Disclaimer: I. OWN. NOTHING. The only thing I own is the plot and a few characters.

A/N: HEY THERE! Blue here, feeling unusually happy and hyperactive.. Note to self, keep OFF the sugar O_O. Anyhoo, on with the story, ahhh yes I left it on a cliffy didn't it? HA HA HA! You don't get to find out what happens (Just yet anyway... lol) Also, That was my first ever sex scene last chapter so, yeah I'm sorry if it totally SUCKED, but now I have a BETA reader - yes I have a beta reader. (Melissa u StAr! ^_* ) I should be bringing more exciting twists and turns to the plot.

Dedications.. I want to dedicate this chapter to Melissa, my new Beta reader! You totally ROCK and I'm sure we'll make a super team in the future! This chapter is dedicated to you girl! ALSO I want to dedicate this chapter to Faxton, who couldn't wait for this chapter to hit our screens! Also to EVERYONE who reviewed and took the time to read Sweet November so far!

Warning! This chapter is very, very long. If you are tired or have school tomorrow don't bother trying, come back when it's earlier in the day..... but if you're up to it, then grab the popcorn, grab a blanket and read on!

Chapter 10: Deatheaters and Dreams

6th November 2006

*~*
What I needed now is some sweet revenge,

To get back all that I lost then,

I gave you all I had to give,

But I could never reach you....

The calling - Adrienne

Through out the manor it was eerily dark, even more so then usual. That distinguished, notorious long blonde hair flickered from white to gold in the dancing light of the fire, the ballet of flames performing sinister shadows on the dark wall. Lucius Malfoy felt at home in the dark out of the light, it was his comfort and security from the wearisome day - it was his home, his solitude. Here in the mysterious halls of Malfoy Manor, there was no light to revive him from his bitter life; his very being was smothered in darkness, especially now he was in control of the deatheaters, his dark servants.

The air around him had a static charge higher then electricity; he felt it - the power emanating from the house, from the corridor upstairs behind the safe tight door where the evil was kept. The power of authority, fear, supremacy and evil constricted his chest, ever tightening a cold withered grasp around his empathy. This magic was old, decayed; he remembered the last time this sacrament had been executed, he'd forgotten how it felt to be around after such an event.

It had been a day since the ritual had been preformed, and the extreme power remained in the house, casting a black shadow in the greyest corners. It lingered around the hallways, crept stealthily through the walls - this magic was deadly, no more then a spectre haunting the passages. A small smile flickered onto the older mans face, minute worn wrinkles appearing around his aged mouth from the strangely foreign act. Although he'd had his doubts at first, the ritual had been for the best, after all.......... the result so far had been most pleasing.

Suddenly Lucius felt a great surge of power with himself.... He'd arrived, Lucius had felt him - the magic was coursing through his body emanating great spells of power to be felt by all, such magic was intoxicating and domineering: it was daunting to the senses.

Lucius evened his stormy grey eyes into feline slits, feeling immensely pleased by what stood behind him, indeed he would prove to be a most valuable weapon.

"Good evening Blaise." He hissed in almost a whisper, his voice commanding yet powerful with each breath. The Malfoy turned from the fire to face the younger man fully, taking in the confident posture and poise of the powerful man stood before him.

Lucius looked into the golden eyes of the younger Zabini . . . those deep sunken eyes that no longer reflected the humane, obliging soul within. The sinister purple shadows beneath them were darker then the forbidden night, as though he had not slept for days. His mouth was curved upwards into a menacing sneer, his full red lips etched into thin lines in what Lucius could only imagine as hatred and vindictiveness. Blaise's ebony brown hair was slicked back out of his face, with only a few sexy tendrils flowing over his golden eyes, Lucius knew who he reminded him of.

His long, black cloak seemed to billow around him slightly as though caught in a light breeze. The silky black fabric floated around him gently, hiding his large powerful arms and muscular chest that in a fight was no match for even the more competent deatheater. Blaise Zabini was burly, menacing - powerful; he was no longer bound to weakness.

Blaise evened his eyes carefully, surveying the older man with extreme loathing and impassiveness. "Good evening Lucius." Came the Zabini's deep, dangerous voice that he himself knew would strike fear into the weak minded and hearted. Blaise, like many of the others, knew that now he was very dangerous, now he could control it.....
Lucius smirked pompously at Blaise's attitude and waved a polite hand at the tall black armchairs sat gloomily by the fire. "Please, sit down Blaise. We have much to discuss."

The Zabini pursed his lips in extreme dislike; he knew Lucius would be lenient and extra careful in his ways when he was around him; he didn't want any 'accidents'.

"No Lucius, I prefer to stand." Blaise spat coldly. "Now what did you want to tell me? I must return to my mission, Ginny Weasley is slipping further and further from our grasp." He added just as bitterly, but the older man couldn't help noticing the subtle gentleness in his voice and the slight sparkle in his eyes at the mention of the redhead.

Malfoy and Zabini stood there for a while, surveying each other through malicious gold and silver eyes, a battle between power and authority, the master and the servant being played most deliciously. Lucius' eyes flickered subordinately before he spoke again.

"Fine. We go straight to business." He cleared his throat quietly. "It has been three days since Virginia Weasley disappeared. Nobody has heard anything about her whereabouts, it seems as though she has just vanished off the face of the earth as it were. Even though I have some of my most trusted servants searching for her as we speak, I do not have the best... You Blaise, are the best deatheater I now have, you are strong witted and have so far, never failed to bring your subject to me."

Lucius swallowed, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Blaise, you must find Virginia within the next three weeks or our lord will be banished to the spirit realm far from this world, he'll be gone forever. Our way of life - the life and coven of deatheaters will be thrown into disarray; we will be persecuted and sent to Azkaban where we will be lost within ourselves until we die." These last few words seemed to tumble from him in a great rush, as though the Malfoy needed to voice this before his composure faltered.

"On my last visit to the dark lord, he explained his situation to me, we must provide a body for him to inhabit within three weeks or the painting will expel him into the world and with out a willing body to possess, he will be gone from this earth."

Blaise smiled lazily at this last comment, 'he' wouldn't mind if the dark lord were gone that way he'd have his soul back - but did he want it back? Part of his self needed the darkness and corruption that his life now provided, but the minuscule almost banished part of him wanted it back, so he could fall in love instead of lust with the beautiful redhead all over again. That was all Blaise felt for her now; pure, instinctive lust that could not be tamed; he needed - wanted her more then anything in the world and he would have her."

"Take your cousin and four others to the village of Hogesmade. At Hogesmade, you will enquire the villagers to where her location might be. As we no longer have the element of surprise, be very careful when you are close to her, we don't want a repeat of last time, now do we?" he added with a slight sneer.

Blaise scowled sinfully at the Malfoy; He was pushing his luck, how dare he make a fool of him to his face. He felt the powerful energy building up inside him, now that his powers had been transferred to him fully; he could have a little bit of fun with the blonde git.

Lucius' smirk faltered as he stared into Blaise's eyes, something with the blondes mind was beginning to throb uncomfortably as though his brain was swelling up. Then unexpectedly, white-hot searing pain shot through his head, burning his mind and bubbling his pale skin. Lucius Malfoy cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor where the torture grew even more intense. It was as though his head was imploding slowly as the crimson blood rushing to his brain past his ears deafened his cries of pain. Then he saw it; he saw her... Amazing golden locks that looked silky soft to touch, and those deep- sea blue eyes full of hurt and disappointment - disappointment for him. She was reaching out to the blonde man, reaching for her heartless husband.

"How could you Lucius....... How could you...."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Blaise smirked evilly as he saw his 'strong witted' leader writhe and cry as the image in his mind haunted him. His skin was no longer deathly pale. Lucius' face was mottled and purple from the pain he was enduring - perhaps he'd better stop. Slowly and surely, the pain contorting the blonde stopped, enabling him to recover from the ordeal. The Malfoy had never before experienced such pain as that, indeed he'd experienced Crucio about ten times on separate occasions, but never before had the pain been so concentrated and crushing to his body. Despite the shooting pain in his head, neck and eyes Lucius slowly stood up and managed to face Blaise, a defiant look present on his blotched face.

Lucius stared emotionlessly at him for a few moments, unable to believe what Blaise, his best friends son, had just done to him. Lucius knew that he was capable of such power, but was he that cold- hearted. Alistair never once used his power on him - perhaps today's youth were the rebellious type, Merlin that was true!

"Bl -"

"I will go to Hogesmade at once. Ginny Weasley will be ours......And mine. I won't fail you Lucius, the dark lord is as good as alive."

With that Blaise apparated before the Malfoy, he didn't need a lecture or reprimand from that blonde prick; he didn't understand what he was feeling inside, or how this immense power was more astonishing, yet forbidden then anything Lucius could ever comprehend.

He appeared before his fireplace, still charged with magic from the big stunt he'd just pulled. His father was right; these powers were a curse..... As well as a gift..... Blaise rubbed his face awkwardly and gazed around the room for something to help expel his adrenaline. Nothing in the room looked satisfactory for such a task, his bed was too hard, as was his wardrobe - then the answer popped right into his head. He smirked evilly at his own brilliance and walked into the middle of the room.

"Oh Poppet......." He called into the thin air, a false calmness in his voice. A second later, Poppet the house elf popped on the rug before him, her wide blue eyes shining innocently.

"Yes Master Blaise, you called P -"

But the poor creature didn't get a chance to finish. Blaise bought his leg back as far as it could go and kicked her right in the stomach, sending a blur of brown and red flying across the room into the wall opposite him, a deafening crunch sounded throughout the room as her small back slammed into the dark wood panel.

Blaise sighed contently, liberated as the creature crumpled to the floor in a nasty heap -that was much better. A small whimper sounded as the elf placed a steadying fragile hand on the marble floor. The other hand joined its other shortly on the floor and Poppet pushed herself uncertainly up off the floor, her whole body shaking in terror and astonishment. She cowered against the wall, her back hunched in pain.

Blaise gazed coolly at the creature as her big blue eyes met his evil golden ones, he watched emotionlessly as those blue eyes belonging to the most faithful creature he'd ever had welled up as tears of hurt formed within them.

Poppet's lip began to tremble violently as she continued to stare innocently into his impassive face. Lip shaking, she managed to speak.

"Why..... Why Master Blaise sir...... Poppet has never displeased you in anyway sir.... why do you kick Poppet so, when she has done nothing to her masters..... Why is Poppet a bad elf..."

Blaise waited for it to come, the pang of guilt that usually hit his chest when he did something terrible. However, nothing came - no remorse, no guilt. Instead..... He felt a rush - for some inconceivable reason it felt good....It felt good to take your troubles out on something else - someone else. It was especially thrilling if that something else was defenceless, innocent, and unable to fight back.

Scowling menacingly at the injured elf, Blaise suddenly felt the smallest pang of guilt ache his heart... so he did have a heart after all. Sneering disgustedly at himself, he whipped around and began to grab objects and possessions from the draws and desks, snatching his B.B (Bottomless Bag) from the bed he stuffed them inside.

Yes, so he did have a heart after all.....

*One day ago.....*

It was cold and rainy, the harsh call of winter making itself heard even more so now. The dark study he was currently sitting in was warm and pleasing compared to the torrid storm raging out side, but this was the only warmth he could have, as there was no warmth within 'these' particular walls.

Alistair had come over to Malfoy Mansion about two hours ago and they had turned out to be the most boring two hours of his life. Lucius just sat there in his high backed chair, muttering darkly to his brandy glass about the woes of life. The words 'doesn't trust anything I do' and 'youngsters today' were indistinguishable amongst the incessant mumbling.

Alistair passed this time by thinking about his son's last owl.... it couldn't be true could it? I mean a Weasley and a Zabini? That was unheard of! What did Blaise see in her anyway, to Alistair Ginny was a skinny impure redhead that could charm men's minds, I mean, why else would Blaise want her? He couldn't believe that Blaise Zabini, his youngest son, was in love with Ginny Weasley.

However, whilst the Zabini was pondering this, Lucius finally awoke his brooding stupor and addressed him in a difficult, almost painful tone.

"Alistair.... I'll be back in a moment, the dark lord wants to see me, make yourself at home - but DON'T touch my liquor cabinet!" And with that, Lucius stormed out the room, his long black robes billowing after him as he went.

So, Alistair had made himself marginally comfortable in the high backed chair and lit a fire as well as a few candles to warm the room up. He was just starting to investigate the stationary picture above the fireplace when he felt it... Creeping up through his spine.... blocking out his thoughts..... Taking him to another place in time ...... His vision swirling into profound darkness...... The sight...

~#~

He could hear a sniffing. It was a woman sniffing loudly as though in pain, then came a sob, poignant and frightened..... The blackness swirled in front of him and a field appeared out of the dark, a field full of willow trees and tall oaks, the birds were singing shrilly awakening his senses to the scenery. He was there in the field; the long grass around him was whipping his legs gently, caressing him. The country air was fresh in his lungs with the smell of sweet dewy grass alerting him to his location. Alistair watched as the trees shook too slowly for normal time to pass - as in all his visions....... Time had slowed down.

"Blaise please?......." Echoed a voice.... "Blaise Please......"

Alistair slowly turned around, his sparkling eyes taking in the other features of the landscape. From what he could see, a dark forest that looked strangely familiar surrounded the field, as did a mountainous skyline. As his head turned towards the location of the cry, he noticed a small lake surrounded by tall reeds stretching out towards a mountainside and stood beside it, a solitary willow.

Standing in front of the lake were two figures, one he recognised instantly as his youngest son, and the other had brilliant red hair cascading down her back - this, he realised, was Virginia Weasley. He took five slow steps towards them, watching what was happening between the young people.

As he finally approached them, he saw that Blaise was stroking her face in what seemed an affectionate way..... However, something on his sharp face looked cold - bitter. Alistair looked across to Virginia; she had a perturbed, almost petrified look on her face as though alarmed by Blaise's tender action. Unexpectedly, Blaise leant slowly forwards and crushed a rushed kiss on her lips, making his father gasp in disbelief at what he was being showed.

Ginny gasped loudly and pushed promptly against his bulky chest in a feeble attempt to get away from the embrace..... To Alistair, something about the whole situation didn't seem right. Why wasn't Ginny enjoying the kiss she was receiving? She should be privileged she was getting one at all from a Zabini. Alistair watched his son's body language, it looked controlling and strong - too strong it seemed for the lady wriggling wildly in his arms. Something was definitely wrong....

Abruptly, Blaise placed a foot forwards between her legs then another, backing Ginny slowly into the tree. Alistair noted that her face was pale in appearance.... Then it hit him.... what was happening, what his harmless son was doing to this girl....... This Weasley. He found himself welling up in resentment and loathing as he watched his youngest begin to slowly loosen the buttons on her cloak somewhat impatiently, then start to work the blouse buttons. Alistair scowled angrily as he watched his son resort to such a desperate action.....

Droplets of blood appeared suddenly around Blaise's mouth as Ginny bit into him, causing him to pull back from her rose bud lips. The amazing gold eyes narrowed irritably as he rubbed the blood between his fingers in distaste. All of a sudden, a tough hand went flying to the redhead's mouth, silencing the scream that undoubtedly was about to escape her lips.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh....." Blaise whispered dauntingly, slowly beginning to work the buttons again.

Alistair clenched his fists hard as he watched the scene, one hand tightly gripping his wand, begging to curse his son. How could the boy do this to him? Even worse - to Voldemort? His gold eyes became tiny darkened slits. Anger coursed vigorously through his body, making it shake roughly. A dark shade fell over his face. It was a shade of disgrace and humility. Blaise had shamed the family and himself for fraternizing in such filth as rape. He'd pay for such a malfeasance.....

Then as though someone had pulled out a big plug in his mind, the picture began to swirl around into darkness once more, taking Alistair along with him. The green field and shimmering lake slowly vanished leaving him in complete darkness, the scene he'd just witnessed still fresh in his mind.

Subsequently, as though someone had suddenly switched on the lights, his sight returned to him Lucius' study, the dark wooden walls and paintings coming back into view. Something else was coming into view too, a tall blonde man towering above his lazy pose in the chair.

Alistair blinked Lucius into focus, recognising the look on his face straight away. His grey eyes were narrowed in a feline prowess, calculating and questioning him silently. Malfoy knew what head just happened to him, Alistair frequently used to have these visions in Hogwarts, but less so when becoming a deatheater. Zabini rose from the chair, his head pounding with the information it'd just absorbed as well as the pain the vision had caused him. Yes that boy would pay.

#~#

Alistair and Lucius watched the middle of the room intently as though watching the TV, looks of pure fury on their faces. Any second now...... any second - Lucius reached carefully inside his robe and fingered his wand; no doubt he'd need it.

Suddenly a loud pop sounded throughout the room, and Blaise Zabini stood on the spot the older men had been surveying attentively. Alistair rose silently from the chair to meet his son and crossed his arms beneath his sleeves, now closely resembling a malevolent looking preacher, minus the white collar. His face was etched with a sharp rage that he rarely ever showed. Unlike his friend, Alistair rarely got angry, for something terrible would happen if he ever did lose his cool . . .

Blaise gave a small smile to his father upon noticing him, however seeing the blonde man sitting beside him - a look of unambiguous fury on blondie's face - it soon faded to a insolent sneer. Blaise scowled enigmatically at the appearance given and looked questioningly back at his father, but noticed he wore the same expression of anger on his generally placid face. A small pang of alarm struck Blaise's chest. His father rarely got livid, but something about the cold hatred emanating from the older man told him that he, Blaise, was in the wrong.

"Father what-?"

"Why did you do it Blaise?" Alistair asked coldly, cutting promptly across his son. Blaise flinched slightly at his father's harsh tone, but soon overlooked it. What did he mean anyway. What had he done now? Alternatively, it may be what he hadn't done. The look in his father's embittered eyes was starting to panic him now, never before had this look been cast upon him by the older man.

"What - What do you mean dad?" Blaise stuttered, whilst flashing his eyes enquiringly.

This innocent response seemed to infuriate the Zabini more. Alistair sneered coldly and evened his eyes into a death glare that'd make the devil himself beam with pride. A small smirk played upon his lips as the look was having the effect he'd hoped for; Blaise was shrinking into nothing beneath his sinful, prevailing gaze.

"Why did you force yourself on the Weasley girl Blaise?" he whispered in a deadly hiss, flashing his eyes so frighteningly that the younger Zabini cowered slightly. "Why?"

Behind Alistair, Lucius rose silently from the chair he was sitting in and bought out his wand threateningly to warn Blaise he was ready for anything. Blaise's frightened gold eyes flashed to the mahogany wand, then to Lucius' eyes, noting the self-satisfaction and mirth shining within them.

He was trapped, nowhere to go. How did Alistair know about that anyway? Had he been watching him furtively from the forest or from under an invisibility cloak? His heart rate began to climb oh so steadily as his fathers look intensified even more so if it was possible.

What should he do now? Blaise couldn't lie to his father, Alistair knew when he was lying or telling the truth...... But then, his father always knew if he'd done something wrong too.... Always. If he tried to run, his father would Crucio him instantly there was no doubt there, and something about the look on Lucius' face told him that if he reached for his wand then he would probably Aveda Kadarva him.

Blaise searched wildly for something to say, anything to break the prickly silence that was only proving his guilt further.

"ANSWER ME BLAISE! WHY DID YOU TRY TO RAPE VIRGINIA WEASLEY WHEN THE DARK LORD HAS GRANTED YOU THE PRIVILEGE OF FINDING HER ESPECIALLY! He trusted you to complete your mission and YOU THREW IT BACK IN HIS FACE! ALL BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPID INFATUATION WITH HER! Love is a petty weakness Blaise AND YOU HAVE BEEN BLINDED BY IT YOU STUPID BOY! TELL ME, WHY YOU DID IT BLAISE, NOW!" Alistair thundered, his gold eyes blazing with unseen fire. He felt the power and fire travelling up his body to his head where it could be expelled to his chosen victim. His eyes began to burn as he fought to close them so he couldn't see his son, he may be pissed off at him but he didn't want him dead. Instead, he took a very deep breath and turned to the fireplace.

Lucius backed away several feet as he watched his friends head shake violently Upon facing the hearth, never before had he seen Alistair so angry, and with his son of all people. The fury emanating from his trembling body was overwhelming; this was magic at its deepest and darkest. This magic was old and powerful, so much so that it commanded respect, even from its beholder.

Across from the now fuming Zabini, Blaise stood there, poker straight, trembling uncontrollably as he watched his father shake and contort in vehemence. Then, as though someone had pressed fast forward on the remote control that was his life, Blaise knew no more as the amazing explosion from the fireplace sent him flying into the wall behind him. He heard a deafening crunch much like that of his house elf's, Poppet and found himself slowly slumping to the floor in a deep grimace, before dissolving into the darkness.

#~#

"Wake up ...Wake up Blaise..." Echoed a voice somewhere off in the distance, was it in the distance? It seemed so close. He couldn't see anything as he was still trapped in the darkness, unable to comprehend where he was. Suddenly Blaise heard the voice again, echoing even louder this time.

"Blaise. Wake up Blaise Zabini." Hissed a cold, demanding voice that made the hairs on the back of Blaise's neck quiver with fear and dread - that voice could only belong to one person. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids as well as his brain were heavy and tired, he just wanted to fade into the darkness again until his head felt light and clear again.

"So he will not wake to Lord Voldemort? I thought your son had more manners Alistair, but if he wishes to be insolent...... CRUCIO!"

Blaise heard the deadly words echo in his head loudly before the curse hit him. White-hot pain burnt his back and head, making him feel even weaker under the torture. His eyes flew open in shock and alarm as the curse racked his body. He tried to get his bearings, see what was happening, but all he could see was the foreboding darkness within the cold room. Blaise cried out in pain as his spine felt brittle and crunchy under his writhing and squirming, what had they done to him?

Finally the pain stopped, leaving his body limp and listless. He once again became aware of how heavy his head was and let it drop forwards, expecting to feel the cold marble floor but it flopped against his chest; his back remaining tight against its imprisonment. Squinting an eye open gingerly, Blaise began to register where he was and who was there with him. He could make out fuzzy outlines of people standing there watching him, but his head was so fuzzy and tired that it took him a while to get his bearings.

"Glad to see you're finally conscious boy." Hissed the cruel voice again, a note of cold menace present within it. Blaise felt his toes curl involuntarily; knowing what awaited him when he looked upwards. Holding his breath, Blaise raised his eyes to those of his master, lord Voldemort, a fleeting panic invading his mind.

Standing next to the dark marble canvas were Lucius and Alistair; the silver eyed blonde? Had a very ostentatious look on his face whilst his fathers held a disappointed, almost hurt appearance. Behind the silver and golden-eyed men were around ten deatheaters. Each of the men were dressed in silky black cloaks and wore the white mask of the deatheaters upon their faces that in the dimly lit room, seemed to loom ominously over him.

Voldemorts long dark wand was twirling absently through his fingers as he observed the ebony haired man, an immoral and authoritative look on his face. His snake like nostrils flared menacingly as he gazed into his eyes, the ruby red orbs shining with unmistakable anger. Had his father told him about Ginny? He wouldn't give his own son to Voldemort would he........

A nasty sneer slowly started to appear upon his gaunt face as though reading his mind. "Weak. That, Blaise Zabini, is what you are....... A weak-minded fool who fell in love at the tender age of sixteen, how pathetic, I thought the Zabini's were powerful sorcerers, not feeble hearted fools . . . Well Blaise, I have no use for futility and flaw, I need servants who are resilient, potent and most importantly 'loyal'......."

He added a certain ominous emphasis to this last word, answering Blaise's question. So he did know, his own father had ratted him out to Voldemort - handed him to the devil himself. What would become of him know? He had no use for futility and flaw...... Did that mean he was going to kill him? He didn't get to ponder this for long as Voldemorts cold; intimidating voice was washing over his thoughts.

"In light of your recent actions Blaise, I feel I need to take action to help both you and I - to help us together for the better..... Prepare the candle!"

Two of the stationary deatheaters stepped forwards from the shadows, one carrying a three legged wooden stool and the other holding a long black candle with gold wick. Blaise frowned curiously at them, what were they for? Was this some kind of séance?

The deatheater with the stool placed it before the canvas, between Blaise and Voldemort and the other placed the candle carefully upon it, and slowly backing away into the shadows once more.

"I recall a conversation you and I had moments before your injudicious exploit on Miss Weasley, that you would be willing to give something to me in return for her...... Do you remember what that was Blaise?"

The Zabini felt his heart rate rise unhealthy as the words sunk in, he remembered only to well what he'd promised to give in exchange for the sweet temptress. He swallowed uncomfortably wanting to be anywhere but here right now, this was the last thing he'd see or remember before falling deeply into sin.

"Yes- Yes my Lord, I do. It...... It was my soul." He whispered inaudibly, but loud enough for the dark lord to hear. A small gleeful smile crept onto Voldemorts snake like face at the response.

"That's right Blaise, your - very - soul. And promises are there to be kept. Lord Voldemort, like his most honourable servants, keeps his promises......"

"But my -"

"Silence. I will take what is rightfully mine Blaise. I will take all your happiest moments away from you, I will banish you from the light in which your empathy presides, and I will take from you the love you hold close to your heart for Ginny Weasley. The one woman you can never have......"

Voldemort pointed his wand lazily at the candle and suddenly it began to glisten as though made of black water, small ripples were floating precariously around the sides, making it shimmer and shine brilliantly. Then the beam going to the candle from Voldemorts wand began to grow thinner and darker, he closed his ruby eyes from view and began to drawl in a brilliant deep voice.

"Hear my call dark sorceress of life...... hear my call to thee. Take from this mortal his very soul..... Tear it from his empathy.... rip it from his being.... Destroy the love within his heart.... and eliminate the weakness within him..... Hear me the evil mistress of darkness....... Hear the call from your most loyal follower..... place his spirit within this candle, the candle to the spirit realm...... There he shall remain without a body.... a mind ...... or heart away from the ones he loves....... Oh hear me Hecate, the sorceress of iniquity???. Take my offering to you...... Poison his mind with your dark magic..... Cleanse his being with your powerful essence...... make him as a vessel of evil and nothing more???. Hear me my dark sorceress of life....."

Blaise sat there paralysed as he listened to Voldemort preaching terrifyingly to the candle, which had now began to swirl so violently it looked like a small tornado. He glanced sorrowfully up into his fathers face, hoping to find a solace there - hoping he would save him, protect him like he'd always done. Alistair sighed profoundly and closed his golden eyes from view, his face blanching slightly in fear and compunction.

Then it happened....... The candle slowly expelled a copious silvery- black mist from the wick, which contorted into a thin beam of vapour and snaked its way towards Blaise. He looked helplessly from the black smoke to his father who still had his eyes firmly shut. It felt as though his stomach had suddenly dropped out, leaving him empty and miserable. No one was going to save him now...... there was no one.......

The youngest Zabini closed his eyes as the smoke came into contact with his soft skin. Instead of an excruciating pain, a gentle prickling began to tickle his skin all over; it seemed too humane for such a situation. As it elated his skin, a feeling of great wretchedness and anguish began to envelope him, making his body feel cold and vacant.

Unexpectedly the mist stopped tickling him and began to voyage over his torso in one coarse movement. Blaise dared a glimpse and saw a brilliant gold beam connecting him and the candlewick. The ray moved further up his chest until it stopped dead on his heart. For a moment the beam lingered over his heart, illuminating the dark room brilliantly for a few moments. Everybody present in the room watched curiously as it turned black like the candle and began to sink into Blaise's heart.

Excruciating pain racked Blaise's body, making him cry out in pain. "Father please! Father...... Please......" he cried horrifically as the evil constricted his soul, slowly and surely tearing it from him. "Father......." he called again, his eyes boggling at he older mans. Alistair bowed his head sadly as the cries from his son echoed within his head. What had he done?

Blaise took a deep staggering breath as the candle finished his work, the evil finally leaving his body. He felt his eyes well up with tears and begin to close. Now he would ascend into darkness, down into the murky depths of impurity. He would no longer feel the sweet love he felt before, but instead he would feel unadulterated lust. No longer would his heart sing with joy at the image of her sweet face in his mind, instead his heart would laugh with mirth at such a kind act.

Now, he was impure. Now he was tainted by evil. Now, he was an eagle with broken wings.

*Present*

"Angelus, meet me out side Zonko's wizarding shop in five minutes. We have business to attend to. Dress in formal robes cousin as we have some reconnaissance work to be done." Drawled Blaise coldly to the other golden-eyed man staring nervously at him through the fireplace, the confrontation with Lucius was still fresh in his mind.

Angelus nodded promptly to his cousin, a mixture of alarm and apprehension lingering around his eyes, which too were sunken in from sleep deprivation. Upon hearing about Blaises sudden 'transformation', Angelus had stayed up all night drinking and grieving for his cousin. They had always, 'always' been very close - even since they were about two years old, they would figure out the best way to cause trouble together and had become inseparable since.

Blaise scowled coldly at his cousin, wondering why he was staring so blankly at him. "Well what is it? Don't just stand there gawking at me Angelus, go and get ready! And while you're at it, summon Whitehouse, Smith, Jones and Rogers for me, they too will be useful for this mission." With a loud pop his head disappeared from the fire.

The golden eyed man stomped over to his shattered mirror and examined him self with immense superiority. The rest of the furniture around the usually immaculate room was also broken or smashed. It seemed that his cruelty to the house elf hadn't satisfied his dark needs and he needed further release to be completely satisfied.

Pleased with his appearance, he apparated to Hogesmade, and landed with a loud pop next to a dustbin in the alleyway just outside the 3 Broomsticks. The wind was billowing loudly in the open world beyond making the odd piece of litter fly up into the cold updrafts.

Pulling his dark navy winter cloak closer to him, Blaise walked or more like stormed out into the busy street, knocking aside or creating a path through the other shoppers and Hogwarts students. One particularly small Hufflepuff fifth year yelped in pain as Blaise sent her flying, her friends cried out in mild indignation as he carried on walking by without an apology.

A sexy smirk flew abruptly to his face as two pretty looking seventh years whispered excitedly behind their hands as he approached them. The taller of the two with long blonde hair and deep blue eyes gave a sexy pout as he passed them, then blushing wildly as his golden eyes locked briefly with hers. Blaise grinned knowingly as he heard their schoolgirl giggles and sighs as he stalked off towards the tall group of men waiting outside Zonko's.

"A little old to be buying cockroach clusters aren't we?" Blaise drawled lazily upon reaching them. Whitehouse, Smith, Jones and Rogers all laughed trollishly, but the amused grins didn't meet their eyes - they deceived them slightly, looking cold and maybe scared. Angelus merely smiled lopsidedly at his cousin's wit, he promised himself he wouldn't rip his foolish relatives head off as soon as he saw him - maybe he'd leave that to later.
"Come on, we're going to the 3 Broomsticks first, I need to brief you small-minded people before we start." Blaise drawled, storming confidently off towards the tavern and knocking an elderly witch with her shopping over. The five men exchanged sceptical and nervous glances before reluctantly following him.
*
"So Blaise, what exactly are we doing here?" Jones quizzed carefully, scanning the pub with his bluish green eyes.

The pub was only half full, in the corner a couple of middle aged witches were eyeing their group hopefully, hungry looks in their eyes. Near the witches table there was a group of old wizards playing poker with exploding snap cards. This wasn't working out too well, as every time someone placed a new card on the deck it would explode loudly singeing their eyebrows.

"Wait a minute Jones; I want a drink before I explain anything." Answered Blaise in a highly superior tone; he wasn't going to be ordered about by nobody, especially now he was somebody - somebody powerful at that. He watched through even eyes as Madame Rosemerta approached their table and placed each unique drink before its owner. The blonde smiled warmly after a minute when she realised the Zabini was watching her.

"How are you today Blaise?" she enquired cordially, placing a foaming Butterbeer before him.

"Fine Rosemerta, fine. May I ask you something my dear?" he whispered sultrily, reaching for her hand. He missed, however, when she turned towards the door, apparently watching an older looking man sit down jadedly at the bar.

"I'm sorry but I've got customers, perhaps later." She said absently, still staring anxiously at the gentleman at the bar. Blaise frowned faintly at the older woman and followed her trail of sight to the chap.

He looked vaguely familiar somehow . . . But he couldn't place a finger on whom he was. Madam Rosemerta left their table and walked quickly around the back of the bar, placing a gentle hand on the silver haired mans arm. He glanced upwards and gave her a small smile, but he looked troubled and fatigued as though under a great amount of pressure.

"Are you okay Michael? You look as though you've seen better days." The benevolent landlady enquired, reaching under the counter and bringing out a bottle of Ogden's fire whiskey as well as a shot glass. She poured out a small amount and passed it to Michael, who took it gratefully.

"Ta Rosemerta, just what I needed." He knocked the drink back instantly and placed it lazily on the counter, rubbing his face wearily with his ripened hands. Rosemerta surveyed him through concerned eyes, before pouring out another glass. Michael Crossman had been a regular customer and family friend for years, and never before had she seen the older man so worn out and drained. Something was obliviously troubling him greatly if he was in such an atypical state.

Rosemerta leaned forward vigilantly and spoke in almost a whisper to the greying man. "Michael, what's the matter, you know you can tell me. Maybe - maybe I can help you?" she asked optimistically, placing a tender hand on his own. Michael glanced despairingly up into her face and considered her for a moment. After a moments decision, he seemed to have made his mind up, she wouldn't tell anybody, he could trust her. "Very well Rose - but not here, let's take a seat - perhaps in the corner out the way."

Michael slipped promptly off the barstool and made his way over to the table in the corner next to the group of deatheaters. Blaise watched interestedly as the older man and Rosemerta hurried over to the corner and sat close together so as not to be heard. He raised his eyebrows purposely to the other five men, indicating that they should keep quiet so they could listen to the couple. The ebony haired men, who were closer to the secretive pair, craned their necks outwards ever so slightly to hear what was being said.

Michael glanced cautiously around him and sighed unenthusiastically before he began in a muted tone. "Well Rose - I - really don't know where to start . . . Now then, the first thing I should probably ask you is, do you know the ministers daughter? Virginia Weasley?"

Rosemerta nodded gradually, a look of dreadfulness on her face. "Yes Michael I do, she comes in here everyday for a Butterbeer, sweetest girl in the world - but what about her Mike."

Michael cleared his throat uncertainly; this was going to be that little bit harder now Rosemerta knew all about her. "Erm . . . Well," there was no point beating around the bush, he might as well get to the point, as severe as the point was. "Two days ago we thought she'd been kidnapped. It all started when Harry Potter-"

So Michael told the landlady everything about Harry and his finding Ginny's house a wreck. Rosemerta leaned in closer at every breath the older man took, not wanting to miss any detail he was revealing. After the Harry's apparent turn of events, the old judge told her all about the trial and the exploding deatheaters.

"-It was ghastly Rose, it really was. Blood spilling out of every orifice, deep red - oh I don't want to think about it. Don't make me go on Rose." He said, his voice wavering slightly in fear.

"But Michael, where's Ginny now. You -"

"Don't worry Rose, Ginny's safe actually. Day before last Arthur got an owl at home you see, it was a letter from Ginny saying that she was staying at this guy called - Leo Walker wasn't it? But-"

"Oh yes Leo, I met him you know, on the Saturday. He and Ginny came into the pub about lunchtime. He-" the landlady cut in cheerfully, smiling at the memory.

"Really? How did he seem Rosemerta, he wasn't a suspicious customer was he?" Michael enquired with anticipation, his attention now entirely on the barmaid.

Blaise too leaned in a tad closer, eager to see where the rest of the story was leading. He was greatly surprised when the judge had explained how Harry had found the house with two deatheaters lying insentient in the front room, and how his fellow deatheaters had been captured, and died through self-destruction. Blaise shuddered at this point in the story, he remembered all to well Lucius' explanation of the curse called Damnosus Caesum. This curse was placed upon all deatheaters so that if they were ever captured, they would died an instant - painful death two hours after detainment.

And who was this Leo guy? He hadn't heard the name before - then it struck him - that must be the guy Ginny was linking arms with when he was watching her in the street. He could vaguely remember his features - tall with brown hair and a colourful cloak. But - if he was staying with Ginny, then why didn't he see him at the house? Why hadn't he attempted to stop them from taking her? Why indeed . . . something didn't quite add up.

"I don't know about suspicious, he seemed - diverse, but not suspicious in anyway. Really he was quite courteous to me, I didn't really think he was too bad. He and Ginny went and sat in the corner, talking in hushed tones. Oh, then Harry and Pansy came in for a drink, I tell you Mike, that young man is getting more handsome everyday - he's just the spit of his dad god rest his soul." She said gently, a faraway look on her benign face.

"How did Potter seem around Leo? Did they talk at all?" Michael prompted eagerly.

"Well, I was serving other customers at the time, but I did notice something funny. Leo, well, Leo ordered a drink - seems normal enough right? But when I glanced over at their table, there were only three mugs of Butterbeer on the table and the fourth had vanished. Maybe I'm just blowing it out of proportion; perhaps Melody took his empty drink away. Who knows? But back to your question, I think there might have been some uneasiness within the group. Leo kept flashing his eyes rather dangerously to Harry and away again, I can definitely confirm that he didn't think much of Mr Potter - I don't think Harry liked him that much either though, he seemed mildly mistrustful after Leo and Ginny left."

Michael frowned bemusedly at the landlady; it didn't make sense. He'd had strict orders to find Ginny and Leo soon after her letter, but so far there'd been no sign of them anywhere. He'd asked around everywhere he could think about Leo Walker, but it seemed that nobody had heard of him. He also found it suspicious that Harry hadn't mentioned him at all, not once.

"I don't know Rose, this doesn't make any sense." All of a sudden another idea hit him, Ginny's sister in law, Hermione Weasley had met with Ginny in the morning before she and Leo went away. "Rose, on the Sunday morning, did Ginny meet up with her sister in law, Hermione Weasley?"

Blaise scowled guardedly at the ceiling at this new piece of information. It had been no secret to anyone that Hermione Granger - Head girl and general know it all - had married Ginny's older brother Ron in the summer after Hogwarts, of course she'd become Ginny's sister-in-law.

Rosemerta frowned and then nodded fervently at Michael upon realisation. "Yes Mike she did. Come to think of it, she seemed rather upset when she came into the bar. I'd only just opened and Ginny came in, teary eyed and morose. When I asked her where Leo was she muttered something about him being unwell. Anyway, she asked me if she could borrow the Floo powder because she wanted to talk to Hermione now rather then later."

Michael nodded slowly as she talked, okay possibly this could assist him. "Go on Rose."

"Yes, anyway. I went in the kitchen 'cus the eggs were burning and after I'd barely saved the pub from burning down, I heard their voices rise slightly. Ginny sounded really angry and said something about 'He's not all that bad.' Then I heard Hermione sniff disbelievingly and say loudly sometime later, 'is nothing more then a killer and a liar.' I couldn't believe it, I was so sure I'd just heard her wrong - really I thought they were talking about Leo. I don't know Michael, something odds definitely going on."

Blaise smirked widely and stood up, leaving three Galleons on the table. It all made sense to him now, everything. One of the perks of being Draco Malfoys friend was knowing what toys he had to play with, and one major toy he had was the impostors cloak. It all made perfectly 'brilliant' sense!

Draco had been using the impostors cloak to move freely around the village under a false name, in this case, Leo Walker. He couldn't understand why he didn't get it sooner! That was why nobody knew where he, Leo, lived; he wasn't even real. The reason why Leo and Harry disliked each other, it seemed that even after Hogwarts Draco still hated Harry with all his might and Harry picked up on Leos attitude and became distrustful - most of the people he knew would 'love' to meet the famous Harry Potter.

And lastly the argument Hermione and Ginny were having, Ginny must of told her sister-in-law everything, including who Leo really was. Then something else crept up into that devilishly witty mind of his, it was most suspicious how the letter from Ginny to her parents arrived right after the court case . . . The court case that no one, not even Ginny herself knew about.

The other five men cast each other bewildered Glances and followed their tall ebony haired commander out the public house and into the street. Angelus caught up with his cousin and noticed the tremendously joyful and conceited look on his face, which meant that something the pair had been discussing back there had struck gold in his mind.

"Blaise, what's the matter? What have-?"

"I worked it out Ang, who this Leo Walker is, what they were talking about, considering all the facts involved it wasn't that hard." Blaise hissed excitedly, knocking the old lady over again who had just managed to pick up her shopping bags.

Angelus raised a stupefied eyebrow and leant in closer to his cousin. "What is it Blaise? What did you find out?"

Blaise stopped suddenly and pulled him roughly down an alleyway next to Madame Malkins; making the other four men crash into each other to follow the Zabini's. Blaise bought out his wand and indicated the others should do the same.

"To Knockturn Alley." He said superiorly, disapparating before their very eyes. The five men exchanged another confused look before disapparating and popping instantaneously into a dark alleyway in Knockturn Alley.

Angelus, who appeared first, jogged after his cousin who was storming away towards the main alley, his navy cloak billowing after him. "Blaise, what have you figured out?" he demanded vehemently, catching up with him out side a dark arts potion shop.

"Isn't it obvious Angelus? I would have thought 'you'd' understand at least." He drawled idly, slowing down so his cousin could walk comfortably beside him.

"Well not all of us have you remarkable capabilities Blaise, tell me what's happening, has this got something to do with Leo Walker?" he commanded, flashing his golden eyes dangerously. Blaise ignored the look, or simply didn't feel the need to react to it and began to explain his comprehension to the ebony haired man.

"Have you ever heard of him Angelus, Leo Walker, does it ring any bells?"

Angelus shook his head and frowned, curious as to what Blaise was getting at.

"Neither have I. That, my 'dear' cousin, is because he doesn't exist. Leo Walker isn't a real person at all - but an impostor . . . Do you remember whom we met at Ginny's house, before we fell unconscious?"

Angelus frowned momentarily before scowling and sneering illegitimately. "How could I forget that Blonde prick, but what has he got to do with Leo Walker?" the younger man requested curtly, resuming his normal voice, now genuinely confused.

"Everything Angelus." Blaise stopped abruptly as they approached the alley that led out into Diagon alley. "Look, Ginny was seen in the village with a tall brown haired man, yes? We also know that same brunette is staying with her, yes? Now, isn't it funny how we never see Leo when Draco is around, when I met him in the field, when we were at the house? Do you catch my -"

"Blaise, are you saying that Draco Malfoy has been walking around the village in the form of Leo Walker? But that's -"

"Brilliant, that's what it is. Draco could disappear from the world by transforming into Leo Walker and fool everybody into thinking that he was Ginny's friend. Now, here's the interesting part. Hermione Granger, you remember her don't you, annoyingly clever bushy haired bitch? When she married Ron Weasley she instantly became Ginny's Sister in law. Remember what Rosemerta said, they met in here every Sunday for coffee? I'd be willing to bet my entire vault at Gringotts that Ginny told her everything."

"But Blaise what about the letter from Ginny, who - " But the ebony haired man stopped suddenly as complete and utter understanding entered his head, causing a satisfied smirk to fly onto his face. He widened his eyes at his cousin as he thought it over.

"Hermione sent the letter. Yes that would work out superbly; nobody would ever suspect a thing. She must have written the letter shortly after the news hit the family. She knew all about Draco and knew Ginny was with him, it would be a simple case of writing a false letter explaining to the family that she was at Leo's and they'd be none the wiser. They'd think that the deatheaters were there to kill or capture Ginny, but Ginny had gone to Leos and wouldn't know anything about it."

Blaise smirked engrossingly at his cousin, so he wasn't a dumb ass after all. "Well done Ang, well done. So, I trust by now you know where we are headed?"

Angelus smirked knowingly and walked out into Diagon Alley, ignoring the appalled and enquiring looks of the other shoppers. He stopped leisurely on the edge of the path and nodded at a small building across the way, his golden eyes gleaming with mirth. Blaise and the others followed him into the public alley and tracked his trail of site to the structure across from them.

Blaise nodded approvingly at the shop and lead the way towards the tall building, storming superiorly across the cobble-stoned path to the shop - the old bookshop named Flourish and Blotts.
*
Knock Knock.

"Who is it?" Hermione Weasley called over her staggering pile of paper work. Two days away from this place could be horrendous if you were assistant manager of a popular bookshop.

"It's Peter Mrs Weasley, might we come in?" the high voice of her personal assistant quizzed shrilly through the oak doorway. Hermione frowned into her report on Hogwarts a History: 2nd edition and looked up to the door.

"What do you mean 'we' Peter? Who else is there?" she asked tentatively, her grimace deepening as her russet eyes surveyed the door.

"Well, you have guests Mrs Weasley. I 'did' tell them you were extremely busy, but they wouldn't take no for an answer. They say it's very important and mustn't wait." The assistant replied in a unruffled manor through the wooden barrier.

Hermione sighed cantankerously and pushed the report to one side, arranging the paper work into a reasonably tidy pile. "Come in." She called trying her best to look happy instead of irritated.

The door handle twisted open and in walked Peter and six other men. Hermione frowned vaguely as she watched each brawny body walk into the small office, and stand to the left of the doorway. As the last two men entered the room, she let out an audible gasp as she looked into the golden eyes belonging to the Zabini cousins.

Russet eyes clashed with gold. Blaise smirked heinously at the frightened woman sitting in the high backed chair. "Hello Granger."
*
8th November 2006.

Everything around her was dark. There was nothing but the pitch black; there had been nothing for hours, for days. The obscurity was all that she'd had, nothing else but darkness. Then, unexpectedly, a large spot light above her lit the terrifying darkness, allowing her to glimpse the absent light.

The redhead was sitting within a great white bed, in the core of the light. From what she could see there was no visible room in which the bed was placed. However surrounding the bed and the large bright spotlight stood a large circle of deatheaters, each looking more ominous then ever in the dimness.

Ginny let out an alarmed gasp and stared at each sinister white mask in turn, realising they were blocking any obvious escape route. She looked anxiously into each face, trying to see their eyes through their masks, but instead of a coloured eye, each deatheater had a blood red light where the eyes should be.

Suddenly the darkness around the figures swirled and Ginny watched inquisitively as a balcony came into view, and ivy covered stonewalls soon after that. Heavy beams of sunlight were falling through the windows at each end of the room, casting the rest of the room into shadow. She could just make out bright blue sky over the deatheaters heads, which looked extremely out of consign in such a tranquil place.

The unlocking of a door could be heard from the end of the room and the mumbling of deep voices could just be made out. Ginny innocently bought the covers close to her, as the deatheaters continued to bear down on her portentously.

Two of the deatheaters parted, leaving a gap in the barrier of black cloaks and tall bodies. Ginny watched uneasily as a tall young man with unruly black hair and deep brown eyes stepped into view, something about him was - .

Then she realised who this tall handsome young man was.

It was Tom Riddle.

Tom Riddle the boy who controlled her through the diary was standing in this room watching her with a hungry look in his eyes. The same Tom Riddle that turned out to be Lord Voldemort.

Ginny wanted to scream, she wanted to run - she just wanted to be anywhere but here. She tried to look away from those bitter brown eyes, but she couldn't. It was as though she was glued to his line of vision, stuck there in his alluring gaze. Unexpectedly Tom moved very slowly forwards and prowl cat like towards the bed - towards her.

This time Ginny found herself and managed to look away from him and into her lap. Above her, she could see Tom sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, and look at her - she felt him staring at her, she could feel his cold lecherous eyes raking her bodyline appreciatively. The thought of him, Tom Riddle - Lord Voldemort doing this was sickening.

Tom watched as Ginny avoided his gaze purposely, looking down into her lap away from his pleasant face. A smirk flew to his mouth as her eyes darted about her lap, no doubt looking for a distraction from their closeness. Hooding his eyes amorously, Tom raised a careful hand and cupped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes - into him.

The redhead went ridged as she felt his soft skin on hers; she'd forgotten how gentle and pleasant his touch was. Cursing herself profoundly, Ginny found herself looking back into Toms handsome face, which by now, had a smirk plastered on it. She took in his features . . . remembering the last time they had met.

He may be the darkest wizard of their time, but Tom Riddle was with out a doubt, handsome. His lips were full and red reminding her of fresh red roses. His face was pleasant and refined, somehow he had a worn face for such a young man, but this was barely noticeable on his high cheekbones.

Those eyes, those eyes were so dark and full of mysterious power. Those amazing eyes were an informative window into his mind and past, showing her everything - his child hood, his goals and his deepest darkest desires.

Suddenly he opened his lips and let his deep, powerful voice be heard - the voice that made Ginny blush and shudder involuntarily.

"Hello Ginny. Do you remember me?" Tom asked softly, never breaking eye contact with the youngest Weasley.

Ginny tried to find her voice, but a big lump in her throat was hindering speech and making her increasingly nervous. His voice was sharper then a knife but at the same time soft as a feather. Unable to speak, the redhead nodded slowly, her eyes flashing down to his lips.

Tom smirked as her eyes travelled down to his lips. No doubt she was wondering what they tasted like again. "Then you remember everything I ever told you . . . about me . . . about the future. I have never forgotten about you . . . about your secrets . . . about your dreams . . . about your love for me . . ." He stroked her face tenderly with the pad of his thumb, noticing how she relaxed slightly under the soothing action.

"I have never forgotten about how you helped me Ginny . . . about what you did for me . . . what you did for us . . . and I hope . . . that you have not forgotten about what I did for you . . . what I did to you . . . to your mind . . . to your soul . . . I know you still long for me Ginny . . . that your soul still hungers for mine . . . yet still you hold back, you hold back your true self. I can help you Ginny . . . I can release the power once more . . . release you. All you have to do is help me once more Ginny, like I helped you . . . let me help you help me my fire goddess."

Tom's eyes slowly moved down her body to her chest, staring unblinkingly at it under the sheets. To Ginny's horror, the hand on her face slithered slowly downwards towards to top of her breast. She gasped in shock and pleasure, his soft touch awakening the power inside her; she could feel it, building up within her soul.

Then as though someone had switched on the light switch to her conscious mind, she scowled at Tom's hungry face and slapped his hand away, placing an innocent hand to her neck where his soft hands had touched her skin. The power within her began to ebb away, back into the recesses of her soul where it would be dormant - where it should be.

Tom's eyes became hard and cold as they connected with hers once more. A fresh surge of disgust and rage overwhelmed her as her mind acknowledged what he'd just done to her. The blockage in her throat dislodged its self and she finally found her voice.

"You're wrong Tom. I don't love you at all; you don't even know the meaning of love. In - in fact, I hate you Tom Riddle, or should I say Lord Voldemort . . . You disgust me; you repulse me. I wish I'd never opened your stupid diary, never discovered how to use it - never discovered you . . . ever since I met you my life has been controlled by what is right and what is wrong . . . I have never been the same since you tainted me with your wickedness and sin . . . and now you ask me, after all you've done, to help you - I would rather die then help you."

Ginny took a deep breath after this very long rant and looked into his face, realising that a great weight that had burdened her for some time had been lifted from her chest. Tom stared blankly at the redhead, a mixture of astonishment, vehemence, compassion, and desire swimming around his face. No body said no to lord Voldemort. No one.

Blinking slowly for a moment, Tom surveyed Ginny for a long time, his eyes swimming with different emotions and thoughts. She could tell that he was planning something in that wicked, insane mind of his. Expecting him to slap her, punch her Crucio or even kill her, Ginny took a deep breath and prayed for herself. She knew it was a dream, she knew that a dream was an illusion, a explanation of the mind, but everything so far had been so real. The touch, the power, and the lust - everything had felt so real.

Tom suddenly evened his eyes into feline slits and smirked knowingly a though seeing past Ginny into something else. His brown eyes looked down into her lap then back to her eyes once more, a mirthful look present within them. His left hand moved slowly down towards the sheets covering her body.

Ginny followed his hand with her eyes and watched what he was going to do with it. As he got closer and closer to her lap, Ginny held her breath, hoping any moment know she'd wake up and it'd all be a dream - yes just a dream.

About an inch away from her, the slender hand moved swiftly downwards towards her legs and ripped back the covers. Ginny gasped as she looked down and screamed a long piercing scream. Tom laughed cruelly as he looked down too. Instead of a flat toned stomach sat a large round bump - Ginny was pregnant.

Tom placed a rough hand over her mouth to silence her scream and moved his face closely to hers, his crimson lips merely inches away. In a silent whisper, Tom spoke, his eyes shining ruby red.

"Oh but Ginny, you already have."

Ginny screamed into his hand as his face contorted violently into a gaunt white flat face with gleaming red eyes and slit like nostrils. A large hood snaked its way upwards and over his head hiding his hair. The once slender holding Ginny's mouth became cold and spidery like as he changed back into himself - into Lord Voldemort. He threw back his head and laughed cruelly, his high pitched cackling ringing in Ginny's ears.

Then suddenly, Voldemorts face swirled away, and so did the balcony and the deatheaters. She was slowly drifting off into the darkness again, or was she? Another light was coming into view; it was long, almost like a tunnel - had she died? Was she dying? The tunnel came ever closer and she fell through the blinding light into another world.

#~#

"I'm sorry Mr Malfoy but we couldn't find them, it seems they apparated after gaining consciousness or during the attack. There was no sign o -"

"OF COURSE THERE WAS NO BLOODY SIGN OF THEM! THEY APPARATED DIDN'T THEY!" Draco yelled at the now frightened Spanish Auror. This Auror and three others had been combing the garden continuously for days, looking for any clues that might help them explain the attack on Ginny.

Suddenly a piercing scream broke the uneasy silence within the bedroom. Draco whipped around and gasped at the holder of the scream. Ginny was sitting bolt upright in the large bed, a look of pure horror and fright on her face. Her face was pale and blotchy as though she'd just been given the fright of her life, her forehead was glistening with sweat and tears were pouring down her pale face.

Pushing the doctor aside, Draco strode over to the bed and sat down next to Ginny, taking the redhead in his arms. Ginny threw off the covers and jumped into his lap, tears of fright pouring endlessly down her frightened face. She flung her arms around his neckline and buried her forehead into the crook of his neck, above his collarbone, crying forlornly and restlessly into his shirt.

Draco wrapped one arm around her back whilst the other stroked her hair softly. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on hers soothingly, whispering soft words into her ear. Never before had he seen Ginny so frightened - well, there was one other time, but he didn't want to dwell on that particular thought. Is that what Ginny had experienced before being knocked out? Had someone tried to rape her again?

Ginny stopped weeping after about five minutes; it appeared she was so dehydrated that she could no longer cry. The terrifying dream was still fresh in her mind - everything that had happened and had been said was swimming about her psyche, repeating its self over and over again. Then she remembered what had made her scream in the first place.

Pushing herself off the Malfoy, she felt her stomach. Draco frowned and watched her stroke the flat belly curiously, a panicky look on her face. It wasn't there, the bump was gone, and it was just a dream, just a dream. A heavy feeling entered her head, making her neck hurt under the immense weight she was feeling. Hooding her eyes, she leant back slowly into the pillow, ignoring Draco's worried gaze. His grey eyes were soft and alarmed as he watched her sink weakly back into the comfort of the bed; she looked exhausted and troubled as though she had something frightening on her mind.

"Here, drink this." A soft voice on the other side of the bed said, handing Ginny a golden goblet of purple liquid; it looked cloudy and shiny as though made of purple smoke.

Ginny glanced weakly at the woman holding the goblet out to her. The woman looked middle aged and gentle, one word popped into her mind, as she looked at her - trustworthy. She smiled a small appreciative smile at the blacked haired woman and drank the purple potion, noting what it tasted like - bubblegum.

Then the room was dimming away into blackness, she was fading away into darkness once more, but something within her mind reassured her that she would awake this time. Next to her, Draco smiled contently as she slipped off into a deep dreamless sleep. For the first time in four long days he felt whole. He had Ginny back, he had security and he had reassurance that this would never happen again.

The Spanish Auror, another woman and the kind lady turned to leave the room, leaving Draco alone with the redhead. On her way to the door, the compassionate lady placed a tender hand on Draco's shoulder. Confused grey eyes looked up into humane Blue ones, which for some unexplainable reason reminded him of Dumbledores, and allowed her a small smile.

"Thank you Galen." He whispered inaudibly, facing away from the kind Spanish lady.

"It was no problem Senor Draco. I will be staying here tonight to monitor the sleeping angel. Do not worry my young master, she will be fine, I will let nothing happen to her." She glanced across at the sleeping redhead, and crinkled her eyes kind-heartedly before following the others out the room.

Draco sighed profoundly when the door closed and pulled the covers over Ginny's petite form, tucking her in at the corners. She looked so innocent, and so peaceful, all though she was actually fragile and delicate - but Ginny had hidden strengths, she'd pull through - he hoped. As he watched her sleeping peacefully, he placed his hand in his cloak pocket and fingered an open letter that was from an old schoolmate.

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A/N: PHEW! Well done if you made it this far, this has been the longest chapter yet, and it's in size 10!!!! Its 18 pages O_O. See, I've been typing 18 pages for you fine people, and now it's my reward time! Please review, as I'd like to know what you think! More reviews = chapter done faster. So if you DON'T review, I'll be stubborn and take ages again! Lol, I'm not stressing, loves, it's just a warning.