A/N: Ooops, I think I messed up the rating, I wanted to put in T but ended up with K+... well, just to be on the safe side I changed it now, because of language and some suggestive content.
And YAY, I got one review! Thank you so much. Therefore I dedicate this chapter to
Girl Without a Life
ooOoo
2. Stuck in the attic
So Harry, Ron and Hermione left after Bill's wedding to Fleur, searching for Voldemort's Horcruxes. Which of course nobody knew because it was all this big secret and Harry couldn't even confide in me due to his angst that I could be used as bait. I'd rather be dead right now than in this state of existence, with no Harry and all. Anyways, then we heard that Hogwarts would be shut down until further notice, and mum still wouldn't let me join the Order of the Phoenix. You know, being the youngest and the only girl in a family of nine is botheration indeed! So there was nothing left for me to do than sit at home and help mum with the cooking. Everybody else was out there, doing something about the raging war. Death Eaters attacked left, right and centre, Dementors swarmed everywhere, draining us of hope and love. But all I worried about is getting dinner ready on time.
I knew that the only chance I'd get to join in the fight was if our house was attacked, which (fortunately, I must admit) never happened. But one day, suddenly, unexpectedly, my adventure started: Mum had sent me off to Ottery St. Catchpole, the little Muggle village nearby our house, to get some fresh meat and fish. This is the farthest any of those machos that call themselves my father and brothers would let me go, back then. As I reached the village I was attacked by Voldemort's followers, and they took me to their hiding place somewhere miles and miles away from home. They wanted to use me as bait to get at Harry (okay, so he was right – satisfied now?), locked me in a cell and left to tell their master. Now, of course they had taken my wand, but I'm not Fred and George's sister for nothing. The window to the cell had iron bars so I couldn't squeeze out there; but I used one of my hair pins to unlock the door, since they were stupid enough to not use a spell to imprison me. Maybe they thought a silly girl like me couldn't take care of herself. Okay, I was sobbing like hell, but that was part of the show, wasn't it? I mean, I'm used to boys playing it rough – six older brothers, remember!
Back to my tale:
I managed to escape out of the cell. It was really the basement in an old farmhouse. There were still some guards left on the first floor (I had heard them walking up and down above my prison), but being so small I simply used a very tiny window to crawl out, then ran for a nearby forest. I don't know just when they realised that I was gone, but I wasn't followed for a couple of hours, which left me enough time to think.
I was in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, I didn't know which way was home, and I didn't have my wand. What to do? Dig a whole in the ground, bury myself alive and be done with it? Bad idea. My life was still precious to me then, because there was still the possibility that Harry and me would get back together once he'd kicked Voldemort's arse. What then? Run around in circles, screaming for help? Would attract too much attention. Run for it? They'd find me, I was sure. There was only one way I could get out of this alive: get back home as quickly as possible. The only problem was - I was in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, I didn't know which way was home, and I didn't have my wand.
Some people say keep your loved ones close, but your enemies closer. Or, if you put it in other words: keep close to your enemies. My desperate plan was to get back to that farmhouse and hide somewhere inside it, hoping that I could either find an enchanted broom or steal a wand. I hoped that this was the one place they wouldn't be looking for me, and I knew (or rather, I was pretty sure in a desperate sort of way) that if they cast a detection spell, they'd cast it for everywhere around the house, as soon as they'd realise that I wasn't in it anymore. So I lingered close to the edge of the forest, waiting for signs of activity from my soon-to-be refuge. Until night fell, nothing happened, which was a blessing, for when they started coming out of the house, mounting their brooms or disapparating, they did not detect me running towards the house. Lucky enough, that day I was wearing one of my too big hand-it-down robes, which was dark blue, and I was able to cover myself from head to toe and blended in with the darkness. I reached the house from the back side, slid back into the basement, ascended the stone steps to the first floor and checked out the room through a square glass part in the door. It was a fairly large kitchen, and it was empty. Opposite from my position (behind the door to the basement) there was another door which probably led to the living or dining room. A window to the left and a Death Eater on guard gaping at something large and white that made funny noises (Harry later told me it might have been a fridgiberator). I went back into the basement to find a good hiding place. I had rather hoped there would be some sort of hidden trap door to an unknown tunnel that could also lead me out of the house whenever I needed, but I guess I'm just not your everyday lucky girl. After I stopped denying the fact that I was trapped once more in the basement, I heard a commotion upstairs, so I hid behind the door to my former cell. Fortunately, nobody came downstairs, so I dared sneaking up to the door to find out what was going on. Another Death Eater had joined the gaping one, and they were arguing whether or not they should tell Voldemort of my flight. As much as I understood, they had informed my parents that they had taken me, hoping they would let Harry know. Now Voldemort the ratty bastard was waiting for him to rush to my rescue.
Then they decided they had to tell their 'master' and left the kitchen. I saw my chance, and I took advantage of it. I cracked the door open very silently, squeezed myself out into the kitchen, closed the door without noise, and took a quick look around. To my great relieve I spotted another, narrow door right next to the basement one. At least there was another way out the kitchen than the 'living or dining room' or basement door. Since it was my only chance, I tried it. It led right up to the next storey where I found a trapdoor in the ceiling of one of the smaller rooms, which took me to the attic. Full of dust, old furniture and boxes, and a very big, nasty looking vespiary, of which I sincerely hoped to be unused. I managed to shut the trapdoor from above, not an easy task mind you, and hid myself in the most far away corner from the trapdoor.
So there I was, stuck in the attic.
The whole night nothing happened. Worrying about Harry, hoping he would not come for me, I must have fallen asleep at some point, rolled up behind an old desk, covering underneath a mouldy blanket. Light fell through two miniscule windows in two opposing walls when I woke up by a racket. I heard the following conversation in the room beneath me, somewhat subdued by the separating walls:
'Why did he try and warn Potter?' said a male's voice.
'Obviously he's not the person we thought he was.' replied a female. I thought I recognised that voice as Bellatrix Lestrange's, but I might have been wrong.
'What is to become of him?' The man again.
'He will be held here for further questioning, there's a chance he has always been on the other side, and he might have more information to give than we suspect right now. Then he will face his death, or more like him, whimper at the thought of it.' Both of them chuckled, and I heard no other noises than a creaking bed.
I wondered; were they talking about Snape? It somehow fit the profile (apart from the whimpering bit), but I couldn't quite believe that the man who had killed Dumbledore was really not on Voldemort's side, after all. It just seemed so unlikely. After those two had finished their business all went quiet once more. I needed to go use the loo really badly; and my stomach, which had not held any food since yesterday morning, was growling louder and louder. If I was to survive this, I knew I needed to get something in my stomach, and out my bladder. But I couldn't take the risk of leaving the attic, either. The two Death Eaters I had overheard seemed to have been at leisure, so I guessed that the person they had referred to was not there, yet. Otherwise they would have joined in the 'questioning' for I believe, Death Eaters enjoy giving others pain. My best chance was to wait until that traitor arrived, and they would presumably all gather in the basement to torture him. Then sneak out and nick some food from the kitchen (I could have slapped myself for not doing that in the night). Still, how would I know they had brought in said traitor? I could only pray to my lucky star and maybe my guardian angel to stand by my side, when another plan formed in my head.
If I waited until the other prisoner arrived (given that I'd notice), then sneak out of the attic and hide in the room beneath when everyone was busy, I could wait for the 'couple' to come back for some more 'exercise' and steal one of their wands, run for the basement, blast any Death Eater out of my way while grabbing a tuna sandwich in the kitchen and transferring my watch into a portkey. Dad had taught us to do that in the summer before my fifth year, when all the attacks by Voldemort's followers got nastier and nastier, so that we could get out of harm's way if needed.
If you say that's a stupid plan, then you've never been kidnapped by Death Eaters.
In the meantime, I used an old flowerpot to pee and poop, covered it up with greyish stuff from a very heavy paper bag and placed it inside some ancient wardrobe in another corner of the attic. I hoped it wouldn't start to smell, attracting my pursuers' attention.
Then I took turns looking out of each window, to see if the traitor was carried in. I didn't see anything when it happened, but I heard them from the kitchen, giving commands to take him to the basement. There was my plan… I waited until all was quiet, and then carefully opened the trap door, letting myself out. I conveniently fit under the king sized bed, with my tummy still protesting, but did not dare go down to the kitchen to get something. So I waited. After three hours I heard noises again, footsteps and a sound as if a body was dragged up the stairs. They entered the room I was hiding in, and a male voice was doing some really dirty talk. I couldn't see anything for the sheets hung to the floor, but at least one of them plumped onto the bed. Moaning and groaning, clothes ripped and discharged on the floor. They were really going at it, and I dearly hoped they would drop their wands as well; at least the wooden ones. YES! One ended up right next to the bed; I heard the soft clunk on the carpet. Grabbing it with my right hand, I pulled off my left shoe and transferred it into a portkey, to activate in exactly one minute. Bye bye Death Eaters! Ginny Weasley's going home.
Then I heard it: someone was sobbing, while beating sounds came from the bed. And it struck me… the dirty talk, the dragging of a body… the other prisoner, whoever it was, was being raped! I couldn't leave the person to his fate, so I quickly rolled out under the bed and stunned the naked Death Eater on top of the other man. Pushing him off of his victim, I grabbed hold of my friend in arms' wrist just when the portkey activated itself. We landed right in front of the Burrow, me sweaty, dirty and hungry, Malfoy bloody, bruised and naked.
This is how it all started. This is how Draco Malfoy, who brought the Death Eaters into Hogwarts just a few months before, which escalated in the murder of the greatest wizard of our time (apart from Heavy Poofhead, of course), so this is how he thinks he owes me his life; and maybe his arse's virginity, too.
