Chapter 16
Harry Potter sat at his desk in his new office at the ministry, his head buried in his hands.
The large wall of his office was covered in a large map, littered with pins and red quill marks. Files lay scattered underneath the map.
Harry's head was throbbing, and for once it had nothing to do with his scar. There was no Voldemort, and no more remnants of a Dark soul within him. The thought was still a surprise to him. Actually, if he were honest with himself, the fact he was simply alive and breathing was a surprise to him. Indeed, his problem was of a very different nature, something he never imagined he would encounter.
The long hours and sleepless nights of the last few weeks were wearing on him, and he was utterly exhausted. Ron and Hermione had left hours ago, desperate for sleep. Harry knew he should follow suit, but a part of him knew he would be restless, tossing and turning.
The girl with long red hair who had once haunted his dreams now haunted his nightmares. The girl he loved had been missing since the final battle. Harry had seen her horrified face, the last thing he saw, just before he was struck down by Voldemort's wand. His experience with death had been wonderful and beautiful, but certainly not the finality he had prepared for. He had not expected to come back. He had not expected air to rush back into his lungs, blood to fill and beat his heart, sending life through his veins, or to duel the Dark Lord and emerge victorious. But the sweetness of victory had only lasted a moment. As he, Ron and Hermione had surveyed the carnage and damage wrought on by the battle, they saw the great loss of life that their triumph had cost. As they searched through the rubble and crowds of survivors, Harry could not seem to find the beautiful girl with dark eyes that he longed to see. Every time a figure appeared or came around a corner, he looked up expectantly, hoping to see the redhead running towards him, ready to throw herself into his waiting arms. His heart sank as hours passed and he did not see her. What he did see was the pale, horror-stricken face of Arthur Weasley, telling him that Ginny was gone...
Harry knew he had been reckless, completely unable to hide his feelings from her, and at the moment he had confessed himself to her, he had to break her heart as she watched him die. His renewal of life was bitter-sweet, because she was not a part of it.
When he looked at the other faces of the Aurors, looking on his with pity, he knew that they thought they were more likely to find her body than be able to rescue her. Harry ignored these looks, ignored the thoughts he knew they were thinking. She was alive. She had to be. She was somewhere, out of his reach. Draco Malfoy had been psychotic enough that, despite how disturbing the thought was, Harry knew he would want her alive, at least for a little bit.
Harry sat through the interviews, the photos, the celebrations... but his facial expression bore the same as he wore at every funeral; sullen and downcast. How could he smile when she was out there suffering? How could he smile when she was probably waking up every day, wishing and praying for a rescue, and yet no one had come?
Ron and Hermione had dragged him to the Ministry, the three of them spending day and night searching not only for Ginny, but other lost victims from the war. It was grueling and time consuming, and it helped keep Harry's dark thoughts at bay. Most of the time. Sometimes.
Nevertheless, imagining the state she would be found in haunted him. Each scenario Harry pictured her in was worse than the last. He had nightmarish images of her succumbing to pain and torture, and the worry for her suffering only fueled his desperation. Was she in pain? Was Malfoy hurting her right now? Was she battered and broken? Alone, with no one to comfort her? Would she blame Harry for her fate? Would she hate him for allowing her to be taken, for taking so long to find her? The thoughts made bile rise in his throat. Would her mind break under the strain of her torture and suffering? Would he finally find her, only to discover that she would forever be out of his reach?
Harry placed his forehead on the cold desk. Would he never be able to love her? He knew the thought was utterly selfish, but what was the point of coming back from the dead only to mourn the loss of the girl he loved?
He had failed her. God, how he had failed her...
"You mustn't think that way, Harry," Hermione had said, "First we need to find her. The rest we can deal with later."
But it had been weeks.
Weeks, and they were no closer to finding her than they were the moment she had been stolen away. The trio had spent endless hours chasing leads to dead-ends, trying to figure out where they could be, and even if they found them, how would they get her out of there?
Harry looked over at the side of his desk. A photograph of Ginny lay in a small frame, a smile on her face and her brown eyes sparkling. Underneath the photo, laying across the desk, was the cardigan she had worn at school. Harry reached out and touched the sleeve, feeling the softness with his fingers. He brought the sleeve up to his face. Her smell still permeated the fabric, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the flowery scent. Ginny's scent.
How could everything have gone sideways like it did? They were supposed to be celebrating their victory. He was supposed to have Ginny at his side, her face radiant, not sitting alone in an office feeling miserable. He thought about their last kiss... their only kiss, and how for those few precious moments they were the only two people in the Universe. Her eyes had sparkled, her smile had been so sweet, and the touch of her lips so soft-
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud rapping on the office door.
The hour was quite late, and Harry drew his wand. He expected to be alone for the night. He slowly walked to the door. None of his dark detectors were alarming, but he kept his wand aloft, ready to strike if the visitor was unwanted.
"Open up, Potter."
He knew that voice, he had heard it before. His hand reached slowly to the doorknob, and he gripped his wand tightly, heart hammering in his chest.
He opened the door, and seeing the hooded figure, he thrust his wand at the figure's chest.
"Zabini?" Harry said, brow creasing, "What the hell do you want?"
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"Master! Master Come quick!"
Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. What now? He was drowning in work, which had become substantially more difficult to manage since he had relocated. Black market sales, money laundering, and all the other malicious business acts that came with managing his father's business were much easier when one was living on-site. That, and the fact that its original head, Lucius, was currently in Azkaban. But, Draco mused, he had been foolish enough to get caught. He didn't have time for Evie's theatrics. The House-elf, while very caring and protective of Ginevra, was prone to bouts of hysteria and over-reaction. Just a few days ago, Ginevra had tied a bedsheet to the upper floor stair banister, and was using it like a swing, flying back and forth, laughing. Evie had run to Draco frantically, shouting that her mistress had gone mad and was trying to kill herself. And just yesterday, she had rushed to find Draco when Ginevra had begun making towers of books in the library, seeing how tall she could make them before they toppled over. One of the towers had finally fallen, knocking Ginny in the head with an old tome. Though there had been nothing but a tiny bump on her forehead, Evie shouted frantically that they needed to take her to Saint Mungos. If anyone needed Saint Mungos, Draco thought, it was Evie, because Ginevra seemed determined to fry her nerves and send her to an early grave from exhaustion.
Which is why Draco waited to hear what had happened before he even bothered to get out of his chair.
"What's she done now, Evie?" He asked, his boredom evident.
Evie had dramatic tears in her eyes.
"Please, do not punish her, Master, but Mistress is being very bad! She is disobeying Evie-"
"What is she doing?" Draco interrupted.
Evie sobbed before continuing. "Mistress is trying to do magic," she wailed, "and will not listen to Evie. Evie is so afraid Mistress will hurt herself!"
Magic?
"What do you mean she's trying to do magic?" Draco stood from his chair, irritation swelling through him. He didn't like the idea of Ginevra doing magic, but, as a pure-blooded witch, she was bound to have bouts of uncontrolled magic here and there. He put his hand in his pocket to grab his wand... but the pocket was empty. His wand was gone.
What the hell?
"Where is she?" He demanded.
"L-Library, Master!" Evie prostrated herself on the ground, "Please, do not punish the Mistress! Evie did not watch her close enough, Evie was a bad elf-"
"Enough!" he snapped angrily, and he headed towards the library.
Draco stormed up the grand stair-case. When he reached the library, he halted in the doorway.
Inside the Library was Ginevra. She was on her feet, and appeared to be attempting a dueling stance. Her limbs were stretched out, her face scrunched up in concentration. She seemed to be facing some invisible opponent, and she began making odd swishing and whirling movements with her hand, which was brandishing a wand. His wand. She began moving her feet along with her wand hand, making her look like she was doing some sort of bizarre tribal dance. Draco watched her for a few moments, ignoring her poor form when it came to wand work. Instead, he admired the graceful and lithe way her body moved. He licked his lips as he watched her, leaning on the doorframe, and folding his arms across his chest.
Ginevra halted after a few moments, sighing, and looking down disappointedly at the wand. She shook it for a moment, like she was listening for something. Then, hearing nothing, she started twiddling it between her fingers. Her eyes lit up then, like she sparked an idea in her mind. She gave a small but sharp thrust of Draco's wand and shouted.
"Go!"
When she shouted, a small cloud of blue sparks flew out the end of the wand. She yelped with surprise and jumped back, her eyes wide as saucers. She looked down at the wand, looking both triumphant and terrified at the magic she had made.
"That's awfully dangerous, you know."
Ginevra yelped and jumped a second time at his voice, whirling around to where he stood. He didn't move from the doorframe, he simply smirked at her. She glanced briefly from him to the wand in her hand. However, instead of the guilt and fear he expected to see in her face, her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and one of her delicate eyebrows raised. Sometimes, she was frightfully reminiscent of how the Weasley twins had been at Hogwarts. She was certainly causing almost as much mayhem.
"Dangerous?" She echoed, eyes dancing as she eyed the wand.
"Yes," Draco answered, stepping out of the doorway and towards her, "very dangerous. It makes me wonder, sweet girl, where exactly did you get that wand?"
"Um..." Ginny flushed slightly, fingering the wand nervously. "I found it?"
"Ah," said Draco stepping right in front of her, and staring her down, "you found it. Tell me, did you happen to find it in my pocket, seeing as it's my wand?"
Ginny finally looked guilty, but as Draco reached to take the wand from her hand, she giggled and held it out of reach.
"Finder's keepers." She smiled deviously.
Draco smirked back at her darkly.
"This is a dangerous game you are playing."
Her eyes narrowed at him challengingly.
"But I like games."
Draco shook his head slightly, a wicked smirk sliding onto his face.
"Not this one."
With skills honed by years of training, Draco ripped the wand from her grasp and took hold of both of her wrists in one swift movement. Ginny let out a cry of surprise, as he whipped her around. He held her hands behind her back, and pushed her chest roughly up against the wall. He pressed himself against her, one hand holding her wrists at the small of her back, the other holding his wand against her throat. Ginny gasped as she felt the tip of it press into her neck.
Draco chuckled. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.
"How do you like the game now, Princess?" He whispered huskily, pressing her further into the wall, "Go on, struggle, I want to see it. See if you can get away from me. Yes, just like that. See? It's useless, I'm so much stronger than you, it's so easy to subdue you. This game is not for you, little girl."
"I'm not a little girl!" Ginny growled angrily, thrashing against him. Draco hummed in her ear, before moving off of her. He released her wrists, but thrust her around so she faced him. He slammed her once again against the wall. She let out a gasp as her back hit the wall, the air escaping her lungs. Smirking, Draco held her hands above her head with one of his, his wand still pressed under her chin. Eyes wide, her breathing came out in ragged gasps. Her reaction sent his pulse racing, and he pressed his hips against hers. He loved her like this; completely at his mercy, with just a hint of fear in her eyes. He leaned down, taking a deep inhalation of her scent. He spoke softly to her, the breath of his words caressing her face.
"No, of course not." He purred, pressing his lips to her jaw, and moving downward, breathing her in, "You are certainly not a little girl, you are very much a woman."
He leaned forward and bit down hard on her collar bone, causing her to cry out in pain. He let her feel the pain, knowing she needed to be reminded of who was in control, and knowing he was going to enjoy every moment of it.
"Now, you've taken something from me, sweetheart. You took something from me without asking. That is stealing. Stealing needs to be punished." He jabbed his wand further into the soft skin under her chin, and she sucked in a breath.
"I'm sorry!" she gasped, and he felt her begin to tremble beneath him, "I won't do it again! I'll be good, I promise!"
Draco's hand squeezed her wrists tighter until she whimpered in pain. He ignored the whimper. She had to be taught a lesson.
"You think you're very clever, don't you, Ginevra?" he growled, "No one ever steals from me! Nobody. Not even you."
"I won't!" she pleaded, shaking her head, "I won't do it again!"
Draco gave another painful squeeze, and then dropped her wrists. She immediately curled them into her chest, rubbing them. There were already deep red marks where his fingers had been. He stroked the side of her head lovingly.
"Such a sweet girl," he murmured, "I would be so sad if I had to punish you. But if you listen to everything I say, if you obey me, you will be safe. I won't let anyone hurt you."
Ginny looked at him, her dark eyes fearful. She was still trembling, and it made his body hum in pleasure. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she spoke.
"Would you hurt me, Draco?" she whispered.
Draco cupped her face with both hands.
"Oh, my sweet girl, I would never want to hurt you, but bad deeds must be punished. That's why it's so important for you to listen to me, yes?"
He clasped her chin, holding it firmly, his face close to hers. He hardened his expression.
"Don't ever steal from me again," he said coldly, "Don't ever lie to me. If you do, if you disobey me, you will be punished, and I will be forced to hurt you. Do you understand? Tell me that you understand."
"Y-Yes!" she nodded shakily, and he felt a thrill at the way she trembled under his touch.
He smiled, pleased with her, then enveloped her in his arms. He swayed with her slightly, rubbing his hands soothingly across her back. His hands ran over the smooth fabric of her robes, and his fingers caressed the silky, soft waves of her hair that hung down her back. Her trembling body slowly relaxed in his embrace, allowing his arms to comfort her.
"If you are very good," he whispered into her hair, "I will get you a wand, and I will teach you magic."
Ginny leaned back from him, her fear replaced by hope.
"You- you will?" She said.
Draco smiled. "Yes, sweet girl. But, only if you are very good."
She gave him a small smile then. It was so lovely on her face, that he couldn't help but touch it. He reached down, and ran a finger across her bottom lip, feeling its softness. The same finger moved down her chin, then slowly made its way down her neck, feeling her racing pulse. He licked his lips, and moved to her blouse, unbuttoning the top buttons.
"Alright, Princess, show me what a good girl you can be."
She nodded, but he didn't miss how her face paled a bit. He knew he was rough with her, probably too rough, and that sometimes he hurt her, but the fact that she was obedient and submissive to him, and only to him, was an exquisite ecstasy he had only ever imagined, and it was one he was unwilling to give up. After all, he had waited years to have her. To control her. To own her.
He ran his fingers down the valley between her breasts, feeling the swells of flesh encased by her lacy bra, desire bubbling up inside him. His breathing quickened. Only he knew the feel of her breasts, the weight of them in his hands, and how her skin tasted. Only he knew her most intimate parts... He grabbed her waist, and carried her to the desk. He sat her on the stained wood, pushing her down so she lay on her back. He grabbed her hands and put them to either side of her head.
"Lie still." he commanded. She looked back up at him with her dark eyes, and nodded, not moving her hands from where he placed them.
He ran his hands up her thighs, feeling the smooth skin under the palms of his hands. As his hands moved, he hiked her skirt up to her waist. She had asked for pants and slacks but he refused her, and how glad he was that he had. He moved his hands to his trousers, undoing his belt buckle, his gaze locked on her face. She looked nervously back at him but obediently held still, and the amount of control he had over her lit a blazing fire within him. Just as his hand had moved to her hips, one of the House-elves opened the library door.
"M-Master-"
"What?" Draco snapped, moving off of Ginny.
"You is having a visitor, Master Zabini is here."
Draco swore quietly. He looked back down at his prize, and she looked back at him questioningly, her face pale. He reached down, and ran a finger across her cheek.
"Evie will take you back to your room. I have something to take care of."
He moved off of Ginny and righted his clothes, looking back at her one last time before leaving the library.
"Be good, Ginevra."
Ginny sat up and nodded, fixing her own clothes. Draco left quickly, and he didn't see the look of immense relief on her face.
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"Are you bloody mental?"
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione's shocked faces. He had expected this, because if he were honest with himself, he would have said the same thing.
"Zabini thinks he knows where she is." He said heavily. Even now, he hardly dared to hope, but he could not let the opportunity slide. "It's the only lead we've got. It might at least point us in the right direction-"
"Let me guess," Ron interrupted angrily, "in exchange for this 'information,' Zabini is asking for our protection, isn't he?"
"Well, of course he is," Hermione added, "If he so much as breaths a word about Ginny, and Malfoy finds out, he'll be strung up by his toes. He can't risk saying anything without protection."
"Well, that's awfully convenient, isn't it? He could just make up whatever he wants and then use it as a bargaining tool to get away from Malfoy. He could send us to Timbuktu, all the while he's safe and sound!" Ron exclaimed.
"Did he ask for protection, Harry?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded, "He did, but-"
"See!" Ron said hotly, "I told you! He's just going to make something up!"
"It was for his mother, Ron." Harry said.
Which was the only reason why Harry was spending even one moment to consider believing what Zabini was saying. He hadn't asked protection for himself, Zabini had as much as stated that he was a dead man for stepping foot in the ministry anyway, but he asked for protection for his mother, the last remaining family that he had.
"He told me he would give all the information about Malfoy and Ginny he could, and in return we assist his mother to a safe-house."
Hermione thought for a moment.
"Yes... the only person he cares about. His mother. Yes, Harry, we should pursue this. He wouldn't risk false information on his mother's life! He would know we had her and could easily turn her out of the safe house and onto the streets."
"Exactly," Harry said, staring off into the distance, "It's not as if we have anything else to go off."
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Ginny opened the door to the bathroom and walked in, closing it gently behind her. This was the only place in the manor that she was ever left alone, and even then, it was never for very long.
She knelt down next to the sink vanity, opening the bottom drawer where spare linens were kept. She reached underneath the linens and pulled out a folded, black and white photograph. Tucking her legs underneath her, she leaned back against the vanity, and unfolded the picture.
The boy with dark hair and beautiful eyes was still in the picture, and his face seemed to light up when he saw her. It wasn't quite a smile, but the lines in his weary face relaxed, and he seemed relieved to see her.
Ginny, he mouthed.
She smiled. She wasn't sure why she kept the picture, wasn't sure why she felt the need to keep it hidden, or why she snuck in to the bathroom almost daily just to look at him, or why it had become the highlight of her day to see his face. It was like she had a secret little friend...
A friend to carry around in my pocket...
For some reason that thought made her shudder, but she shook the feeling away. The boy was looking at her worriedly. He leaned forward in his frame, peering up at her through his glasses, looking up at her intensely. It made her skin prickle pleasantly.
Are you alright? He mouthed.
She nodded. She ran her thumb across the frame of the picture, biting her lip. She finally felt brave enough to ask the question she had been wanting to ask since she had found the picture. She had started to, several times, but something always stopped her. It was as if she knew she wouldn't like the answer to the question, or that it might be easier not knowing.
"Who are you?"
The boy stiffened in his picture, and she couldn't read his expression. His jaw tightened, and something in his eyes grew dark and... sad. She watched as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. Her stomach tightened. Why didn't he want to tell her? Who was he?
He raised his eyes to her, searching her face. Even with the black and white ink, he must have blue or green eyes, because they were so clear and piercing to her. He opened his mouth finally.
A friend.
A friend? She thought. What on earth was wrong with that?
"There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Ginny admonished with a smile.
The boy shook his head slowly, the sadness back in his features. She wondered what had happened to make him that way, wondered why he seemed so tired and ragged.
"What's your name?" she asked quietly.
But the boy said nothing. His eyes traveled over her face, and she saw his gaze move to her lips, and to her neck, where they darkened. It inexplicably sent her pulse racing.
What happened? He mouthed soundlessly, pointing his finger to her neck.
He was pointing to the painful, angry red mark on her collar bone, the mark Draco had given her. She quickly adjusted the collar of her shirt so it covered the mark.
"Oh, that... I... It's nothing," she stammered, but quickly recovered and smiled at the boy, "I'm alright."
Then the boy's expression changed yet again. He leaned forward in the frame, and he reached his hand up to her, as far as it would go in his little picture. He looked like he was trying to reach for her, to touch her, and the sadness and darkness in his face was replaced by a painful longing.
Her heart clenching at the expression on his face, Ginny reached her hand up to the photograph, her finger meeting his little hand on the frame. She felt a spark of warmth at the contact, and it made her gasp. They stayed that way for several moments, her finger touching his hand, somehow feeling like it was real human contact. She wanted this boy to come out of the picture. She wanted to talk to him, comfort him, find out what had happened that had filled him with such sorrow. She wanted to know what it felt like to have those arms wrapped around her.
"Please," she whispered, stroking his hand with her finger, "tell me who you are."
The boy's brilliant eyes began to swim with emotion. He quickly looked away, lowering his hand and shuffling his feet. He seemed to regain his bearings and tried to speak again.
Ginny...
She waited patiently, watching the boy in the picture struggle with his words, and her own throat ran dry. He finally found his voice, albeit a silent one, and she clearly understood the words that left his lips.
Burn this picture.
"What?" she gasped incredulously. "What do you mean?"
But his gaze was now resolute. Determined. It was a gaze so familiar, so fierce, and something began to make a gentle nudge on her memory...
Green eyes. His eyes were green, she was sure of it. She didn't know how, but the fierceness of his look triggered the thought, and as it flew across her mind she knew without a doubt that it was true.
Burn this picture.
"Why?" She demanded, feeling hurt. "Don't you want to talk to me?"
His eyes hardened.
You'll get in trouble.
"Trouble? What on earth are you talking about? I want to keep talking to you."
He didn't answer, but his eyes did not leave hers. She felt the corners of her eyes burning.
"I like spending time with you. I thought- I thought you were my friend."
Burn this picture.
Then the boy's eyes left hers, and he crossed his arms across his chest, staring defiantly to the side of his photograph. Ginny's hurt morphed quickly into anger.
"Well, that's- that's just fine then!" She spat at him, "Sorry to have wasted your time, I didn't realize how busy you were, what with you being a photograph and all!"
Before the boy could respond, she viciously crumbled the photograph in her hands, so she wouldn't have to look at his face anymore. A few angry tears escaped down her face, and she impatiently wiped them off her cheeks.
It's just a stupid picture. It's just a picture.
"Mistress!" Evie called, tapping on the door, "Mistress is you ok? It's time to come out of there!"
Ginny startled violently at the noise.
"I'll be right out, Evie!" She looked down at the crumbled photograph in her hands, feeling the anger dissipating out of her, and the hurt creeping back in. Keeping the photo facing away from herself, she gently smoothed out the wrinkled paper, carefully folding it in half. She tucked him back underneath the towels in the drawer. She would give him a few days, and then she would try talking to him again. She couldn't get rid of the picture until she knew his name.
The boy with the brilliant eyes.
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It was raining.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were huddled together in the darkness. Cloaked and well-hidden, they stood near a gleaming, rain-soaked brick wall, waiting.
Rain pounded the pavement, soaking everything in sight. The numerous flats that lined the street towered ominously above the huddled teens, and despite well-placed drying and warming charms, Harry found himself shivering in the cool air.
They had arrived to Zabini's flat, in the dead of night, at his insistence. Blaise seemed incredibly wary of making any type of daytime movements, and his paranoia seemed to be mounting by the hour. He had changed their meeting times twice already, and initially had vehemently declined the trio going anywhere near his flat.
Harry hardly noticed the chill in the air, his heart was beating in his throat. He was terrified that paranoia would get the best of Zabini, and that this long-awaited meeting would yet again be canceled. He clenched his jaw. Every cancelation, every delay, was like twisting a knife in his gut. It meant one more day that Ginny was trapped, one more day that she was under the mercy of a psychopath. He thought of her pain, her loneliness, her despair. He was no stranger to any of these things, but if he could spare her even a minute of any these things he would. When he found her, he vowed he would find a way to ease her misery, find some way to hold on to it for her, to feel it for her...
Unless of course she never wants to see me again after this.
He had reluctantly verbalized these thoughts to Ron and Hermione, unable to keep them bottled up any longer. He told them how he felt responsible for what happened to her, and how a part of him worried that Malfoy taking her was in part revenge for him vanquishing the Dark Lord, and that if she really knew and thought about these things, she would want to stay as far away from him as possible. How she should blame him. Hate him. They reacted predictably. Ron was adamant that Ginny would never blame him for Malfoy being sick and sadistic, and how she deeply loved her family and friends, and would never blame them for something like this. Hermione had given him several bone-crushing hugs, patting his back and reassuring him that regardless of Harry's presence, Malfoy would have eventually found Ginny, and sooner or later his obsession would have grown into his current delusions.
"Is that him?" Ron whispered quickly.
Harry spun around, looking towards the side street where a lone streetlamp was dimly lit. Sure enough, the tall figure of Zabini appeared to be side stepping the light of the lamp, striding towards them in the darkness. Harry instinctively clutched his wand. As desperate as he was to find Ginny, it had not escaped his notice that this could be a farce set-up by Malfoy. He did not let go of his wand even as Zabini's face came into view, features unreadable. He surveyed the trio briefly, then looked up and down the street. Though his face was unreadable, Harry knew the tell-tale signs of a man who knew he was being hunted.
Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, Zabini raised his wand, lighting the tip with a dim light.
"Well, Zabini?" Ron snapped impatiently, "Are we doing this or not?"
Blaise narrowed his eyes at Ron, but then gestured with his head towards the building behind him.
The four now sat in a small parlor, a heavy silence in the air broken only by the occasional cracking of the fireplace. Harry hardly dared breathe. He instructed Ron and Hermione to let Blaise dictate the conversation, anxious to do anything he could to get him to talk, and to not spook him. After several long minutes of silence, he spoke.
"I know where Malfoy is keeping Weasley-"
"Is that right?" Ron interrupted. He looked as though he had been struggling the last several minutes to keep his tongue in cheek. But now his ears and neck were red, and he looked ready to shackle and interrogate Zabini.
"Ron." Harry and Hermione warned simultaneously. Hermione put a hand on his arm, but it only made him clench his jaw.
"Well," Ron continued, his eyes daggers at Zabini, "you say you know where he's keeping my sister. How do you know, exactly?"
Now Zabini's jaw was clenched. "I've seen her."
Harry's heart leapt at his words, but Ron jumped to his feet in anger.
"Oi, seen her, have you?" He shouted, "Been helping Malfoy do disgusting things to her more like, isn't it? I was told you were the bastard who handed her over to him! That you tied her up like an animal, and that she begged you not to do it."
Ron was leaning so far into Zabini's face that for a moment it looked like he might fall on top of him. Harry stood, pulling Ron back, forcing him to sit down.
"He's a fucking bastard, Harry," Ron sputtered, his murderous gaze not leaving Zabini's, "He deserves to rot in Azkaban for what he did to Ginny. He knew what Malfoy was going to do to her!"
"Ron!" Harry hissed, clamping his hand down on him. Though Ron's feelings echoed his own, he knew that Blaise was their one chance at getting Ginny back.
Zabini had not moved from his seat, but Harry did not miss a flicker of... something, pass across his features at Ron's accusation. Maybe he did feel some sort of guilt at the situation.
"How was she?" Hermione asked softly, and three heads turned to look at her. "When you saw her, was she alright?"
"She was alive, Granger. Isn't that enough?" He said stiffly, his features once again closed, but it seemed he had to make a great effort to make them so. Ron made an angry choking noise, but Blaise ignored him. "Look, I don't care what happens to Weasley, I'm only talking to keep my mother out of Azkaban, and away from anywhere Malfoy's hands can reach."
"Well, that could be a problem for you, Zabini," Harry stated coldly, his temper rising, "You should care what happens to her, because if I show up and she isn't alive, not only is the deal for your mother off, but you'll find Azkaban a paradise compared to what I will put you through. And by the way, I don't believe that you don't care what happens to her. I think you saw her in a bad way, and you know that it is your fault, and the guilt that you handed over an innocent girl to a monster is starting to eat at you. Perhaps you are part human after all."
Zabini glared back at him. "She was alive the last time I saw her, Potter. Draco got spooked and relocated them, and I know where they are. But I am not saying anything until I know my mother is safe."
"You have my word," Harry said, "That is, only if Ginny's alive." Harry hardly expected Zabini to act on anything without some written proof, but to his utter surprise, after staring him down for a whole minute, Zabini nodded.
"Right." He said, then a sigh left him, like a man who had accepted some terrible fate. Harry was taken aback. The cold, dark boy seemed to be plagued by what he knew. He felt his mouth dry in anticipation.
"He has her in a small manor, its isolated, located near Beinn Ghlas."
Ron once again jumped to his feet, eyes wild. "Dad took us there once, I know the mountain. It's only a small village there. They had a Quidditch tournament near there ages ago! Let's go, we can get there before sun-up-"
But to the Harry's surprise, Blaise was laughing.
"You may find it," Blaise chuckled dryly, "But I assure you, Weasley, you will never get inside it. Malfoy's wards are the finest there are, he paid goblins to assist with them, its impenetrable. You could camp outside his wards for months and it will get you nowhere."
Harry clenched his fists. What on earth was the point of knowing where Ginny was if he couldn't get to her?
With a sharp pang in his chest, he wished Bill was there to help. He wondered if Ron and Hermione had the same thought, and when he glanced at Ron, he saw that his eyes had a haunted, far-away look, and his question was answered. He turned back to Blaise.
"But, you know a way in, don't you?" He said, knowing the words were true as they left his mouth.
Zabini raised an eyebrow at him.
"Draco and I have long been... acquaintances."
"You mean you've been his lackey." Ron retorted. Blaise opened his mouth in anger, but Harry stopped him with a raised hand.
"I think it's time you put this acquaintance to good use." He leaned forward, boring his eyes into Blaise's. He was feeling daring and bold, closer than ever to getting to Malfoy and Ginny. Zabini leaned away from him, his hard exterior faltering for a minute.
"Zabini," He continued, "Get us to the Manor, and your mother will be under Ministry protection. Get us inside, get us to Ginny, and I will put you under protection as well."
He hardly noticed Ron and Hermione's gasp at his bold statement. This agreement had not been cleared with... well, anyone. But he was feeling reckless, he had to get to the Manor, he had to get inside. They were so close.
Zabini's stare was cold and hard, but he gave almost an imperceptible nod.
"Deal."
X
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X
It was still raining.
Draco had finished his meetings for the day, and what a shit day it turned out to be. He couldn't seem to make it through one hour the entire day without being delivered bad news. Life without his Father and the Dark Lord's aide was proving more difficult than he had planned, though he had planned well. He was maintaining off-shore income whilst concealing his identity, but those with whom he could confide his trust seemed to be growing thinner by the day. His threats and reputation were becoming more precarious, and he didn't like that one bit. He had been eager to get home and work off his frustration, and now he found himself wandering the mansion looking for Ginevra. He found her in the bedroom, sitting at the vanity. She was staring at her reflection, but seemed lost in thought. She had clearly been brushing her hair, but she had paused half-way, her eyes unfocused.
Draco paused as he watched her, wondering what was going through her mind. She was still very childlike in some ways, but she was getting more and more clever every day. He would have to be careful. He didn't know how much permanent damage would be done to her if he had to erase her memory again, and doing so the first time had been a fragile and meticulous process.
But she belonged to him, and no one else. He would do anything to keep her.
Anything.
He slowly walked up behind her, and slid his hands across her shoulders. She jumped and gasped at his touch.
"Oh!"
"Evening, Princess." He murmured, burying his face in her neck.
"You scared me!" she breathed, her hand on her heart, "You're too sneaky. You're like a snake."
Draco chuckled deviously.
"Indeed, little one. Indeed." He moved her hair off her shoulder. "Now, what mischief did you get up to today?"
Ginny paused in thought for a moment, then her lip quirked up in amusement.
"I saw something odd today, when I was by the window in the Library."
Draco pulled her up from the vanity, leading her to the bed.
"What did you see?" He asked, sitting her on his lap.
Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"I'm not sure exactly. I saw it out the window. I think it was a bird, because it was flying, but it was a very… odd bird."
"Oh? How so?"
"Well, it sort of looked like a person."
Draco froze at her words. A person? He schooled his features into casual indifference.
"Is that so?" He asked slowly, "That's odd indeed."
"Yes," Ginny nodded, "It was so strange, and even stranger still, I could have sworn I saw they were riding on a tree branch. I mean, that's just ridiculous, isn't it? People can't fly!"
Draco said nothing, allowing her words to sink in. Someone had flown close enough to the manor that Ginevra had seen them out the window. There was no way someone could have done so without breaking the wards, unless there was some weakness allowing someone on a broom to get close enough-
"Oh no," Ginny suddenly whispered in horror, "That's not right, is it? I've gone mad, haven't I?"
He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, moving her face to look up at him.
"You haven't gone mad, sweet girl. But there is something important I need to take care of. It can't wait, not even for another moment. You'll stay here and be a good girl, won't you? Wait for me to come back."
She nodded, and Draco moved her off of his lap. He walked to the coat closet, and saw she was looking at him worriedly.
"Draco," she said, wringing her hands in her lap, "is there something wrong?"
He put on his cloak, looking back at her.
"Of course not, everything is fine. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."
He watched her breathe a sigh of relief, and she curled up on the bed. She would likely be deep in sleep by the time he got back, but it was no matter. The wards had to be checked and reinforced immediately.
Much later, satisfied with the integrity of the wards, Draco made his way back to the bedroom, and crept into bed beside Ginevra. He held her sleeping body closely, watching her dark eyelashes flutter as he pulled her closer to him. She started to mumble nonsense, stuck in that state between sleep and awake.
"What do you dream about, Princess?" He asked.
Ginny hummed, her eyes closed as she spoke. "People. Dancing, and... the weird birds."
Draco chuckled.
"Tell me more."
Ginny sighed tiredly.
"People. Lots of people, but no faces. They are so happy to see me. Strange. No faces... Did I know a lot of people, Draco?"
"No." Draco said simply. "What about the dancing? Are we dancing together?"
"I'm dancing with... someone," she murmured, "but, then it all goes dark."
Draco clenched his jaw, biting back his annoyance. Why wasn't she dancing with him in her dream?
"And more birds?" He asked, wanting to change the subject.
Ginny nodded, eyes still closed.
"So odd, the birds..." she murmured sleepily, "Flying around on little trees."
Draco looked down at his sleepy prize, and brushed a stray hair out of her face. She hadn't asked too many questions yet, but he needed to be careful. Soon she would begin to question her surroundings, question her past, question him... He couldn't risk her getting too clever. He couldn't risk losing her. Not after all he'd done to own her completely.
"Sleep on, Princess." He whispered.
She would still be his for yet a long while.
X
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X
The sun was shining on Ginny's face.
"Mistress, the Master wants to see you in his office."
Ginny turned to look at the elf. She was perched up on the back of a chaise lounge, elbows on the large window sill. She had been staring out the glass pane, looking longingly over the grounds. She couldn't recall a specific memory of what it was like to be outside, but she still somehow remembered it. The sun, especially, she felt like her skin was missing it, missing its warmth, missing the way a hot breeze moved her hair around, the way warm sand felt under her feet-
Sand?
She shook her head, shaking off the odd thought.
"Oh," She said, moving down onto the lounge and away from the window, "Alright then."
She walked up Evie, who led her out of the large French doors. They walked quietly down the massive corridor, and Ginny allowed her mind to wander. She had dreamed odd dreams again the previous night, a group of people with red hair like hers, all so happy to see her, crying tears of joy, but when she tried to look at their faces she couldn't see them-
"Oh!" she gasped suddenly. She had very nearly walked right into one of the house-elves. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't being careful."
The house-elf she had nearly trampled simply stared back at her. He was quite grumpy-looking, and looked nearly as old as the manor itself. She didn't recall ever having met him, but she knew her memory was far from reliable.
"Er, hello." She said with a friendly smile.
His elf-eyes narrowed at her, and then at Evie.
"Mistress must watch where she is going." He grumbled.
Evie gave an airy sniff, holding her head high and grabbing Ginny's hand to lead her past the old elf.
"Who was that?" Ginny asked, leaning down so that Evie could continue leading her.
"Old elf, Mistress," Evie sighed impatiently, "almost as old as Malfoy Manor, he is."
"I knew it!"
They arrived at the door to Draco's office, and Ginny suddenly found herself nervous. She wrung her hands together in front of her. Evie ushered her closer to the door.
"Go on, Mistress. Master is waiting."
Ginny gulped, and knocked on the door before entering. When she walked inside, she saw Draco at his desk, scribbling away with his quill. He was immaculately dressed, as usual, and the fabric across his eye was perfectly in place. She watched him silently for a moment. For the first time it struck her that her entire well-being depended on this one person, all her trust focused on him and him alone. But he had saved her, saved her life. He deserved her trust, didn't he?
A nagging doubt began making a tick, tick, tick, in her brain, but it flew quickly from her mind when he looked up from his work, focusing a steely gray eye on her.
"Hello, Princess." He smiled, then he stood and walked over to her, taking her elbow and leading her toward the desk. "I have something for you."
Ginny looked at him incredulously. "You- you what?"
Draco chuckled. "I have something for you." He reached down into one of the drawers of his desk, and pulled out a rectangular velvet box.
Ginny took the box from his hands, looking at him questioningly.
Draco scoffed.
"It's a lot more impressive if you actually open it, Ginevra."
"Oh, yes." She laughed nervously. She then opened the box, gaping at what she saw inside. She reached in and her hand clasped around the slender object within.
A wand. Her very own wand.
She held it in front of her face, eyes wide.
"Well?" Draco asked, a self-satisfied smile on his face, "Aren't you going to thank me?"
"Draco..." she breathed, and then she turned around to face him fully. The words were leaving her mouth before she could think twice. "Draco, did I have a family?"
Draco's smile immediately slipped, and his jaw squared.
"Ginevra," he warned, "what are you doing?"
"Please," she pleaded, "I love the wand. Really, I do. But I can't stop thinking about it. I-I think I'm dreaming about them. Please tell me, Draco. What happened to my family?"
Draco stared her down hard, eye flashing dangerously, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She swallowed hard.
Mistake, mistake, big mistake.
She knew Draco didn't like questions, they made him mad. She had seen him mad, and each time it was more horrifying than the last. She never wanted to make him mad. She never wanted to make a mistake, and she never wanted to be punished by him. Draco clamped a hand painfully on her arm, and she braced for the fall out of her stupidity. But to her surprise, Draco only exhaled loudly to let out the breath he was holding.
"If I answer you, Princess, no more questions. Do you understand?"
Ginny nodded emphatically.
Draco rubbed his temple.
"Alright. Yes, you had a family. 'Had' being the key word. You know I don't like answering questions, but you never really thought about why, did you? Well, that's because I am only trying to save you from pain. The answers to your questions only bring you misery, don't you see? I've simply been trying to protect you. Yet, you insist that I answer this question. So here is the painful truth, Ginevra. Your family is dead. All of them. Every. Single. One. I'll even give you an extra answer you didn't ask for, do you want to know what happened to them? Your family? The Dark Lord tortured and murdered them. He destroyed them, all because he wanted to get his hands on you. They died protecting you. There, are you happy now? Do you feel better? Are you more enlightened, now that you know?" His voice was mocking. Hateful.
"Well, do you?" He shouted.
Ginny's throat felt like it was closing as his words slammed into her.
Dead. All of them. She used to have a family, but they were gone.
"Oh no." She whispered, her lip trembling.
Draco sighed heavily again, lifting a hand to her back. He rubbed his palm across her shoulders in a comforting manner.
"Yes, gone." He said coldly. "But, I suppose its best you know this, so you can remember it with what I am about to teach you."
Ginny whirled around to him.
"Teach me?"
"Yes," he smiled, but it was a chilling smile, "I have a spell for you to use with your lovely new wand. You know those odd birds you were seeing? Well, you aren't mad. You were seeing agents of the Dark Lord."
Ginny gaped at him. She had seen an agent of the Dark Lord?
"So," Draco continued, his voice becoming business-like, "I am giving you this wand with a very important responsibility. If ever you see another odd bird, you are to use your wand. If ever you see one of these agents of the Dark Lord, I want you to kill them..."
He leaned forward to Ginny's face, his breath hot in her ear.
"And I'm going to show you how."
X
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X
TBC