Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter Seventeen: The Fear
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'Malfoy Manor?' asked McGonagall.

'Why would they be there?' asked Ron.

'Why else would Lucius Malfoy want Hermione to tell me that? He and his son are looking forward to seeing me soon ...? It makes sense,' said Harry. 'It explains why he didn't want anyone to hurt Hermione, too. They needed to make sure I got the message.'

'But ...' Hermione said, furrowing her brow. 'It does make sense.'

'Is there any spell that we could do? You know,' Harry said, 'to know for certain if she's there?'

Ron cleared his throat. 'Can't you use your – your wandless magic, or something?' he asked.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at Harry. '"Wandless magic"? What is he talking about?' she demanded.

'I, er ... it happened once,' Harry justified. 'When we went to Romania, I sort of did something with my hands. But it was nothing, really.'

'That's not true!' said Ron. 'It wasn't "nothing", it was wicked! You did it more than once when we were in Romania, y'know. And you did it in the backyard when the Death Eaters attacked.'

Harry's eyes widened. He had done it in the backyard? He didn't even know! Why didn't he know when he was doing it? He couldn't figure it out. But now that he thought about it, he did remember feeling a bit strange. At the time, he had assumed it was because he had just thrown off the Imperius Curse.

This was bloody confusing. Why couldn't he control it? It was hardly an asset if he couldn't even manage his new "power".

McGonagall folded her arms and gave him a stern look. 'Why was I not informed of this?' Harry shot Hermione a desperate look, hoping she'd come up with a brilliant excuse, as she always did. She shrugged and looked at Ron, who also shrugged. 'We will discuss this later, Potter.'

Harry nodded. 'Yes, Professor,' he said. He looked around the room again. 'But is there anything we can do?'

Kingsley nodded absentmindedly. 'There is one spell that Aurors are taught ... it's called the Wandering Spell. It's effective, but perhaps it isn't appropriate for this situation. There is a chance that –'

'It doesn't matter,' Harry urged. 'If there's a chance that we can find Ginny by doing the spell, we have to do it.'

Kingsley and McGonagall exchanged looks. 'Minerva?' asked Kingsley. 'What do you think?'

McGonagall cleared her throat and nodded. 'I think it is our duty to do all we can to retrieve Miss Weasley.'

'But who will do it?' asked Tonks. 'It's highly dangerous.' Harry wanted to volunteer himself, but he knew that Professor McGonagall wouldn't allow him to. She wouldn't trust him, especially after he hadn't told her about the wandless magic. But really, was it that big of a deal?

He had no bloody idea what the spell would do, but it didn't really matter. This was Ginny. Harry was beginning to think that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to save her. Especially since this was his fault. He had done this to her, after all.

They were taking Ginny to use her as bait for Harry. Ginny, by herself, held no allure for the Death Eaters. What drew them to her was the fact that Harry cared about her, the fact that she was his greatest weakness.

They wouldn't let her die – not yet, anyway. They needed her too much. And if they could get there in time ... well, maybe nothing bad would have to happen to her at all.

Harry's chest constricted when he imagined Ginny being tortured. A part of him wished she would have the sense to cooperate, wished she would tell them whatever they asked – his safety be damned.

What, exactly, would they do to her? Surely they wouldn't –

No. He wouldn't let himself think about that. They wouldn't! It was too disgusting to even think about. They wouldn't do it to her. He would never let them.

She was a "blood traitor", a "Mudblood lover" in their eyes. They wouldn't touch her. Would they? She was shockingly beautiful. And Death Eaters weren't exactly upstanding people. They'd ... do that ... to her, if they were ordered to, if they thought it would make her crack. If it had been Hermione who had been captured, Harry wouldn't have to worry. No matter how pretty she was, she was considered "impure". But Ginny ... Ginny was a pureblood, when you got right down to it. It was a possibility.

So why were they all standing around? Why hadn't someone volunteered to do the spell already? They had to get to her soon! Every second was precious. Especially now that the idea of ... that ... was in Harry's mind.

'Potter should do it,' McGonagall said after a moment. Harry jumped slightly at the mention of his name, having been wrapped up in his thoughts. 'That is, if he feels he is capable.'

'I'm more than capable,' Harry said instantly, though he still had no clue of what he would have to do.

'What will he have to do, Professor?' Hermione asked, as if reading his thoughts.

McGonagall took a deep breath. 'The spell is not a very common one. It is normally used under different circumstances, but it is our only option, I am afraid. It can be highly dangerous if not performed correctly. Also, there are a few very important things that must be taken into consideration before –'

Just then, Mrs Weasley, along with Mr and Mrs Granger (both looking exceptionally frazzled) and Percy, came through the fireplace.

Mrs Weasley's eyes swept over everyone and came to rest on Harry. She stared at him for a moment. Hermione's parents went over to her and her mother was about to wrap her in a hug when Mrs Weasley spoke.

'Oh, Harry! What happened?' Mrs Weasley cried. Harry stared at her for a moment, having no idea what she was talking about. What was wrong with him? He opened his mouth to reply and felt a flare of pain shoot through his jaw. Oh, right. Ron had hit him. Not that he hadn't deserved it, or anything. His eyes must have traveled over to Ron, who was now staring pointedly at his shoes, because Mrs Weasley gasped and planted her hands on her hips. 'Ronald Weasley, did you do this to him? What were you thinking?'

Hermione's parents finally exchanged a proper hello with their daughter, all the while watching everyone with nervous eyes. 'Do you see the type of environment she's been surrounded by?' Harry heard Hermione's mum muttered to her father. 'I was under the impression that she would be kept safe here.'

He frowned and hoped that the Grangers didn't think the Weasleys were a bunch of barbarians. Did they think that The Burrow was a hostile environment? The reason they were even here, at Grimmauld Place, was because Hermione had been "mysteriously" injured while staying at The Burrow and they wanted to bring her back to the Muggle world.

Ron glanced up at Mrs Weasley. 'Mum, I –'

'Let's get on with this,' Harry said suddenly. 'The spell, Professor. How is it done? What is it?'

'It is a Wandering Spell,' McGonagall said. 'My knowledge on this particular enchantment is limited.' She looked expectantly at Kingsley. 'Perhaps you would be willing to explain it?'

Kingsley nodded. 'Well, Tonks wasn't lying when she said this would be dangerous. The history of the Wandering Spell is rather complicated. You – the Wanderer – will be put under a sort of self-induced trance,' he explained. 'It's called a "Wandering Spell" for a reason, Harry. Your mind will leave you body and send you to wherever you choose – Malfoy Manor, in this case – while your body rests here, safe and sound. It is not nearly as easy as it sounds, however. While you're Wandering, you must be extremely careful. It's still a possibility that you can be detected, though you won't physically be there. Unfortunately, I can't tell you anything about how it feels, because I have never been under the spell. The reactions have been known to ... vary,' he said thoughtfully.

Although Harry didn't particularly like the way Kingsley said that, he forced it from his mind and nodded. 'Okay,' he said. 'When can we do it?'

'You ... what?' asked Mrs Weasley. 'Malfoy Manor?'

'We think Ginny's there,' Bill told his mum. 'Lucius Malfoy gave Hermione a message and all the clues point to Malfoy Manor as where she was taken to.'

Harry sighed as Ron jumped in and began to bring Mrs Weasley up to speed. Honestly, couldn't they wait until after Ginny had been rescued?

He caught Professor McGonagall's eye and a silent understanding passed through them. They took a few steps away from the group of people, who were too busy talking or listening to notice that Harry and McGonagall had slipped away for a moment.

'Professor,' Harry said quietly, 'I don't ... I need to know what I might find when I do this.'

'What do you mean?'

'I ... the spell, it'll bring me to Malfoy Manor, right?' he asked. McGonagall nodded. 'So I'll see if they're ... if something is happening to her.'

'Are you asking me if I think the Death Eaters will be torturing her?'

'No. I already know that they might do that. I'm asking if ... if you think ...'

McGonagall looked at him expectantly.

'Rape,' he blurted out, making sure to keep his voice low, so the Weasleys wouldn't hear him. 'Would they? I mean, would Ginny –?'

'I do not think that is a top priority just yet,' McGonagall said firmly. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, though the words "just yet" were not lost on him.

'Okay,' he said, watching the Weasleys. He didn't think he could stand it much longer, not having Ginny with him, by his side ... safe. It physically pained him to think about what must be happening to her. Was she alone and scared? Or worse, was Lestrange with her? Maybe even Malfoy? Harry wondered if Snape would be there, if he would sneer at her in triumph before raising his wand and cursing her. He vowed to himself that, if given the chance, he would kill Snape. Once Ginny was out of danger, that is.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' asked McGonagall. 'There is a great amount of danger involved.'

'Yeah, I know. I'm sure,' he said.

'I know that you are anxious to retrieve Miss Weasley, but one of our Aurors would be more than qualified to do the spell themselves. Forgive me, but they are more ... well, expendable than you are.'

Harry knew what she meant. She meant that it didn't really matter, in the grand scheme of things, if an Auror was killed. Aurors were killed everyday. But if Harry Potter died trying to save Ginny, there would be an uproar. Everyone would be doomed, because Voldemort wouldn't be stopped.

This bothered Harry on so many different levels that he didn't even know how to reply to Professor McGonagall.

He thought of Tonks and Kingsley and Moody – they were Aurors. Were they "expendable", as McGonagall had put it? They had value. They had worth. They had just as much reason to live as Harry did, and yet he was being treated as if he was on a higher level than the rest of wizarding kind.

And Ginny – she was important, too. Maybe rescuing Ginny didn't seem as important, to everyone else, as killing Voldemort did, but it was even more important to Harry. If something happened to Ginny ... that would be it. He would have nothing to live for, no reason to want to win this war.

He was going to hunt down the Horcruxes and he was going to get rid of Voldemort ... but he wasn't doing it to be a hero or because it was the right thing to do, or even because he pretty much didn't have a choice in the matter. He was doing it, now, because he wanted to make the world a good place, a safe place, for Ginny – he wanted to make the world beautiful enough for her. He wanted to give her everything he could, and then some. He wanted a house and more kids than they knew what to do with – kids with messy red hair and green eyes, or maybe even brown eyes ... yes, Harry decided, brown eyes sounded lovely.

'What I am trying to say,' McGonagall said, bringing Harry back to reality, 'is that you should not do anything drastic. There is a lot more riding on this than the fate of Miss Weasley.'

'Sorry, Professor,' Harry said, 'but Ginny's fate is really all I'm concerned with right now.'

McGonagall nodded. 'Yes, I know. That is why I am telling you this. You have a tendency of letting your emotions get the best of you, Potter. If we are to have any chance of rescuing Miss Weasley, you will need to be in control of –'

'I'm in control,' Harry said stiffly.

'I certainly hope so, for Miss Weasley's sake.'

Harry frowned and they rejoined the group, preparing what they needed for the Wandering Spell. Harry crossed his fingers and hoped they wouldn't be too late.

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When Ginny awoke, she didn't remember where she was at first. She didn't even remember passing out. As far as she remembered, she was at home, in bed. But there was a slight throbbing in her head and her bed wasn't as comfortable as she remembered. Plus, she was so cold. It was August. It shouldn't be this cold. And what was that smell?

She opened one eye and looked around. She wasn't in her bedroom. She sat up quickly and the past few hours came rushing back to her.

Where was she? How long had she been passed out? The room was dark and damp and had a disgusting, putrid smell to it. It was a dungeon, lit only by a few candles mounted on the walls. She was in a corner, her arms and legs invisibly bound together. She struggled but couldn't break free. She was stuck.

Terror rose inside of her when she assessed the situation. Hermione had been Stunned at the pond. Death Eaters had attacked the other guests at the wedding. Now, Ginny was being held captive here, though she didn't know where "here" was.

How would anybody find her? It could be ages before anyone even realized that she and Hermione had left. Would they know where to look for her? Would Hermione be able to offer them any help once she was revived? What if something had happened to Hermione, or to Ginny's family? Was Harry okay?

Harry ... was he worried about her? Had he even noticed that she was gone? Did he care?

Of course he cared, Ginny told herself. He loved her. He said he did, at least. Why would he lie about that?

She wished she could go back in time. If she could, she wouldn't have been so stupid. She wouldn't have left her wand in the house and gone gallivanting around, away from her family's sight, during a bloody war. What was she thinking? She wasn't thinking. But who would've thought that there would be an attack on The Burrow during Bill's wedding? She certainly hadn't.

Merlin, had it really been a few hours ago that she was standing at the altar, watching her brother get married? Had it really been that morning that she was in bed with Harry, holding him close and trying to block out Hermione, who had been trying to wake her? It didn't feel like the same day. Maybe it hadn't been. Maybe it had been days – weeks, even. Could she have been out for that long?

There was a loud, echoing sound of footsteps, and Ginny froze. She held her breath and her heart starting beating even faster than it already was as Bellatrix Lestrange came into the dungeon. Ginny had the sudden urge to vomit. Lestrange's face was twisted into a smug sneer and she kept her wand raised, in an almost hesitant way, though Ginny couldn't see why. It wasn't as if she could do anything. Her wand was gone and she wasn't powerful like Harry. She was completely helpless. She was at Lestrange's mercy.

This was just like her first year, when she had been dragged down into the Chamber of Secrets.

'What happened to your little family? What about Potter? They aren't coming for you, Weasley. They're going to let you die here.'

'No,' Ginny croaked out. Her throat was dry and her voice cracked. She coughed and tried to move, but the bindings held her still. 'They're coming.'

Why wasn't Lestrange wearing a mask? Ginny was terrified of the Death Eater costume, but the look on Lestrange's face chilled her even more. What was going on?

Why had she been taken, anyway? She was of no value to the Death Eaters, or even Voldemort, for that matter. She wasn't smart like Hermione. She wasn't brave like Ron. She didn't have half as much knowledge about Harry or the Order as they did.

But – oh, was that it? Was it Harry, was he the reason she had been taken? She hoped not, for many reasons. She didn't want him to feel guilty, to feel like if he had only stayed away from her that she could've been spared. Even if that was the truth, although Ginny wasn't sure it was, she didn't want Harry to have that on his conscience. If something was to happen to her – if she didn't make it out of this predicament – she didn't want him to hate himself, to blame himself. But mostly, she didn't want to have to admit that he was right. She didn't want him to keep thinking that it was best if they weren't together. If she got out of this, if she made it back to The Burrow, she wanted to be with him. She loved him. But Harry was a noble prat and he would do "the right thing", which in this case, would be distancing himself from her, so not to endanger her further.

'They don't know where you are,' Lestrange taunted. 'Do you think Potter even cares about you? He probably hasn't even noticed that you're gone.' She laughed. 'You didn't mean anything to him. You didn't mean anything to anyone.'

Why was Lestrange talking about her in past tense?

They were going to kill her, weren't they?

Did she really have anything to lose, then?

'Liar,' Ginny whispered.

'What did you call me?'

'LIAR!'

Lestrange laughed again – a deep, echoing sound that sent a chill down Ginny's spine. 'Crucio.' Almost as soon as she had heard Lestrange utter the curse, Ginny felt a sense of pain that she'd never known before. It didn't seem possible to hurt this much. Hurt – that didn't even describe it. It was ... torture, absolute misery, intensified by a thousand per cent. How had Harry survived this? The curse seemed to go on forever, but was actually only a few seconds.

When it ended, Ginny's ears were ringing and her throat was raw. It was then that she realized she had been screaming louder than she'd ever thought possible. Her whole body burned and ached and she was vaguely aware of Lestrange talking to her.

'That ought to loosen your tongue. Tell me about –'

'Never,' Ginny breathed.

'Silly girl, don't you realize that –'

'I'm never going to tell you anything.'

'Don't interrupt me. Crucio!'

For the second time in her short life, Ginny knew true agony. She felt as though she had been lit on fire and thrown off a cliff and hit by a million Beaters and stabbed repeatedly, all at the same time.

'I suggest you talk.'

'I ... no,' said Ginny. Her voice was hoarse and she had to struggle to focus her eyes on Lestrange's face. The last thing she needed to do was pass out again. She hated herself for not being able to take the pain. She hated herself for not being strong, like Harry.

Harry.

He would come for her. He was looking for her right now. He was on his way and he would kill Lestrange for ever hurting her. He loved her. He wouldn't abandon her like this. Harry would be there for her.

In turn, Ginny would be there for him. She would tell Lestrange nothing, no matter what that awful woman did to her. She hadn't lied when she told him she loved him.

But wait – she didn't tell him. She had meant to ... she had tried to tell Hermione to tell him ... but she hadn't actually told him. He didn't know. And if she died, her feelings would die with her. Harry would never know that she loved him.

Hadn't he always known? She had loved him since she was ten. But it was different then. It had never felt like this back then. Ginny knew, deep down, that she hadn't been in love with Harry at the age of ten. She had an all-consuming crush on him, yes, but she hadn't loved him. She hadn't even known the real him – not until the summer before her fourth year, when they were all trapped in Grimmauld Place together. She wouldn't have died for him – she hadn't felt that until the end of her fourth year, at the Department of Mysteries. She wouldn't have been able to withstand torture for him – and even though she couldn't even begin to comprehend the hurt she was feeling right now, she would gladly take it all if she could help Harry in some way. Even though he had rejected her, even though he didn't want to be with her, even though the things Lestrange said had struck a chord inside of Ginny, she would do this all for him. Love wasn't about conditions. It was unconditional.

'You shall pay with your life, then,' Lestrange said icily.

'So be it,' said Ginny.

'Very well,' said Lestrange. 'Crucio.'

Harry wasn't coming for her.

This one lasted longer than the previous two and left Ginny gasping for breath, taking in gulps of air but still feeling as though she needed more. Her lungs burned and her heart was pounding so fiercely Ginny thought it might stop altogether.

'Had enough? Are you ready to talk?'

'Not even close,' Ginny wheezed, feeling a strange, new sense of courage. 'I meant it. You'll have to kill me.'

'You would die to protect Potter?' she asked, seemingly irritated. 'It's a pity that he wouldn't do the same for you.'

Ginny knew that he would. But Harry would die for a lot of people. Maybe she wasn't special. Maybe she was just another person who needed to be saved by Harry. Perhaps that was why he liked her in the first place – he remembered how it felt to save her in the Chamber of Secrets, and knew that it was only a matter of time before he got the opportunity again. He liked playing the hero. That was all. Could that be it?

She was being crazy. This was what Lestrange wanted her to think. Lestrange wanted her to be weak. But Ginny was strong. She would fight until her last breath.

Lestrange used the curse again, and Ginny didn't know if her last breath would be all that far off.

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