Sorry for the wait! It's been hard for me to get back into the swing of school and I just now got to sit down and edit this chapter. I hope you enjoy…
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Harry had no clue where he was, or how he even got there. His memory was extremely fuzzy, and his thoughts incoherent.
Ginny.
He tried blinking, but that was to no avail. His vision remained cloudy. It soon became clear that he couldn't even struggle against his iron bonds, as his limbs felt so heavy. Desperately, he tried to recall how he got drugged—for that was the only possibility that made sense.
Ginny.
Where had he been? What day was he taken? Was someone with him? Did Sirius know? Who took him?
Ginny.
WHAT WAS I DOING?! Harry screamed in his mind. A soft moan was heard, and he realized it came from his own mouth. Finally! He could make a noise.
Ginny.
Harry's mind caught up with itself. He and Ginny were together. He smelled mistletoe, but what did he see?
The feeling of Ginny's tears beneath his fingers returned to him. He remembered the wetness sliding across her cheek as he'd smeared it away. Her sparkling brown eyes had been full of sadness and compassion for him.
"Your parents sound like such marvelous people," Ginny had said in a choked up voice. "I'm ready to meet them."
Taking her hand, Harry had led his fiancée to his parents' grave. He'd set the mistletoe and roses bouquet on the grave, kneeling in the snow. He recalled how the air around them felt so still. There'd been no wind, no movement at all; only the sound of their individual breathing.
"Hey Mum," Harry said in a small voice. "Dad. You'll be happy to know that I won't be dying alone like Sirius joked about. I've found a beautiful girl that loves me. We didn't exactly come together the way I imagined, but I love her nonetheless and I'm sure Sirius has kept you informed as to how we came to be engaged."
Ginny chuckled. "I do hope you two can see how much I love him, though. However unconventional our romance has been, I will be his with all of my heart."
Harry had been listening intently when he suddenly got the feeling of being watched. He'd turned his head while Ginny went on talking and came face to face with a strange hooded figure. The two people reached for their wands at the same time, Harry getting in a quick "Expelliarmus!"
"Damn you!" a deep voice growled. He launched at Harry, who stunned him. He barely noticed how Ginny had whipped out her wand as well.
That's when it happened. A number of black hooded figures had appeared in the graveyard, wands pointed at the witch and wizard they surrounded.
"Accio Ginny Weasley!" a man had shouted. Harry'd watched in horror as Ginny flew through the air and landed gracefully in the arms of the man who'd summoned her. He'd moved to wave his wand, but found that he couldn't budge an inch. When he'd made to yell, he discovered that wasn't possible either.
It had been then that Harry knew he was defeated.
"Wave it once," the man had growled. "And your precious little fiancée is dead."
Harry's arm was given motion.
He'd dropped the wand.
"No," Ginny whimpered. "Don't let them, Har—
But she'd been silenced as well.
As the memory cleared Harry's mind, anger coursed through his blood. Death Eaters (he remembered what they looked like from the drunken idiots at the Quidditch World Cup) had attacked him and Ginny at his parents' grave. Not only had they threatened who he loved; they'd done it while he was standing over the people he was already in mourning for. The brass, the lack of respect for the dead, made Harry's body burn with a need for revenge.
He looked around the room, rustling his chains. His strength seemed to be coming back. Clearing his throat, he tried speaking. "Gin? Sweetheart?"
His voice was slurred, but effective. The potion he must've been given was wearing off.
"I'm here," her voice called hoarsely from somewhere behind him. "Are you alright?"
"I'm good," he tried to make his voice confident. "Have they hurt you?"
"Nothing too bad," she replied hesitantly.
Harry jerked at his chains, the metal cutting into his wrists painfully. "What did they do to you? Tell me Ginny!"
He was almost surprised at the sudden clarity of his voice.
"I told you it wasn't bad," she kept on in her smooth voice. "They're trying to make you willing give up your blood."
"What the bloody hell do they want that for?" Harry snapped. "And how could you contribute to that?"
"I just know they need your blood, and you have to willingly offer it. The woman said something about your blood being offered in the same way your mother's life was." Ginny's voice trembled slightly. "They seem to think by torturing me, you'll be more inclined."
"No," Harry jerked the chains, harder this time. "I mustn't let that happen."
"You can't give them your blood either, I'm scared for what that means."
"I won't let them hurt you."
"Then what do you propose?"
Harry hit the back of his head on the wall he was chained to, hating himself the moment he did it. He was fairly sure blood appeared. "Darling...what did they do?"
"One of the men just roughed me up a bit," Ginny explained in her ever-strong voice. "I've got a cut on my lip and some bruises, but that's all."
More fire coursed through Harry, anger clawing its way from his chest. How dare they touch his fiancée? How dare they harm anyone else after all the damage and pain they inflicted on so many people? Harry grit his teeth and focused on the words he often saw in his mother's letters addressed to baby Harry.
"Violence is never the key," she always said. "Even your father was able to mend his ways. Finding a fight in everything doesn't solve anything. Rely on love to carry you through difficult situations with people who may have wronged you. Love, my dearest Harry, is our greatest weapon. If you focus on love, keep a straight head, and protect yourself and those close to you, all will be well. Just. Love."
"Love," Harry murmured. The fire in his veins lessened to the warmth of old embers. "Love. Love. Love."
Before Ginny could respond to his strange mantra, footsteps could be heard from in front of him. Light filled the room and in front of Harry was a cement staircase that led into the large cellar they were chained in. He found it to be rather bland, with simple cement walls and chains that tied him to a pillar that Ginny seemed to be chained on the side of. The staircase was shut off by an iron gate that slowly creaked open.
"We may not be able to hear you," a sniveling voice said. "But you'll be able to hear her."
And out of the shadows stepped Peter Pettigrew.
)-(
Draco was not an idiot.
He was a ruthless git, he could admit to that. He was scared of failing. He was scared of love and that weakness it caused. He was scared of his Father. He kept emotions at bay because they destroyed him. All these things were true.
So when Blaise Zabini called him an idiot for thinking Sarai White was worth shagging, Draco stood and stalked out. Blaise frequently called him an idiot. No more would he accept that.
Draco prided himself on his intelligence. He knew how to get out of a quick spot, and he was quite charming and quick witted. In school, he had all high marks—particularly potions. He was smart. Teachers didn't like him or even remotely respect him, but they tolerated him because he was a good student.
He was smart.
He was not an idiot.
But was he good?
Yes, he had changed in the last year or so. As his relationship with his father worsened, he began to wonder at all his foundations of thinking. Everything he believed was based on the way his father had raised him to believe it. When Draco realized he disagreed with almost everything that came out of his father's mouth, he felt as if his world was completely upside down.
He honestly didn't know what he believed anymore.
Which is why the state his home was in upon his return confused him greatly.
Draco stepped out of the fireplace in his bedroom whilst the youngest family elf, Dobby, was cleaning his room. The elf had been a gift to Draco on his fourteenth birthday, and was clumsy as anything. He worked well though, and for the first time Draco felt a bit of remorse for how he used to misuse the thing.
"Master Draco!" Dobby squeaked upon sighting him. "Dobby is sorry! Mistress Malfoy told Dobby that you would not be spending break here!"
"I decided to come home early," Draco replied smoothly. "Where is Mother?"
Dobby twisted a dusting towel in his hands. "Dobby isn't supposed to say."
Draco crossed his arms, about to give the order, when a woman's scream rang through the Manor, followed by a desperate yell of "GINNY!" Draco flinched at how the sound came through the walls. Generally, you couldn't hear much unless you were in the same room. It sounded as if a spell had made it magnified.
Second, he realized the male voice yelled for 'Ginny.' If he wasn't mistaken, that was the name of Sarai's best friend and Harry Potter's girlfriend.
Third, he wanted to smack himself for constantly thinking of Sarai.
(You see, Draco spent most of his time after being turned into a ferret watching Sarai White interact with the world. He realized it was slightly stalker-ish; yet he couldn't be bothered to care. He steadily began to withdraw from his friends and seclude into himself...and fifty yards away from Sarai White's study spots. His slight obsession was something he was not wholly proud of. Back to the present, though.)
"Dobby!" Draco hissed, crouching to the elf's level. He saw the shock in his eyes, but ignored it. "Dobby, I am your Master, not Mother and Father. I order you to tell me what's happening."
Dobby gulped and explained the idea that a man by the name of Wormtail had. He suggested an ancient ritual that required the bones of the father and the blood of a mortal enemy, willingly given, as well as the blood of a devoted servant. The only ingredient left for raising Lord Voldemort was Harry Potter's blood, which they were manipulating him into giving.
Draco staggered back. "Father is a Death Eater?"
Dobby nodded gravely.
"And Mother?"
"Only an obedient wife."
Draco ran a hand through his hair, his world spinning. He realized that in these moments he needed to make a decision: obey his father and let them try to return the Dark Lord or follow his heart—
No. Draco Malfoy did not "follow his heart."
Sarai's voice was suddenly in his head. "I fully believe that you could be a good person if you weren't the absolute worst person you could be."
At first, Draco didn't quite understand. But then he realized he was being the worst version of himself there was, and wondered if there even was a good version. That had been what made him wonder if he should back away from his friends in the first place.
And now…now, he had a decision to make. Do what was right, what Sarai would believe was right, or do what he'd been doing his whole life and play the part of an obedient son.
"Dobby," Draco said through gritted teeth. "We're going to save Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley."