Ginny blinked slowly. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as she clutched her arms around her waist, trying to calm her pounding heart. She felt as though she had been stabbed in the chest, and her blood was cold with shock. She crumbled to her knees, her wedding gown spreading in a circle around her, glowing in the moonlight.
Moonlight. She was outside. In a forest. Peering down through the leaves on the trees was a full moon. Ginny took a deep breath and tried to remember what had happened.
Draco had threatened her. She could still see the hard edge in his eye and hear the steel in his voice. He had threatened her, but he hadn't really wanted to hurt her. He was just using her for his damned spell, using her as if she was irrelevant. Fucking Slytherins.
But he had scared her. She had kissed him obediently when he told her to, and unlike the kiss at the altar, this one had been involved. She could still taste the sweetness of his tongue and feel it softly probing the curve of her lip. She bit it involuntarily, and wrapped her arms still tighter around her waist.
He had turned her toward the mirror then, and Ginny saw a beautiful bride with flushed cheeks and loose curls, and behind her an impossibly handsome groom with cool gray eyes. He had wrapped his arms around her waist, an action which appeared to be a loving gesture in the mirror, but all Ginny felt was a loss of control. The groom in the mirror kissed his bride's neck gently, and Ginny shivered involuntarily. His eyes had been cold and unfeeling, unforgivably so, and she realized that not only would she forever mourn the loss of having a happy wedding, but also of having a tender, loving wedding night.
Then everything had gone black, and now she was here, wherever here was.
Ginny sighed. Her memories didn't provide any clues as to her location, or why she was there. Hesitantly, she began to walk. The undergrowth caught at her gown, tearing the beading away, but to stay still in a dark forest seemed like less and less of a good idea.
Malfoy had tracked her down last time she had run away in a matter of hours, and even if she hadn't run away on purpose this time, he'd still be livid. Unless, of course, spiriting her to another location was part of Voldemort's plan. Either way, sitting in a dark wood didn't seem like the best option. If she was indeed free, she needed to find help, and if this was (still)? another trap, she needed to run.
After only a few minutes of walking, she came to a clearing, and Ginny's heart leapt, for on the other side of the small meadow sat a very familiar cottage, warmly lit.
"What do you mean, 'she's gone?'" Lucius asked stonily.
"I've no idea. I was beginning to take off her gown when I heard the loud crack and a flash of light. I don't think it was Apparition or a Portkey, but she is undeniably gone."
Lucius sighed and frowned pensively.
"There are two possibilities here. One, the girl's friends found a way to rescue her. Have we checked in on the mudblood?"
"In the past ten minutes?" Draco snorted, "No. You think my bride vanishes with a bang and my first thought is 'damn, better check in on the mudblood?' I was in a bit of shock, Father."
"Fine. But if it is those phoenix-loving bandits, we need to make sure she's secure."
Draco took a few steps in front of the fireplace, which was glowing with the end of the day's coal. He absentmindedly held a hand over the flames, warming it, and then held it to his cheek. Lucius watched him, lips tight, and poured himself a glass of brandy from a crystal decanter.
"The other possibility, Draco, is that someone has betrayed us."
Draco looked up at Lucius quickly, his eyes sharp.
"That's impossible. Mother is the only one who knows the entire plan. All the others are expendable—even Zabini doesn't know the end game."
"Are you sure you never let it slip? To Zabini? Or perhaps Greengrass?"
Draco shook his head and white blond strands fell onto his brow. He combed them back with impatient fingers and turned back to the fire.
"No. No one but mother knows how the Weasley girl fits into the scheme. I suppose one might guess her importance, but the Dark Lord himself would have had to betray the secret."
Lucius took a slow drink and cocked an eyebrow at his son.
"Well then, someone ought to look in on the little mudblood."
Draco nodded absentmindedly, his jaw hard.
"Fine, but what the fuck are we going to tell the Dark Lord? In his current state news like this could encourage him to choose a different heir, and I don't think I need to remind you that this would set us back months."
Lucius drew in a tight breath.
"We'll tell him nothing. You have the Invenio charm on the girl, so you can begin tracking her at once. If you don't find her by dawn, alert me. I'll take care of things."
Draco looked at his father carefully, silver eyes penetrating grey.
"Do you mean…that is, you'll follow the original plan?"
"I can see no other choice," said Lucius somberly.
Draco leaned in on the mantle and the light from the flames played along the hard angular lines of his face. His mask was carefully in place, but Lucius knew his son well.
"Don't worry, my son. The Dark Lord is weaker than we calculated before, and carrying out our original plan might be less desirable, but it will be straightforward."
"Straightforward but terribly risky."
"Yes, but you will find Ginevra. Even if it is, well, too late," he frowned, "she'll still be an excellent pawn. Public image and all that. Go. I'll tell the world that you're honeymooning at an undisclosed location for an indefinite amount of time, and I'll throw money at a few resorts for show."
Draco nodded resolutely and traced his wand through the air, touching it against his wrist.
"Invenio Ginevra." He muttered, and Apparated away.
Ginny took a breath, smoothed her hands over her tattered dress, and knocked firmly on the door of the small cottage.
No one answered.
"Hello?" she whispered tentatively, "er, bonjour?"
The door creaked open and sure enough there was the elder Madame Tallieur. Her eyes shone like black currants in the starlight, and with a crooked smile and wizened finger, she welcomed Ginny in and gestured to a chair—the same chair Ginny had tripped over just a few weeks prior.
The older women poured Ginny a cup of tea with a wobbly hand and passed it to her. The cup teetered on the saucer, clinking gently as Ginny accepted it. She sipped the tea slowly—it was quite hot—and watched as the woman fumbled around in her knitting basket. She cackled quietly to herself and held up her wand. She gestured that Ginny should stand, and Ginny obediently set down her cup and stood. The wedding dress was cumbersome, especially now that it was tattered, and Ginny nearly tripped on the rocker again.
The older woman muttered something under her breath and transfigured the gown into a simple black turtleneck, knee length black skirt, and beautiful dragon hide boots. The clothes were stylish but practical, and Ginny offered thanks, which were dismissed with an absent wave of the wand.
Madame Tallieur walked right up to Ginny, until the younger woman could count the wrinkles in the corners of the older woman's eyes. Madame searched Ginny's eyes carefully, then lifted her chin and examined her neck. Ginny was baffled. The woman stepped backward, her lips pursed. Then, as though seized by an idea, she grabbed Ginny's hands and turned them over, palm up.
"Ah, Invenio," she muttered. She turned with haste to retrieve her wand and Ginny stared at her arms. They looked perfectly normal. She could see the blue veins under her pale skin, and fine red hairs and a few freckles sprinkled across like cinnamon.
The woman approached Ginny with her wand and tapped it on her right wrist, then drew a small circle. To Ginny's horror, the Malfoy crest shone like white fire on the inside of her arm, and a sudden recollection of Malfoy performing the charm weeks ago flashed before her eyes. Doubtless, this was how he had discovered her so quickly the last time she had escaped.
Suddenly the tentative joy that Ginny had allowed herself upon discovering her freedom snapped tight, replaced by a growing panic. She doubted that the Malfoys were benevolent enough to spare the life of her benefactor, and Ginny had virtually no knowledge of how tracking charms operated. The best strategy was probably to run and at least spare the old woman.
She tried to bolt by dodging past the little French woman and instead fell flat on her face. Madame cackled as Ginny stood slowly, kicking the rocker that was so bent on humiliating her. The woman shook her head and beckoned to Ginny. She slid the younger girl's sleeve up to her elbow and muttered a few phrases in an unfamiliar language. The Malfoy crest glowed brightly, and Ginny could feel the magic burning in her arm. The heat came in short waves, running up her arm and into her chest. They ebbed slowly and the crest faded to black, then to the pink of burned skin, and finally to nothing. Ginny examined her arm again carefully, interrupted by the older woman once again handing her a tottery cup of tea.
"Avez-vous jamais été à Beauxbatons?"
"Hello love."
Hermione opened her eyes slowly, praying this was just a dream. Her captors rarely bothered her in the middle of the night unless they were drunk out of their minds, and nightmares were a better alternative than that.
"Just checking on you, my dear. Plans have hit a nasty bump and we wanted to make sure that you were all right." He sounded awfully chipper for a Death Eater awake after midnight, but he didn't sound drunk, and Hermione let herself look up at him.
"What do you mean, a nasty bump?" she questioned tentatively.
"Afraid that's all I can say," he announced genially.
"But it has something to do with me?" she tried to sound unconcerned.
"You're the brilliant little mudblood. What do you think?" he smirked.
"I…" she paused, pondering the intent of his question, "I don't care."
"Miss Inquisitive no longer cares? I think I had you pegged incorrectly, Granger. We'll have to do something about that."
Hermione stared at him, puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
"I need you to care, Granger. I need you to care a lot."
"I don't understand," she whispered slowly, searching his face for clues.
He smiled, a touch of sarcasm glinting in his eye.
"You'll find out eventually. In the meantime, you're here and that's all I needed to know. Sweet dreams, love."
Utterly confused, she watched his retreating back until it disappeared.
"Beauxbatons?"
The woman frowned and walked over to the fireplace. She threw a tight fistful of Floo powder into the crackling flames, which promptly turned green.
"Olympe!" she called, "Êtes-vous là?"
Ginny looked up in shock. She vaguely remembered that Olympe was the given name of the headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy, but hadn't seen the woman since the Tri-Wizard Tournament back in her third year.
She was shocked to see the now-gray haired woman appear in the flames. Madame said something in rapid French and gestured at Ginny with a shaky but determined hand. Olympe's eyes widened at the sight of the young red-haired witch, and she disappeared, only to reappear in a moment and step out of the grate.
"My dear Miss Weasley! 'Ou must understand, we 'ave been so much worried about 'ou. Come, come. We go to Beauxbatons at once. You remember me, non?"
Ginny felt like she had been sucked into a whirlwind, and she wasn't at all certain what she'd find in the eye of the storm. Still, Madame Maxime took her arm and heaved her up. The half-giantess positively towered over the lilliputian Madame Talliuer, and Ginny marveled at how carefully she had to maneuver to fit through the small cottage fireplace.
"We must Floo together, ma cher. The academy is Unplottable and the wards will not let you through unaccompanied."
Placing her hand inside Madame Maxime's much larger one, Ginny felt herself begin to whirl away. As the older woman faded away, Ginny called out,
"Merci!"
They passed grate after grate, moving rapidly through the French Floo network. When the spinning finally stopped, Ginny stepped out of an outrageously large fireplace into a powder blue receiving room.
"Come, ma chere," said Madame Maxime, very matter-of-factly.
Ginny followed the tall woman through the halls, noting that with the high ceilings and light colored walls, the larger woman's size was not as noticeable as it had been in the cramped, dark passages of Hogwarts.
The academy was stunningly beautiful. As Ginny traipsed after the headmistress, she stared openly at the surroundings. Huge windows revealed a lovely park, with abundant flowering gardens, magnificent fountains, and even bright blue peacocks sauntering about the flagstone paths. Inside, the building was airy and bright, with floor to ceiling windows illuminating the rooms and tall mirrors spreading the rising sun's glow in all directions. It seemed like every surface was gilded, and Ginny was dazzled. She couldn't help but compare the bright opulence with the heavy ancient stone of Hogwarts, and she had a hard time believing that this was a school. It seemed more like a palace.
Madame Maxime stopped in front of a large set of white paneled French doors, muttered what Ginny guessed was a password, and pushed the doors open to what appeared to be her private office. She seated herself behind a gargantuan desk and gestured at Ginny to be seated opposite her.
"We are on ze summer holiday, no? All of Beauxbatons is quiet, and then my dear old friend la Madame tells me she has discovered ze missing Weasley girl. 'Ou can imagine my surprise, non?"
She tapped her wand neatly—a different movement from Flitwick's merry swish and flick—and two porcelain cups appeared, filled with what appeared to be hot tea. Ginny was beginning to think that she had drank quite enough tea for one night and would really prefer a solid breakfast, but she accepted the cup politely.
"So, ma chere. We had created zees little plan, you see? And here you are, now. Safe. Now, 'ou must—"
She was cut off by a quiet knock at the door.
"Entre!" called Madame Maxime, smiling.
The door swung open slowly, and Ginny turned in her chair, craning her neck to see the guest. She saw a halo of blonde hair surrounding a gorgeous face—and behind it, a shock of hair that equaled her own in color.
"Bill!" she cried, knocking over her chair and upsetting her tea, spilling it on the rug in her hurry to get to her brother.
"Aw, Gin-bug." He engulfed her in a massive hug, wrapping his strong arms tightly around her shoulders. She buried her face into his chest, enjoying the familiarity and the warmth that she'd craved and mourned for so many weeks. He loosened his hold but she hugged him all the tighter, and when she finally looked up at him, she saw eyes that matched her own, sparkling with tears.
"We thought we'd lost you, Gin. And then we saw The Daily Prophet, with the announcement about you marrying that spawn of Satan. I can't," he choked, "well, there's someone else who wants to see you. Maybe he can tell you."
Through her tears, Ginny saw another tall red head. She blinked.
"Charlie!"
She ran to him and claimed another terribly wonderful embrace. Pulling back from him suddenly, she searched his eyes.
"But…you were in the house. Aren't you…aren't you dead?"
He shook his head slowly, and a sad smile crept onto his face. Ginny noticed a long scar running from his temple down his neck, disappearing under his collar. Judging by the brightness of the pink color, it wasn't very old.
"Nope. I'm quite alive, princess."
"Well…then…" Ginny looked hopefully from brother to brother, "did, er, did anyone else…"
Bill and Charlie exchanged a long glance.
"No," Bill furrowed his eyebrows and drew Ginny close, "I arrived around dawn. By then the Death Eaters had gone. The Burrow was a mess—they'd set the roof on fire and all—and it was a miracle that it didn't burn to ash. Those charms mum was always adjusting must've held fast till the end. Anyway, I, er, found everyone but you and Charlie. They were all gone, Gin-bug. At first I hoped that you and Charlie had escaped together, but—"
"But he found me in the garden," Charlie cut in with a sad smile, "I'd managed to get the back door open, you see. I was heading to the Apparition point to get help when one of those beasts hit me with a particularly wicked Sectumsempra to the neck, then left me for dead."
Charlie absently traced the scar from his jaw to his collarbone and back.
"Yeah, so I found Charlie and thought he was gone too. He was a bloody mess, that's for certain. As soon as I realized he was breathing I summoned Fleur. She's been studying to be a Healer for the past few months."
"Oui," Fleur nodded, her blue eyes bright, "Zees banking business ees not for me."
"That's right. So she was able to patch him up enough to get him over to St. Galen's—that's the hospital here in France, since I wasn't sure if we could trust St. Mungo's. Once I knew Charlie was going to pull through, I headed back to The Burrow to find you, but with no luck. That's when I went to check in on Harry, and, well…"
"I know. I flooed over to Harry's and they'd already, you know, been there."
Ginny felt sick. That entire night had been a trip to the darkest levels of hell, and remembering Harry's body lying on the floor of his room brought stinging tears to her eyes.
"Yeah, that's how I started looking for you. I could trace your floo from The Burrow to Harry's, but after that the trail disappeared. It didn't make sense, so I assumed that they'd left a man behind and he'd picked you up when you stumbled into Harry's flat."
Bill looked at Ginny carefully, his amber eyes searching her brandy ones to see if his hypothesis was correct.
"No, that's not what happened at all," Ginny said evenly, but she could feel her heart thumping. Just remembering that awful night made her want to vomit.
"So, you walked out of Harry's flat?"
"No! I flooed out, directly to Hermione's. Then from there I flooed to Diagon Alley."
Bill looked quizzically at Ginny.
"Are you sure you're remembering all of that clearly? Because I did a thorough check on the floo networks at any place I thought you might've gone. I used my Gringotts clearance and pulled out all of the stops. There was nothing."
"Well, Malfoy told me that he got control of the network that morning. He probably managed to erase it or something."
Ginny realized that all four of her rescuers were staring at her, open mouthed.
"Ginny…that's impossible," said Charlie slowly.
"Well, that's what he said. And I remember what happened," Ginny snapped, "I had days and days to cement every moment into my mind. I flooed to Hermione but the Death Eaters had taken her—I've seen her; she's locked up in a dungeon—so I went to Diagon Alley. I got a wand from Ollivander and he told me to floo to Hogwarts. He even had a special password for me. Albus, I think," she paused, "yes. Albus. So I tried to floo to Hogwarts and ended up at the Malfoy's manor. I tried to floo back out, but it didn't work. Draco told me that he'd gained control of the floo network and I couldn't go anywhere."
"Wait. You saw Ollivander? After the attacks?"
Ginny nodded at Charlie. Bill, she noticed, was white knuckling his wand.
"Ginny. No one has seen or heard from Ollivander since before Easter."
Ginny stared hard at Charlie, and then shifted her gaze to Bill, who had his other hand clamped onto Fleur's shoulder. The beautiful woman appeared to be holding her breath.
"But…it was Ollivander. He knew my wand," she choked, "he knew me."
Bill and Charlie exchanged another hard look.
"Wands," said Charlie stiffly. "Wands and transportation."
"Good God," breathed Bill. "And we thought they were just after the bank."
Ginny looked from brother to brother, and then to fair Fleur and giant Olympe. After her ordeal in Malfoy Manor, she was thoroughly tired of being kept out of the loop. Contrary to what everyone had told her, these secrets did nothing to keep her safe, and she was determined to change that. She drew herself up to her full height, set her jaw, and demanded,
"Would someone please explain what in hell is going on?"
"Fuck it to bloody hell."
Draco's dragon hide boots made barely any noise in the darkness of the forest, but the birds were beginning to wake up and he couldn't stop the advent of the dawn, no matter how much darkness powder his galleons could buy. Sighing heavily, Draco swept a few unruly locks of hair away from his eyes and leaned against the trunk of a tall oak.
This was not how he had imagined spending his wedding night.
Well, breaking Ginevra Weasley wasn't how he had imagined it either, but he kept shoving that thought aside. He wasn't supposed to be glad that she'd disappeared, no matter how much he had dreaded that moment. The moment when she would crumble beneath him. The moment when that fire would die.
Draco pushed those images out of his mind with a scowl. Whatever the end result, he needed to find the bloody girl. His damned bloody wife.
He pulled his wand from its sheath for the hundredth time that night and muttered the Invenio charm again. The mark on his own arm grew white hot, then faded just as quickly. He yelled in frustration.
She'd gotten rid of it. There was no other plausible explanation. Whether it was her stupid Potter-loving friends or some cursed back-stabbing Death Eater, she or they had removed the trace.
Draco contained another roar and slowly turned, catching the morning light in his white blond hair. With intense calm and precision, he fired a Reducto curse at the largest tree in sight, and Apparated away before the melee of woodchips fell.
Lucius was still in his study, but it was easily obvious to Draco that several hours had passed. His father was still the picture of dignity, but the decanter of brandy was noticeably empty, gleaming in the dawn light.
"So, she has vanished?"
Draco nodded slowly, finally allowing the tension of the last few hours to ease into his bones. Suddenly he was impossibly tired.
"I think she—or whoever has her—has managed to remove the Invenio."
Lucius set his mouth firmly in a line and looked down austerely at his desk, eyes focused but vacant in contemplation. Draco sank onto a black leather chair in front of the fire and warmed his aching muscles in the heat of the dying embers. The two sat for a long moment, each locked in the darkest of contemplation, until Lucius stood up suddenly, knocking his son from his reverie.
"Keep looking for her. If this goes badly, you'll need her as an alibi. If it goes well, you'll need her all the more."
Draco stood and watched his father tie on a black cloak and slip on a Death Eater mask for the thousandth time.
"You'll be back as soon as it is finished?"
"I'll send you a message."
Father and son stared at one another for a hard moment, steel gray on ice. Lucius unsheathed his wand and Apparated without another word. Draco turned back to the fire and took out his own stick of hawthorn. He flipped it absently with one hand and watched the coals fade from red to black.
If this went badly, he would make absolutely certain that the fiery heart of Ginny Weasley—Malfoy—was completely snuffed out.
A/N: After that last cliff, I thought I'd give you a break. Poor, tired arm muscles can only take so much hanging.
As promised, an update before Christmas! The next few weeks will be busy, but...I'm taking a trip down south to visit the in-laws and will doubtless have countless hours to spend hiding from them in a guest room with naught but the trusty notebook to keep me company.
Reviewers: You are the best. I'm always so encouraged by you! Make my day and push that little button--it takes two seconds and you don't need to log in to do so! While you're at it, why not take a stab at who Hermione's mysterious tormentor is? So far Snape and Draco have been suggested...
AND(!) I have another one shot up for the DG Christmas Challenge by fic-princess from RowanGreenleaf's DG Forum called Vanilla and Peppermint. Read and review--and then come say hi on the forum!