The room was cold and damp. The walls were brick and impenetrable, and even though there was a beam of light shining through the base of the door, the room was nearly black. There were no other sources of light as far as she could tell.

Ginny couldn't be sure of how long she had been there for. She had awoken in a haze, and although she felt as though she had only been unconscious for a short time, for all she knew, she could have been knocked out for days or even weeks. Time, of course, had no meaning when she was asleep. The only indication that the time had been brief was that her pregnant belly was still quite flat.

The sequence of events that had gotten her here was both frightening and confusing. She had been in the car with Draco and the children when an odd chill had overcome her entire body. In the distance, she could see a man wearing a black cloak, and she begged Draco to turn the car around, but he couldn't. The man had used his magic to stop them. It was in that moment that it occurred to her how dangerous their powers were. Magic wasn't just pulling some rabbit out of a hat or making a pencil float as it was often portrayed by those who did not possess the same abilities. And while some people may have only used it as a way to improve their lives, other people used it for much darker purposes - like bending people to suit their own will. It was real and it could be used to hurt others.

The man with the cloak removed his hood.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to my grandchildren?"

Her body grew cold. That snide, calculating drawl was coming from thin lips that were twisting into an awful smirk. He looked so much like Draco, but he was so much meaner. Cruel, even. Frightening.

"Hello, Father."

Draco's voice had been even and calm. Or at least as even and calm as possible considering the circumstances. And even though Draco had told her that everything would be all right, she had to assume he was only saying those words to reassure her. She had much doubt that he was truly without worry.

"So tell me, Draco," the older man hissed, "did you really think that you could outrun me?"

"To be perfectly honest, I haven't thought of you much at all, Father."

His long arm reached out to smack his son as quickly as the words came from Draco's mouth. But still, Draco remained calm and appeared to be unaffected. Ginny had never witnessed an interaction like this between two people before, least of all members of the same family. The air was so full of tension and hatred, and it chilled her to her very core.

"Have I taught you no respect?"

"You've never taught me much."

The father grinned malevolently. "You have always had a smart mouth, haven't you, boy?"

"I'm thirty-years-old, Father. I'm not a boy anymore."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" His face turned from that of a malicious smile into a cold glare. "You'd think that spending a decade as a poor farmer with no money and a worthless wife would teach you a few things about humility and respect. And yet, here you are! Still the same bratty child you always were. You're no man. and from what I can tell, you'll never grow into one, either."

Draco's eyes narrowed into thin slits as he stared at his father with a hatred in his eyes that Ginny had never seen before. "Don't you talk about my wife."

The older man smiled. "And how do you plan to stop me?"

"I take back what I said, Father." Draco crossed his arms over his chest as he looked on at the other man. "You have taught me plenty. You have taught me to hate and to hurt people. You taught me how to kill. Never forget that I learned that from you."

Ginny shook her head to clear the memory from her mind.

Nothing about what had happened made any sense to her. Draco's father - her father-in-law - taught Draco to kill? Taught him to hate and to hurt? Her husband had never hurt a soul - at least not to her knowledge. Though he hadn't necessarily been the nicest man at all times, he most certainly wasn't a killer. But those words had come from Draco's own mouth. Did that mean she had been wrong about him for the past ten years? Did that mean that even her faded memory of the night he had rescued her and her baby had been a lie? She didn't know what to think, but at the very least, she appreciated that he had defended her honor to his father.

A light flickered in the room next to her, and a beam shot from beneath the sealed dungeon door. She had hardly even realized that the light had gone out for a brief time.

"The girl is in here?"

Her ears perked as she heard a woman's voice from beyond the door.

"Yes, she's in there," replied a man.

"Has anyone checked to see if she is all right?" the woman asked.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. If the woman outside the door cared at all for her well-being, why was she still being locked in this room?

"Not since this morning," the man said.

"Draco said she is with child!" the woman all but shouted. "No one has checked on the girl in over eight hours?"

"Your son is a liar, Narcissa. Who is to say that the girl is…"

"My son wouldn't lie to me," she hissed. "If you don't want to assess her, then move aside. I'll get a medi-witch and I'll go in myself."

She could hear the clicking of shoes on the stone floor, and in a brief moment of hope, Ginny fell to the floor and pretended to still be asleep. Even after several long minutes had passed and no one had come in to see her, she remained where she was. And it wasn't much longer before sleep had overtaken her once again.

…

The next time she opened her eyes, the room was much different.

The cold, dank dungeon walls had become a sterile and bright white. She was lying on a bed with a railing and a very thin mattress, and there were five or six more beds just like the one she was lying on in the room. The only occupied bed was her own. It looked very much like a hospital of some sort, but it certainly did not instill any feelings of safety and comfort within her.

Ginny sat up and shielded her eyes from the brightness that she was no longer accustomed to. No one else seemed to be nearby, and though she could feel that her body was very weak, she carefully sat herself up and started to turn so that her legs were dangling over the side of the bed. Slowly, she pressed her feet to the floor and moved to stand. Her whole body felt as though it were made of jelly, but she couldn't very well stay here and wait for her captors to return, could she? Her legs failed her as she sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"Narcissa, the girl is awake."

Ginny froze at the words. She couldn't immediately see where the voice had come from, but she did recognize the name. Narcissa was the woman outside her dungeon door who was furious that Ginny was not being properly cared for. Draco's mother.

A loud snap occurred, and in a flash, a woman appeared. She was tall and slender and impossibly blonde. There would have been no mistaking who she was, even if Ginny hadn't already known. But the misconception that Ginny had had when she could not see the woman was now obvious. For the brief time that she had been conscious in the dungeon, she had believed that Draco's mother could perhaps be her savior. Her body language, though, and the look of disgust that marred her otherwise beautiful face told an entirely different story. Narcissa was not here to be Ginny's protector by any means.

"Hello, Ginevra," she said icily. "Why are you trying to get out of bed?"

"I'm trying to escape, Mrs. Malfoy," Ginny spat rather recklessly. She wasn't entirely sure why she was unable to hold her tongue, but the mere sight of her mother-in-law instilled a lot of thoughts that made Ginny decidedly uncomfortable.

"I daresay you won't get far in your condition."

The redhead conceded that the older woman was probably right. Not only was Ginny feeling nowhere near her best, she also hadn't a clue where she would go if she were able to escape. And if by some miracle she managed to find a way out, she certainly would not be leaving without her husband and children.

"Where are you keeping my family?" Ginny asked, once again rather boldly.

"They're fine," Narcissa answered shortly. "It's not them that we were after."

"You're after me?"

The blonde woman smiled rather coldly. "For someone quite so mouthy as yourself, I would have thought you'd have had it all figured out by now."

"Maybe if I could remember, I might be able to."

"That is probably true," Narcissa offered, "but then, there was a reason for that." She paused thoughtfully. "But my son - who was in quite the same predicament as you - managed to regain his memories. Curious, isn't it? It says quite a lot about the caliber of your magic, if I may say so."

Ginny found that every ounce of thankfulness that she once held for this woman had dissipated. "Yes, he did get his memory back. Do you know how, Mrs. Malfoy?" she asked, her voice dripping with saccharine.

"I'm afraid, my son has not yet spoken about that."

"Well, worry not. I can tell you how, if you're interested."

"If you feel it's pertinent," Narcissa said icily.

For the first time since she had been locked away, Ginny found the strength the put all of her weight onto her feet. Slowly, and with as much dignity as she could muster, she stepped toward Narcissa, stumbling only slightly. "Tell me - this spell that removed our memories - it only comes back when you're finally happy without your magic. Am I right? Am I close?"

She rolled her eyes childishly. "You're on the right track, I suppose. Each individual has what's called a 'trigger,' and it is oftentimes a person who makes them feel completed."

"So it's rather interesting, then, how Draco got his, really," Ginny taunted. "We were arguing, like we often did." Ginny smiled. "I remember that I had just told him I knew about a woman he had slept with when our daughter was only a few years old. I told him that I forgave him for it…" Ginny paused for emphasis. "And then we had sex up against a building."

The way Narcissa's eyes widened was priceless, and it was exactly the reaction that Ginny had been hoping for.

"Where is my family?" Ginny asked again. "And forgive me if I don't necessarily trust your definition of 'safe.'"

It was Narcissa's turn to have the upper hand. "Forgive me if I stop answering your questions, Miss Weasley."

"It's Mrs. Malfoy, isn't it?" Ginny spat. "Isn't it, Mum?"

"You are on very thin ice here, girl. Your little Muggle marriage means very little in our world."

"I'm afraid I don't have much to lose, so the ice can be as bloody thin as it wants to be. I deserve to know what I'm doing here, and I demand to see my husband and my kids."

For a moment, the older witch said nothing. Ginny found herself hopeful that she was going to get what she wanted, but being hopeful was probably even more dangerous than her attitude.

Narcissa's expression softened almost indiscernibly. "You don't even know each other, Ginevra, and it won't be long before the two of you will stop remembering once again. I suggest you get used to the idea of moving on with your life."

Ginny swallowed. "You're going to take away our memories again?" she asked, her voice suddenly anguished. "What about our children? They're not going to understand!"

Once again, there was a flash of something peculiar in Narcissa's eyes. "They're Purebloods, and they won't be harmed. But they're not going to remember you for much longer, either."

Suddenly overwhelmed with panic, Ginny stumbled even closer to Narcissa. "Why would you do that to me? What have I ever done to deserve that? And if that's what you're planning to do, why isn't it already done? I was unconscious! You could have done anything to me, to my family!"

"You have about seven more months before we can do that, I'm afraid. Your pregnancy is all that's saving you right now."

"And Jill and Jeremy and Draco?"

Narcissa pressed her lips together tightly. "For now, there's nothing else I can say. I suggest you get some rest."

And as quickly as Narcissa Malfoy appeared, she was gone. This time the sharp sound that signalled her departure rang so loudly in Ginny's ears that she was almost certain that they started bleeding once she hit the floor.