A/N Okay, here's the second-to-last-chapter-not-including-the-epilogue. *whew* Okay, for the sake of all who complained about chapter 5 being a cliffie: it was supposed to be. However, it's not my biggest cliffie. You guys are going to hate me after this chapter. *grins devilishly* Hey, can't say I didn't warn you!
Thanks to EVERYONE who's reviewed. Today, I'd also like to especially thank my friend Britz. She reminded me in a review that when I first started writing this I was Im-ing her and I made her go all the way upstairs to look up the proper spelling of 'Bode'. So, thank you Britz!!!!! ^_^
Just for the record, I should be doing my English essay right now.
Okay, enough of that. On with the fic!!!
Chapter Six:
Certain Death
~Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And it's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah~
*Rufus Wainwright's "Hallelujah
Pain. Everywhere. Hurts.
Ron stirred, slowly, and very painfully regaining consciousness. He cautiously opened one eyes, and quickly shut it again. Even though the room was bleary, the white walls were nearly blinding. He wondered where he was. He had never been in anywhere so white in his entire life.
"Ron?"
Hearing his name, but still too out of it to recognize a voice, he tried opening his eyes again. He was met with a pair of light brown eyes.
"Rayven?" He mumbled, hardly coherent.
"Ron, it's me." Ron gave himself a little shake, forced himself to sit up, and opened his eyes.
The brown eyes were framed with flaming hair matching his own. The face was that of his mother. Standing just behind was the tall outline of his father.
"Mum?" He managed to mumble. "Dad?" Thoughts and memories were starting to come to him now. But everything was through a haze of pain.
"Yes, we're here," Mrs. Weasley said, taking her son's hand and trying to smile. Ron frowned, wondering why she was looking at him like that.
"What are you doing here?" He asked.
"Harry..." She looked back at her husband, who just looked down at Ron. "Harry told us things," She said uncomfortably, "Horrible things."
Brief visions of the previous night were flashing through his mind. Harry must've seen, and now know...what was it again? Oh, right, he was a Death Eater. And here his parents were, supporting him no matter what, just as he knew they would be.
"And you're still here?" He asked, smiling slightly. He was very happy his parents still loved him.
"Well," Mr. Weasley mumbled, exchanging looks with his wife. "The things Harry said...they're not true, are they?"
Mrs. Weasley flinched visibly as she watched her son's eyes go from soft blue to a sapphire fire. It had all come back with those words, everything. He sat up straight. He now recognized where he was; the hospital wing of the Auror HQ where they held prisoners who required medical attention before getting sent to Azkaban. His left wrist was handcuffed to the bedside, and he could feel the magical barriers around him. He turned to his parents with a snarl. Of course they weren't going to love him anyway. They had only come in the feeble hope of disbelief. Well, he would show them!
"Oh, that's your problem, is it?" He asked coldly. "Just wanted to desperately confirm your disbelief and give you a story like Sirius Black (the traitor!) to show you that I'm innocent?" He smiled, the same cold, cynical smile of his master. "You're going to be very disappointed." He reached over with his functional right arm to pull up the sleeve of his robe. There, grinning at his parents, was his own personal Dark Mark. Mrs. Weasley gasped, then turned her head. Mr. Weasley made no sound, but stepped back at the sight, pulling his wife closer. Ron lowered the sleeve, and waited, staring them down with his fiery blue eyes, forcing them to speak. When sound did escape, it was from his mother's lips.
"Ron...Ron how could you-"
"Kill people?" He raised his eyebrows. "It's quite simple really. You just raise your wand and say the words. I'm quite good at it." His smile widened. "I'm my master's favorite."
"But..."
"But what?" Ron's smile transformed into a snarl, as his eyes traveled to his father. "Don't feed me bullshit about good and evil. There is no such thing. There is only power, which you seem to ignore completely. You think I couldn't do it? Oh, but I can," He smiled again, wolfishly. "I remember my first kill well. I remember when I killed Terry Boot's little boys, they were my youngest victims. They didn't even wake. They hardly do, it's really quite a pity. It's been a good long while since I witnessed a long, drawn out death. Not since Percy, I think..."
This brought his mother's face out from his father's arms and around to him, her eyes wide. Ron plunged through, the look of horrified disbelief somehow morbidly forcing him to go on. "Oh yes, he screamed for many hours before death. He welcomed it, I assure you. But luckily, I got to witness it. I will always remember the look on his face when he realized I was there in the service of my master, not to come to his rescue. Stupid boy," Ron snorted. "He doesn't understand any better than you do."
"How can you talk like that?" Mrs. Weasley asked, fighting tears.
"Death is my profession," Ron shrugged. "I enjoy it." This pushed her over the edge, and the tears she had pushed back started to spill. She buried herself into her husband, who held onto her as he stared at his smirking son in disbelief. He started to usher her away.
"Go on home then," Ron said, "Write me out of the will and deny me the family name. It's about damned time I got rid of this damn charade." And with that, his parents left. Ron stared out the door after them, not believing what had just happened, and what was happening.
Molly and Arthur Weasley, in the meantime, were scurrying down the hall as fast as they could go, trying to push the inevitable images from their minds. Molly kept seeing Percy screaming at Ron's feet over and over, while her youngest son just watched and laughed. They were so caught up in these terrible thoughts that they nearly ran into someone.
"Mom?" That someone asked. "Dad?"
"Ginny," Molly managed a very strained smile, but nothing could alter her features. Arthur didn't even try.
"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked, slightly confused.
"We were just...talking...to Ron," Arthur managed to choke out. Ginny raised an eyebrow.
"He's here?"
"In...in the Hospital Wing..." Mrs. Weasley couldn't hold it in any longer. "He's a Death Eater, Ginny, a Death Eater! Please, don't talk to him, he's turned into a monster, he-"
"Molly, it's okay," Arthur pulled his wife into an embrace, as Ginny stared.
It was all coming together. She had been notified to come to Auror HQ to escort a Death Eater to Azkaban, just like Bill had taken Rayven two nights ago. Ron had been caught, and he had obviously talked to his parents, no less!
"Oh dear..." Was all that she managed to get out. Her parents continued their journey as Ginny walked impatiently down the hall, going faster and faster. Soon she was jogging, and in another moment she was in an all out sprint. The door to the Hospital Wing flung open before her, and she screeched to a stop.
He was the only person in the room. He was sitting on the bed, his head bowed, his arm chained to the side. She felt a pang in her heart. She took a step forward, then he spoke.
"They hate me, Ginny."
"Don't be ridiculous-"
"I'm not," He raised his head, strands of flaming hair blocking the brilliant blue. "They hate me."
"Ron..." She bit her lip and approached. Sitting down, she said, "They don't hate you." He laughed.
"Yes they do, Ginny. I made Mum cry. I told her about Percy."
"You did WHAT?" She cried.
"I had to Ginny," He said bitterly. "They can't know. It would endanger the mission."
"To Hell with the mission!" Ginny yelled. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Ron, after the war we'll explain, and then we'll be a family again, I just know it. And-"
"No, Ginny, you don't understand!" Ron cried, turning to her. His eyes nearly made her cringe. "They can never forgive me now, NEVER! You didn't see the looks on their faces! Dad-" His voice cracked. Without out any warning, he started to sob bitterly. Ginny pulled him into an embrace, letting him cry on her shoulder. All the time she could hear him mumbling.
"They hate me, they hate me..."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ginny quietly shut the door to the office and fell into a chair, her head buried in her hands. Oh Jesus...this was the worst possible scenario. Two undercover agents imprisoned in twenty-four hours...by their own side, no less!
However, to be completely honest, Ginny's mind was not on how this would affect the war. Her poor parents...and even more, poor Ron! Ginny hadn't seen her favorite brother cry since he was eight years old after he had fallen off Fred's broomstick and broken his leg. Ron had always been strong, that was one of the reasons she admire him so much.
She had just witnessed her rock crumble.
Not that she could blame him. She would never forget the looks on her parents' faces, and she had only seen the aftermath! She could only imagine what it must have been like for Ron...
Damn them! When Ginny had seen her mother's tearstained face, she had been tempted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she understood. Did they really lack that much faith in their youngest son? Didn't they know that Ron could never become a Death Eater? Not really?
Obviously not.
Her thoughts were shattered by the sound of the door opening. She looked over her fingers to see who was interrupting her reverie, and nearly jumped in surprise.
Draco Malfoy.
His liquid eyes surveyed the room, inspecting all its contents carefully. They fell on Ginny, and stayed there. After a few moments, he spoke.
"He's gone." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes," Ginny replied. Draco sighed, and lowered himself into the chair next to hers.
"I don't think Ron really minds," He mused aloud. "The dementors aren't there anymore, you know. In any case, I know he's happy not to hide anything anymore." Ginny looked over at him, her brown eyes wide. Draco didn't seem to notice, his gaze not leaving his well-polished shoes.
She was shocked because the same thoughts had been running through her mind. She knew how much Ron hated his two-faced life, although he never said anything. But only someone who knew him well could've really observed his thoughts...
"You really are friends with him, aren't you?" Ginny asked suddenly. She had always thought they merely tolerated each other, for the sole reason that they were colleagues. However, it suddenly occurred to her that this might not be the case.
"I suppose I am." Draco turned his head, a half smile on his lips, meeting her wide eyes. "You wouldn't have guessed, would you?"
"No," She admitted quietly. "You're both too damned stubborn to admit anything." Draco laughed hollowly.
"You always were blunt, Virginia," He whispered. Ginny felt shivers run down her back when he said her name like that. She shoved the memories from her mind, and forced her gaze to the ground. She felt, rather than saw, him stand up.
"Leaving?" She asked dully, raising her head.
"Why stay?" He asked. She bit her lip when no answer came. He smirked, but hesitated before turning to go. She stood up suddenly. This turned out to be a bad idea, because she somehow managed to trip and fall directly into Draco's arms.
"Graceful," He remarked sarcastically.
"Damn it Draco!" She cried suddenly, wriggling out of his grasp and standing firmly. "I don't want any of your sarcasm right now! I just had to send my brother to prison, thank you very much, when I KNOW he's innocent and there's not a damn thing I can do about it! Why the hell are you here anyway? It's not like you have a clue what I'm going through here, as you've never loved anyone in your whole damned life-"
"You know that's not true," Draco interrupted quietly. Her fiery stare met his icy, challenging one. She opened her mouth to make a reply, but nothing came out. Draco took the opportunity to do the only thing he could think of doing to keep her from beginning another rant.
He kissed her.
She didn't struggle. On the contrary, she melted into his arms, welcoming the change. He welcomed it too, naturally, but something wasn't right. She was vulnerable right now, and would probably let him do whatever the hell he wanted to with her. Another Draco might have turned this to his full advantage, but that was not what he wanted now. Reluctantly, yet firmly, he pushed her away.
"Goodbye, Miss Weasley," He said, and turned through the door. By the time Ginny recovered from the shock, he had disapparated.
What the Hell have you done now, Malfoy? Draco scolded himself as he fell into the armchair next to the fire. The parlor of Malfoy Manor wasn't exactly a warm and fuzzy kind of place, but it was one of the few places Draco could really think. Sometimes he thought of Voldemort, or the Ministry, or his upcoming assignments.
Today he thought about Ginny.
His mind was traveling backward to a time he had locked away, but was now coming back into sharp focus. He had dated Ginny for seven months during his last year at Hogwarts, in secret. The best seven months of his life.
He had been in love with Ginny then. He had known it, although he never said it. He always assumed she knew, and returned the sentiments. Whether or not she had he still didn't know. They had, like any couple, fought on occasion. However, a certain huge row in May had ended the relationship forever. Draco had never been exactly sure on who had dumped whom, but they both knew it was over.
Draco, after graduation, had tried to forget Ginny. He snorted. Yeah, right, forget Ginny Weasley? Impossible. However, he had tried and was doing a good job. He had been very fond of Angel, although he didn't love her as he had loved Ginny. He hoped Angel hadn't been in love with him, for there was nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesn't love you.
He had realized that as soon as Ginny stepped back into his life...or rather, into Fudge's office that day a few months ago. One look at her silken fire hair and curious brown eyes had been enough to remind him. He had been avoiding her ever since, but today...
What had come over him? Kissing her...that was a mistake. He knew it. Ginny didn't return his love, which made sense. He didn't deserve her, nor did he know anyone who did. However, he couldn't help wondering if she had enjoyed that as much as he had.
He shook his head. Yeah, right. Duh, Draco, you inconsiderate asshole, she was worried about her brother! Draco smiled at himself...he had picked up that particular alias from Ginny during a particularly stinging fight. It was true, though, he had gone and used her grief for his own ends.
And if Ron found out, he would kill him.
No one could accuse Draco of being glad about Ron's imprisonment. If not for the fact they had (grudgingly, I assure you) become friends, but also for the simple fact that now all the work was split between himself and Severus.
But if there was ever a time Draco was remotely glad about it, it was right then.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They tried to pretend it was a normal morning. She bustled about the kitchen, while he quietly sipped his coffee. However, the silence was obvious and the air was saturated with a tenseness so severe he wanted to scream. The only person unaffected was the infant, gurgling happily in his high chair.
Hermione sat down, putting a plate in front of herself and her husband. Harry looked up and tried to say thank you, or smile...or SOMETHING, but the only thing that came of it was a sort of grimace. She didn't notice as she started dumping pepper on her French toast.
"Hermione,"
"Huh?" She looked up. Catching his pointed stare, she looked down and saw the heap of black grains on her toast. "Oh," She blushed, then sighed. "I wasn't really hungry anyway."
"Me neither," He muttered, staring down at his breakfast unenthusiastically. James laughed, as if he were trying to cheer his parents up. The sound echoed throughout the kitchen for a moment. Suddenly Hermione burst into tears.
Harry leapt up. James, sensing his laugh had not had the desired effect, now followed his mother's example and began to cry. Hermione shook her head, trying to stop the inevitable tears. She leaned over and picked up her baby son, cradling him in her arms.
"Shh, baby, don't cry," She soothed, rubbing his back. Harry came up behind them, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Harry," She said quietly, looking up at him.
"Sorry?" He asked incredulously. "For what?"
"For...for..."
"Stop it, Hermione," He commanded. "None of this is your fault."
"I know but...Harry, how could he do this to us?" She cried, spinning around and holding the child even closer to her. "Jesus, we were about to entrust him with our lives, Harry...we were going to do the Fidelius charm. TODAY!" She choked on more tears. "He betrayed us."
"I know," Harry sighed. "But there's nothing we can do about it-"
"Damn it Harry! How can you take this lightly?!"
"I AM NOT TAKING THIS LIGHTLY!" He roared. Taking a deep breath, he moderated his voice. "I am not taking this lightly," He repeated. "Do you think I'm happy about this or something? Jesus Christ, if it weren't for you and James I'd probably have drowned myself be now or-"
"Stop talking like that," She said quietly. He sighed.
"I know, I know," He rubbed her back, and looked into her eyes. "We have to pull through this, Hermione."
"Without Ron," She whispered. Clutching her son, she shed a few more tears.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Prison was really overrated, Ron thought to himself. This wasn't really bad, just boring. Not that he really minded boring, after two years of two lives, he was actually rather relieved to be leading none at all. As a matter of fact, he thought to himself, if he could exchange his damned guilt for his wife it would be Heaven.
Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. He was quite certain Heaven would have better food.
If there was a Heaven. In these couple weeks, while having nothing better to do in lonely stone cell, his thoughts had turned to the afterlife, or lack thereof. He had no idea what to think of Heaven and Hell, of God and Satan. However, he knew that if they DID exist he knew he was destined for Hell.
He didn't deserve better, and he knew it. How could a murderer knock on Heaven's Gate and demand of Saint Peter to be let it? No thank you. He would rather not make a fool of himself in front of the Lord.
Hell. He wondered what it was like. In Ron's opinion he had already been through Hell. Rayven was the only person that pulled him out of it. And now, she wasn't here.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. She WAS here, just not in his cell, which was about as good as being in separate hemispheres. The dementors may be gone, but it was still as impossible to escape from as ever.
He had underestimated the Ministry. He didn't even know half the spells guarding his cell. After about two hours, he had completely given up on any kind of escape. He was now completely resigned to remain in prison until the war was over and his position as undercover spy revealed.
He was quite lonely, his mind fixed on his wife. She was all alone in one of these cold stone cells. That disturbed him more than his own miserable state. He couldn't stand to think of Rayven living like this.
Living. This was hardly living. Even though he knew he had only been in Azkaban for fifteen days, his life before that seemed to be decades behind him. He didn't know how much longer he could stand this.
But, as he had said before, the only thing that really bothered him about this arrangement was Rayven. Absentmindedly, he fingered the chain around his neck that held his wedding ring. It was the only thing they hadn't taken away from him when they threw him in here. He wanted to see her, if only for a brief moment. He wanted to make sure she was okay...
An explosion cut his musings short. Ron leapt up and ran to the door. However, since the door was solid stone, this didn't really do much. It hindered all his senses...but even solid stone couldn't keep out all the noise. Sirens were going off and people were running, spells from wands were flying and hitting the stone. It didn't take Ron long to put all the pieces together.
An escape.
There hadn't been an escape since Sirius Black, and there had been no other before him. He mused briefly on whether or not this escapee would prove as difficult to recapture. And then, of course...who the devil was it? Who had managed to penetrate all the curses and spells and get away before the warden and all the guards showed up?
He hoped, quite sincerely, that they caught him again. Ron didn't like prison, but he was innocent...more or less. The rest of these men weren't. They needed to be locked away, where they could do nothing or, as was the case these days, return to their master. He waited impatiently for news, pondering the possibility. Then, hours later, he finally discovered who it had been.
Rayven.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"How is she?" Bill and Ginny demanded in unison the moment Draco walked in the door that night. He rolled his eyes.
"She's fine. It went off without a hitch, of course," He said smoothly. He had been working with both the Ministry and the Death Eaters to plan Rayven's escape, so that her pardon wouldn't be revealed and lead to disaster.
"Oh good," Ginny sighed in relief. "I was worried you two would get caught."
"Caught, me?" Draco asked indignantly. "Never." Ginny ignored him; she didn't have time for his pride.
"Where is she?" Bill asked. "The manor?"
"Yes, she's safe there for now," Draco replied. "Eventually we'll have to relocate her."
"You sound as if you were talking about a piece of furniture," Ginny said scornfully. Draco rolled his eyes again.
"She said to tell you hello, and wants news on Ron," He continued. "Anybody know anything?"
"Not much," Bill admitted.
"Hermione will be inspecting soon," Ginny said thoughtfully. "I bet a few tears and some sad questions could get results."
"Inspecting?" Draco asked.
"Yeah, that's one of her jobs, you know," Ginny replied. "Inspecting Azkaban and making sure the spells are working, blah, blah, blah."
"Lucky for her the dementors aren't there anymore," Draco said.
"Yeah, lucky all of us," She replied. There was a silence.
"So, are you two up to a game of poker?" Draco asked enthusiastically. He loved poker, and won almost every game he ever played.
"Actually, I have to go," Bill said, getting to his feet.
"Go?" Draco demanded. "Where?"
"Appointment with some chap who says he's got information for me. You know the type, the anonymous note and all." Bill yawned, and looked at his watch, which informed him that it was five 'till one in the morning. "I'll be back in about an hour," He assured them, and left the room.
Draco and Ginny looked at each other. They were standing about five feet apart, but the silence was much longer. It was what Draco would undoubtedly call an awkward situation. He didn't like those, so after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he decided to break it. "Well?"
She strode across the room, raised her hand, and slapped him with all the force she could muster.
"That's for kissing me!" She yelled. "And this is for not having the damn decency to stay and tell me why!" She continued, raising her hand again. However, Draco caught it before it could land another blow. His left cheek was stinging painfully.
"Is this really necessary?" He drawled.
"Yes it is!" She screeched. "You can't just kiss me like that without warning me, or asking my permission, or..."
"It was a kind of spur of the moment thing, you know?" Draco replied, raising his eyebrows.
"ARGH!" She cried, after several moments of trying to formulate something more intelligible. She twisted out of his grasp so that she was no longer facing him, much to his disappointment. She was beautiful in a temper, with her brown eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed, and tendrils of fiery hair tumbling down in front of her...
Pull it together, Malfoy, he told himself, running his fingers through his hair.
"Look, Gin, I'm sorry," He said. He had learned through painful experience that apologies were necessary when dealing with women, especially this woman.
"Sorry for what?" She snapped, spinning around so that she was facing him again. "For kissing me?"
"What the hell do you want me to be sorry for?" He yelled, his temper rising. It was a scene that had been seen many times by the walls of a deserted classroom; Ginny, with her hands on her hips, glaring at Draco, while he stood with his fists clenched and his eyes dangerously narrowed.
"I want you to be sorry for...for..." She stuttered to a stop, at a complete loss for words. Somehow, that silence communicated itself to Draco. He took a step forward, and put his hands on his shoulders.
"Ginny?" He said quietly. "May I kiss you?"
"Okay," She whispered, and didn't object at all when he did so.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Petunia Dursley woke up before her husband to get the milk bottles. When she came back in, she turned on the television in the kitchen to give her something to do while she made breakfast. The news was on, and she found them in the middle of a report on an escaped convict.
"The public is warned the Michaels is armed and very dangerous. If anyone has seen a suspicious woman with hazel eyes and auburn hair, call the number on your screen immediately."
They then showed a picture of the woman, and Petunia dropped her frying pan. Rayven Michaels...no, Rayven Weasley! Her first instinct was to grab the telephone. However, when she reached it, she hesitated.
Rayven. She had said no one could know about their marriage, it was a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing. She had looked frightened of those around her.
Not to mention she was a witch.
Yes, Petunia knew. She had immediately recognized Ron as one of the family that had practically adopted her nephew. She hadn't said anything to Vernon, though. Ever since the dreams of Lily had started plaguing her, Petunia's opinion on magic had begun to change.
Whatever Rayven was, she was not a murderer. Petunia could remember seeing that report on Sirius Black all those years ago, then finding out he was Harry's godfather and innocent as well. She believed then, quite firmly, that Rayven was innocent.
She turned off the television and returned to the bacon.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Well, at least Malfoy Manor isn't as boring as prison, Rayven mused to herself. She had more freedom, but not much more. However, the bed was much more comfortable, the food was better, and the ceiling was more interesting.
It had been six days since her escape from prison, and people on both sides were searching for her. She felt guilty for putting Draco in this situation, but he refused to let her leave until it was absolutely necessary. So she had resigned herself to the elaborate rooms of the Manor much the same as she had to the walls of her prison cell.
Ron. All her thoughts were with him. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him, shivering and hungry, on a cot in a stone room against her lids. She knew quite well that he was okay...she always knew when he wasn't. Her first night of prison she couldn't sleep because of terrible visions of her Ron screaming in pain. She found out later, from Draco, that he had undergone an extensive amount of time under Cruciatus that night.
On her behalf.
Nothing Draco could say would wash away the guilt that plagued her. He had been punished because she had been caught. She lay awake, tossing and turning, thinking of him. Thinking of his pain.
She was in this frame of mind when she heard two short knocks and three long ones. Then her doorknob turned. She was glad Draco had invented that way of warning her who it was, otherwise she probably would've been out the window by now.
"Good afternoon, Rayven," He said.
"Hello," She replied.
"Hey!" The new, perky voice caused Rayven to look up in alarm. The woman it belonged to was none other than her sister-in-law.
"Ginny?" She asked incredulously.
"Rayven?" Ginny replied, mocking her tone of voice. Rayven rolled her eyes.
"Got anymore surprise visitors for me?" She asked Draco.
"No, but I do have this." He offered an envelope. Curious, she took it from him and opened it. A smile spread across her face. It was a letter from Severus. She hadn't seen him since school had started, and she missed him.
"Thanks," She said to Draco.
"Don't thank me," Draco replied. "Thank Bill. He's the one who got the letter."
"Whatever," She rolled her eyes. "Am I leaving yet, Draco?"
"No one even suspects you right now," Draco replied. "There's no need to put you at unnecessary risk."
"There's no need to put YOU at unnecessary risk," She argued back. "If they suspect I'm here, you'll be blamed!" He only shrugged. "Damn it, Draco!"
"Maybe she's right, Draco," Ginny interrupted before he could speak. Rayven looked at her curiously. She hadn't expected the Unspeakable to take her side on this matter.
"And what logic are you reasoning by?" He asked, folding his arms and staring her down.
"It's already mid-November," Ginny pointed out reasonably. "We've been lucky so far. But soon, very soon, it will start snowing. It's going to be a lot easier for her if she gets out of here before the bad weather hits."
Rayven looked at Ginny with a new respect. She hadn't even considered the weather as a good argument for her case! Draco obviously hadn't either. After a few moments of trying to come up with a logical reply, he muttered something about getting dinner and left the room.
"How did you do that?" Rayven blurted once Draco had gone.
"Huh?" Ginny asked, surprised.
"How did you make him listen to you?"
"Well, it is the most logical way to look at it," Ginny pointed out. "Although personally, I agree with you. He's endangering himself far more than you at this point."
"Ginny Weasley, I take my hat off to you!" Rayven said. "That is, I would if I had a hat." The two girls laughed, and Rayven suddenly found the potential for a good friend in her sister-in-law. Rayven had a real girl friend since Angel died. She kept up her correspondence with Petunia, of course, (although it had been seriously damaged by her time spent in prison) but that was more of a motherly thing.
And so what did they do? Gossip, of course! They talked about girls they both knew, and clothing and hair and things normal young women talked about. Draco came back in the room to find them both in a frightening fit of giggles.
"Um...am I interrupting something?" He asked.
"No, no, not at all Draco," Rayven gasped between giggles. "Come on in, we're starving."
"I get the feeling I'm entering the danger zone," Draco said, rolling his eyes. He set down a tray of food. Rayven started helping herself, and then turned to look up at the other two. She started.
Maybe it was a certain look or smile. Maybe it was the way they were gesturing. Maybe it was their eyes, but SOMETHING finally made it so obvious Rayven felt like she had been hit over the head. She sucked in a breath.
"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine," Rayven replied. Ginny smiled, then turned back to Draco. Yep, if she had had any doubts, that smile at him cleared them away. She knew the truth, even if they wouldn't admit it.
Draco and Ginny were in love.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Thirty-two. It was now thirty-two days Ron had been in Azkaban, and he didn't look any better for it. His mind was constantly with Rayven. He had wanted her to get out of prison, but now he was worried sick wondering WHERE she was, and what had happened to her, and if she was going to get caught, and if she had gone back to Voldemort, and...
His mind reeled with questions. He stared at his boring stone ceiling. It didn't offer any answers. Sighing, he tried to force Rayven out of his mind.
Yeah, right.
His eyes traveled around the stone room, picking up every crack and crevice. He desperately wished he had a window, so he could at least know what time of day it was...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Actually, it was 8:00 in the morning on December the tenth. The Potter family was up, getting ready for their day. Hermione was busy at the stove, while Harry read his paper and James played with a few tiny toys in his high chair. The sound of something falling and a muttered swear word caused Harry to look over the top of his paper. His wife picked up the fallen cup and threw it into the sink. He raised his eyebrows.
"Are you alright?" He asked, causing her to jump and nearly drop the clean cup she had gotten out of the cupboard.
"I'm fine," She replied, in a voice that suggested the opposite. After filling the cup, she set down her drink and their plates. He carefully watched every move.
"You don't look fine," He observed, and she jumped again.
"I'm just a little nervous, okay?" She snapped.
"Hermione..." He began. She sighed, and he decided to change tactics. "You'll be fine, sweetheart. The dementors aren't there anymore, you only have to make sure the spells are going to hold if they try another escape."
"Easy for you to say," She muttered bitterly. Seeing the look of hurt on his face, she cringed. "Harry, I didn't mean that I just...damn it! Inspecting Azkaban is not my idea of fun!"
"I understand," He replied, his emerald eyes looking into hers. She smiled weakly.
"Thank you," She whispered. They continued with breakfast, until Hermione looked at her watch and sighed. "I really have to get going."
"Go on ahead," Her husband said. "I'll take James over to your parents's house before I go to work."
"Thanks honey," She smiled, kissed him, and disapparated. After a few moments, Harry had James's things ready, and followed her example.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Actually, Azkaban wasn't nearly as bad as Hermione had expected it to be. She walked down the stone corridors with the warden, investigating the state of the doors and spells. She was then led inside a high tech surveillance room. The Ministry had taken to using Muggle technology, so that they had cameras (magicked, of course, to work much better than any Muggle camera in existence), and there was also a keypad outside the doors of top security prisoners, with a five number code.
You could count the number of people that knew all the codes and counter spells in the building on one hand. Hermione Potter was one of them.
The warden, one by one, enlarged the pictures of the top security prisoners so that they filled the whole screen. She saw several Death Eaters and various murders she recognized. The picture from the camera would show Hermione the actual convict, and in the corners, bright neon grids the shape of the cell against a black patch would show her the spells on that particular cell, and how strong they were. She studies these grids, making several adjustments. They then came to the last, and latest, prisoner.
Ronald Weasley.
Hermione stiffened visibly at the sight of him. His hands were folded behind his bed, and he was laying on his cot, staring up at the ceiling with an unblinking stare. The grids in the corners of the screen were glowing strong, ensuring that his escape was an impossibility. However, she couldn't bring herself to tear away from that cold, unwavering stare.
"Mrs. Potter...Mrs. Potter?" Hermione shook herself when she heard the warden calling to her. She smiled weakly at him, then turned her attention to the grids, forcing herself to ignore the man on the screen. She was just about to tell the warden that she was finished, when something happened she had never seen before.
The neon grids disintegrated.
Ron's countenance did not change. She looked at it for less than a second before she and the warden were sprinting toward the corridor that held Ron's cell. When the got there, they skidded to a halt. Hermione could not BELIEVE what she was seeing.
A familiar, silver-haired man was punching numbers into the keypad. When it failed to open he swore, kicked the stone door, and swore again. Hermione and the warden just stared.
"Malfoy?" She finally managed to sputter. He spun around. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were wild.
"Potter!" He replied, he opened his mouth to say more, but Hermione cut him off.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She demanded. He waved it off, throwing an envelope at her.
"What's Ron's birthday?" He asked as Hermione scrambled to open the envelope. She replied automatically.
"March 17,"
"Ah!" He turned back to the keypad. "I kept putting in April." As he frantically worked on the keypad, Hermione pulled out the paper within the envelope with trembling fingers.
A full pardon signed by the Minister of Magic himself.
At that moment, the doors yielded, and Hermione looked up at Malfoy.
"Ron!" He shouted. "Get your ass out here!" Hermione watched, hardly able to believe her own eyes, as Ron slowly came out, his eyebrows raised.
"What is going on, Draco?" He asked quietly, his eyes resting on Hermione.
"I brought your pardon. Ron-"
"You WHAT?!" Ron cried, whipping around to Malfoy, who looked very annoyed at being interrupted. "I was saving that for an emergency!"
"This is a goddamned emergency!" Malfoy screamed.
"If you tell me something stupid like-"
"Harry Potter's been captured."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Petunia Dursley was dusting her mantelpiece. She was home alone, since her husband was at work. After she finished her chores, she decided she deserved a break, and layed down on the sofa to watch some television. She turned on the news, but found herself drifting off to sleep. She had hardly closed her eyes when she fell into a dream.
She was on a beach, looking out across the ocean. Suddenly, rising from the grayish blue waves, came Lily. She wasn't young in this dream, she was just as Petunia had last seen her: age twenty in a long blue dress, her wild red hair flying behind her in the breeze. Petunia watched as Lily walked on the water, coming toward the shore but never getting any closer. Petunia wanted to help her, but she couldn't touch the water for some reason.
"Petunia!" Lily cried. Petunia's head snapped up. "Petunia, don't let him fall! Save him, please!" Petunia's eyes went upward, where she saw a huge cliff. The wind picked up, and Petunia realized what she was seeing. Standing at the top of the cliff was her nephew as he was now. Lily screamed as he fell off the cliff, falling to the rocks below. Petunia tried to run to him, but it was too late. Harry was falling...falling...falling...
The annoying jingle of a restaurant commercial woke her up. She sighed, consoling herself that it was only a dream. However, just as she was beginning to believe this, her eyes traveled to the television screen. It showed a picture of her nephew. And then she heard the anchorman's voice.
"If anyone has seen or heard from Harry Potter, please contact us immediately using the number on the bottom of your screen. He was believed to have been kidnapped by a dangerous murderer...
Petunia fainted.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Harry Potter's been captured."
Those four words brought silence, and Hermione felt her knees weaken underneath her. What had he just said? No...NO! Harry couldn't be missing, she had just seen him three hours ago!
"WHAT?!" Ron finally exploded, his blue eyes wide.
"I told you it was an emergency," Draco pointed out. Ron brushed it aside.
"We need to get to the Ministry. We need to get Fudge. We need...hold on a second, are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes," Draco replied, nodding. "I was helping Rayven find a hiding place, and-"
"Rayven's involved!" Ron cried, his blue eyes widening even more. "Where is she, the Ministry building?"
"Actually..." Draco looked rather uncomfortable. "She insisted on going in to distract him..."
"WHAT?!" Ron yelled again. "You left her alone with Voldemort and Harry Potter!"
"It was her damn idea!" Draco yelled back. Ron closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.
"Take me to them."
"What? Are you mad?" Draco asked. "I need you to help me with-"
"Damn it, Draco!" Ron interrupted. "You are taking me to her RIGHT NOW!" Silver eyes met sapphire, and Draco knew he meant it.
"I'm going with you!" Hermione suddenly interrupted, coming forward.
"What?" Both men said, turning to stare at her.
"I don't have a clue what's going on," She replied. "But I understand my husband's been captured. I'm going with you."
"No, you're not," Draco said flatly.
"To hell I'm not!" She screamed.
"Hermione," Ron interrupted, turning his stare on her. "If you want to help, go to the Ministry. No, we need you there. You can come with the reinforcements."
"But-"
Her objections never got any farther than that. Draco had grabbed Ron's shoulder and disapparated. The first thing Ron noticed was the gray sky, threatening either rain or snow. He then realized he was in front of a familiar stone cave.
Voldemort's lair.
Ron started forward, but Draco stopped him. "Are you mad?" He asked again. He reached into his robes, and extracted Ron's wand. "At least take this."
"Thank you," Ron replied.
"Hold on!" Draco cried again, going through his robes. Ron turned, impatient. His best friend and his wife were down there, with only Voldemort's tender mercies to help them.
"And this," Draco finally managed to pull out what he had been looking for. It was a dagger, with a black hilt. He handed it carefully to Ron, who studied it. On the hilt were a few silver runes he didn't recognize.
"Dumbledore told me to get it to Harry," Draco explained.
"You went to Hogwarts too?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Rayven and I decided it would be the best place to go first. It was Dumbledore that suggested I get you out of prison for this." Ron nodded, then turned and started off to the mouth of the cave.
"Oh, and Ron," Draco called. Ron, who was now at the mouth of the cave, turned.
"Yeah, Draco?"
"Good luck."
"You too." And with that, Draco turned and disapparated, and Ron continued his descent.
His heart was pounding in his chest, and, rather ironically, so did his wedding ring. What the hell was going on? Harry had been captured, Rayven was trying to rescue him...sounded to Ron like Voldemort was going to have a field day. Ron wondered briefly what he would find when he turned the last corner and came into the lair itself.
He suddenly had a vision of Rayven, in a frilly pink dress, sitting at table with a white tablecloth with several dressed up dolls and teddy bears, along with Harry and Voldemort, both in top hats, tails, and spectacles. Rayven told Voldemort to pour the tea, and the Dark Lord politely inquired of the teddy bear on his right whether or not he wanted sugar as Harry nibbled on a biscuit.
Or not.
He pushed the ridiculous scene from his mind, trying to think of nothing but the job at hand. The dagger was thrust into his belt, and his wand was out. When he finally reached the room, it was a far cry from the tea party.
Harry was against the wall on his right, his wrists bound in shackles above his head held up with thick metal chains. Voldemort was in the center of the room, holding two wands, and Rayven was on Harry's right with no wand at all.
He only saw this for a moment before they realized he was there. Harry's eyes widened, Rayven looked at him desperately, and Voldemort smiled.
"Mr. Weasley, how good of you to join us," He hissed. "You are just in time to see me kill Mr. Potter here."
"Over my dead body," Ron replied, stepping boldly forward. Harry's eyes, if possible, widened even more.
"Oh?" Voldemort replied. "Another traitor? Dear me, I can't believe you let this stupid child sway you."
"She didn't sway me," Ron smirked. "I was working for the Ministry all along." Harry made a strangled noise behind him, and the Dark Lord's smile turned into a sneer.
"No matter," He spat. "I will just have to kill you as well."
"You wish," Ron replied. "You have weaknesses, you know."
"Yes..." The Dark Lord replied. "And so do you, Mr. Weasley." Ron couldn't do anything to stop it. Before he even knew what was happening, Voldemort had turned to his wife. "Crucio."
She fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Ron felt his heart tightening as if it shared the curse. He watched, horrified, as his wife writhed in pain. His wand was useless, and in any case he had forgotten all about it. So Ron did the only thing he could think of.
The dagger managed to distract Voldemort well. He lifted the curse and turned to see it hurling at him, twirling at an impossible speed. Ron's pulse quickened as ran to his wife, and they watched. Voldemort would be hit be the dagger. He would die. He...
Caught the weapon in mid air.
He brought the dagger down in his hands studying the ebony hilt. He sucked in a breath. "The Dagger of Certain Death," He hissed. "Many years have I searched for this..." Ron was beginning to realize what a huge mistake he had made. His hold on Rayven relaxed slightly, and his gaze turned to Harry, who was struggling with all his might against his bindings.
"Goodbye, Harry Potter," Voldemort whispered, and threw the dagger at Harry.
Ron saw it happen in slow motion. The dagger flying toward his best friend. And in the next instant, Rayven was running toward them. Ron reached out to stop her, but wasn't fast enough. In even slower vision, he watched as the dagger penetrated her robe, piercing through her skin.
With a scream, she crashed to the floor. Ron ran across the room to her, pulling her into his arms. Voldemort laughed.
"I really don't understand people like you, Miss Michaels, who sacrifice your lives for someone that put you in prison. However, traitors deserve to die the way the chose. If only..."
Voldemort continued to ramble, but Ron wasn't listening. He was holding his trembling wife. Rayven's golden eyes met his, and he gently brushed her hair away.
"Don't die, Rayven," He begged. "Please don't die."
"I'm not going to die," She said, trying to smile. She then coughed, and a bit of blood spattered out. The blood from her shoulder was all over Ron, but he didn't notice.
"How can you be sure?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Because," She answered. "I'm going to by a mommy. And you're going to be a daddy. I can't die."
"What?" Ron whispered, his eyes wide. A father...why the hell couldn't she pick a more convenient time to tell him this?
"...ignoring the power I offer, and trying to preach good and evil..."
Voldemort's continued babbling brought him back to the present. Rayven convulsed, and his eyes were brought down to meet hers once more.
"Ron, listen to me," She said urgently. "Take the dagger, and throw it at Harry's chains."
"What?" He hissed.
"Damn it, Ron, it's our only chance." She brought a hand up and caressed his cheek. "Now."
Ron only hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, in one fluid movement, he wrenched the dagger out of her, and threw it at Harry's chains. It sliced through, and before the Dark Lord had the time to react, Harry was flying at him, dagger in hand. Ron watched, and the whole world seemed to stop for just one moment.
The dagger pierced the Dark Lord.
Voldemort fell to the ground, the dagger in his stomach. He was dead. Harry stood over him, panting with exhaustion. Ron turned back to Rayven, whose eyes were closed and had gone limp.
At that moment, Draco burst in with reinforcements from the Ministry.
Thanks to EVERYONE who's reviewed. Today, I'd also like to especially thank my friend Britz. She reminded me in a review that when I first started writing this I was Im-ing her and I made her go all the way upstairs to look up the proper spelling of 'Bode'. So, thank you Britz!!!!! ^_^
Just for the record, I should be doing my English essay right now.
Okay, enough of that. On with the fic!!!
Chapter Six:
Certain Death
~Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And it's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah~
*Rufus Wainwright's "Hallelujah
Pain. Everywhere. Hurts.
Ron stirred, slowly, and very painfully regaining consciousness. He cautiously opened one eyes, and quickly shut it again. Even though the room was bleary, the white walls were nearly blinding. He wondered where he was. He had never been in anywhere so white in his entire life.
"Ron?"
Hearing his name, but still too out of it to recognize a voice, he tried opening his eyes again. He was met with a pair of light brown eyes.
"Rayven?" He mumbled, hardly coherent.
"Ron, it's me." Ron gave himself a little shake, forced himself to sit up, and opened his eyes.
The brown eyes were framed with flaming hair matching his own. The face was that of his mother. Standing just behind was the tall outline of his father.
"Mum?" He managed to mumble. "Dad?" Thoughts and memories were starting to come to him now. But everything was through a haze of pain.
"Yes, we're here," Mrs. Weasley said, taking her son's hand and trying to smile. Ron frowned, wondering why she was looking at him like that.
"What are you doing here?" He asked.
"Harry..." She looked back at her husband, who just looked down at Ron. "Harry told us things," She said uncomfortably, "Horrible things."
Brief visions of the previous night were flashing through his mind. Harry must've seen, and now know...what was it again? Oh, right, he was a Death Eater. And here his parents were, supporting him no matter what, just as he knew they would be.
"And you're still here?" He asked, smiling slightly. He was very happy his parents still loved him.
"Well," Mr. Weasley mumbled, exchanging looks with his wife. "The things Harry said...they're not true, are they?"
Mrs. Weasley flinched visibly as she watched her son's eyes go from soft blue to a sapphire fire. It had all come back with those words, everything. He sat up straight. He now recognized where he was; the hospital wing of the Auror HQ where they held prisoners who required medical attention before getting sent to Azkaban. His left wrist was handcuffed to the bedside, and he could feel the magical barriers around him. He turned to his parents with a snarl. Of course they weren't going to love him anyway. They had only come in the feeble hope of disbelief. Well, he would show them!
"Oh, that's your problem, is it?" He asked coldly. "Just wanted to desperately confirm your disbelief and give you a story like Sirius Black (the traitor!) to show you that I'm innocent?" He smiled, the same cold, cynical smile of his master. "You're going to be very disappointed." He reached over with his functional right arm to pull up the sleeve of his robe. There, grinning at his parents, was his own personal Dark Mark. Mrs. Weasley gasped, then turned her head. Mr. Weasley made no sound, but stepped back at the sight, pulling his wife closer. Ron lowered the sleeve, and waited, staring them down with his fiery blue eyes, forcing them to speak. When sound did escape, it was from his mother's lips.
"Ron...Ron how could you-"
"Kill people?" He raised his eyebrows. "It's quite simple really. You just raise your wand and say the words. I'm quite good at it." His smile widened. "I'm my master's favorite."
"But..."
"But what?" Ron's smile transformed into a snarl, as his eyes traveled to his father. "Don't feed me bullshit about good and evil. There is no such thing. There is only power, which you seem to ignore completely. You think I couldn't do it? Oh, but I can," He smiled again, wolfishly. "I remember my first kill well. I remember when I killed Terry Boot's little boys, they were my youngest victims. They didn't even wake. They hardly do, it's really quite a pity. It's been a good long while since I witnessed a long, drawn out death. Not since Percy, I think..."
This brought his mother's face out from his father's arms and around to him, her eyes wide. Ron plunged through, the look of horrified disbelief somehow morbidly forcing him to go on. "Oh yes, he screamed for many hours before death. He welcomed it, I assure you. But luckily, I got to witness it. I will always remember the look on his face when he realized I was there in the service of my master, not to come to his rescue. Stupid boy," Ron snorted. "He doesn't understand any better than you do."
"How can you talk like that?" Mrs. Weasley asked, fighting tears.
"Death is my profession," Ron shrugged. "I enjoy it." This pushed her over the edge, and the tears she had pushed back started to spill. She buried herself into her husband, who held onto her as he stared at his smirking son in disbelief. He started to usher her away.
"Go on home then," Ron said, "Write me out of the will and deny me the family name. It's about damned time I got rid of this damn charade." And with that, his parents left. Ron stared out the door after them, not believing what had just happened, and what was happening.
Molly and Arthur Weasley, in the meantime, were scurrying down the hall as fast as they could go, trying to push the inevitable images from their minds. Molly kept seeing Percy screaming at Ron's feet over and over, while her youngest son just watched and laughed. They were so caught up in these terrible thoughts that they nearly ran into someone.
"Mom?" That someone asked. "Dad?"
"Ginny," Molly managed a very strained smile, but nothing could alter her features. Arthur didn't even try.
"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked, slightly confused.
"We were just...talking...to Ron," Arthur managed to choke out. Ginny raised an eyebrow.
"He's here?"
"In...in the Hospital Wing..." Mrs. Weasley couldn't hold it in any longer. "He's a Death Eater, Ginny, a Death Eater! Please, don't talk to him, he's turned into a monster, he-"
"Molly, it's okay," Arthur pulled his wife into an embrace, as Ginny stared.
It was all coming together. She had been notified to come to Auror HQ to escort a Death Eater to Azkaban, just like Bill had taken Rayven two nights ago. Ron had been caught, and he had obviously talked to his parents, no less!
"Oh dear..." Was all that she managed to get out. Her parents continued their journey as Ginny walked impatiently down the hall, going faster and faster. Soon she was jogging, and in another moment she was in an all out sprint. The door to the Hospital Wing flung open before her, and she screeched to a stop.
He was the only person in the room. He was sitting on the bed, his head bowed, his arm chained to the side. She felt a pang in her heart. She took a step forward, then he spoke.
"They hate me, Ginny."
"Don't be ridiculous-"
"I'm not," He raised his head, strands of flaming hair blocking the brilliant blue. "They hate me."
"Ron..." She bit her lip and approached. Sitting down, she said, "They don't hate you." He laughed.
"Yes they do, Ginny. I made Mum cry. I told her about Percy."
"You did WHAT?" She cried.
"I had to Ginny," He said bitterly. "They can't know. It would endanger the mission."
"To Hell with the mission!" Ginny yelled. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Ron, after the war we'll explain, and then we'll be a family again, I just know it. And-"
"No, Ginny, you don't understand!" Ron cried, turning to her. His eyes nearly made her cringe. "They can never forgive me now, NEVER! You didn't see the looks on their faces! Dad-" His voice cracked. Without out any warning, he started to sob bitterly. Ginny pulled him into an embrace, letting him cry on her shoulder. All the time she could hear him mumbling.
"They hate me, they hate me..."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ginny quietly shut the door to the office and fell into a chair, her head buried in her hands. Oh Jesus...this was the worst possible scenario. Two undercover agents imprisoned in twenty-four hours...by their own side, no less!
However, to be completely honest, Ginny's mind was not on how this would affect the war. Her poor parents...and even more, poor Ron! Ginny hadn't seen her favorite brother cry since he was eight years old after he had fallen off Fred's broomstick and broken his leg. Ron had always been strong, that was one of the reasons she admire him so much.
She had just witnessed her rock crumble.
Not that she could blame him. She would never forget the looks on her parents' faces, and she had only seen the aftermath! She could only imagine what it must have been like for Ron...
Damn them! When Ginny had seen her mother's tearstained face, she had been tempted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she understood. Did they really lack that much faith in their youngest son? Didn't they know that Ron could never become a Death Eater? Not really?
Obviously not.
Her thoughts were shattered by the sound of the door opening. She looked over her fingers to see who was interrupting her reverie, and nearly jumped in surprise.
Draco Malfoy.
His liquid eyes surveyed the room, inspecting all its contents carefully. They fell on Ginny, and stayed there. After a few moments, he spoke.
"He's gone." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes," Ginny replied. Draco sighed, and lowered himself into the chair next to hers.
"I don't think Ron really minds," He mused aloud. "The dementors aren't there anymore, you know. In any case, I know he's happy not to hide anything anymore." Ginny looked over at him, her brown eyes wide. Draco didn't seem to notice, his gaze not leaving his well-polished shoes.
She was shocked because the same thoughts had been running through her mind. She knew how much Ron hated his two-faced life, although he never said anything. But only someone who knew him well could've really observed his thoughts...
"You really are friends with him, aren't you?" Ginny asked suddenly. She had always thought they merely tolerated each other, for the sole reason that they were colleagues. However, it suddenly occurred to her that this might not be the case.
"I suppose I am." Draco turned his head, a half smile on his lips, meeting her wide eyes. "You wouldn't have guessed, would you?"
"No," She admitted quietly. "You're both too damned stubborn to admit anything." Draco laughed hollowly.
"You always were blunt, Virginia," He whispered. Ginny felt shivers run down her back when he said her name like that. She shoved the memories from her mind, and forced her gaze to the ground. She felt, rather than saw, him stand up.
"Leaving?" She asked dully, raising her head.
"Why stay?" He asked. She bit her lip when no answer came. He smirked, but hesitated before turning to go. She stood up suddenly. This turned out to be a bad idea, because she somehow managed to trip and fall directly into Draco's arms.
"Graceful," He remarked sarcastically.
"Damn it Draco!" She cried suddenly, wriggling out of his grasp and standing firmly. "I don't want any of your sarcasm right now! I just had to send my brother to prison, thank you very much, when I KNOW he's innocent and there's not a damn thing I can do about it! Why the hell are you here anyway? It's not like you have a clue what I'm going through here, as you've never loved anyone in your whole damned life-"
"You know that's not true," Draco interrupted quietly. Her fiery stare met his icy, challenging one. She opened her mouth to make a reply, but nothing came out. Draco took the opportunity to do the only thing he could think of doing to keep her from beginning another rant.
He kissed her.
She didn't struggle. On the contrary, she melted into his arms, welcoming the change. He welcomed it too, naturally, but something wasn't right. She was vulnerable right now, and would probably let him do whatever the hell he wanted to with her. Another Draco might have turned this to his full advantage, but that was not what he wanted now. Reluctantly, yet firmly, he pushed her away.
"Goodbye, Miss Weasley," He said, and turned through the door. By the time Ginny recovered from the shock, he had disapparated.
What the Hell have you done now, Malfoy? Draco scolded himself as he fell into the armchair next to the fire. The parlor of Malfoy Manor wasn't exactly a warm and fuzzy kind of place, but it was one of the few places Draco could really think. Sometimes he thought of Voldemort, or the Ministry, or his upcoming assignments.
Today he thought about Ginny.
His mind was traveling backward to a time he had locked away, but was now coming back into sharp focus. He had dated Ginny for seven months during his last year at Hogwarts, in secret. The best seven months of his life.
He had been in love with Ginny then. He had known it, although he never said it. He always assumed she knew, and returned the sentiments. Whether or not she had he still didn't know. They had, like any couple, fought on occasion. However, a certain huge row in May had ended the relationship forever. Draco had never been exactly sure on who had dumped whom, but they both knew it was over.
Draco, after graduation, had tried to forget Ginny. He snorted. Yeah, right, forget Ginny Weasley? Impossible. However, he had tried and was doing a good job. He had been very fond of Angel, although he didn't love her as he had loved Ginny. He hoped Angel hadn't been in love with him, for there was nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesn't love you.
He had realized that as soon as Ginny stepped back into his life...or rather, into Fudge's office that day a few months ago. One look at her silken fire hair and curious brown eyes had been enough to remind him. He had been avoiding her ever since, but today...
What had come over him? Kissing her...that was a mistake. He knew it. Ginny didn't return his love, which made sense. He didn't deserve her, nor did he know anyone who did. However, he couldn't help wondering if she had enjoyed that as much as he had.
He shook his head. Yeah, right. Duh, Draco, you inconsiderate asshole, she was worried about her brother! Draco smiled at himself...he had picked up that particular alias from Ginny during a particularly stinging fight. It was true, though, he had gone and used her grief for his own ends.
And if Ron found out, he would kill him.
No one could accuse Draco of being glad about Ron's imprisonment. If not for the fact they had (grudgingly, I assure you) become friends, but also for the simple fact that now all the work was split between himself and Severus.
But if there was ever a time Draco was remotely glad about it, it was right then.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They tried to pretend it was a normal morning. She bustled about the kitchen, while he quietly sipped his coffee. However, the silence was obvious and the air was saturated with a tenseness so severe he wanted to scream. The only person unaffected was the infant, gurgling happily in his high chair.
Hermione sat down, putting a plate in front of herself and her husband. Harry looked up and tried to say thank you, or smile...or SOMETHING, but the only thing that came of it was a sort of grimace. She didn't notice as she started dumping pepper on her French toast.
"Hermione,"
"Huh?" She looked up. Catching his pointed stare, she looked down and saw the heap of black grains on her toast. "Oh," She blushed, then sighed. "I wasn't really hungry anyway."
"Me neither," He muttered, staring down at his breakfast unenthusiastically. James laughed, as if he were trying to cheer his parents up. The sound echoed throughout the kitchen for a moment. Suddenly Hermione burst into tears.
Harry leapt up. James, sensing his laugh had not had the desired effect, now followed his mother's example and began to cry. Hermione shook her head, trying to stop the inevitable tears. She leaned over and picked up her baby son, cradling him in her arms.
"Shh, baby, don't cry," She soothed, rubbing his back. Harry came up behind them, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Harry," She said quietly, looking up at him.
"Sorry?" He asked incredulously. "For what?"
"For...for..."
"Stop it, Hermione," He commanded. "None of this is your fault."
"I know but...Harry, how could he do this to us?" She cried, spinning around and holding the child even closer to her. "Jesus, we were about to entrust him with our lives, Harry...we were going to do the Fidelius charm. TODAY!" She choked on more tears. "He betrayed us."
"I know," Harry sighed. "But there's nothing we can do about it-"
"Damn it Harry! How can you take this lightly?!"
"I AM NOT TAKING THIS LIGHTLY!" He roared. Taking a deep breath, he moderated his voice. "I am not taking this lightly," He repeated. "Do you think I'm happy about this or something? Jesus Christ, if it weren't for you and James I'd probably have drowned myself be now or-"
"Stop talking like that," She said quietly. He sighed.
"I know, I know," He rubbed her back, and looked into her eyes. "We have to pull through this, Hermione."
"Without Ron," She whispered. Clutching her son, she shed a few more tears.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Prison was really overrated, Ron thought to himself. This wasn't really bad, just boring. Not that he really minded boring, after two years of two lives, he was actually rather relieved to be leading none at all. As a matter of fact, he thought to himself, if he could exchange his damned guilt for his wife it would be Heaven.
Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. He was quite certain Heaven would have better food.
If there was a Heaven. In these couple weeks, while having nothing better to do in lonely stone cell, his thoughts had turned to the afterlife, or lack thereof. He had no idea what to think of Heaven and Hell, of God and Satan. However, he knew that if they DID exist he knew he was destined for Hell.
He didn't deserve better, and he knew it. How could a murderer knock on Heaven's Gate and demand of Saint Peter to be let it? No thank you. He would rather not make a fool of himself in front of the Lord.
Hell. He wondered what it was like. In Ron's opinion he had already been through Hell. Rayven was the only person that pulled him out of it. And now, she wasn't here.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. She WAS here, just not in his cell, which was about as good as being in separate hemispheres. The dementors may be gone, but it was still as impossible to escape from as ever.
He had underestimated the Ministry. He didn't even know half the spells guarding his cell. After about two hours, he had completely given up on any kind of escape. He was now completely resigned to remain in prison until the war was over and his position as undercover spy revealed.
He was quite lonely, his mind fixed on his wife. She was all alone in one of these cold stone cells. That disturbed him more than his own miserable state. He couldn't stand to think of Rayven living like this.
Living. This was hardly living. Even though he knew he had only been in Azkaban for fifteen days, his life before that seemed to be decades behind him. He didn't know how much longer he could stand this.
But, as he had said before, the only thing that really bothered him about this arrangement was Rayven. Absentmindedly, he fingered the chain around his neck that held his wedding ring. It was the only thing they hadn't taken away from him when they threw him in here. He wanted to see her, if only for a brief moment. He wanted to make sure she was okay...
An explosion cut his musings short. Ron leapt up and ran to the door. However, since the door was solid stone, this didn't really do much. It hindered all his senses...but even solid stone couldn't keep out all the noise. Sirens were going off and people were running, spells from wands were flying and hitting the stone. It didn't take Ron long to put all the pieces together.
An escape.
There hadn't been an escape since Sirius Black, and there had been no other before him. He mused briefly on whether or not this escapee would prove as difficult to recapture. And then, of course...who the devil was it? Who had managed to penetrate all the curses and spells and get away before the warden and all the guards showed up?
He hoped, quite sincerely, that they caught him again. Ron didn't like prison, but he was innocent...more or less. The rest of these men weren't. They needed to be locked away, where they could do nothing or, as was the case these days, return to their master. He waited impatiently for news, pondering the possibility. Then, hours later, he finally discovered who it had been.
Rayven.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"How is she?" Bill and Ginny demanded in unison the moment Draco walked in the door that night. He rolled his eyes.
"She's fine. It went off without a hitch, of course," He said smoothly. He had been working with both the Ministry and the Death Eaters to plan Rayven's escape, so that her pardon wouldn't be revealed and lead to disaster.
"Oh good," Ginny sighed in relief. "I was worried you two would get caught."
"Caught, me?" Draco asked indignantly. "Never." Ginny ignored him; she didn't have time for his pride.
"Where is she?" Bill asked. "The manor?"
"Yes, she's safe there for now," Draco replied. "Eventually we'll have to relocate her."
"You sound as if you were talking about a piece of furniture," Ginny said scornfully. Draco rolled his eyes again.
"She said to tell you hello, and wants news on Ron," He continued. "Anybody know anything?"
"Not much," Bill admitted.
"Hermione will be inspecting soon," Ginny said thoughtfully. "I bet a few tears and some sad questions could get results."
"Inspecting?" Draco asked.
"Yeah, that's one of her jobs, you know," Ginny replied. "Inspecting Azkaban and making sure the spells are working, blah, blah, blah."
"Lucky for her the dementors aren't there anymore," Draco said.
"Yeah, lucky all of us," She replied. There was a silence.
"So, are you two up to a game of poker?" Draco asked enthusiastically. He loved poker, and won almost every game he ever played.
"Actually, I have to go," Bill said, getting to his feet.
"Go?" Draco demanded. "Where?"
"Appointment with some chap who says he's got information for me. You know the type, the anonymous note and all." Bill yawned, and looked at his watch, which informed him that it was five 'till one in the morning. "I'll be back in about an hour," He assured them, and left the room.
Draco and Ginny looked at each other. They were standing about five feet apart, but the silence was much longer. It was what Draco would undoubtedly call an awkward situation. He didn't like those, so after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he decided to break it. "Well?"
She strode across the room, raised her hand, and slapped him with all the force she could muster.
"That's for kissing me!" She yelled. "And this is for not having the damn decency to stay and tell me why!" She continued, raising her hand again. However, Draco caught it before it could land another blow. His left cheek was stinging painfully.
"Is this really necessary?" He drawled.
"Yes it is!" She screeched. "You can't just kiss me like that without warning me, or asking my permission, or..."
"It was a kind of spur of the moment thing, you know?" Draco replied, raising his eyebrows.
"ARGH!" She cried, after several moments of trying to formulate something more intelligible. She twisted out of his grasp so that she was no longer facing him, much to his disappointment. She was beautiful in a temper, with her brown eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed, and tendrils of fiery hair tumbling down in front of her...
Pull it together, Malfoy, he told himself, running his fingers through his hair.
"Look, Gin, I'm sorry," He said. He had learned through painful experience that apologies were necessary when dealing with women, especially this woman.
"Sorry for what?" She snapped, spinning around so that she was facing him again. "For kissing me?"
"What the hell do you want me to be sorry for?" He yelled, his temper rising. It was a scene that had been seen many times by the walls of a deserted classroom; Ginny, with her hands on her hips, glaring at Draco, while he stood with his fists clenched and his eyes dangerously narrowed.
"I want you to be sorry for...for..." She stuttered to a stop, at a complete loss for words. Somehow, that silence communicated itself to Draco. He took a step forward, and put his hands on his shoulders.
"Ginny?" He said quietly. "May I kiss you?"
"Okay," She whispered, and didn't object at all when he did so.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Petunia Dursley woke up before her husband to get the milk bottles. When she came back in, she turned on the television in the kitchen to give her something to do while she made breakfast. The news was on, and she found them in the middle of a report on an escaped convict.
"The public is warned the Michaels is armed and very dangerous. If anyone has seen a suspicious woman with hazel eyes and auburn hair, call the number on your screen immediately."
They then showed a picture of the woman, and Petunia dropped her frying pan. Rayven Michaels...no, Rayven Weasley! Her first instinct was to grab the telephone. However, when she reached it, she hesitated.
Rayven. She had said no one could know about their marriage, it was a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing. She had looked frightened of those around her.
Not to mention she was a witch.
Yes, Petunia knew. She had immediately recognized Ron as one of the family that had practically adopted her nephew. She hadn't said anything to Vernon, though. Ever since the dreams of Lily had started plaguing her, Petunia's opinion on magic had begun to change.
Whatever Rayven was, she was not a murderer. Petunia could remember seeing that report on Sirius Black all those years ago, then finding out he was Harry's godfather and innocent as well. She believed then, quite firmly, that Rayven was innocent.
She turned off the television and returned to the bacon.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Well, at least Malfoy Manor isn't as boring as prison, Rayven mused to herself. She had more freedom, but not much more. However, the bed was much more comfortable, the food was better, and the ceiling was more interesting.
It had been six days since her escape from prison, and people on both sides were searching for her. She felt guilty for putting Draco in this situation, but he refused to let her leave until it was absolutely necessary. So she had resigned herself to the elaborate rooms of the Manor much the same as she had to the walls of her prison cell.
Ron. All her thoughts were with him. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him, shivering and hungry, on a cot in a stone room against her lids. She knew quite well that he was okay...she always knew when he wasn't. Her first night of prison she couldn't sleep because of terrible visions of her Ron screaming in pain. She found out later, from Draco, that he had undergone an extensive amount of time under Cruciatus that night.
On her behalf.
Nothing Draco could say would wash away the guilt that plagued her. He had been punished because she had been caught. She lay awake, tossing and turning, thinking of him. Thinking of his pain.
She was in this frame of mind when she heard two short knocks and three long ones. Then her doorknob turned. She was glad Draco had invented that way of warning her who it was, otherwise she probably would've been out the window by now.
"Good afternoon, Rayven," He said.
"Hello," She replied.
"Hey!" The new, perky voice caused Rayven to look up in alarm. The woman it belonged to was none other than her sister-in-law.
"Ginny?" She asked incredulously.
"Rayven?" Ginny replied, mocking her tone of voice. Rayven rolled her eyes.
"Got anymore surprise visitors for me?" She asked Draco.
"No, but I do have this." He offered an envelope. Curious, she took it from him and opened it. A smile spread across her face. It was a letter from Severus. She hadn't seen him since school had started, and she missed him.
"Thanks," She said to Draco.
"Don't thank me," Draco replied. "Thank Bill. He's the one who got the letter."
"Whatever," She rolled her eyes. "Am I leaving yet, Draco?"
"No one even suspects you right now," Draco replied. "There's no need to put you at unnecessary risk."
"There's no need to put YOU at unnecessary risk," She argued back. "If they suspect I'm here, you'll be blamed!" He only shrugged. "Damn it, Draco!"
"Maybe she's right, Draco," Ginny interrupted before he could speak. Rayven looked at her curiously. She hadn't expected the Unspeakable to take her side on this matter.
"And what logic are you reasoning by?" He asked, folding his arms and staring her down.
"It's already mid-November," Ginny pointed out reasonably. "We've been lucky so far. But soon, very soon, it will start snowing. It's going to be a lot easier for her if she gets out of here before the bad weather hits."
Rayven looked at Ginny with a new respect. She hadn't even considered the weather as a good argument for her case! Draco obviously hadn't either. After a few moments of trying to come up with a logical reply, he muttered something about getting dinner and left the room.
"How did you do that?" Rayven blurted once Draco had gone.
"Huh?" Ginny asked, surprised.
"How did you make him listen to you?"
"Well, it is the most logical way to look at it," Ginny pointed out. "Although personally, I agree with you. He's endangering himself far more than you at this point."
"Ginny Weasley, I take my hat off to you!" Rayven said. "That is, I would if I had a hat." The two girls laughed, and Rayven suddenly found the potential for a good friend in her sister-in-law. Rayven had a real girl friend since Angel died. She kept up her correspondence with Petunia, of course, (although it had been seriously damaged by her time spent in prison) but that was more of a motherly thing.
And so what did they do? Gossip, of course! They talked about girls they both knew, and clothing and hair and things normal young women talked about. Draco came back in the room to find them both in a frightening fit of giggles.
"Um...am I interrupting something?" He asked.
"No, no, not at all Draco," Rayven gasped between giggles. "Come on in, we're starving."
"I get the feeling I'm entering the danger zone," Draco said, rolling his eyes. He set down a tray of food. Rayven started helping herself, and then turned to look up at the other two. She started.
Maybe it was a certain look or smile. Maybe it was the way they were gesturing. Maybe it was their eyes, but SOMETHING finally made it so obvious Rayven felt like she had been hit over the head. She sucked in a breath.
"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine," Rayven replied. Ginny smiled, then turned back to Draco. Yep, if she had had any doubts, that smile at him cleared them away. She knew the truth, even if they wouldn't admit it.
Draco and Ginny were in love.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Thirty-two. It was now thirty-two days Ron had been in Azkaban, and he didn't look any better for it. His mind was constantly with Rayven. He had wanted her to get out of prison, but now he was worried sick wondering WHERE she was, and what had happened to her, and if she was going to get caught, and if she had gone back to Voldemort, and...
His mind reeled with questions. He stared at his boring stone ceiling. It didn't offer any answers. Sighing, he tried to force Rayven out of his mind.
Yeah, right.
His eyes traveled around the stone room, picking up every crack and crevice. He desperately wished he had a window, so he could at least know what time of day it was...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Actually, it was 8:00 in the morning on December the tenth. The Potter family was up, getting ready for their day. Hermione was busy at the stove, while Harry read his paper and James played with a few tiny toys in his high chair. The sound of something falling and a muttered swear word caused Harry to look over the top of his paper. His wife picked up the fallen cup and threw it into the sink. He raised his eyebrows.
"Are you alright?" He asked, causing her to jump and nearly drop the clean cup she had gotten out of the cupboard.
"I'm fine," She replied, in a voice that suggested the opposite. After filling the cup, she set down her drink and their plates. He carefully watched every move.
"You don't look fine," He observed, and she jumped again.
"I'm just a little nervous, okay?" She snapped.
"Hermione..." He began. She sighed, and he decided to change tactics. "You'll be fine, sweetheart. The dementors aren't there anymore, you only have to make sure the spells are going to hold if they try another escape."
"Easy for you to say," She muttered bitterly. Seeing the look of hurt on his face, she cringed. "Harry, I didn't mean that I just...damn it! Inspecting Azkaban is not my idea of fun!"
"I understand," He replied, his emerald eyes looking into hers. She smiled weakly.
"Thank you," She whispered. They continued with breakfast, until Hermione looked at her watch and sighed. "I really have to get going."
"Go on ahead," Her husband said. "I'll take James over to your parents's house before I go to work."
"Thanks honey," She smiled, kissed him, and disapparated. After a few moments, Harry had James's things ready, and followed her example.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Actually, Azkaban wasn't nearly as bad as Hermione had expected it to be. She walked down the stone corridors with the warden, investigating the state of the doors and spells. She was then led inside a high tech surveillance room. The Ministry had taken to using Muggle technology, so that they had cameras (magicked, of course, to work much better than any Muggle camera in existence), and there was also a keypad outside the doors of top security prisoners, with a five number code.
You could count the number of people that knew all the codes and counter spells in the building on one hand. Hermione Potter was one of them.
The warden, one by one, enlarged the pictures of the top security prisoners so that they filled the whole screen. She saw several Death Eaters and various murders she recognized. The picture from the camera would show Hermione the actual convict, and in the corners, bright neon grids the shape of the cell against a black patch would show her the spells on that particular cell, and how strong they were. She studies these grids, making several adjustments. They then came to the last, and latest, prisoner.
Ronald Weasley.
Hermione stiffened visibly at the sight of him. His hands were folded behind his bed, and he was laying on his cot, staring up at the ceiling with an unblinking stare. The grids in the corners of the screen were glowing strong, ensuring that his escape was an impossibility. However, she couldn't bring herself to tear away from that cold, unwavering stare.
"Mrs. Potter...Mrs. Potter?" Hermione shook herself when she heard the warden calling to her. She smiled weakly at him, then turned her attention to the grids, forcing herself to ignore the man on the screen. She was just about to tell the warden that she was finished, when something happened she had never seen before.
The neon grids disintegrated.
Ron's countenance did not change. She looked at it for less than a second before she and the warden were sprinting toward the corridor that held Ron's cell. When the got there, they skidded to a halt. Hermione could not BELIEVE what she was seeing.
A familiar, silver-haired man was punching numbers into the keypad. When it failed to open he swore, kicked the stone door, and swore again. Hermione and the warden just stared.
"Malfoy?" She finally managed to sputter. He spun around. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were wild.
"Potter!" He replied, he opened his mouth to say more, but Hermione cut him off.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She demanded. He waved it off, throwing an envelope at her.
"What's Ron's birthday?" He asked as Hermione scrambled to open the envelope. She replied automatically.
"March 17,"
"Ah!" He turned back to the keypad. "I kept putting in April." As he frantically worked on the keypad, Hermione pulled out the paper within the envelope with trembling fingers.
A full pardon signed by the Minister of Magic himself.
At that moment, the doors yielded, and Hermione looked up at Malfoy.
"Ron!" He shouted. "Get your ass out here!" Hermione watched, hardly able to believe her own eyes, as Ron slowly came out, his eyebrows raised.
"What is going on, Draco?" He asked quietly, his eyes resting on Hermione.
"I brought your pardon. Ron-"
"You WHAT?!" Ron cried, whipping around to Malfoy, who looked very annoyed at being interrupted. "I was saving that for an emergency!"
"This is a goddamned emergency!" Malfoy screamed.
"If you tell me something stupid like-"
"Harry Potter's been captured."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Petunia Dursley was dusting her mantelpiece. She was home alone, since her husband was at work. After she finished her chores, she decided she deserved a break, and layed down on the sofa to watch some television. She turned on the news, but found herself drifting off to sleep. She had hardly closed her eyes when she fell into a dream.
She was on a beach, looking out across the ocean. Suddenly, rising from the grayish blue waves, came Lily. She wasn't young in this dream, she was just as Petunia had last seen her: age twenty in a long blue dress, her wild red hair flying behind her in the breeze. Petunia watched as Lily walked on the water, coming toward the shore but never getting any closer. Petunia wanted to help her, but she couldn't touch the water for some reason.
"Petunia!" Lily cried. Petunia's head snapped up. "Petunia, don't let him fall! Save him, please!" Petunia's eyes went upward, where she saw a huge cliff. The wind picked up, and Petunia realized what she was seeing. Standing at the top of the cliff was her nephew as he was now. Lily screamed as he fell off the cliff, falling to the rocks below. Petunia tried to run to him, but it was too late. Harry was falling...falling...falling...
The annoying jingle of a restaurant commercial woke her up. She sighed, consoling herself that it was only a dream. However, just as she was beginning to believe this, her eyes traveled to the television screen. It showed a picture of her nephew. And then she heard the anchorman's voice.
"If anyone has seen or heard from Harry Potter, please contact us immediately using the number on the bottom of your screen. He was believed to have been kidnapped by a dangerous murderer...
Petunia fainted.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Harry Potter's been captured."
Those four words brought silence, and Hermione felt her knees weaken underneath her. What had he just said? No...NO! Harry couldn't be missing, she had just seen him three hours ago!
"WHAT?!" Ron finally exploded, his blue eyes wide.
"I told you it was an emergency," Draco pointed out. Ron brushed it aside.
"We need to get to the Ministry. We need to get Fudge. We need...hold on a second, are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes," Draco replied, nodding. "I was helping Rayven find a hiding place, and-"
"Rayven's involved!" Ron cried, his blue eyes widening even more. "Where is she, the Ministry building?"
"Actually..." Draco looked rather uncomfortable. "She insisted on going in to distract him..."
"WHAT?!" Ron yelled again. "You left her alone with Voldemort and Harry Potter!"
"It was her damn idea!" Draco yelled back. Ron closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.
"Take me to them."
"What? Are you mad?" Draco asked. "I need you to help me with-"
"Damn it, Draco!" Ron interrupted. "You are taking me to her RIGHT NOW!" Silver eyes met sapphire, and Draco knew he meant it.
"I'm going with you!" Hermione suddenly interrupted, coming forward.
"What?" Both men said, turning to stare at her.
"I don't have a clue what's going on," She replied. "But I understand my husband's been captured. I'm going with you."
"No, you're not," Draco said flatly.
"To hell I'm not!" She screamed.
"Hermione," Ron interrupted, turning his stare on her. "If you want to help, go to the Ministry. No, we need you there. You can come with the reinforcements."
"But-"
Her objections never got any farther than that. Draco had grabbed Ron's shoulder and disapparated. The first thing Ron noticed was the gray sky, threatening either rain or snow. He then realized he was in front of a familiar stone cave.
Voldemort's lair.
Ron started forward, but Draco stopped him. "Are you mad?" He asked again. He reached into his robes, and extracted Ron's wand. "At least take this."
"Thank you," Ron replied.
"Hold on!" Draco cried again, going through his robes. Ron turned, impatient. His best friend and his wife were down there, with only Voldemort's tender mercies to help them.
"And this," Draco finally managed to pull out what he had been looking for. It was a dagger, with a black hilt. He handed it carefully to Ron, who studied it. On the hilt were a few silver runes he didn't recognize.
"Dumbledore told me to get it to Harry," Draco explained.
"You went to Hogwarts too?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Rayven and I decided it would be the best place to go first. It was Dumbledore that suggested I get you out of prison for this." Ron nodded, then turned and started off to the mouth of the cave.
"Oh, and Ron," Draco called. Ron, who was now at the mouth of the cave, turned.
"Yeah, Draco?"
"Good luck."
"You too." And with that, Draco turned and disapparated, and Ron continued his descent.
His heart was pounding in his chest, and, rather ironically, so did his wedding ring. What the hell was going on? Harry had been captured, Rayven was trying to rescue him...sounded to Ron like Voldemort was going to have a field day. Ron wondered briefly what he would find when he turned the last corner and came into the lair itself.
He suddenly had a vision of Rayven, in a frilly pink dress, sitting at table with a white tablecloth with several dressed up dolls and teddy bears, along with Harry and Voldemort, both in top hats, tails, and spectacles. Rayven told Voldemort to pour the tea, and the Dark Lord politely inquired of the teddy bear on his right whether or not he wanted sugar as Harry nibbled on a biscuit.
Or not.
He pushed the ridiculous scene from his mind, trying to think of nothing but the job at hand. The dagger was thrust into his belt, and his wand was out. When he finally reached the room, it was a far cry from the tea party.
Harry was against the wall on his right, his wrists bound in shackles above his head held up with thick metal chains. Voldemort was in the center of the room, holding two wands, and Rayven was on Harry's right with no wand at all.
He only saw this for a moment before they realized he was there. Harry's eyes widened, Rayven looked at him desperately, and Voldemort smiled.
"Mr. Weasley, how good of you to join us," He hissed. "You are just in time to see me kill Mr. Potter here."
"Over my dead body," Ron replied, stepping boldly forward. Harry's eyes, if possible, widened even more.
"Oh?" Voldemort replied. "Another traitor? Dear me, I can't believe you let this stupid child sway you."
"She didn't sway me," Ron smirked. "I was working for the Ministry all along." Harry made a strangled noise behind him, and the Dark Lord's smile turned into a sneer.
"No matter," He spat. "I will just have to kill you as well."
"You wish," Ron replied. "You have weaknesses, you know."
"Yes..." The Dark Lord replied. "And so do you, Mr. Weasley." Ron couldn't do anything to stop it. Before he even knew what was happening, Voldemort had turned to his wife. "Crucio."
She fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Ron felt his heart tightening as if it shared the curse. He watched, horrified, as his wife writhed in pain. His wand was useless, and in any case he had forgotten all about it. So Ron did the only thing he could think of.
The dagger managed to distract Voldemort well. He lifted the curse and turned to see it hurling at him, twirling at an impossible speed. Ron's pulse quickened as ran to his wife, and they watched. Voldemort would be hit be the dagger. He would die. He...
Caught the weapon in mid air.
He brought the dagger down in his hands studying the ebony hilt. He sucked in a breath. "The Dagger of Certain Death," He hissed. "Many years have I searched for this..." Ron was beginning to realize what a huge mistake he had made. His hold on Rayven relaxed slightly, and his gaze turned to Harry, who was struggling with all his might against his bindings.
"Goodbye, Harry Potter," Voldemort whispered, and threw the dagger at Harry.
Ron saw it happen in slow motion. The dagger flying toward his best friend. And in the next instant, Rayven was running toward them. Ron reached out to stop her, but wasn't fast enough. In even slower vision, he watched as the dagger penetrated her robe, piercing through her skin.
With a scream, she crashed to the floor. Ron ran across the room to her, pulling her into his arms. Voldemort laughed.
"I really don't understand people like you, Miss Michaels, who sacrifice your lives for someone that put you in prison. However, traitors deserve to die the way the chose. If only..."
Voldemort continued to ramble, but Ron wasn't listening. He was holding his trembling wife. Rayven's golden eyes met his, and he gently brushed her hair away.
"Don't die, Rayven," He begged. "Please don't die."
"I'm not going to die," She said, trying to smile. She then coughed, and a bit of blood spattered out. The blood from her shoulder was all over Ron, but he didn't notice.
"How can you be sure?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Because," She answered. "I'm going to by a mommy. And you're going to be a daddy. I can't die."
"What?" Ron whispered, his eyes wide. A father...why the hell couldn't she pick a more convenient time to tell him this?
"...ignoring the power I offer, and trying to preach good and evil..."
Voldemort's continued babbling brought him back to the present. Rayven convulsed, and his eyes were brought down to meet hers once more.
"Ron, listen to me," She said urgently. "Take the dagger, and throw it at Harry's chains."
"What?" He hissed.
"Damn it, Ron, it's our only chance." She brought a hand up and caressed his cheek. "Now."
Ron only hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, in one fluid movement, he wrenched the dagger out of her, and threw it at Harry's chains. It sliced through, and before the Dark Lord had the time to react, Harry was flying at him, dagger in hand. Ron watched, and the whole world seemed to stop for just one moment.
The dagger pierced the Dark Lord.
Voldemort fell to the ground, the dagger in his stomach. He was dead. Harry stood over him, panting with exhaustion. Ron turned back to Rayven, whose eyes were closed and had gone limp.
At that moment, Draco burst in with reinforcements from the Ministry.