--------------------------------
Chapter Three: Nightmares
-------------------------------
They were outside of the warehouse; they had received clearance from headquarters.
Ginny's breathing sped up.
This was it - the big one. The mission she had been waiting for.
According to intelligence, there was a death eater meeting in progress inside, it was estimated around twenty hostiles.
Harry gave her the thumbs up before breaking open the door. Ginny followed with her wand raised. She could hear the shouting already and sped up. The others would follow, and all the entrances were covered. She could feel the adrenalin pumping in her veins, and the fear. She knew it was normal, to be expected. This was her first real mission.
She took a deep calming breath and looked around her. They were all here - all the familiar faces she had come to trust and respect. The faces of her friends and co-workers. But still she couldn't shake the thought that something was amiss. She steadied her wand arm and patted the gun on her hip. She was ready, ready and armed.
Then it all went wrong.
They were screaming.
Footsteps behind her.
Harry's voice "It's a trap. Abort! Abort!"
Running fast, the others were running too.
Someone was in front of her, someone who wasn't running. Then she heard a cool voice, and it all turned black.
Falling.
Falling.
----------------------------------
She couldn't move, and her wrists were tied together by something thin; it was cutting into her skin.
Wire?
She tried to look around but there was nothing - only darkness, they had blindfolded her.
Who were they?
Was there more then one?
Someone was coming closer, no more than one, several footsteps. She felt the air shift around her - someone was moving close by.
Hands touching her, cool hands holding her down.
This was wrong, all wrong.
Then came the pain. She could feel the blade against her skin, its cool length against her stomach, for a second before the actual cut. Then she couldn't think anymore, there was only pain.
In the distance there was crying.
Was it her?
She didn't think so.
Maybe.
It was far away, far away.
When she woke up, she was alone, completely alone. They had taken all that was hers with them when they left. She was healed; she didn't even want to know why they had bothered.
All she could do was cry. and wish they had killed her.
Oh God, she wished she was dead.
Why couldn't they have killed her as well?
She cried out.
---------------------------------
Ginny jerked awake, her heart racing. There were tears trailing down her cheeks. The nightmares were back. In a way, she had almost expected them. She got out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown, and headed for the bathroom.
She couldn't remember much.
She had been reported missing August 26. 2003.
December 14, she had been found close to her parent's house.
Some muggle couple out on an afternoon walk had gotten a nasty shock when they found a badly hurt woman in their path.
She was suffering from severe blood loss and shock, and although her injuries had already been healed, she was in very bad shape.
She spent nine days at St. Mungos, where the doctors tried to heal her, as well as retrieve her memories of that period. They managed to heal her injuries, but her whereabouts in that period remained a mystery. Molly Weasley insisted she have her only daughter home for the holidays, so she was discharged.
On Christmas Eve the nightmares started.
-------------------------------------
Ginny shed her clothing on the floor and climbed into the bathtub. She had spent so many nights in this fashion, trying to unlock the secrets her mind held. And for the last two years there had been nothing. Sure, there had been nightmares, but the normal kind. Like going to the store naked, or having to marry Severus Snape. She shuddered at the thought. Maybe this could be a good thing; maybe this time around she would be able to figure it all out. Maybe she could make it stop...maybe.
The nightmares were never the same, always something different. The doctors she talked to thought that maybe they were suppressed memories from her time in captivity. They were probably right. They had tried to make her remember. She had been obliviated, that was for certain, but even after they had lifted the obliviate she couldn't remember a thing.
They said it was a condition known from muggles.
Amnesia.
Something so bad that the mind tried to erase the memories, or something like that. She had even visited a muggle brain doctor, a psychologist, and he couldn't help her. No wonder, since she couldn't exactly tell him about the events surrounding her memory loss.
Sometimes the nightmares were things she could remember.
Battles.
Missions.
Things best left in her past.
---------------------
Draco was sitting in front of the fireplace, in some vain hope that the heat from the flames could warm him. It was silly, because he knew that his body temperature wasn't the problem. His memories were.
He was a coward.
Oh sure, Dumbledore would never blame him, nether would Snape. But he knew it. A coward.
When his parents died leaving him close to bankrupt, he had been mad, but he had also been grateful. Their death had been a relief in so many ways. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would never have been the poster parents, but they had never abused him. Well not more than was expected anyway. And in some twisted way they had both cared for him. Maybe that was why he always felt guilty thinking about them, the fact that he could never muster any real grief at the thought of their demise?
His parents' death had freed Draco from Voldemort's shadow. It had relived him of becoming a death eater, even if it was for less noble reasons than what Dumbledore had hoped for. Draco was a slytherin to the core. He had lived his life by his own set of rules and morals. The first one being; always look out for number one.
When the war started, the headmaster had asked him if he wanted to join most of the other students in the fighting, and he had refused. Draco had remained at Hogwarts until he had finished his NEWTs. Then he had packed his bags and slipped away as silently as possible. He could still remember his parting words to the headmaster.
"It's not my war, why should I fight it?"
------------------------------------
He took a final sip of his whisky before setting the glass aside. Why was all this suddenly bubbling to the surface? It had been years since he had thought about that time in his life.
He had moved on, hadn't he?
That girl. Gina.
She knew.
It was stupid; he kept telling himself there was no way she would know him. She was American for heavens sake, why would she bother looking into his past?
Still, there was something about that girl. Something familiar.
Chapter Three: Nightmares
-------------------------------
They were outside of the warehouse; they had received clearance from headquarters.
Ginny's breathing sped up.
This was it - the big one. The mission she had been waiting for.
According to intelligence, there was a death eater meeting in progress inside, it was estimated around twenty hostiles.
Harry gave her the thumbs up before breaking open the door. Ginny followed with her wand raised. She could hear the shouting already and sped up. The others would follow, and all the entrances were covered. She could feel the adrenalin pumping in her veins, and the fear. She knew it was normal, to be expected. This was her first real mission.
She took a deep calming breath and looked around her. They were all here - all the familiar faces she had come to trust and respect. The faces of her friends and co-workers. But still she couldn't shake the thought that something was amiss. She steadied her wand arm and patted the gun on her hip. She was ready, ready and armed.
Then it all went wrong.
They were screaming.
Footsteps behind her.
Harry's voice "It's a trap. Abort! Abort!"
Running fast, the others were running too.
Someone was in front of her, someone who wasn't running. Then she heard a cool voice, and it all turned black.
Falling.
Falling.
----------------------------------
She couldn't move, and her wrists were tied together by something thin; it was cutting into her skin.
Wire?
She tried to look around but there was nothing - only darkness, they had blindfolded her.
Who were they?
Was there more then one?
Someone was coming closer, no more than one, several footsteps. She felt the air shift around her - someone was moving close by.
Hands touching her, cool hands holding her down.
This was wrong, all wrong.
Then came the pain. She could feel the blade against her skin, its cool length against her stomach, for a second before the actual cut. Then she couldn't think anymore, there was only pain.
In the distance there was crying.
Was it her?
She didn't think so.
Maybe.
It was far away, far away.
When she woke up, she was alone, completely alone. They had taken all that was hers with them when they left. She was healed; she didn't even want to know why they had bothered.
All she could do was cry. and wish they had killed her.
Oh God, she wished she was dead.
Why couldn't they have killed her as well?
She cried out.
---------------------------------
Ginny jerked awake, her heart racing. There were tears trailing down her cheeks. The nightmares were back. In a way, she had almost expected them. She got out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown, and headed for the bathroom.
She couldn't remember much.
She had been reported missing August 26. 2003.
December 14, she had been found close to her parent's house.
Some muggle couple out on an afternoon walk had gotten a nasty shock when they found a badly hurt woman in their path.
She was suffering from severe blood loss and shock, and although her injuries had already been healed, she was in very bad shape.
She spent nine days at St. Mungos, where the doctors tried to heal her, as well as retrieve her memories of that period. They managed to heal her injuries, but her whereabouts in that period remained a mystery. Molly Weasley insisted she have her only daughter home for the holidays, so she was discharged.
On Christmas Eve the nightmares started.
-------------------------------------
Ginny shed her clothing on the floor and climbed into the bathtub. She had spent so many nights in this fashion, trying to unlock the secrets her mind held. And for the last two years there had been nothing. Sure, there had been nightmares, but the normal kind. Like going to the store naked, or having to marry Severus Snape. She shuddered at the thought. Maybe this could be a good thing; maybe this time around she would be able to figure it all out. Maybe she could make it stop...maybe.
The nightmares were never the same, always something different. The doctors she talked to thought that maybe they were suppressed memories from her time in captivity. They were probably right. They had tried to make her remember. She had been obliviated, that was for certain, but even after they had lifted the obliviate she couldn't remember a thing.
They said it was a condition known from muggles.
Amnesia.
Something so bad that the mind tried to erase the memories, or something like that. She had even visited a muggle brain doctor, a psychologist, and he couldn't help her. No wonder, since she couldn't exactly tell him about the events surrounding her memory loss.
Sometimes the nightmares were things she could remember.
Battles.
Missions.
Things best left in her past.
---------------------
Draco was sitting in front of the fireplace, in some vain hope that the heat from the flames could warm him. It was silly, because he knew that his body temperature wasn't the problem. His memories were.
He was a coward.
Oh sure, Dumbledore would never blame him, nether would Snape. But he knew it. A coward.
When his parents died leaving him close to bankrupt, he had been mad, but he had also been grateful. Their death had been a relief in so many ways. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would never have been the poster parents, but they had never abused him. Well not more than was expected anyway. And in some twisted way they had both cared for him. Maybe that was why he always felt guilty thinking about them, the fact that he could never muster any real grief at the thought of their demise?
His parents' death had freed Draco from Voldemort's shadow. It had relived him of becoming a death eater, even if it was for less noble reasons than what Dumbledore had hoped for. Draco was a slytherin to the core. He had lived his life by his own set of rules and morals. The first one being; always look out for number one.
When the war started, the headmaster had asked him if he wanted to join most of the other students in the fighting, and he had refused. Draco had remained at Hogwarts until he had finished his NEWTs. Then he had packed his bags and slipped away as silently as possible. He could still remember his parting words to the headmaster.
"It's not my war, why should I fight it?"
------------------------------------
He took a final sip of his whisky before setting the glass aside. Why was all this suddenly bubbling to the surface? It had been years since he had thought about that time in his life.
He had moved on, hadn't he?
That girl. Gina.
She knew.
It was stupid; he kept telling himself there was no way she would know him. She was American for heavens sake, why would she bother looking into his past?
Still, there was something about that girl. Something familiar.