A/N Well, now that Masquerade has been fully wrapped up and put away, I can turn my full attention to EHF (and other things, of course). But yes, here's the 2nd chapter, and this time there's some actual D/G interaction. If Ginny doesn't seem like the Ginny from IS and M, keep in mind that this is a different backdrop – here we have bitter!Ginny and disheartened!Ginny. I will, however, try to keep all my characters as in character with the books as I can – I usually try to. I'd like to think this version of D and G is actually more realistic than my previouis stories, but I guess time can only be the judge of that. So read on, and don't forget to leave a review on your way out.
Huggles to my beta, Priscilla.
Familiar Faces
The East End of the Ministry of Magic was one that had been abandoned for years. Unlike the glass double doors which guarded the main entrance, this one gave no suggestion to any importance, and was but a rickety piece of wood bound with rusting nails. Ginny had passed by this wing countless times, but never had she stopped to mull over what was behind the door, and never had she imagined that just beyond her reach was the legendary organization Aurors whispered about.
She stopped now, unsure of Hermione's directions, and pulled open the door. Everything inside was dark, and by squinting her eyes she could just barely make out a stairwell, and a round hole at the top which she supposed served as a makeshift window. With a deep sigh of resignation, she slipped inside, letting the door shut loudly behind her, and proceeded up the creaking stairs with great doubt. The soles of her shoes tapped against the rotting wood with every step and echoed throughout the dark and narrow corridor.
When she'd finally reached the top, however, Ginny found herself looking at another door, this one made of heavy steel and barricaded with at least eight different crowbars. "Hello?" She shouted, pounding one the door hesitantly. The very sound of it resounded so loudly around her she all but jumped, and stared in bewilderment at the door for a long moment afterwards.
She fished around in her robes for her wand. I couldn't possibly have gone to the wrong place, she thought frantically, pointing it in the vicinity of the knob. "Alohamora!" she shouted, but nothing happened. Helpless, she stood back and stared at the firm lock with furrowed eyebrows, willing for something to happen.
And then it opened.
A man stood in the doorway, his tall frame dark in the shadows of where she was standing. She could not see his face from her vantage point but for the dark hair and sinister shadows dancing across his face, and two inky eyes that were all but glaring at her. "Hello, Miss Weasley," he said in a most familiar voice, "Having a little trouble, I see?"
He moved out into the small light then, and she saw who he was. Years had passed and time had worn its mark into his face, but there was no mistaking his identity. No, she was staring at none other than Hogwarts' caustic Potions professor, Severus Snape. What the hell is he doing here?
"Snape," Ginny swallowed. "Fancy seeing you here."
"I thought you were late," he twisted his lips into that familiar sneer. "But I guess you're just inept."
"I'd be but one minute late at this point," she defended, feeling anger involuntarily bubble within her.
"Yes," he agreed, opening the door wider and beckoning for her to enter, "But as an auror, you should know that every minute counts."
She did her best not to glare at him, wedging herself into the dark and narrow space as he turned and sauntered down the hall. They were now in a corridor, dank and dimly lit, and she fumbled to light her wand as they moved. "How can you see?" Ginny asked incredulusly, holding up her light to reveal damp stone walls.
He did not answer her for a moment, merely continuing his quick pace towards wherever they were headed, and she rose her voice a little. "How can you see?" she asked again.
No reply.
Thoroughly peeved, she smacked the heated end of her wand just barely against his robes as she'd seen Fred and George do countless times to their mother. Jumping, he whirled around as if to put out whatever flame she had caused, and soured when he saw there was none. "What the devil are you doing?" Snape raged. "You could've lit me on fire."
"Yes," Ginny glowered at him. "Pity I didn't. Now answer what I've been asking you from the offset, Professor: Why are you here?"
With as much dignity as he had left, Snape brushed his hands against his robes, turned sharply, and resumed walking. "I don't see why I wouldn't be here," he said after a few seconds of high-strung tension, his voice annoyed and gruff.
"Are you an escort?" she pressed.
It could've been a trick of light, but it seemed he chuckled. "No, no, Miss Weasley," Snape replied. "I'm far more than an escort; in fact, I happen to work here. That's why I know my way around."
He worked here? Surely he wasn't a part of… "The Freedom League?" she asked in surprise. "You work for the Freedom League?"
The smirk on his face was one she had seen for seven long years - full of haughty triumph and snide disdain. "Yes, Miss Weasley," he leered. "Hence why I'm here, as I've clearly already said, showing dimwits like yourself to the entrance."
She flushed a deep crimson. "I was told I was already at the entrance," she told him acidly. "Perhaps you Leaguers should give better instructions."
"I wouldn't push it," came his biting reply. "Very few who do not belong to the elite have ever been inside our offices. We have no room for those of common intelligence."
"I am most certainly not of common intelligence," Ginny snapped. "I happen to be one of the finest aurors in the Wizarding community, I'll have you know. I've worked hard to get where I am, and I do a damn good job of-"
"Of protecting England?" he finished, and it unnerved her that he never once looked at her. "Yes, Miss Weasley, I can see with all this death and destruction that you are indeed doing a good job."
Her mouth spluttered open with speechless indignance, and then he had turned around, staring down at her as he always had with pure dislike upon his face. She saw in that moment that they were at yet another door which had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, this one steel like the first but radiating with an unearthly glow. His hand was upon the knob; a key already inserted inside, and her eyes widened upon realization that all this had occurred while she was speaking.
"Welcome," Snape said crisply, "to the Freedom League."
And then he pushed it open, and everything became white, then black.
She awoke to blinding white, the same white that had flashed before her eyes as she'd gone unconscious. To her alarm, Ginny found that not only was she alone in the room, but there was also no door. And but for the narrow white cot on which she was sitting, everything about her was utterly, terrifyingly empty, and white, so white. The gripping fear that she had gone to the wrong place seized her once more, and memories of what she could register flew through her mind - of Snape, of his malicious grin, of his bitter voice.
Sitting up, Ginny blinked, focusing in the brightness of her surroundings. She reached for her wand automatically; nearly died of panic when she found it was not in her robes. Distantly she recalled using her wand as a lamp, and found herself worrying she had left it there - wherever there was. Said thought led to the paranoid delusion that again, she'd been mislead, or kidnapped, or-what was she going to tell Hermione?
The wall opened. Or rather, a door in the wall that had been previously well concealed opened - she'd been wrong about the lack of exit, then. "Where am I?" Ginny began to demand as a robed figure stepped inside, the black of uniform painfully incongruous with the white of everything else. "I demand to know where I am."
"You're inside the Freedom League, of course," said a familiar voice, and Ginny gaped in shock to see Hermione, smiling placidly as if they'd just met for tea.
"Hermione?" Ginny cried, scrambling off the cot. "What's going on?"
"The Freedom League meets in an alternate dimension," Hermione said calmly. "Thus, we are guaranteed the utmost privacy and security from spies, traitors, what have you. As a stranger, you may only enter when in the presence and permission of the League's President-" she paused, as realization and disbelief dawned in Ginny's eyes "-that being Severus, of course."
"You work with Snape?" Ginny blurted out. "You hate Snape!"
"Does she?" interjected an amused male voice, and then Snape was in the room. He sent Hermione an unreadable glance, raking those black eyes over her in a most indistinguishable manner - decisively not one Ginny had seen him use at Hogwarts. She had not grown much, and he was still greatly taller than her, lashes casting effeminate shadows across his face as he dropped his gaze to her choker. Reaching forward, Snape grasped the amber stone in one hand and asked, in a low tone which suggesting he was really not asking, "Do you, Hermione?"
She pulled away from him sharply, the necklace slipping out of his grip. "Things have changed," she said simply, choosing to address Ginny rather than Snape. "Years have passed since Hogwarts; I'd like to think we've grown up."
The pink tinge which flashed across Hermione's cheeks did not go unnoticed by any.
"If things have changed," Ginny started questioningly, stepping closer to Hermione, "Then why aren't you going in? Surely Malfoy doesn't carry the same haughty pureblood attitude?"
"Not all things change," came the calm answer. "You'd be surprised, Ginny, at the extent of his loathing for people like me. His estate is charmed in seventeen different ways to alert presence of one with lesser blood-" Hermione shrugged wryly "-and believe me, I've checked."
Ginny let out a heartless chuckle. "This must all be disappointing for you, Snape," she said, turning towards her glowering former professor. "I remember you had such high hopes for Malfoy. Always taking his side, always believing he would turn out to be something good. Don't you wish you'd been wiser? Don't you wish you hadn't wasted so much time?"
To his credit, he refused to lose his composure, despite the angry flashing of his eyes. "He was a boy, Miss Weasley," He replied acidly. "At such a young age, any impressionable child can be changed. What you don't and never will understand, however, is that even the best-intending teachers cannot reverse a lifetime of upbringing. All that I ever attempted to do was well thwarted every summer and winter holiday when he returned to Malfoy Manor, because despite that he respected me, nobody can replace family, even one as cold and demented as his."
"You should've known, then, that his future was black," she told him bitingly. "You should've known he would've turned out evil."
"I pitied him," Snape answered. "I both loved him as the son I never had and pitied him, and I thought - though I realize it was foolish of me - I thought I could do some positive in his world." He stopped, narrowing his eyes at her. "I would not, however, expect you to try to conceive what life was like for young Draco Malfoy;" he finished, "I would not expect you to have the empathy or kindness to do so."
She flushed at his harsh words. "No offense, Snape," Ginny said quietly, "But I've never quite looked at you as one to preach empathy or kindness."
Snape paused, glancing at Hermione once more. "Yes, well, I really didn't like you or your kind much at Hogwarts, did I? Can't say I do now, but as optimists say, there is a little bit of good buried within everyone, no matter how far you have to dig."
"You believe there's good in Malfoy?" scoffed Ginny.
He smiled - leered, really - curled the edges of his lips up triumphantly. "Actually, Miss Weasley, I was more thinking of you."
"Severus," Hermione hissed, the first time she'd spoken during their interlude.
"No, no," he waved her off. "I'm not particularly taken by Miss Weasley here-" she made a face at him "-but I insult in good nature. It would be uncharacteristic of me to be kind to her, just because she's freelancing for us."
Hermione let out a sharp breath, looking equally stressed and relieved. "I don't think we need anymore tension around here," she said after a long pause.
"Then I shall leave," Snape responded. "I have other matters to attend to, anyhow. I don't suppose you'll die from giving Miss Weasley her assignment details?"
"Not quite," she smiled.
He nodded, once to her and once to Ginny, before opening the door. On Ginny's part, it amazed her to no ends that they could simply find the exit, so well camoflauged was it, but on later thought she supposed they must use the room constantly. "Will I be seeing you at six?" Severus inquired in a softer voice just before he stepped out.
There was a visible pinkness to Hermione's face again. "I-I can't. Thomas is coming home today."
Snape only made a small noise of acknowledgement, before nodding again, and disappearing through the door.
"Thomas?" Ginny asked, as soon as Hermione turned around.
"Thomas," Hermione affirmed. "Thomas Francis, my…fiancé."
A rush of unexplicable emotion surged through Ginny as she realized that in all these years, while she'd been living her own life, so had Hermione. And that most all, her life didn't incorporate any of the factors they had all believed to be tied forever at Hogwarts - that nobody who had once loved her, the Weasleys, Harry Potter, even so much as knew about her life, even so much as cared about it. "You're engaged?" She asked softly. "Is he…is he a Leaguer?"
Hermione smiled bitterly, shaking her head. "I have vowed to never again be romantically involved with someone who fights against Voldemort," she replied. "I have vowed to never give my heart to someone who might opt to…lose it."
"Ron did not lose it," Ginny said fiercely. "He would've kept you by his side for eternity if he could've, and you damn well know it."
"I do," Hermione agreed. "Do you think I haven't wondered why he died and I didn't? Why we didn't both die, and spare each other the pain? I know what your family thinks, I know what the public thinks, I know there are those who wish I had died and not he, and let me tell you Ginny Weasley, I would've rather died a thousand times than witness the man I loved with my very soul die in my arms. I would rather die a thousand times now than have to remember him dying in my arms." She paused to catch her breath. " I have never loved anyone as much as I loved Ron, and I never will again," she finished softly, "but that does not mean I cannot love. Ron has no use for my love now, no matter the magnitude."
"I'm not trying to accuse you of wrongdoing," Ginny said finally, quieted by the tirade. "You have every right to move on with your life, and I'm sorry if I've given you the impression that I feel otherwise, but I loved Ron too, you know."
Hermione closed her eyes. "I know."
They stood in a comfortable silence for a moment, forged together by the memory of a lost one, and simply thought and missed him, both thinking of different times but the same person.
"We should get going," Hermione said after a while. "Your assignment awaits."
Ginny nodded.
Hermione strode to the wall - where there was, apparently, another entrance - and flicked her wand towards a spot Ginny could not see. Immediately, a safe appeared, which, when opened, revealed an assortment of curious objects Ginny vaguely remembered from her years at the burrow when her father had worked to collect muggle artifacts.
"Malfoy has the greatest security system possible around his estate," Hermione explained, handing them to the younger woman one by one. "But what he fails to safeguard against are the simplest muggle spying devices."
Ginny took them slowly, eyes wide. "I recognize these," she said in awe. "Father used to bring them home, and Mum would always yell at him. This-this is a recorder, isn't it?'
With a small, impressed smile, Hermione nodded. "Yet another reason why we chose you," she grinned. "Not as much retraining necessary."
"And this," Ginny held up a small black box. "What's this?"
"A camera," Hermione said. "You can record Malfoy's every move."
"And you'll be watching it?" Ginny inquired, realization dawning upon her face.
Hermione sighed. "Not quite. See, Malfoy's estate disallows interference in air waves, and so to monitor his actions from the League offices would set off some sort of alarm in his mansion. You're going to have to set these up around his house, and when your time is up, retrieve them."
"Then I'll bring them to you, and you'll go over the tapes," Ginny concluded.
Hermione nodded again. "Brilliant."
"I'll say." Ginny flicked her fingers over the small cameras, a smile tugging at her lips.
There was a slight waver of hesitation in Hermione's voice as she watched her. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked finally. "You'll be in for a long time, with no contact with us whatsoever. If you compromise your identity, or if he somehow finds out that you're linked to this organization…well death would be the best you'd be able to expect."
"I'm sure," Ginny said firmly. "I have nothing else to do, nothing else to live for."
"That's not true," Hermione shook her head. "You find life in the oddest of places…trust me."
Ginny stared at her with observant eyes, remembering the bright smile which had once lit her face, the smile she had not seen for years now. "How did it come to this, Hermione?" she asked softly. "How did we come to this? How did our world come to this?"
Hermione had no answer for her this time.
Malfoy Manor was located in a thicket of woods, set on acres of sprawling green lawn and sprinkled with little luxuries as ponds and fountains and lined on the East side by a glistening blue lake. Really, it was one of the most beautiful places Ginny had ever seen, and she felt herself souring with the knowledge that someone as foul as Malfoy inhabited it.
She made her way across the rich grasses, towards the enormous mansion which rose out against a pale blue sky and towered ominously. As the entire estate was, the doors loomed dark and tall in front of her, two brass serpents snarling at her as she smoothed sweaty palms across her dress. "Here I go," she muttered under her breath, and gingerly touched a hand to the door knockers. Jumping as a loud noise resounded about her, she glanced around fearfully, half expecting somebody to leap at her and arrest her for the spy she truly was.
Instead, however, the massive door opened, and a small house elf peered up at her. "Yes?"
Ginny regained her composure. "I'm here to see Mal-the Lord Malfoy."
The house elf scanned peering eyes at her, taking in her shaking hands and plain clothes. "For what reason?"
"The job," Ginny replied as calmly as possible. "I'm applying for the job."
Nodding gravely, the house elf turned at opened the door just wide enough for Ginny to slip inside her. "Follow Rosie," she commanded, and scampered down the hall.
Ginny stopped, awestruck. If she had thought Malfoy Manor beautiful from the outside, she had no idea what she was in for. Two grand, curving stairs stood before her, covered with the thickest of red carpet, and the empty, domed hall was sheathed with an array of stained glass which cast colorful shadows that danced about her. Truly, she thought breathlessly, she had never seen how well the other half lived.
"Follow Rosie," the house elf chimed once more, and then Ginny tore her eyes away from drinking in the exquisite home, grudgingly making her way after the elf.
Rosie stopped at one of the doors just left of the hall, pausing outside and nodding to Ginny. "Master is in there," she whispered, and pointed to where just beyond the door, a huge study lay.
"Thank you," Ginny started to say, but the house elf had already disappeared.
With a confused shrug, she stepped up to the room, peering inside for a glimpse of the infamous Draco Malfoy. Seated at his desk, the enormous windows which loomed behind him cast an ethereal light upon him, a light which made him seem entirely different from the snide little boy she had remembered, and Ginny felt her breath hitch.
He was really not as menacing as the rumors had made him out to be, eyes focused on his writing in great concentration and an errant strand of white-gold hair falling across his forehead. He had that air about him, that famed disposition which made her less than ready to simply approach him. It was not something she could characterize, nor something she had seen before, but it was something akin to bottled intimidation. Without saying a word, without even so much as glancing at her, she felt excluded from the powerful and elite world he belonged to - not that she wished to take part in it, of course.
Ginny stood just outside the doorway for a few long minutes, head tilted unconsciously as she watched him scratch the quill furiously across thick parchment, and wondering when the same bullying prat from Hogwarts had gone and grown into one of England's most powerful and feared men.
"If you're planning to come in, you might as well do it now," he drawled without looking up, without ever pausing in his work.
After a moment's brief hesitation, she did, stepping just within the shadows of the large and empty room, twisting her hands uncertainly into one another. He did not seem any closer to addressing her, nor did he seem curious as to who she was, so finally she felt obliged to interrupt the silence with a meek, unsure "Hello Malfoy."
He glanced up then, locking eyes with her, and she saw the same silvery eyes that had stared at her in Hermione's photographs, full of cloudy observation and cold indifference. She wondered if he recognized her at all from Hogwarts - knowing that they'd all changed quite a bit but still slightly fearful - and nearly let out her bated breath as he returned to his letter, or whatever it was he was writing. "I assume you're one of the applicants," Draco commented.
She nodded, and then remembered that he wasn't looking at her. "Yes," Ginny cleared her throat.
"And I assume you know that I'm only taking interviews between nine and one," he said in that unnervingly emotionless voice.
"Well I know," she faltered, because she really didn't know, "I just-I thought it would be refreshing for you to have something out of the norm."
Draco frowned, pausing in his work to eye her with a certain level of curiosity. "What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't," she replied. "But it's Ginny."
"Ginny," he repeated, running the name over the tip of his tongue as if to test it out. "I think I've heard that name somewhere before."
"You've probably heard most names somewhere before," Ginny said a bit more acidly than she should've. "As most names are not unique to one person alone."
She expected him to sneer at her, but instead he smiled. No, it really wasn't much of a smile - too smug to be a smile - but more of a smirk, which plainly suggested that he was amused by her. "Mmm," Draco agreed noncommittally, setting his quill down and drumming his long fingers across his desk. "You might be surprised to know, Ginny, that mothers with any grain of originality would find a name for their children that remains unique to them. It can be done easily with a name patent, you know."
A crimson flush bit her cheeks. "Not everyone can afford a name patent, you know," she said, matching his tone without missing a beat. "Nor does everyone feel the need to waste money on something so inane."
One of his slender gold eyebrows rose high up, and her heart skipped a beat. Foolish, foolish, foolish, she chided herself immediately. You're going to lose this job before you even get it, and then what will you do, Ginny Weasley? But in all the worry and anxiety which overtook her as she awaited a response, she could not - would not - bring herself to apologize, or to make amends.
He stared at her with unfathomable eyes, seemingly taking her in and observing her as he would an object, raking them over her plain robes, her neat hair, her scrubbed and unelegant face. She felt in equal parts insulted and intrigued by his perusal, and wished to hell she could slap the smug detachment off his face. "I must ask, Ginny," he finally said, "as to why you are here. You don't seem a woman that lets others boss her around."
She squeezed her eyes shut, and then forced herself to meet his placid gaze. "No, I don't," she said as calmly as possible. "I'm not. I-" I what? I need the money? No, Malfoys look down upon poverty. "I'm looking for diversity in my life," she blurted out for lack of better things to say, and that eyebrow flew even higher.
"Diversity," he echoed skeptically.
Ginny nodded rapidly. "I won't submit to your every beck and call, nor will I fawn and faint in your presence," she told him firmly, hoping to the Gods that he was one of those men who found assertiveness attractive. "But I promise that I'm not just a dull rack that agrees with everything you say. I promise that I can keep things interesting around here if you choose me."
He continued to stare at her, in that unreadable way which caused such agony and frustration to bubble in her stomach. There was a look of intense concentration upon his face, a brief glimmer of contemplation in his eyes, and finally he nodded. "Okay," Draco told her. "You're in."
She blinked in disbelief. "I beg your pardon? I'm-I'm in?"
Motioning for her to come closer, Draco leafed through the pile of parchments on his desk and handed a few thick sheets to her. "Sign the contract," he said without emotion, gesturing towards a long and elegant quill, "And you're in for eight weeks. Keep heed that these are not eight weeks during which you can cut and run, just because things aren't-" he paused, almost taking pleasure in his words "-interesting enough for you. Keep heed that this contract binds with the most powerful kinds of magic."
Her mouth dry, she signed her name numbly where he pointed, making sure that her last name was illegible but for the first letter and feeling overwhelmed at the quick success of her task.
"Ginny W, is it?" He said when she'd finished, scanning his eyes over the wet ink.
"Worthington," she lied quickly. "Ginny Worthington."
For a moment, Ginny was sure he saw through her lie, was sure he could see to the core that she was just a Weasley, the Weasleys he had loathed for so long when he was younger. But Draco only nodded again, blowing over where she had signed to expedite the drying process. "I think you'll go by Ginny," he remarked off-handedly, as if she had no choice in the matter. "It suits you more than calling you Miss Worthington."
"Okay," was all she could say.
With a small, pleased smirk that caused unease to boil in her stomach, he placed the contract in a folder and in his drawer. "By signing this contract, you are mine," he said coolly. "You will do as I say, whether you like it or not."
"But-" she swallowed. Things had not been this way a moment ago - he had been a lot less cold, a lot less commanding, a lot less as his reputation had declared him to be.
"You'll gather your things by nightfall and move into the guest wing of my mansion," he continued. "Don't bother with formal wear, as that will all be provided for you."
"I thought-"
"Do not interrupt me," he cut her off. "As I was saying-"
"-I will not stand for this," she exclaimed, ignoring him altogether. "Don't think you can treat me like your house elves, Malfoy, because then you are far mistaken."
"Think you're a fierce, independent woman do you?" He chuckled. "Let me tell you something, Ginny, women like you come a dime a dozen. I've seen your type. Determined not to let anyone boss them around, determined that they are their own bosses, well, I've broken women like you. It's a challenge, I agree, but-" he leaned down, so his words were tickling her ear "-the product is quite rewarding."
She gasped, jumping away. "I will never succumb to that, Malfoy," she spat, "so you can just stop dreaming right now."
He merely smiled at her, a cold, calculating smile. "Ginny Ginny Ginny," he said, shaking his head. "You don't understand, do you? You've signed the contract. And whether I admit that your spitfire comments are rather-" he searched for the right word "-refreshing, I do expect obediance of you. I do expect you to do whatever I will you to. And I do expect you to understand that you can't possibly not, because like I've said, the magic which binds our contract is very, very strong." She let out an indignant noise, and he went on, "So if I were you, girl, I would just stop fighting and make things easier on myself. You'll find I'm really not that sadistic if I'm in a good mood."
They stared at each other, neither willing to back down. The silence was overwhelming, the implications of his words even moreso. Eight weeks, she told herself firmly, that's all you have to do - you've signed a contract on both sides either way. "Fine," she finally ground out, realizing she really had no other choice and wishing to hell she'd read over those contracts - both of them - more carefully. What have I gotten myself into? She thought miserably as a triumphant smirk curled his lips.
Draco held out his hand then, expectantly, and she nearly faltered when she realized that she was expected to shake it, as that meant she would have to touch him, and-she thrust her hand into his, putting an end to the torrents of thoughts flitting through her mind and feeling rather embarassed at how cool his felt opposed to her own, which was by now sweating profusely.
"One more thing," he said as their gazes and hands were locked onto one another, warm on cold, dark on light. "You will address me as 'my lord' at all times, is that clear?"
The words tasted bitter. "Yes, my lord."
I've made a pact with the devil, Ginny found herself thinking as he released her clammy hand from his light grip. I've made a pact with the devil, and I've all but sold my soul to him.
There was no turning back anymore.
- End of Chapter 2 -