Chapter 3

"I was a beautiful woman when I was young, wasn't I?" Narcissa smiled nostalgically at the old photographs resting on her lap.

It had been three weeks since Ginny was first assigned to her post as Narcissa's companion, and in this time she had warmed up to the older woman far more than she ever thought possible. When she and Draco first started dating, Narcissa had tormented her at every waking moment. She had loved telling Ginny that her precious son had no use for a commoner like her. Now, ten years later, Narcissa sat before her as a broken woman. The once calculating attitude had disappeared, fading into dreaminess.

"Yes you were, Mrs. Malfoy," Ginny agreed. Narcissa grinned childishly, reveling in the delight that someone thought she was beautiful.

"You know, I had many admirers at that time. Lucius was one of them, the wealthiest and most suitable one, but I didn't love him. I loved another," Gazing at the photographs fondly, she seemed as if she were in a far off land, in her own little world.

Just as Ginny was about to respond, Narcissa started again.

"I loved him very much, but he was poor…had absolutely nothing. The Blacks have always been rich, I couldn't marry him., especially not after Andromeda ran off with that Mudblood. Father was furious. I didn't dare anger him further, so I agreed to marry Lucius. I later learned that he didn't have any feelings for me, and believed I was just some trophy to be put on display. He took on many lovers, I was actually surprised when I became pregnant, considering how little he touched me. But now he's dead." Giggling maniacally, Narcissa took out a laced handkerchief, dabbing at her mouth.

"Well, he's the lucky one. He escaped this hell, this hell my own flesh and blood created for us." Her laughter stopped, and she once again had that hard glint in her eye Ginny saw so many years ago.

"I HATE YOU!" Narcissa screamed. "I HATE YOU, HATE YOU, HATE YOU!"

After the power of her outburst, she immediately collapsed, sobbing. Reaching out to pat the blonde woman, Ginny empathized with her. Narcissa's words of hate were not directed at one person, but at many. She hated her late husband because he robbed her of both her love and her youth, leaving her a life filled with emptiness. She hated her son, because she had loved him, but he discarded her now that she was of no use to him. But most of all, she hated herself. She hated herself, for allowing these two people to torment her so, for leaving her in this state.

This burning fury that Narcissa felt, was an emotion Ginny knew well. It ate away at her, killing her, but she didn't know how to stop it.

Patting the older woman's back, Ginny stared out the window, wondering if her life would be destroyed like Narcissa's.

---

It had been raining for a week.

She had sat in this spot for over two days, freezing and hungry. The tattered blanket she had found on the bench, hung over a branch, creating a makeshift tent. Shivering, she tried wrapping the thin sweater tighter around her, but the rain soaked clothes served as no shield from the biting wind.

Although she was tired, she dared not sleep, knowing those haunting memories would take over as soon as she shut her eyes. If only the rain would stop, maybe everything would return back to normal. Maybe, she could go back to her warm home, and sit in front of the fireplace. Maybe she could see her mother bring her a cup of hot cocoa, and listen to her father tell her stories of old times. Maybe she could see her four year old brother try to fly his toy broom. But she knew, as hard as she wished for those things to happen, they never would again.

The worse day of her life, the day she lost everything she held dear, was a day that was foggy in her memory. She had been invited to go see the Weird Sisters perform. She had been ecstatic, squealing at the thought to meet her favorite band. Her mother had laughed, watching her daughter jump up and down in excitement. Her father just shook his head, and her brother had toddled over and planted a big wet kiss on her cheek.

She couldn't remember what happened after she Apparated away with her friend to the concert, but she did remember everything that she saw once she returned. She remembered it in painstaking detail.

That night even before she opened the door to her house, she knew something was horribly wrong. The lights were all off, when usually, her parents always left at least a few candles burning. Entering, she saw that her quiet home was completely destroyed. Yelling for her parents, she rushed to their room, only to find her mother and father dead. She froze in the doorway, wanting, hoping, and praying that the scene would go away. That she could open her eyes, and find her parents standing up, telling her that it was all a very bad joke. But they didn't. She had no idea how her brain was still functioning, but she suddenly thought of her brother. Screaming his name, she couldn't find him anywhere, until she checked under his bed. There, her four year old brother, this innocent child, this boy who loved unconditionally, lay dead.

She had pulled him out, and held him in her arms, rocking him and crying. She had cried and cried, not knowing what to do. Her family was dead, murdered in cold blood, leaving her completely alone in this world. Suddenly, in the midst of her agony, she heard voices. Harsh voices discussing what to do with the bodies. Knowing that the murderers were back, she did the first thing that came to mind. She Apparated outside, carrying the lifeless body of her little brother.

Watching from the bushes, she saw a group of men arguing.

"Death Eaters, we should have killed them long ago," one man with long hair spat.

"Those no good pieces of filth had no right to live," another man agreed.

"But, did you have to kill them? You could have given him the Dementor's Kiss, or just have locked him up in Azkaban for life. He had a family. A wife, a son, and a daugh-"

"You've always been too kind Arthur," the man with the long hair argued. "They deserved to die. The whole lot of them, But where's the daughter? I didn't see her."

Death Eaters? Were they talking about her parents? No, her parents were law abiding people; they neither joined the Order nor the Death Eaters. They were good people. Good people. Her eyes clouded over with both hatred and confusion. Who were these lying murderers?

"The Order needed them dead. I don't care if he said he reformed or not, he- they, are the reason why some of our best Aurors are dead!" A round man declared.

The Order? Aurors? They were the Order of the Phoenix, the men who were supposed to help good people like her family, how could they do this to them? Betrayal sliced at her heart, and hot tears stung her eyes.

"I say we burn the house, destroy the evidence…" She forgot the rest of the words the men spoke, but she remembered that her house had went up in flames. She watched as the orange, yellow, and red flames consume the place she had grown up in. She watched the place that had held so many dear memories, disappear before her eyes. The men had left, and she stood up, still holding the body of her brother.

That was when it began to rain. Slowly, the flames ceased, dying. Walking into the burned down house, she made a decision that broke her heart. Walking into her parent's room, she placed her brother on the bed. Picking up a burnt blanket, she slowly covered his small body.

"I'm so sorry."

Those three words meant more than anything she had ever said. She wanted to apologize to him for not being there, for not protecting him. She wanted to apologize for leaving him here. She wanted to apologize for so many things, but most of all, for not being able to say a goodbye or an "I love you" to him.

When she walked away that night, she promised her family and herself, that she would make those men pay.

But now, huddled up in her light clothes, freezing and starving to the point of delirium, she doubted she would be able to complete that promise. Just as she was about to collapse, an angel passed by her, at least that's what she thought. Dressed entirely in black, his white blond hair stood out terribly. He stared at her, or more specifically her hair.

"Ginny…" He reached out, but immediately pulled back, shaking his head. Just as she thought he was about to leave, he reached out his hand again, but this time grabbed hold of hers and pulled her up.

"Come with me."

---

Drusilla stared into the Pensieve, a small smile on her lips. Unlike most times, this was a genuine one, but it quickly dissipated, as if it were never there. Her lips once again curved up into a sly smile, knowing that what goes around comes around.

---

"Tell me Ginevra, how's my mother?" Draco asked, stabbing into a piece of steak.

She had been called to his dining room tonight for what supposedly was dinner. When she arrived, she realized although it was dinner, she wouldn't be eating. Instead, she stood opposite him across the table, watching him eat.

"She's fine, considering how you're treating her," she bit out, still appalled at his attitude towards his mother.

"Really? Considering that everyone else would have thrown her out because of her madness, I believe I have been more than generous to her," he smirked, taking a sip of his red wine.

Sneering, she bit her tongue to hold back a retort.

"If this is all you want of me, than I believe I shall go back to my post." Turning, she headed for the door.

"Did I say you could leave yet?" Although his voice was smooth, she could hear the steel beneath it. "Sit down," he ordered, pointing at the seat opposite him.

Once she took a seat, instead of talking to her, or cursing her, he continued eating and drinking, acting as if she weren't there. This went on for another thirty minutes, causing Ginny's blood to boil with indignation. Did he believe she liked watching him eat such a large and rich meal, when she her stomach was growling?

Just as she was about to scream at him, he spoke.

"Was your promise true?" he asked softly, cutting up his potatoes. His question was so quiet, that for a second, she thought it was her imagination.

"What promise?" raising a brow, she wondered what he was plotting.

"That you would love me forever?" he raised his head to stare at her. His serious question shocked her into silence, her mouth hanging open.

Should she tell him the truth? That her feelings for him were still there, even though she had tried unsuccessfully for years to bury them? Or did she brush him off, snort at the notion that she could or would still love him.

Before she could answer, he averted his gaze and shook his head.

"Forget it. Forget that question. You may leave," he told her in that emotionless voice of his. His vulnerability dissolved, replaced by the hard shell he had built over the years.

Nodding her head, she left the room.

---

What on Earth possessed him to ask her that question? Was he turning into his mother? Going mad? Mentally slapping himself, he cursed his stupidity. Yes, he had dreamed of asking her that question many times, tossing and turning at night, wondering what she would say. But in the morning, rationality would take over, telling him that he could never ask her.

Before, he had believed that his mistake in bringing her here was wrong, now he knew that this was a disaster. What was wrong with him? Maybe it was the alcohol; the wine was doing this to him. Yes, it was wine. Picking up the bottle, he threw it against the door.

He didn't ask because he actually needed to know her answer, it was simply curiosity. He had always prided himself in his quickness to question, so of course he wanted to know if she still had feelings. It was just curiosity.

Cursing, he stabbed the knife through the table, before storming off to his room.

---

Walking down the long halls, Ginny had plenty of time to think about what happened at dinner, or actually Draco's dinner. His question puzzled her. Why did he ask her that? Did he really care about her answer, or did he just want to confuse her? Maybe it was some kind of bait for her that would hook her into his trap. Did he want her to let her guard down, so he could easily attack? Hundreds of questions filled her head, each seeming plausible.

He had confused her when they were in Hogwarts, he had confused her when they became lovers, and he confused her the most now that they were enemies.

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Author's Note: Any thoughts on Drusilla's past? Just wondering. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

jessica:thank you very much, and sorry for the long wait. :)