured play of lights within the ruby liquid. "It's a key." He said finally, not looking away from his glass, taking another languid drink.
He then looked to both of them, smiling his dark smile. "Obviously a key with a nefarious purpose, otherwise why would I go through so much trouble to get it? But before I outline my scheme to you, just remember you don't have a choice in this."
He took a last sip to wet his mouth. "Right. Well, first of all it has a name. But that is very long and complicated and in a dead language, so I'll just shorthand it. The bracelet is known as the Grimoire. A Grimoire is to a necromancer what a Book of Shadows is to a Wiccan. Basically, a Grimorie holds all the secrets and spells of the Underworld, of raising the dead and controlling them. But this bracelet will not just teach you spells. It will enact them for you."
Voldemort's eyes glittered, and it wasn't from the firelight. It was from hunger. "This Grimorie is the most powerful necromantic object ever created. A skilled Necromancer, such as myself, may raise one being at a time, perhaps two... the Grimorie can animate hundreds. Thousands, even."
Ginny's eyes widened in shock as she stared at the ring of silver that encircled her wrist like a chain, her stomach churning and making her feel quite ill. "You mean," she paused to suck in some air. "You mean to tell me that this silver bracelet can bring thousands of wizards back to life?"
She shuddered slightly at the thought. It was indeed an ingenious plan. Raise the dead in enormous masses, and an army would be at his disposal. He could easily do whatever he wanted.
Yet, there had to be some catch. Something that wasn't being said. You could never do something so powerful without a catch. "But how does it work... and what happens after it's been used? Can you use it many times... or just once?" She frowned. "And if this is so powerful, then why didn't you put it on yourself?"
The Dark Lord watched her with those startling blue/black/red eyes of his. "Because you got to it before I did, dear Virginia." He stated enigmatically.
"It works in conjunction with an elaborate ritual, most spells of this sort of magnitude in the Dark Arts usually do." Voldemort almost sounded bored. "It only works once." He then smirked. "As for the catch... well, I can't be sure, but if my research is correct... the bearer of the Grimorie will be drained nearly to the point of death, themselves, as the corpses begin to crawl out from their graves..."
"Nearly to the point of death. That means I'd still survive it." Ginny swallowed hard. She'd known there would be a catch. "Doesn't it?" She shivered at the thought.
Thousands of corpses rising as she was slowly dying. It was almost poetic... Yet, sickening at the same time.
I can't do this, and I won't. But I have no way out of this... Nothing to do to save me from this. Her gaze suddenly shot to Draco, but her expression saddened. He couldn't help her.
If only Harry were here... He's the only one who could help us now.
But Harry Potter wasn't coming. However, someone else was.
The door opened, and Lucius Malfoy strolled in, arrogance written in every line of his impeccably tailored clothes and every strand of silver-blonde hair. His eyes went first to his master, nodding a perfunctory greeting, before shifting over to his son.
"Draco," he greeted the boy, false warmth in his voice. Draco didn't care. He was used to false everything with his father.
"Father." He answered back, the contrived warmth matching Lucius's perfectly. Not an iota warmer, nota an iota cooler.
Lucius then looked to Ginny, and showed signs of surprise, as if she was not whathe'd been expecting. Perhaps he still remembered her as the skinny little eleven year-old whom he'd tricked with the diary.
Ginny eyed Lucius as he entered, her only reaction to him was a brief nod of her head.
It bothered her sometimes, the way he looked so much like Draco, and she had to admit that if Lucius Malfoy had one thing going for him, at least it was his looks, though she doubted that he had as much charm as he was rumored to.
Staring at him, she could only sense the taint of the Dark Lord. No one like him could ever be considered 'charming' in her book.
The Dark Lord, on the other hand, was exuding charisma like a cloud of costly French cologne. But Draco was able to ignore it in favor of the ice water that trickled into his bloodstream upon seeing his Father's face.
Lucius didn't seem aware of the affect he had on his son. He turned to his master, still with his assessing gaze on Ginny. "Have you told them their tasks, my Lord?" He questioned calmly, as if he were asking about the weather.
Voldemort nodded. "Virginia has been informed of her task. Draco has not, however."
Draco started slightly as he heard his name. He narrowed his eyes. "Task?"
"Of course." Voldemort summoned another glass of the red wine for Lucius. The uneasy feeling in Draco's stomach tightened into a hard knot. "You didn't think the ritual for animating hundreds upon hundreds of dead wizards was going to be as simple as a walk in the park, did you?"
Ginny's stomach churned at the words, her gaze falling back upon Draco. She was sick, almost afraid of what this ritual might be... and what exactly the both of them would have to do.
If only there was some way out of this. Ginny thought, her eyes falling upon the window forlornly. If only I knew what to do. If Ron, or Bill, or Charlie.. or even Fred or George were in my place, they'd think of something... but I can't. I can't think of anything. And everything's at risk.
Harry. Ron. Hermione. Fred. George. Charlie. Bill. Mom. Dad. Dumbledore. McGonagall. All of them. Everyone. Everyone I care about, everyone I know. They're all going to be in danger unless I do something. Unless I think of a way out of this situation.
So come on, Virginia. Think! There's got to be some way to resist this. Some way of escape. Some way to get the bracelet off... to destroy it.
A suddenly sickening thought hit her, and her face grew cold. There was a method out of this, if all else failed. It could work... but it might not. The thought of it made her even more ill than the thought of raising hundreds from the dead.
If all else failed, she had one last resort. If all else failed, she could always try and end it all.
She could try and end her life, if it meant keeping this evil away from Voldemort.
The thought sickened her and she shoved it far in the back of her mind. It was only a last resort option. Only if nothing else came up. If nothing came up...
Dark.
Black.
Cold.
It was dark, cold, and pitch black, and the hours seemed to be unmeasurable for Ginny as she lay there. She wasn't sure how long she had been there, or how long it had been since she was first kidnaped. But it wasn't the dark that scared her. It was the loneliness.
Draco Malfoy. Her thoughts kept wandering to him as she began to think. Would he come for me? Would he really risk everything just to make sure I'm alright? Thoughts of his rejection filled her head, and then thoughts of his kindness, his compassion... the true Draco Malfoy.
And she began to think he was there. It was an illusion, she knew, but it felt better to imagine that he was trapped there too, with her. "I'm sure we'll get out of here soon..." She murmured. "It won't be so bad..."
The fear was definitely getting to her. * The sky was just beginning to lighten, warming from black to charcoal gray. The pre-dawn air was still brisk, but Draco didn't feel it. His hands and face were already numb from the wind, his body stiff and frozen from spending the night clinging to a broomstick.
But he had succeeded where the Ministry Aurors had failed. He had found Voldemort's lair, by following the faint buzzing in his blood, that seemed to radiate from the scar on his upper arm. The tattoo of a skull with a snake protruding from it's mouth, that he'd been glad to conceal from everyone. He could hardly bear to look at it, himself. The Dark Mark..
Before, it had brought him nothing but agony, fear, and shame. But now it had brought him to Ginny.
Nearing the decrepit tower, Draco didn't bother to try and disguise his presence. There was no possible way he could have. Not from his Father. And not from Lord Voldemort. He slid of his broom, painfully stretching out limbs that had been cramped for hours. He had no plan. No memorized speech. But for the first time since the night of his birthday, he didn't feel lost, as if he were wandering through unfamiliar places where he didn't belong.
Collecting himself, Draco strode towards the entrance with affected arrogance, taking long strides to disguise the trembling of his legs. He rapped on the door.
Nothing happened. * Tears ran down Ginny's cheeks for what seemed like the millionth time. Her imprisonment was frustrating, and Ginny was sure that Voldemort had somehow known this would happen. Knowing this, she tried to stop crying, but the tears only fell all the more.
What is going to happen to me? Are they even going to come? Is Harry looking? Is Ron? She huddled against the wall a bit more, hunching up as far as she could with her ropes and chains. Draco... I need you. Please don't leave me here, all alone... I'm not strong enough... I need you. Don't leave me here... don't leave me here...
The knock on the door scared her, and her heart pounded furiously. Who could possibly be knocking? Who was it that had come? Swallowing hard, she decided to voice her concern. Moving as close as she could with the distance the chain reached, she called out towards the door.
"Hello?"
Her voice was soft, just loud enough so that the mystery guest would be able to hear through the door, but she hoped it wouldn't carry all the way up the stairs.
Draco heard the tremulous greeting, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. Ginny was alive.
For the past four hours, he'd not even allowed his mind to venture anywhere near thoughts that resembled worry over what might have been happening to her. Such thoughts had been labeled extremely dangerous and set off-limits.
But that didn't stop him from feeling a staggering sense of relief. But, of course, they were not out of the line of fire yet. Not even close.
Carefully, he tugged open the heavy door. Of course it wasn't locked. Voldemort was paranoid enough to seclude himself in this godforsaken wilderness, but arrogant enough to leave his door unlocked. That's just how he worked. Draco shivered at the fact that he understood some part of the Dark Lord. He didn't like that he understood anything about him.
A crack of dim light illuminated only a sliver of space inside. He stepped in, blinking, his silvered eyes slowly adjusting. "Ginny?" He called out in answer to her, equally as soft.
The thin stream of light that filtered in from the doorway made Ginny wince, shutting her eyes. The darkness had engulfed her, and now the light burned her eyes to look at it. After a few moments, her eyes managed to adjust to the new light that was brought in, and Ginny's gaze fell upon the figure.
"Draco..." She hardly dared to murmur, and she moved forward, tugging on a chain that held her.
"Draco, you came..." Her voice almost cracked, and she couldn't help but smile in excitement. "Draco..." She longed to hug him, to take him in her arms, to feel safe, but it wasn't possible. Not with her body bound and chained to the wall.
She swallowed, repeating his name again, softly. "Draco... please don't go." Her voice was a plea this time. "Please promise you won't leave me here to die... please... please..."
Draco felt as if he were bleeding inside, to hear Ginny begging him like that. Ginny never begged. She was strong. Gods, what could she have seen, to put that tone in her voice?
That's when everything that he'd not been allowing himself to think about came flooding to him in a rush of crumbled walls and barricades.
He swallowed, throat so tight and closed-up he could barely breathe. Then, suddenly, he was across the room and clutching her against him, his arms enfolding her almost desperately. He couldn't speak, but in that moment, just holding her was enough to reassure him, bring him a small measure of peace.
Draco's embrace was all it took to make her sob again, and Ginny leaned against him, tears flowing from her eyes as she was simply glad beyond telling to see him. "You came... You really came for me, Draco." She couldn't hug him back, but merely pressed closer against him.
"Don't let them find you, Draco... I don't want them to do anything to you." She swallowed hard. "Since... since I don't know how much time we have, I'd better tell you everything I know."
She bit on her lip, snuggling against him a moment before speaking. "They aren't going to kill me. For some reason, You-Know-Who wants me alive. It has something to do with the bracelet I got in France... It has some sort of Dark Magic or some sort of Dark power, but I'm not sure what. And whatever it is... I can't take the bracelet off, and for some reason I have to be alive..."
She shivered, her voice going much colder. "But there are far worse things than death."
Draco looked down at her, his eyes turning steely gray as he repressed some emotion or memory that he was afraid to show her. "And Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to put you through every one of them, until he gets what he wants from you."
He didn't release his hold on her, but he loosened it a bit, enough to lean back and see her more clearly. One hand reached up to wipe gently at her tear-stained face. "I came here for you, Ginny... but I knew I couldn't come without my Father and the Dark Lord being aware of it. We don't have much time. I don't know what I'm going to do..." He shut his eyes briefly, then let go of her, the hand that had touched her now going to the sleeve of his robe, pulling it up.
Showing her the mark that tormented him at every moment, sleeping or waking.
"I just didn't want you to have to go through this alone," he confessed to her, letting the sleeve fall back down. His muscles tensed a little, trying to counteract his feeling of vulnerability. He almost dropped his gaze, afraid to see what her reaction would be, and yet, he was unable to look away.
Yet, there was no need for him to be afraid. Ginny's look was only compassionate and understanding. "I know, Draco." But her words meant more than they sounded at first. After a moment, she continued.
"Sometimes I can look at people... and I can tell things, just by looking in their eyes. Sometimes I can tell, sometimes I can't. It's not something I can tell all the time, just merely a gift... I can look and sometimes I can interpret feelings... emotions. Sometimes I can see dark... light... anger, hatred... kindness, love... Other times I saw nothing."
She frowned. "When I first saw you, Draco, I could see darkness. I figured it was because you were Slytherin... because you were evil and cruel and a terrible person. In Harry, I saw so much pure light. I guess it drew me to him. But when I saw your pain on the Hogwarts Express..." She paused again, continuing to look into his eyes.
"I looked into your eyes and didn't see that darkness. There was light... Light, trapped within a shell of darkness.. A taint. Something dark had a grip on you. I noticed it on Harry, too, but it wasn't like yours. His was only from the scar.. Yours... Was much more powerful."
Her eyes lingered on the spot where the mark was for a moment, then they returned to his own. "I don't judge you because of that. It isn't your fault. I can tell this isn't what you want. You don't want to be like Him. You don't want to follow in your father's footsteps. When I talked to You- Know-Who, he confirmed it. He told me that you were his. That he had claimed you as his own. With a mark..." She looked to him.
"And he told me he was going to mark me as his, too..."
Draco opened his mouth to speak, his gray eyes darkening as her words washed over him, lathing his internal wounds, slowing some of the sluggish bleeding that had been killing him, bit by bit, for months now.
But they could not help to heal the new wound that had been inflicted on him, with his fear for her. He couldn't predict what the Dark Lord and his Father might have planned. Ginny believed in him. Believed in him, trusting that he would protect her if he could.
He wanted to. He wanted to more than anything. And it was this strong desire to keep her safe that at last superceded the last of the agony he had carried with him since the night of his birthday. All that mattered was Ginny now. Draco felt at once a sense of relief and a sensation like someone had punched him in the stomach. In letting go of one weakness he had taken up another, one far more damaging to his heart.
He cared about Ginny. Now she could be used against him. She cared about him. Now he could be used against her.
He felt confused. He didn't know what to believe- the romantic stories of love conquering all, tales he had always scoffed at as being naive and stupid... or should he trust his muddled instincts, that were screaming they were both in terrible danger, because Lord Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to manipulate them both to achieve any terrible end he wanted.
But as he simply stared at her, all he was feeling flashing through his expression as if his eyes were truly windows to his soul, his lips slightly parted as he struggled for something to say, anything to say... the mark on his arm tightened and burned, the sting a mere echo of what he'd first felt as it was pressed into his skin. And he knew the Dark Lord had come.
His arms slid away from her, and he stepped back slowly, his gaze going to the stairs. Where Voldemort waited, watching them.
A wave of panic washed over her as Draco moved back, and Ginny's gaze followed him to the stairs. It all hit her like a ton of bricks. Had the Dark Lord himself planned this? Had he known that she would wear the bracelet? Had he known she would become close with Draco?
And suddenly, she knew how much danger he was in. And how much danger she was in. He wouldn't leave her. He would try and stay and protect her. But he'd only be tortured, killed perhaps. And she'd have to do whatever they said. She'd have to do whatever it was with the bracelet. She'd have to listen to them. There was only one thing to do. As Draco moved back, Ginny fought and pulled her gaze from Voldemort.
"Run."
Her simple command wouldn't be taken seriously. Not by Draco. He wouldn't leave her alone. She had to make him leave. She had to get him out of there. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if he was hurt because of her. And it was going to happen if he didn't get away.
"Draco, if you care anything for my life, RUN!"
The Lord Voldemort that descended the last step, walking towards them with a relaxed gait, was not the Lord Voldemort Draco had imagined in all his nightmares and darkest fears. This Voldemort had a charming smile, flashing white, even teeth. This Voldemort had thick dark hair, and healthy tanned arms, crossed loosely over his chest. This Voldemort had smile lines around his mouth, adding maturity to the handsome face.
The only place that Draco could see the evidence of the real, soulless creature that he knew must inhabit that body, was in the eyes. They were the color of midnight skies and thick viscous blood. And when the charming smile touched the Dark Lord's mouth, the eyes swirled with pure malice and... evil. There was no other word for it.
"Run?" Voldemort echoed Ginny softly, with a trace of bemusement. "Where do you suggest my wayward young Death Eater run to, Ginny? To the arms of your fellow students, people who would never trust him? To Dumbledore, that weak, sentimental, Muggle-loving, fool?" Voldemort shook his head. "There is nowhere my servants can go that I cannot find them. Not with the Dark Mark branded upon them."
Ginny swallowed hard, staring over at the one called Lord Voldemort. "No. I know he'll be found. But at least, if he is out of here, then he'll be saved from you for a little while longer."
She pulled up her courage, knowing that Draco could be in mortal danger. She had to focus the Dark Lord's attention off of him. "I won't do what you want, Voldemort." She almost hissed. "And I won't belong to you. Ever."
Draco could only stare at Voldemort, cinching an iron band around his control to the point where he could barely breathe. But at least his face didn't give anything away. Not that he had any secrets left. But he still had his soul. That was more than he could say for his father.
I don't want to end up like him. I will NOT be a slave.
Draco did thing only thing he could do. He walked over to the illusion that was Lord Voldemort, and went to one knee before him, like a knight of the old ages bowing before his liege. He looked up to the face of the Dark Lord, showing nothing of what he truly felt. But though he was looking to him, Draco was speaking to Ginny. "There's nothing to save me from."
He was lying. The one skill he had truly raised to the level of perfection. He didn't know what exactly he could accomplish, he only knew he had to stop Voldemort from directing his anger at Ginny. They were both trying to save each other. Draco would have felt touched, if he weren't so busy concentrating on shutting all his emotions down.
Ginny stared in horror at Draco. No. Draco, don't abandon me like this. He knows about us! He KNOWS! He must! Draco... He'll only make you force me. He'll make you hurt me. And you'll have to do it. To do what? To prove what? To save me? No. No, Draco. I can't let you.
"You're lying, Draco Malfoy. You're terrified as much as anyone. And you're a sniveling coward if you think crawling to the Dark Lord is going to prove anything. You'll just crawl to whatever side is winning, and when the tides change, you'll go right on back. Don't make everyone hate you, Malfoy."
She swallowed, just hoping that it wasn't too late, just hoping that Draco would just be smart and leave, that he would hide forever, and even if she was to never see him again, at least she'd know that he was away, away somewhere safe.
Voldemort glanced between them both, a half-smile lifting the corner of his mouth. Then, without warning, the Dark Lord, evil incarnate.... threw back his head and laughed.
The sound sent chills marching down Draco's spine. It was like listening to the crack and roll of thunder intertwined with the clarion ringing of bells. It was like music and shrills screams of agony. And Draco couldn't help but flinch at it, though he had held back every wince when Ginny had snapped her piece. But he knew, or at least he thought he knew, that she was only trying to do the exact same thing as him. Didn't she know he wasn't worth it?
However, with Voldemort, there was no such thing as a certainty. Take for example his appearance. Draco had come expecting a horrifying vision of a non-quite human visage burning with red eyes. Instead he finds Voldemort has made himself into.... almost an older version of Potter, actually. It was quite unnerving. But not as unnerving as that laughter.
Voldemort wiped invisible tears from his eyes, the laughter subsiding. "I believe I shall allow you two to remain at my side after your tasks. You're really quite enjoyable. I haven't been so amused since Peter Pettigrew came to me with James and Lily's secret." He turned his unearthly eyes on the blonde-haired boy still kneeling before him.
"Get up, Draco. You have made your attempt to subvert my suspicion. Let me reassure you, I have no doubts you shall remain loyal to me..." The Dark Lord grinned malevolently. "Because I have exactly what you want in my control. And there's nothing for holding influence over someone like having possession of exactly what they want."
Draco's face remained perfectly impassive, perfectly unreadable, but his hands betrayed him, clenching into fists at his side.
Fire.
If there was one thing the red-haired Weasleys shared in common, it was fire. And fire was exactly what was burning in Virginia Weasley's eyes.
At first, it had been a look of shock. The Dark Lord had completely surprised her with his actions. She had not expected him to be so... so... Ginny couldn't even come up with a word to describe the way he had completely caught her off-guard.
She was expecting Draco to be used against her, for whatever purpose the strange bracelet had. Yet, with his words, it was almost the opposite. Draco was the wayward son, and Voldemort was the father, dangling her as the prize in front of him.
He was as trapped as she, Ginny realized, as she watched Voldemort and Draco. And that made her angry. Fire blazed in her eyes as she struggled against the magical bonds that held her.
"Leave Draco out of this." She almost snarled. "Leave him out of this. You know I can be more useful. I know I have something that you want."
Draco could not stop his eyes from flickering to Ginny, astonished that such a delicate-looking slip of a girl could put forth such a display of vehemence. And all for him. To defend him.
He had to do something. He turned to her, wrapping himself in another layer of truth and lies. "Ginny, please," Draco half-whispered, half-hissed. "Stop. Just stop trying to save me. You've been trying to save me since that day on the train. So we danced, so we shared a classroom during the attack." He didn't mention the kiss. "You think that preempts everything I have been, everything I have lived with for seventeen years? You think you can change my life in less than a week?" His gaze was veiled, almost frigid in its coolness. "You're a fool, if so."
Ginny clenched her fists, staring over at Draco. "I believe you can fight it, Draco. I believe that you're changed." But seeing the resolve in his eyes, she heaved a sigh, continuing.
"But I guess I'm wrong. I seem to be naive in matters like this. I was naive about the diary, and I'm simply being naive now if I think I can change you." She studied him closely.
"Who am I to change someone?"
Draco just looked at her, his eyes the purest silver they had ever been. When Draco remained in stoic silence, Lord Voldemort spoke for him.
"You're nobody now, Ginny Weasley. But you soon will be somebody. You're more important than you can possibly imagine."
Both Ginny and Draco looked to Voldemort in surprise. He chuckled at their expressions, but did not laugh, thankfully. What silly children they are, he thought contemptuously. So blinded by love and attempting to use games they know nothing about. This will be easier than I had predicted...
Voldemort waved a hand towards Ginny, and the manacles that bound her fell away from her wrists. "Come, both of you. It is much more comfortable upstairs." He began the twisting climb to the top floor of the tower, with every confidence they would follow.
And follow they did. Draco and Ginny faced each other at the bottom of the steps. He made a gentlemanly gesture. "After you." With a look he couldn't decipher, she moved ahead of him, reluctantly following after the Dark Lord. They climbed in silence, neither knowing what to say. Draco's nerves thrummed with fearful anticipation. He knew whatever Voldemort was going to tell them, it wasn't going to be good news.
They reached the sumptuous chambers to find Voldemort sprawled casually upon a velvet couch adjacent to a cheerily crackling fireplace. The picture seemed entirely surreal. And Draco began to wonder if he was trapped in another dream. Neither of them accepted Voldemort's offer to sit. Shrugging, he summoned a glass of wine to his hand, sipping from it. At least, Draco hoped it was wine. It was red.
At last, Voldemort looked up to Ginny with a faintly amused expression. "You're wondering why I needed you alive, aren't you, Virginia?" He nodded his chin to her wrist. "It's the bracelet. You've activated it. And it won't serve its purpose if you're dead, or if it is removed from your person."
Ginny frowned, her eyes gazing down at the bracelet as she studied the intricate band of silver. "I guess that would explain why you haven't decided to just kill me or try and remove the bracelet somehow."
Yet, there was something about the bracelet that held more than just her arm. The twists seemed to change, almost as if the bracelet itself were alive, and it almost felt to her like it was digging... not painful, like into her skin, but through her... like it was digging into her soul.
She removed her gaze slowly from the bracelet, back to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord Voldemort who looked too much like an older Harry. She almost felt a bit... comfortable, around him. That was very dangerous.
"So, if this bracelet is now only usable by me... what exact is the bracelet's use? I haven't seen anything different because of it... not strength, or intelligence.. it doesn't seem to change anything." She looked genuinely curious now.
"What exactly is its purpose?"
Voldemort twirled his cup in is fingers, watching the fractured play of lights within the ruby liquid. "It's a key." He said finally, not looking away from his glass, taking another languid drink.
He then looked to both of them, smiling his dark smile. "Obviously a key with a nefarious purpose, otherwise why would I go through so much trouble to get it? But before I outline my scheme to you, just remember you don't have a choice in this."
He took a last sip to wet his mouth. "Right. Well, first of all it has a name. But that is very long and complicated and in a dead language, so I'll just shorthand it. The bracelet is known as the Grimoire. A Grimoire is to a necromancer what a Book of Shadows is to a Wiccan. Basically, a Grimorie holds all the secrets and spells of the Underworld, of raising the dead and controlling them. But this bracelet will not just teach you spells. It will enact them for you."
Voldemort's eyes glittered, and it wasn't from the firelight. It was from hunger. "This Grimorie is the most powerful necromantic object ever created. A skilled Necromancer, such as myself, may raise one being at a time, perhaps two... the Grimorie can animate hundreds. Thousands, even."
Ginny's eyes widened in shock as she stared at the ring of silver that encircled her wrist like a chain, her stomach churning and making her feel quite ill. "You mean," she paused to suck in some air. "You mean to tell me that this silver bracelet can bring thousands of wizards back to life?"
She shuddered slightly at the thought. It was indeed an ingenious plan. Raise the dead in enormous masses, and an army would be at his disposal. He could easily do whatever he wanted.
Yet, there had to be some catch. Something that wasn't being said. You could never do something so powerful without a catch. "But how does it work... and what happens after it's been used? Can you use it many times... or just once?" She frowned. "And if this is so powerful, then why didn't you put it on yourself?"
The Dark Lord watched her with those startling blue/black/red eyes of his. "Because you got to it before I did, dear Virginia." He stated enigmatically.
"It works in conjunction with an elaborate ritual, most spells of this sort of magnitude in the Dark Arts usually do." Voldemort almost sounded bored. "It only works once." He then smirked. "As for the catch... well, I can't be sure, but if my research is correct... the bearer of the Grimorie will be drained nearly to the point of death, themselves, as the corpses begin to crawl out from their graves..."
"Nearly to the point of death. That means I'd still survive it." Ginny swallowed hard. She'd known there would be a catch. "Doesn't it?" She shivered at the thought.
Thousands of corpses rising as she was slowly dying. It was almost poetic... Yet, sickening at the same time.
I can't do this, and I won't. But I have no way out of this... Nothing to do to save me from this. Her gaze suddenly shot to Draco, but her expression saddened. He couldn't help her.
If only Harry were here... He's the only one who could help us now.
But Harry Potter wasn't coming. However, someone else was.
The door opened, and Lucius Malfoy strolled in, arrogance written in every line of his impeccably tailored clothes and every strand of silver-blonde hair. His eyes went first to his master, nodding a perfunctory greeting, before shifting over to his son.
"Draco," he greeted the boy, false warmth in his voice. Draco didn't care. He was used to false everything with his father.
"Father." He answered back, the contrived warmth matching Lucius's perfectly. Not an iota warmer, nota an iota cooler.
Lucius then looked to Ginny, and showed signs of surprise, as if she was not whathe'd been expecting. Perhaps he still remembered her as the skinny little eleven year-old whom he'd tricked with the diary.
Ginny eyed Lucius as he entered, her only reaction to him was a brief nod of her head.
It bothered her sometimes, the way he looked so much like Draco, and she had to admit that if Lucius Malfoy had one thing going for him, at least it was his looks, though she doubted that he had as much charm as he was rumored to.
Staring at him, she could only sense the taint of the Dark Lord. No one like him could ever be considered 'charming' in her book.
The Dark Lord, on the other hand, was exuding charisma like a cloud of costly French cologne. But Draco was able to ignore it in favor of the ice water that trickled into his bloodstream upon seeing his Father's face.
Lucius didn't seem aware of the affect he had on his son. He turned to his master, still with his assessing gaze on Ginny. "Have you told them their tasks, my Lord?" He questioned calmly, as if he were asking about the weather.
Voldemort nodded. "Virginia has been informed of her task. Draco has not, however."
Draco started slightly as he heard his name. He narrowed his eyes. "Task?"
"Of course." Voldemort summoned another glass of the red wine for Lucius. The uneasy feeling in Draco's stomach tightened into a hard knot. "You didn't think the ritual for animating hundreds upon hundreds of dead wizards was going to be as simple as a walk in the park, did you?"
Ginny's stomach churned at the words, her gaze falling back upon Draco. She was sick, almost afraid of what this ritual might be... and what exactly the both of them would have to do.
If only there was some way out of this. Ginny thought, her eyes falling upon the window forlornly. If only I knew what to do. If Ron, or Bill, or Charlie.. or even Fred or George were in my place, they'd think of something... but I can't. I can't think of anything. And everything's at risk.
Harry. Ron. Hermione. Fred. George. Charlie. Bill. Mom. Dad. Dumbledore. McGonagall. All of them. Everyone. Everyone I care about, everyone I know. They're all going to be in danger unless I do something. Unless I think of a way out of this situation.
So come on, Virginia. Think! There's got to be some way to resist this. Some way of escape. Some way to get the bracelet off... to destroy it.
A suddenly sickening thought hit her, and her face grew cold. There was a method out of this, if all else failed. It could work... but it might not. The thought of it made her even more ill than the thought of raising hundreds from the dead.
If all else failed, she had one last resort. If all else failed, she could always try and end it all.
She could try and end her life, if it meant keeping this evil away from Voldemort.
The thought sickened her and she shoved it far in the back of her mind. It was only a last resort option. Only if nothing else came up. If nothing came up...