A/N: In this chapter, Draco says and does some things that help this story merit the M rating. Please consider yourself warned.
A chilly wind blew through the upper branches in the night-shrouded wood, and Ginny Weasley stirred in her perch near the top of a tall tree. She pulled her jacket tightly around her and clung to the wavering branches. Her mind, un-edited by a good sleep's rest for five nights now, raced wildly. She had to procure a wand. Without the ability to do magic, she was trapped and defenseless. Her panicked brain considered sneaking back into the French witch's cottage and stealing her wand, but that would probably mean certain death for the woman and Ginny's Gryffindor courage wouldn't allow her to do anything so cowardly.
Inwardly, Ginny cursed her so-called bravery. It was the reason that she was up here, stuck in a tree in an alien country without a wand and without a plan. Someone like Malfoy would have had all of this carefully planned out. How did the trio do it time and time again? Harry and Ron had rushed into dangerous situations countless times, but they had always had Hermione's intelligence and the support of numerous great wizards, not to mention a good deal of luck. Ginny felt quite alone. Her mind was growing numb with tiredness and worry, and her legs and arms were sore from clinging to the tree. She determinedly mopped up the tears that managed to eke their way out onto her cheeks and tried to sleep.
A sharp crack made her heart jump. It sounded like Apparition, and Ginny felt panic bubble up as she eyed the ground, scanning it warily for signs of a Death Eater. The trees were in full leaf and she couldn't see the ground clearly, but that meant that someone on the ground couldn't see her. She strained her ears, but heard nothing. She sighed. It was probably just an animal stepping on a branch and snapping it. She relaxed and let her mind wander again to keep it from racing. Maybe she could Floo to Beauxbatons tomorrow? They might know how to get in touch with the Delacour family. Slowly, Ginny succumbed to sleep.
The sun glowed warmly on Ginny's face when she woke up. Too stiff to move, she sat with her eyes closed and listened to the birds sing their morning songs. Her face hurt; she was going to have a bark shaped pattern etched into her cheek. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
It was a lovely day. The dawn light filtered through the rich green leaves and filled the forest with a charming fairy-tale glow. The freshness of the new morning lifted Ginny's spirits a great deal. Yes, she could Floo to Beauxbatons. She could find a wand and friends there, both of which she desperately needed. From there she could set about finding Order members and freeing whatever mystery captive the Death Eaters had. She quickly climbed down the tree.
"Going somewhere, darling? Or did you think I would be fooled by a fucking glamour charm?"
Ginny's heart stopped cold at the drawling voice. Slowly, she turned around. Draco Malfoy was sitting at the base of the tree just opposite hers. His hair was tousled but his eyes were fierce, and for a moment, Ginny froze. Though he sat lazily, his muscled arms crossed over a black cloak, he was obviously terribly angry. She felt her leonine audacity rage within her to overcome the boot-shaking fear, and before Malfoy could open his mouth again, she bolted.
Branches smacked her cheeks, whipping tiny cuts into her hands and face. She dodged and wove through the brush, blindly fleeing whatever came behind her. Her mind was blank other than the simple directive to keep moving. She could hear him behind her—or could she? She came to a small creek and leapt over it, and spared a moment to glance over her shoulder. Malfoy was nowhere in sight. She palmed an egg-sized rock and kept running. Her lungs were burning and she had a growing stitch in her side, but she continued to sprint.
Then, suddenly, he was on top of her. He grabbed her from behind, the force of the blow pitching her forward, and she landed face down in the dirt with Malfoy on top. He didn't spare her ribs, practically crushing her with his weight. Both the steadiness of his breath and the pounding of his heart resonated in her own body. He used one hand to turn her head to the side and hissed in her ear.
"Don't you ever, ever run from me again, witch. Do you want to learn what it's like to be broken, darling? I could break you so badly that you wouldn't even be able to sleep without my permission. Would you like to learn that lesson?"
His voice was low, cold, and terrifying. Brave, she thought.
"Oh, yes," he muttered, and she felt the tickling hint of Occlumency. "Would you like to see how quickly your bravery would melt away under a Cruciatus curse?" She gasped sharply as she felt him begin to pry deeper into her mind. "Or how about this, darling? How fucking brave will you be if I pick out all your worst memories and darkest secrets?"
There was Harry, dead on the floor. She couldn't help the tiny whimper.
He stopped, smirking, and sat up on his knees, still straddling her, and gripped her hair with one hand so that she couldn't move her head. He drew out his wand and she flinched.
"Finite incantatum."
He pointed the thin stick of hawthorn at Ginny's head, and the hair in his hand turned from blonde to red. Her eyes, full of fear but with an undercurrent of pure ferocity, shone from blue to brown. She kicked furiously underneath him, but only succeeded in wearing herself out. His knees kept her hands pinned to her sides, and she squirmed frantically. He pulled her head back down by her hair, a motion that brought tears into Ginny's eyes.
"Already? Will you ever bloody learn?"
He drawled the words slowly, as though he was speaking to a disobedient child. His calm demeanor was unsettling; Ginny wished he would go back to yelling at her instead. He sat up enough to flip her over to her back, still crouched over her, and used one hand to pull both of her arms above her head. He lowered his face until it was mere centimeters away from her own, and Ginny could smell the aftershave on his neck. She attempted to free her hands, but his piercing glare and rock hard grip stopped her cold.
"I'm going to say this once, Ginevra, and you are to remember it," he breathed. "Is that clear?"
Ginny nodded. She was fighting the urge to cry, which was probably a losing battle. Malfoy had complete control of her body and had proved he wasn't afraid to hurt her, physically and otherwise.
"Good. You are mine. Until the Dark Lord commands otherwise, you belong entirely to my father and me. Since you don't seem to comprehend that, I shall explain it to you just this once." He paused and used his free hand to lift Ginny's chin so that his silvery eyes stared directly into her chocolate ones. "You do as I say, when I say it, and you do not ask questions. You will not show me disrespect. You will be both obedient and compliant. I decide what respect is. I decide what obedience is."
Tears fell freely from Ginny's eyes but she didn't make a sound. Draco lowered his voice even further.
"Displease me, darling, and you will suffer for it."
The words hit like arrows and turned to heavy stones in Ginny's heart. Draco stayed there for a moment that felt like a decade, his nose a hair's breadth from hers, his chest nearly touching her own. Ginny shivered involuntarily at the close proximity.
Draco blinked and released her arms. He ran a slender finger down her cheek and caught a tear, then smoothed her hair away in a manner that was almost gentle. He traced his finger down her neck, over her shoulder and slowly down her side, never breaking eye contact. He paused at her waist; Ginny's jacket had hiked up just a bit in her previous struggle for freedom. Draco slowly slid his fingers over the edge of the fabric and onto her bare skin. Ginny gasped as he pushed the jacket up a few inches more and wrapped his hand around the curve of her bare waist. He held on for a moment, then smirked and let go.
"Remember, my darling traitor, that you are mine."
He stood up and brushed off his cloak. Ginny sat up slowly, her eyes coming to rest on a certain egg-sized rock. All she needed was his wand . . .
Draco looked at her and grabbed her hand to pull her to her feet. As he did, Ginny pulled her left hand back, and connected the rock-wielding fist with Draco's eye. He growled in pain and she prepared to hit him again and grab the wand that she knew was in his right side pocket. Draco, however, was still holding her hand. He yanked her tightly into himself, pinning her other arm next to his body.
Ginny felt the tight squeeze of Apparition, and then she was thrown to the floor. Draco grasped for his wand and muttered a healing spell for his eye, which was already turning black and blue. Ginny inched away slowly toward the door, looking for something else to use as a weapon.
"Incarcerous," Draco said lazily. A jet of light hit Ginny and she was bound, hand and foot.
"My little Weasley," Draco walked toward her, deadly calm. Ginny cursed her stupid Gryffindor bravery again as he continued, "You really are fucking insane. Not a full minute after I warned you, you tried to escape again. Do you remember what I said would happen to you?"
Ginny nodded.
"You have displeased me. So you will suffer." He wrenched up her arms violently and pushed her into the wall, holding her arms above her head so that she couldn't move.
"Let's see. I can't bloody well kill you, because that wouldn't really teach you anything, would it? But I could hurt you. I have a large repertoire of spells that will hurt a misbehaving, captive, little blood traitor. Although I have a feeling that the pathetic little braveries you keep exhibiting won't be curbed by a bit of temporary pain. So what else could I do to you that would . . . help?"
Ginny realized that she wasn't breathing. He wouldn't do—that. She gasped aloud and Draco smirked at her.
"Wouldn't I? You seem to be awfully frightened of that . . . and fear is such an excellent motivator," he drawled.
Ginny stared at him, confused when Draco smirked at her bewilderment. He let out a mirthless chuckle as he slowly began to unbutton her jacket. In less than a second, Ginny fully comprehended that he had once again read her mind.
"No!" she cried, "No! You can't! I mean . . . you can't! You won't! Stop!"
Draco ignored her and slipped another button out of its hole, and Ginny's shrieks of protest turned into begging.
"Please, Malfoy. Please don't—" He opened her jacket and slid his hands underneath her shirt so that they rested on her bare stomach. Ginny couldn't help herself. She gasped at the touch. It electrified and numbed her, all at once, and her thoughts flew in and out of coherence.
"Draco." Lucius stood in the doorway, taking in the tableau. "Can you finish with Miss Weasley later? There is a matter of rather extreme urgence."
Draco glanced at Ginny, and his mercurial eyes raked over her entire body. He smirked wickedly at her and turned back to his father.
"Of course, father. I'll come with you now." He let go of Ginny but made no move to untie her. The two Malfoys exited the room, and Ginny slid down the wall, still bound, and sat crumpled in a heap. So far her so-called bravery had only made things worse, terribly worse. She shoved thoughts of what Malfoy might do when he came back aside, and wished she had a little more of the precious Slytherin cunning to her name.
She desperately needed to work on her Occlumency.
"He wants to make you his heir, Draco. He informed me yesterday, so we are right on target. There were rumors he would select Nott, but that's been put to rest."
Draco smirked and cocked an eyebrow. His father was a brilliant tactician, but also knew exactly how and when to use a sinister potion in a way that was not only untraceable, but also looked accidental.
"He stipulated one condition. I know you will not like it, but I think it is a small price to pay. I've spent the night reviewing the lore behind the spell, and there is no other way around it. The Sang Primoris is a spell dating past the wizards of Egypt. Even if it were not a condition for your succession, such a spell is indefinitely valuable." He handed the ancient texts to Draco, who perused them. Draco's brow furrowed.
"Is this talking about a wedding? Do I have to get married?"
"Nothing in there says that the marriage has to be permanent. It can be to Pansy, for all I care. You can divorce her before the week is out."
"Yes . . . er, father, did you read this bit?" Draco pointed to a set of runes in the corner of the final page.
"What bit?"
"It's something of a footnote, and if I'm reading it correctly, it absolutely can't be Pansy."
Lucius snatched the parchment away from him and studied the chicken scratch-like characters in the bottom corner. The spell clearly required "the blood of the first lost innocence." Lucius suppressed a shudder. Even he did not care for magic this dark.
"Daphne?"
Draco shook his head ruefully.
"Merlin, Draco. You've been sleeping with them both and you've managed to get them to agree with it?" He raised an eyebrow at his son. "I always thought you kept Pansy in order to hold off of Daphne."
"No, not at all. Pansy is my quick fix for when I don't feel like wining and dining Daph."
"Nott—he has a sister, yes?" Lucius watched as Draco shook his head. "Or have you been with her as well?" he asked sardonically.
"No, but Flint has. Really, Father, I can't think of any one of them who actually 'protected' her innocence. It's just so old-fashioned. Even Millicent has been with Crabbe. Or Goyle. Or maybe both. I can't remember."
"Astoria then. She's a bit younger but perfectly old enough—"
"—to have already been in my bed. And Blaise's. And Merlin knows who else. Besides, Daphne would . . ." Draco blanched. "Damn. I completely forgot about Daphne. I left her in bed last night after Gin ran away, and she's probably out of her mind wondering where I am. Excuse me father."
Draco left the room, and Lucius turned back to his desk. The runes were confusing and hard to make out, but the Malfoy library was well stocked. Lucius picked up the papers and made his way through the corridors to the library. The tall shelves of books reached all the way to the fifteen-foot ceiling, but he knew exactly what he wanted. He selected a heavy tome and carried it to a small table. The book opened with a stiff crack from the spine, but within moments, Lucius's questions were answered. Even Lucius shivered with the dark weight of the primal ritual the runes described. Draco needed to marry a pureblooded witch and consummate the marriage, then perform the spell with the blood of her innocence.
Lucius heard a tiny sob and turned slowly. There, in the corner, was a pureblooded witch, her vibrant red hair hiding her quiet tears.
"Revelium Integer" he said quietly.
A/N: As I said at the end of Chapter 1, I've been editing this story to correct spelling and grammar. This is as far as I've gotten, but I think the worst of my mistakes are behind us. I'll continue revising of course, but I'm ready to get back to writing! :)
I do hope you're enjoying the story so far. Please feel free to review these older chapters; whether you give me compliments or critiques, it does my heart a great deal of good to know that people are reading them.