Chapter 5

Godric arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron an mere seven hours after he had left. He had intended to make her wait longer for his return, yet he felt himself craving her and saw no reason to deny himself.

She was still sprawled naked on the bed when he returned although she had pulled the covers around herself and was now sleeping.

He stared at her critically while she slept but could find no complaint with her. Her hair was a flaming red- his favourite colour. Her breasts were full and plump and her stomach slightly rounded. She was feminine and he liked that as he did not see the attraction of women so thin their bones were prominent. Her skin was pale and scattered with freckles, again as he liked it. It was almost as if she had been designed for him alone. Of course she was, he reminded himself, she was his fatali.

He walked towards the bed but froze when he saw a blue ribbon wound around her wrists. This must be Slytherin magic and he was betting it was the woman's. Unconcerned with waking the witch, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling it roughly towards him. She woke with a yelp of pain which he ignored.

"What is this?" He barked at her. It would be some form of sneaky magic no doubt.

"I don't know. Hermione did it, she knows about us." Ginny's voice shook so much he was barely able to catch the words. Frustrated at his witch's incompetence, his opened the mind-link they shared and threw himself into her memories.

He watched the encounter between his witch and Salazar's wondering at her resemblance to Salazar's dead wife- the one who had started this hatred. The witch seemed to be even more frustrating than Salazar though, because Godric still had no idea what magic she had performed. The smart bitch had probably used a potion instead of a spell for that very reason.

With a frustrated roar, Godric grabbed the thin ribbon and pulled but he could not snap it. His witch cried out in pain again. He stopped, throwing her a disgusted look.

"What is your name, witch?" The question slipped out before he even realised he had a desire to know. She looked offended at the question, but he didn't care.

"Ginny P-Weasley" she bit out angrily. He mulled it over and decided he didn't like the name. He hoped it was a shortened version.

"What is your proper name?"

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Ginevra."

"Well, Ginevra, that witch was right about one thing: you will not be returning to your husband anytime soon." Godric hadn't yet decided if he wanted to keep her, but he was definitely not through with her just yet. And, he admitted to himself, he detested the idea of her sharing her bed with any other man- Godric Gryffindor did not share.

Ginevra nodded enthusiastically and he curled up a lip in derision. She was pathetically taken by him and he knew she would agree to anything he proposed.

He grabbed her wrist again and reached out with his magic to untie the ribbon. The knot unwound itself and the ribbon slid gracefully to the floor but Godric felt himself paralysed. He suddenly felt hollow and knew his magic had been drained. Ginevra's expression mimicked his own and he knew hers had been drained as well. They were powerless.

Fear and panic overran his anger and he grabbed Ginevra roughly by the arm. "Pack quickly, we have to run."

His heart beat pounded in his head as he threw his meagre possessions into a trunk. Where could he go? Slytherin had control of the castle so that left only one place.

"We have to go to Godric's Hollow."

His witches face drained of the little colour it had and she stopped packing instantly. He thought he heard her softly whisper "we can't" but he ignored her and grabbed her roughly by the arm again. Without allowing her to finish packing, he apparated them into the church yard of Godric's Hollow.

He led her through the church and down into the crypt beyond. Salazar may have his Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts, but his was much more discreetly placed. A large expanse of plain, unremarkable wall was his destination. He withdrew a small knife from his pocket and cut his hand, smearing the blood across the wall in an intricate pattern. The wall shimmered before disappearing, only to reappear once he and his witch had crossed the threshold.

The main room of his lair consisted of an ostentatiously large fireplace and four-poster bed. He headed for the bed, dragging the redhead with him. He pushed her roughly on to the foot of the bed and ordered her to change into her night wear. As she did so, he lit a fire before doing the same.

He couldn't conceal a gasp as he turned towards her and saw angry red marks on her arm. He had done that to her. Was it guilt he felt as he stared at them unable to take his eyes away? Surely not, he thought uneasily, he had never felt guilty about anything. He was Godric Gryffindor and all others were beneath him.

Uncomfortable with his stare, his witch slid under the bed covers. But he could still picture them, in his mind. The angry red marks were sure to leave behind large bruises on his witch's skin. He tried to assure himself that he was only concerned because it detracted from her beauty but he couldn't convince himself. This was guilt, and he did not like feeling it.

"I'm sorry about your arm." He hadn't meant to apologise to her but couldn't stop himself. It was the first apology he had ever uttered and if he expected it to take away his guilt he was mistaken. It did, however, seem to offer some comfort to Ginevra.

"It's fine. I've had worse." Her voice was warm and as he slid into the bed next to her he had to remind himself to keep a distance between them. Godric Gryffindor did not cuddle up to any witch in bed- this was the first time he had permitted one to sleep next to him.

He didn't want to picture her with worse wounds, he realised with a frown, because he might feel inclined to severely hurt anyone who had hurt her.

He closed his eyes and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.