JULY 28th, 1997

Ginny turned on the tap in the bathroom, feeling... she didn't know what she was feeling.

Tired. Worn out. Overwhelmed.

Defeated? No, somehow not defeated.

Wonder how long that'll last, she thought drily as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her subconscious had a thing for mirrors, apparently.

On instinct, she turned the lights down in the bathroom. She didn't much fancy bathing in the dark, but she felt too seen in here. There were no windows- with the lights off, it was quite dark, almost too dark to see.

Voldemort had pulled this place from her nightmares, down to the last bit of tile. Perhaps that was why last night's edition had been so lacking in features- nothing to recreate there, other than a throne and a pile of gold. She had been protecting herself, in a way.

"It's not real," she told herself and, with a deep breath, unbuttoned her robes and slid them off. Tilly had thoughtfully lined the edge of the tub with bottles of bathing supplies, though there was no place to hang a towel. Draco's words about nonsense dreams again echoed in her mind- this place had definitely been designed with form over function in mind.

She stepped into the tub and let out an involuntary sigh at the warm water. There was nothing magical about it, but it was blissfully hot.

So I guess the tepid water in Rookwood's lab was more for torture than any lack of function, she thought wryly. She couldn't believe she was back here. After weeks of freedom...

Not freedom. She was getting it twisted. She had been a prisoner at Malfoy Manor too. There had been the illusion of relative safety, but nothing had really changed. Just like her chambers were an illusion, she had never been truly safe with the Malfoys, no matter how it had felt at certain moments.

She had been a prisoner for almost three months.

Three months. A quarter of a year. An eternity.

She reached for the shampoo, her mind unbearably full. Voldemort had been unsuccessful this morning in finding... whatever it was he was looking for. She thought it likely that even he didn't exactly know; he only knew there was something more, and he was determined to find what it was.

He was right, but he hadn't found anything. Just like with Lucius, her Alys memories had held. A miracle, truly, but miracles were becoming quite commonplace these days. Ginny wasn't sure she could be surprised by anything at this point.

Well, that wasn't true. Harry had survived last night, had escaped from his aunt and uncle's to live another day. That had been a surprise- an incredibly pleasant surprise, but still a surprise. She had gotten so used to being trapped under the Death Eaters' control that she had forgotten that they were not, in fact, invincible.

The familiar citrus scent of Draco's shampoo calmed her a bit as she scrubbed her hair. At least she wasn't alone this time. Draco stubbornly refused to see the truth about his master, but having someone with her who at least didn't actively wish harm on her was a stabilizing force in this never-ending nightmare world. The idea of being in that big empty bedroom, alone, made her so nauseous that she felt dizzy for a second.

She warred with herself on whether this was better or worse than Rookwood. On the one hand, she supposed it didn't really matter- Rookwood was in the past now, and this was her unfortunate reality. On the other, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was, in fact, worse, and she felt some degree of... shame, maybe? She couldn't quite put her finger on why. Like there was some betrayal of self happening by saying this was worse than a month straight of torture and repeated murder.

That had been more honest though. She had complained to herself, at the time, about Rookwood not approaching the situation honestly, but he had, in his own way. She was an experiment to him, some puzzle to figure out. She hadn't been a person, with feelings and needs and desires, but he hadn't had any particular malice towards her. His actions made perfect sense in that context.

He had also never really gotten in her head. Maybe that was the difference. He had looked in her thoughts, but it had been clinical, detached. After having had multiple people perform Legilimency on her by now, she suspected that Rookwood wasn't actually very good at it. No, she had been able to hold firmly to her sense of self on that table; even if she had hated herself more often than not, she had felt very clear on who and what exactly she was.

Not like now.

She scoffed as she rinsed her hair. Even pondering that stupid dream was letting him win. Draco was right- it was her brain just trying to understand what was happening to her.

The image of her seated on a throne, covered in glowing objects, with Nagini wrapped around her shoulders and young, handsome Tom Riddle standing at her side flooded her brain.

"Stop it," she said firmly as she jolted a bit in the water. "Enough."

The image stubbornly remained as she picked up the conditioner. She let out a great sigh. She was so tired.

She had expected Voldemort to watch the dream, to tease it apart in great detail. But he hadn't. At least not in any way that she was consciously aware of. His Legilimency felt like the very definition of brute force, but maybe that was a ruse? Was there some other way he could look at her thoughts, something more subtle that she wasn't picking up on?

That would be very, very dangerous if that was the case. She wouldn't even know what he had found, or when he had found it.

She bit her lip. She didn't know how to protect herself here. Everything was so unbearably heavy. Like she was sinking all the time.

That was what the dream image felt like. Like sinking, like collapsing. Was that what he wanted?

She's not leaving until she submits, and until I understand more about this power.

The first part she could fake, if she had to. But the second? How on earth could she fake that?

She needed to, somehow. She couldn't stay here. For her own sanity, and for these Alys dreams. It was too dangerous to have them here, otherworldly magic or not.

She rinsed her hair again and, on instinct, reached for the bottle of Draco's soap rather than her own. She held the bottle to her nose and inhaled the scent of pine trees and crisp mountain air.

It was soothing. Safe, against all odds.

When did this happen? His words from yesterday echoed in her mind.

She didn't know. Truly. It had snuck up on her, somewhere between swinging on the oak tree and exchanging giggles in a cloud fort. Malfoy was awful, abhorrent... she hated him. But Draco?

She didn't hate him.

A little pit of guilt settled in her stomach. She probably should hate him. However she wanted to think about it, they were the same person at the end of the day. He was a big part of the reason she was here at all.

But just as she couldn't make herself hate snogging him, she didn't hate him.

Disconcerting. But not something she was willing to question right now. He was her only ally here, however feeble, and she needed all the allies she could get.

What would the afternoon hold? Some kind of potion, apparently- something that had made Trelawney prophesize on command.

Could that have some connection to the second sight?

She hoped not, and she hoped so, at the same time.

Please... Great Queen? Morrigan. The Morrigan? If you can hear me, please let me learn something useful this afternoon... Keep Voldemort in the dark, but let me learn something, please...

Praying felt weird. Not altogether natural to her. But at this point she would try anything.

She had taken as long as she reasonably could with the bath. She stood up, wrung her hair out with her hands over the tub, and pulled the tap. Being careful not to slip, she eased her way over the tall edge of the tub and hurriedly shuffled to the counter, where a black towel waited for her. She had to feel around for it in the dark. She dried off as best she could without being able to see before wrapping the towel securely around herself and turning on the light.

Nothing was out of place. It was just as she had left it. But it still felt eerie. She glanced quickly at her reflection before turning around and walking out into the bedroom.

Draco was standing at the window, staring outside. He was in his Death Eater robes. He looked as tired as she felt.

"Do you have clothes for me?" she asked.

He jumped, startled. "Sorry. Yeah. On the bed."

She looked to the bed, where a deep navy silk robe laid waiting for her, along with a black bra and knickers. Nothing cream or gold in sight.

Good.

"Thanks," she said before grabbing the items. She grimaced. She didn't want to go back into the bathroom again. She glanced around and noticed a wooden folding partition next to the wardrobe- a changing area, like from a bygone era.

"I'm going to change in here," she said as she walked to the partition.

"What?" Draco asked in alarm before realizing what she meant. "Oh. Alright."

She walked behind the partition, slung the towel over the edge of it, and quickly slipped on her clothes. The silk was very soft against her skin, but not too thin- it felt sturdy around her, which she appreciated.

"You saw Trelawney take this potion once before, right?" she asked as she entered the main part of the room.

"Yes, at Christmas last year," he said.

"What is it like?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Well, I'm not sure it'll affect you the same way. You're not a Seer."

"How did it affect her?"

"Well... the air changed. Kind of like when you're in the light, actually- it felt like it does before a lightning strike. Her pupils got very wide. And she was kind of... out of it, but that was before she even took the potion. She issued her prophecy, about you, and then..."

"And then?"

"She died," Draco said with a grimace.

"Joy."

"I'm sure you won't-"

"Even if I do, I'll come right back, won't I?" she deadpanned. "Or maybe I'll vomit the potion everywhere. That will be fun. Maybe I'll puke on You-Know-Who himself-"

"Don't say that," Draco said quickly. "That would be bad."

"You've lost your sense of humor."

"This isn't a laughing matter."

"Are you sure? I find it hilarious."

"Be serious," he said firmly, "or else we're not going to get to go home. And, for good measure, call him the Dark Lord from now on."

Ginny scoffed in outrage. "What happened to only using the tattoo if it was absolutely necessary?"

"It's absolutely necessary."

"According to who?"

"According to me."

"Oh, of course. Silly me. How could I forget?"

"Forget what?"

"That you know everything."

"You said you weren't angry at me earlier, but I beg to differ."

"Have you considered that I'm just angry in general, and you're my only available target at the moment?"

They looked at each other for a moment before Draco sighed.

"I suppose you're right," he said. "Here- let me dry your hair, we have to go soon."

"Aren't you going to brush it?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes. But not in there." She walked to the nearby vanity and sat down expectantly. Tilly had even wisely left the hairbrush here rather than in the bathroom.

"I thought-"

"Draco."

"What?"

"Don't argue."

"Okay." He walked up behind her, picked up the brush, and began to run it through her hair.

A familiar pattern, in an unfamiliar place.

It was a little strange to do it in front of such a small mirror- there were three of them, angled together, but she couldn't see Draco's face in them, only his hands.

Her mind flashed on the way his hands had looked last night, in the bathtub. Strong, sure hands. They always caught her when she fell.

"I'm going to do something, but I don't want you to comment on it or ask questions," she said. "Can you do that for me?"

"Um. I think so," he said cautiously.

She picked up his free hand, put it on her shoulder, and laid her hand on top of it, wrapping her fingers around the edge of his palm.

He did not comment or ask questions, just kept brushing her hair. He kept his hand there even once he put the brush down and reached for his wand to dry her hair.

"Ready?" he asked.

"No."

He squeezed her shoulder lightly. "I'm not either. But we can go together?"

She nodded at her reflection. "Okay."

He gently started to pull his hand away, but Ginny tugged it back.

"Ginny. You have to get up."

"I'm getting up." His hand still on her shoulder, she slid the stool back away from the vanity and stood up.

"We can't walk out like this," he said, a bit of humor creeping into his voice. "What are you-"

"Then give me something else to hold onto," she said before spinning around and kissing him, not giving herself time to second-guess it.

He made a quick startled noise against her mouth but didn't pull away. She reached her hands up and ran them through his hair, tangling her fingers in it as she slipped her tongue in his mouth. After a moment, he returned her fervor, sliding one hand up her back and the other to the back of her neck.

Warmth kindled in Ginny's belly and she pressed herself closer to him. After a moment, he pulled away, panting a bit.

"We have to go downstairs now," he said, breathless. "What... what was that about?"

"Reminding myself of what's real," she said, the image of a throne floating in her mind's eye. She could hold onto the feeling of his lips on hers, she was sure of it. She turned away from him and let his hands fall away as she walked toward the door. "I'm ready now. You can be Death Eater Malfoy if you want- I don't mind."

He didn't say anything, but she heard him follow behind her as she opened the door. The sight of the hallway still made her stomach hurt.

"Ballroom, I'm assuming?" she asked.

"Yes," he said coldly. Death Eater voice. "Lead the way, Weasley."

Like they were playing a great big game of pretend.

That was fine with her. She walked down the hall, her stomach twisted into a tight knot, and reminded herself that Draco was with her, even when it didn't feel like it.

Right behind you. Like he always said.

She descended the stairs and turned toward the ballroom. What kind of torture awaited her in there?

Nothing I can't handle, she tried to reassure herself before Draco caught up to her and opened the door for her.

This was a smaller gathering of Death Eaters than had been here when she had first been marked with the tattoo- maybe half as many- but there were still about fifteen of them congregated about ten feet back from the dais, where Lord Voldemort lounged with Nagini around his shoulders. He looked much more relaxed than he had an hour ago. She suppressed a shudder- this was too similar to her nightmare. Way too similar.

Following Draco's- Malfoy's- lead, she walked into the room, head held high, and joined the crowd.

Voldemort's eyes met hers. "Show me where you belong, Ginny."

She took a sharp intake of breath, feeling momentarily frozen.

So he intends to humiliate me. Fine. I'll play along.

She stiffly turned and walked toward the stairs of the dais, feeling like a puppet on a string.

"Blood traitor bitch," one of the Death Eaters muttered- a big, blonde one she didn't recognize. She ignored him, though she felt her cheeks color a bit.

She wasn't a hundred percent certain what Voldemort intended, but the image from her nightmare blazed like a beacon in her mind's eye. If she got it wrong, he would no doubt correct her quickly.

Every step further away from Draco felt like a step closer to hell. But he was in the room, and she could feel the ghost of his lips on hers. That would have to be enough.

She ascended the stairs, causing a murmur to go through the crowd. Voldemort ignored them. He waved his wand casually and a large cream and gold pillow appeared on the floor, just to the left and maybe a few inches ahead of the throne.

He didn't look at her as, her chest tight as a vice, she knelt down on the pillow, her head level with the armrest. She could see Draco in the crowd, and Lucius, now that she looked properly. Draco's face was cold.

"Good," Voldemort said. "Now, before we begin." He waved his wand sharply and the blonde Death Eater screamed, clawing at his throat as he was pulled up into the air by an invisible hand. His legs kicked pathetically as he fought to get a breath.

"Would you care to repeat your comment about my saint, Rowle?" he asked in a bored voice. Ginny looked toward him in alarm, but his eyes were on his prey.

"No, my lord, I'm sorry!" Rowle gasped. "I meant- no offense-"

"Lies!" Voldemort hissed. "Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Rowle."

"I'm- sorry-"

"What do you think, Ginny? Should I kill him?" he asked casually. "I could, you know. It would be very easy. Just… snap his neck." He twisted the Elder Wand and Rowle screamed.

"No!" Ginny cried out, looking from Voldemort to Rowle and back to Voldemort again. "Don't kill him."

Rowle was a Death Eater. He would kill her as soon as look at her. But something about how cold-blooded this was, over something so trivial… it made her skin crawl.

"No?" Voldemort asked, as though they were discussing what flavor of tea to have. "You think this is enough of a lesson, then? I'm not so sure."

"Yes," she said firmly, her eyes on Rowle's purple face. "Don't kill him."

"So be it." He released the spell and Rowle collapsed on the ground, gasping wildly. "You're lucky that my saint is more merciful than I am, Rowle. But just for good measure- Crucio."

Rowle screamed and writhed on the ground, and Ginny scrunched up her face and looked away.

Finally, it subsided. The air was thick with tension.

"Now," Voldemort said, running his free hand along Nagini's side. "Does anyone else have any commentary they'd like to make about my saint?"

No one said anything.

"Good. Then let's begin. Bella, show our new recruits in."

Bellatrix, who looked thoroughly displeased by this whole display, bowed to Voldemort before turning toward the door and leaving.

They must be waiting in another room.

"Would you like Draco to join you up here?" Voldemort asked, still not looking at her.

She held her breath. What was the right answer?

Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Rowle.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Then get up here, Draco. Behind her, at attention."

"Yes, my lord," he said and immediately did as he was bade. Ginny didn't dare look back at him as he positioned himself maybe two feet behind her.

Voldemort looked between them and smirked. "Your little body guard. How sweet. Do you feel safer up here now, little saint?"

Safe? No. Safer? Yes.

"Yes," she said quietly.

Voldemort laughed. "Then he can stay, for all the good it does." He looked back at the crowd. "Masks on now."

She heard the rustle of robes behind her as Draco put his mask on. She imagined the whorls carved into its face. He had made her memorize it weeks ago. It seemed a prudent thing to remember now.

The Death Eaters, like they had practiced, lined up in two rows, facing each other, making a pathway toward the dais.

Just like when I was here the first time, she realized. Voldemort was nothing if not theatrical.

Voldemort chuckled above her, and Ginny's stomach twisted. Had he heard her thoughts, or was he laughing about something else?

It was a double-edged sword. If she kept her thoughts blank, her nightmare flooded her brain, and that was the last thing she wanted to think about when she was literally kneeling at Voldemort's feet. But if she did think… she had to worry about how her thoughts might be received.

It was so heavy. She sank a little deeper into the pillow.

"Sit up straight," Voldemort said quietly. "Let them see you in all your glory."

The lights dimmed in the room, casting the Death Eaters into shadows. The dais, however, stayed lit- like they were on stage. Ginny made herself sit up straight as the door opened. She didn't feel very glorious at the moment, but something about this felt… ominous. What was she about to see?

Bellatrix walked in, her face covered by a mask but recognizable by her hair, followed by five people marching in wearing plain black robes and what looked like black sacks over their heads. Their arms were behind their back as they marched.

What the fuck.

The Death Eaters, minus Draco, began stomping their feet. Twice, then once, then twice, then twice again. Seven stomps in total.

Bellatrix led the five people- Ginny couldn't tell anything about them other than their height- through the line of Death Eaters, who raised their wands in an arc over them as they passed through. Green sparks passed through their wands row by row, crackling the air next to the new recruits' ears.

Did Draco go through this too? Ginny thought with dread.

"No," murmured Voldemort, quiet enough that the people below them couldn't hear. "He was a special case."

Ginny's jaw tightened, and she forced her mind to go blank. Voldemort chuckled.

"My lord and master, I present to you five new recruits for our great cause," Bellatrix declared after she had lined the recruits up.

"Who vouches for them?" Voldemort asked. Five Death Eaters stepped out of their rows, taking a step back.

"We do, my lord," they chanted in unison. Ginny didn't think Lucius was among them but she couldn't be sure.

"Then present your charges, and let them swear their oaths," Voldemort replied.

The five Death Eaters came to stand behind the new recruits. Bellatrix walked to the one furthest to Ginny's left and yanked off his hood. Ginny stifled a gasp- it was Crabbe. He looked very young here, surrounded by Death Eaters in full ceremony.

"Vincent Crabbe, pureblood of Slytherin house, humbly requests to join your service, my lord," he said before kneeling and bowing his head. Ginny didn't think she had ever heard him string such a long series of words together before. He must have practiced extensively. If he was surprised to see her up there, he didn't let it show on his face.

"Who speaks for him?" Voldemort asked.

"I do, my lord," said the Death Eater behind him, who could only be his father.

This process repeated four more times, revealing Goyle, Nott, and two others she didn't recognize. They were older, maybe in their mid-twenties. She felt sick to her stomach, even though part of her knew she shouldn't be surprised. They were barely of age, not even out of school yet, and already eagerly signing up to become terrorists.

Voldemort stood up, leaving Nagini behind, and floated down from the dais, making the boys' eyes go wide with awe. Ginny struggled not to roll hers- it wasn't worth the consequences.

"My saint isn't so sure that some of you are up to the task," he said, surveying the kneeling boys once he had landed. "But I will be the final judge of your character. Submit to me now, and let your heart be known by Lord Voldemort."

He walked up to Crabbe, grabbed his face roughly, and locked eyes with him.

Legilimency.

Part of her wanted to feel sorry for Crabbe, but he had signed himself up for this voluntarily- eagerly, based off Draco's birthday party conversation. The greed on his face as she ate chocolate cake flashed in her mind and she scowled.

An eternity later, Voldemort let go of Crabbe's face. Crabbe took a deep, shuddering gasp before looking down; even from here, Ginny could see a thin sheen of sweat on his brow.

"You are worthy to join our ranks," Voldemort said. "Rise, Vincent Crabbe, as a man reborn, and swear your oath to Lord Voldemort."

Crabbe hurriedly stood up, awe and reverence written all over his stupid face. "I vow to serve the Dark Lord faithfully and without failure for the rest of my days, under punishment of death."

"Let this mark serve as a reminder of your devotion, and a connection to your brethren," Voldemort said. Crabbe turned his left arm over, revealing pale skin as his robe sleeve slid up. Voldemort pressed the tip of the Elder Wand to Crabbe's forearm, murmured, "Morsmordre," and inky blackness shot through the wand and onto Crabbe's flesh. Crabbe screamed, but cut himself off quickly.

Trying to appear brave.

"He is Marked," Voldemort said, and the Death Eaters repeated their rhythmic seven stomps. "You will go forth on my command, Vincent Crabbe, and conquer death."

"All hail the Dark Lord," the Death Eaters repeated in unison.

Ginny pinched her arm, as much as the tattoo would allow, to make sure she wasn't dreaming. This was nightmare fuel.

The process repeated three more times- Goyle, Nott, and the first of the two men she didn't know all successfully passed Voldemort's Legilimency. She was just beginning to wonder if this was all for show when, his hands wrapped around the last man's face, Voldemort said, "You... are not worthy to join our ranks."

He pushed the startled man's face away from him and took a step back. "An Order spy," he declared, causing a ripple of shock to go through the crowd. "Sent to learn our secrets and report back on our plans for Harry Potter."

"No, my lord, I swear-" the man moaned, rising to his feet, tears on his face.

"Be silent!" Voldemort snapped. "You think to lie to me, the greatest Legilimens the world has ever seen? I cannot be deceived. Show him, my followers, a taste of our displeasure."

It was like he had opened the floodgates. Every single Death Eater descended on the man, who screamed and tried to run, but he was surrounded. Curses went flying, so many that Ginny couldn't even make out what spells they were.

"No!" she cried out, and made to stand up, but Draco's hand on her shoulder stopped her. He had put his hand exactly where she had placed it when he was brushing her hair.

It was carnage down below, and Ginny could do nothing to stop it. She stifled a sob before making herself sit back down, her sit bones resting against her heels. Was that man really an Order spy? She had never seen him before. Did that mean the Order was recruiting too? Gearing up for war?

I'm sorry, she willed in the man's direction. I wish I could save you, but I can't.

Voldemort glanced back at her- he had heard her thoughts, she knew- but quickly returned his attention to the bloodthirsty crowd.

Soon enough, it was done. The man lay dead on the floor, barely recognizable in the aftermath of the volley of hexes and curses that had been sent his way. The Death Eaters backed away, breathing hard and splattered with blood.

Would Draco have done that too, if he wasn't up here? She bit her lip. She didn't want to know the answer.

"Nagini," Voldemort said, and Ginny's stomach clenched.

Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic- she willed as Nagini unwound herself from the throne and descended from the dais.

"Be more careful in your recruit selection, Avery," Voldemort said before turning away. "Though one less Order member is, of course, a good thing."

"Yes, my lord, I will not make this mistake again," said one of the Death Eaters.

"Once Nagini is done feasting, we'll proceed. Is the potion ready, Severus?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Excellent," he said, and started floating upwards. Draco hastily removed his hand from her shoulder, which felt like the last thing that was stabilizing her. She didn't have a good line of sight on Nagini, but just knowing-

"Stand up," Voldemort said once he landed on the dais. "You're close, I can feel it."

She couldn't move.

"Stand up."

She stood, on shaky legs. Some momentary expression passed over Voldemort's face as he looked behind her, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He stood in front of her, grabbed her face with both hands, and locked eyes with hers.

Her heart was pounding. This was too much, she couldn't survive it-

And just like that, like someone had put a wall up, the panic stopped. It receded like water flowing down a drain. Her body felt... normal.

"Fascinating," Voldemort said. "It won't activate if someone else is in your mind. Why is that?"

"It knows what the real threat is," she said, surprising herself as she spoke. But it felt true. Panic over Nagini was a threat, but Voldemort in her mind when the light activated was a worse one.

"You say that like it thinks," he said. "Is it alive?"

"I don't know."

"I suppose we'll find out today, won't we?" He dropped her face and she made herself take a deep breath. "Did you know that man, Ginny?"

"No."

"But you would have saved him, if given the chance."

She didn't respond.

"You saved Rowle, too, when just yesterday you were ready to murder us all in one fell swoop," he mused, returning to his seat. "What changed, I wonder?"

"I was fighting for my life yesterday," she said. "It wasn't personal."

"Don't lie to yourself," he said with a smirk. "You would have enjoyed it."

She said nothing. Enjoy was a strong word, but finally being able to fight back against those who wanted to hurt her would have felt good- that was true. But the actual act of killing? No, she wouldn't have enjoyed that.

After a long moment, Nagini returned to the dais. Ginny kept her eyes away from her distended form.

"How shall we do this?" he asked, twirling his wand between his fingers. "We want everyone to be able to see you... This isn't the best vantage point. Death Eaters- form a circle."

They did so, quickly and automatically- something else they had practiced, apparently. They guided the four newcomers into spaces, expanding the circle some.

"And I suppose you'll want your security blanket," he said in a long-suffering voice. "I'll indulge you. Draco, escort her down."

"Yes, my lord." He extended his arm to her and she took it, still a bit shaky, as he led her down the stairs. They passed in between Goyle and Lucius to enter the circle. The lights changed in the room, casting a spotlight down on her. She grimaced. Most of the Death Eaters' faces were concealed by their masks, but the four new recruits didn't have any yet. Nott, who had looked so displeased to see her back in June, was staring at her with wide eyes. He was probably wondering the exact same thing she was.

What were they about to see?

"Severus. The potion, please."

Snape walked up to her, his face hidden by his mask.

Best to just get this over with.

"Cheers," she said before he could say anything, grabbing the potion out of his hand and downing the whole thing. It was thick and viscous in her mouth, coating her tongue and teeth in an unpleasant way.

It was like being a pebble dropped into a quiet, still lake. She felt a ripple of... something flow through her and out from her in waves.

She was so light. Every heavy thing had fallen away from her, washed away by the power of... whatever this was. This was amazing, this was wonderful.

She blinked, and the world... heightened. That was the only way she could explain it. Like she had only been seeing in black and white until now, or else she had been looking through a dirty window that had now been opened. Colors were brighter, but it wasn't just that- everything was just more, in the most splendid way.

"Whoa," she murmured, dipping her hand in the air and watching it ripple away from her like water. It was almost like the world was more... layered? Was that it? There was more of everything. More to see, more to feel... more to be.

She turned to look at Draco and gasped in delight.

"Draco, you're glowing." He was- his body was outlined in white light, like it emanated from his very soul. She reached up and pulled off his mask, smiling broadly at him.

"I think it's your eyes, love," he said a little breathlessly. She tilted her head. What did he mean, it was her eyes?

"I think the human lady can see us!" she heard a squeaky voice say.

"Who said that?" she asked, looking around. All of the Death Eaters were glowing, all different colors, but Draco was by far the brightest.

"Is she a world walker?" another squeaky voice said. "There hasn't been one of those in... ages and ages! Long time for the humans."

Ginny looked around, not seeing anything, before finally noticing a cluster of blue-green lights outside of the circle of Death Eaters- further back in the room. They were the same color as the portal had been, but they were moving around.

"Whoa," she said again before walking toward the lights. She had to pass under... someone's arm, to get there. She wasn't sure who.

"Let her go," came a cold, familiar voice. Its identity escaped her at the moment. It didn't feel very important, somehow. Not nearly as important as the lights.

She walked over to the lights. There were maybe four or five of them.

"Hello," she said cautiously, extending a hand toward them.

"Eep!" one said before fluttering away behind another one. "She can see us, I told you!"

"Stop pushing, I want to see!" another complained.

"Who's gonna talk to her?"

"Me? I don't know what to say!"

Ginny started laughing, making the lights all cluster up together.

"You have a pretty laugh, human lady," one of them said shyly.

"Thank you," she said. "What...er, who are you?"

The lights seemed to look at each other.

"We're us," one of them said, as though it was obvious. "And you're you. Right?"

Ginny laughed again. "Right."

"Look at her hair!" one cooed. "So pretty." It fluttered forward and lifted up a strand of it. Ginny giggled, and the others seemed to take that as assent to inspect her more closely. They zipped around her, picking up her hair or fluttering around her hands.

"Wheee," one of them exclaimed as it spun around her, and Ginny grinned. That looked like the most fun thing in the world. She spun around too, throwing her arms out to the sides and laughing as she spun.

"How come the human lady can see us now?" one asked.

"I don't know," Ginny replied. "But I like it. Do you live here?"

"Oh nooo," they said as one. "We don't live on the mortal plane."

"Oh," Ginny said, not sure what to make of that. It felt like something she should be interested in, something she knew a bit about, but she couldn't quite remember.

"Do you live here?" one asked.

"No," Ginny said, and even though she couldn't quite remember where here was, she knew it was true. She didn't like being here much.

"Let's go home then," one of them said, before they flitted away, flying up into the air away from her.

"Hey, wait!" she called. "Don't leave me here."

"Well come on, then, human lady," one said a tad impatiently. "Follow us."

"I don't know how," she said.

"Ohhhh, maybe she needs a portal," one of them said. "She has a flesh body."

"Weird," another said.

"Somebody call somebody who can open one!" another said.

"Not me!"

"Not me!"

"Not me!"

"Alright, alright, fine, I'll go," said the first one, and winked out of existence.

Nothing happened for a moment. Ginny felt content. She hadn't felt this light in such a long time... Why was that? It was hard to remember.

Oh well. Guess it doesn't matter now.

The light came back. "Look up, human lady!"

She did, and gasped. She could hear others gasping too, but they seemed very far away.

There was a glowing blue-green light up in the air, much bigger than the little lights she was talking to. Somehow, she knew she would be able to reach it. She took a step up, like she was climbing an invisible staircase, and began walking toward the light. The air hardened under her feet, supporting her weight.

People were shouting on the ground down below. Who were they? People she knew? It didn't feel like it.

The light expanded once she reached it, opening onto an unfamiliar landscape. It was twilight in this place; she could see rolling hills underneath foreign constellations. Blue-green auroras streaked the sky.

She wasn't alone. A wolf walked through the portal, only it wasn't a wolf. Or it was more than a wolf. It was massive, as big as a hippogriff, and made entirely of darkness, like the space between the stars.

"Human woman," it said in a raspy voice as it began to circle her. "I have not seen one of your kind in an age."

She wasn't afraid, somehow. She knew the creature didn't mean her any harm. How she knew that, she wasn't sure, but she knew it was true. She felt a bit mesmerized, staring at it. Powerful haunches carried it through the air, its nails digging in like it was clawing invisible soil.

"You have the Great Queen's blessing on you," it said, nuzzling up against her like a giant cat. "Your blood sings with her light."

She reached out a hand to- pet it? She wasn't quite sure. But her other arm started hurting. She looked down at it, confused. That was familiar. But why?

"Wretched parasite," growled the wolf-beast before biting down full-force on her arm.

It didn't hurt at all. The wolf-beast ripped a writhing black mass out of her arm and she gasped- it felt amazing. So free. So free.

Someone was screaming. Funny timing, that.

It spat the rot out, and the world exploded in jets of light. That was familiar. Spells. But why? From who?

The beast roared in fury, a deep, bone-chilling sound that made the hairs on her arms stand up. This was a predator in its purest form. Suddenly a little afraid, she took a step back. She was sinking a little bit, she realized.

"Make your choice, human woman," it snarled. "You're almost out of time."

"What?" she whispered. Out of time for what?

Something- no, someone- was behind her. Cold and familiar. She was too afraid to turn around. The beast roared again, shooting out a jet of... ice? If ice could be black. Great shards of it flew past Ginny harmlessly, but whatever was behind her let out a terrible, ear-piercing shriek. Cold hands grabbed her arms, and suddenly she was falling through the air. The beast leapt back through the portal, which winked out of existence.

Ginny was falling through the air with an injured Lord Voldemort. She screamed as they fell- how the hell had she managed to get so high up?

A writhing mass of black ink soared upward and slammed into her left arm. Agony overtook her and she screamed again before passing out mid-fall.


JULY 28th, 1997

She groaned when she woke up. She was sore, so sore. Everything hurt. It was dark, wherever she was. She squinted and was able to make out... a canopy?

It all came back to her in a great rush of color and sensation.

Voldemort had ordered her to drink the potion that had made Trelawney prophesize on command. She had seen... sprites, maybe? Or something like sprites. They had summoned a wolf, who had opened a portal. It had ripped the tattoo out of her arm, but it had come back once the portal had closed. The wolf-beast had attacked and injured Voldemort. Someone had been screaming.

She could feel the malice of the tattoo under her skin, but she couldn't see it in the dark. She needed to see what it said. Groaning loudly, she pushed herself up onto her arms.

"Ow, ow, ow," she muttered as she dragged herself toward the bedside table, fumbling with the lamp. After a few tries, she got it on. It wasn't nearly bright enough to illuminate the whole room- most of the space was still cast into shadow.

Relief mixed with dread flooded her. The tattoo still read DM, but Draco was nowhere to be seen. She was alone, in Voldemort's house.

"Draco?" she asked, looking around just in case. There was no response. She glanced toward the door, and her heart plummeted into her stomach. There was no door, only a flat expanse of wall.

That couldn't be. She glanced back at her legs. Could she stand? They felt very weak. She had to try, though.

She didn't even have a chance to swing her legs over the side of the bed before the wall rippled and Voldemort walked through. The ripples instantly subsided and the wall reformed, solid as ever. She scooted back on the bed as far as possible away from him.

There was no door. She didn't have her magic. She was trapped.

"I was beginning to think you would sleep through the night," he said before waving his wand and floating a nearby armchair over to the side of the bed. He sat down, facing her.

It was only then that she realized how much time must have passed. It had been mid-afternoon when she had entered the ballroom, and now it was the middle of the night.

"What happened tonight was not your fault," he said softly. She tensed. "I was very angry with you, at first. But once Severus had healed both of our injuries, I inspected your memories and saw that you had not commanded that beast to attack, whatever it looked like from the outside. You were in a kind of trance."

"I don't remember getting injured," she said, though her body certainly did.

"You fell from a great height, and that potion is taxing on the body under the best of circumstances. Though I daresay you're fairing quite a bit better than Sybill Trelawney did." He smirked.

"What happened after I passed out?"

"As I said, I was quite angry. My Death Eaters felt that anger, before I could contain it. I was in a lot of pain- more pain than I have been in since I was resurrected. I was sure it was your fault, at first, but I was happy to be proven wrong. You didn't even know who you were, when it was happening."

He was right, but he was being oddly reasonable about the whole thing. Though she supposed she didn't know what had happened to the Death Eaters. Did that mean-

"Is Draco-"

"He is alive, yes," Voldemort said. "Recovering from a nasty injury to his arm. It seems the beast transferred the pain from you to him when it tried to rip out your tattoo."

Ginny's stomach clenched. That felt like her fault, somehow.

"Is he going to be alright?" she asked, her chest tight. He smirked again.

"Yes, your darling lover is going to be just fine. I must say, you've grown far more attached to him than I ever anticipated. You forget who and what he is."

Ginny said nothing.

"Sometimes I think he forgets it too," he continued, idly twirling the Elder Wand in his hand. "You made a good point earlier tonight, about him not having gone through the typical initiation, nor the typical training. I had thought one on one study with Bellatrix would be enough, but now that his peers have joined my ranks, I don't see any reason for him to skip steps."

"What does that mean?"

"That he'll join his peers over the next few days for training, like he should have done to begin with," he said. "It will do him good to be among others like himself."

"Does that mean-"

"That you'll have to make do by yourself for a few days? Yes. He will be among others like himself, Ginny, but there is no one like you. Not anymore."

She bit her lip, fighting back tears. She couldn't be alone here, not again-

"You act like I'm condemning you to torture," he said drily. "Is this room not pleasing to you?"

She said nothing, not trusting herself to speak.

He pressed the tip of the Elder Wand to the wall and the whole room rippled for a moment. "There- now it will learn your desires. Give you what you want."

"I want to go home."

"I believe you know what Draco would say to that. I won't repeat it, to avoid the cliche."

This is your home.

He couldn't have said anything worse.

"The Ministry will be mine very soon," he continued. "A few more days, maybe. I'll allow Draco back here once that happens, and once he finishes his initial training regimen. Tonight has taught me that I need to go much more slowly where your power is concerned. We mustn't rush things. But you and I will have all the time in the world for that, won't we?"

She whimpered, though she tried to stop it. He smiled at her.

"I hope you've been practicing your script. You'll give that Daily Prophet interview in a couple of weeks."

"I thought you said that wasn't important," she said quietly.

"It's not, to you and me. But to my Death Eaters? It's very important. It's a key part of them taking back the respect and power they deserve. I am a beneficent ruler for them- I have to give them what they want."

"It's not what you want?"

"My wants are not so mundane, no. But my wants will take time to meet, it seems."

Ginny didn't know what to say to that.

He didn't say anything for a moment either, his eyes on the Elder Wand. Finally, he said, "You could have tried to run away tonight, through the portal. But you didn't. Why?"

"I... I don't know. Everything was so... fuzzy."

"Yes, your memories from today are quite bizarre. You saw something quite different from the rest of us."

Ginny's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"We didn't see anything at all, other than your eyes glowing, until the portal appeared. And while the beast you saw was formidable... well, let's just say that's its more pleasant form. Poor Draco was terrified for you. He commanded you to come back to the ground, and that's when the beast attacked."

Ginny's chest tightened.

"I thought about punishing him," he said idly, making her scowl. "For interrupting the moment. But I think he's had punishment enough, or he will, over the next few days."

"Please don't hurt him."

"I didn't say I was going to hurt him. Nearly having your arm ripped off seems like punishment enough to me, and training should cure him of his sensitive stomach." He smirked.

She felt shaky. Nearly had his arm ripped off... She looked down at the tattoo. It had come back to her somehow.

"Marvelous piece of magic, isn't it?" Voldemort asked. "Truly, I didn't think Macnair had it in him, but he has outdone himself."

"Is it alive?" Ginny asked flatly.

"Somewhere in between, I think."

"The beast called it a parasite."

"You could think of it that way, yes. Dark magic in particular can gain a kind of base sentience, if cast correctly. It's not truly alive, but it can think, make choices based on the nature of the spell."

She looked at him cautiously. He was teaching her things. About magic, about his motivations. Why?

"Why wouldn't I?" he said. "You and I are going to be together for a very, very long time. You should understand things, as I do."

He was absolutely certain that she was never, ever going to get away.

He laughed. "Of course I'm certain about that. What kind of fool would I be, if I let that happen? What did your latest dream describe you as again? My precious thing?"

Ginny flinched as though he had slapped her.

"I must admit, I never cared much about the physical changes that my path has required," he said. "But it makes sense that you would prefer my younger form."

"I don't."

He stopped twirling the wand. "Oh?"

"It's a lie."

"A pretty lie, if your thoughts about it are to be believed."

"It doesn't matter what it looks like. It's a lie."

"Hmm," he said disinterestedly, resuming his twirling. "Well, just the same, it will give me a project to work on while my Death Eaters amuse themselves with the Ministry. I'll grow bored otherwise, and that could make me... impulsive."

"What project?"

"Well, you see, I couldn't exactly be choosy about what form my body would take when I was resurrected. Any body would do, as long as it was strong enough for me to use. But now that my goals have shifted these past few months... I'm not sure this body is sufficient. People long to worship beautiful gods."

Ginny wrinkled her nose, and he laughed.

"You know it's true. Think of that idiot professor your first year. What was his name? Lockhart? Imagine if he had had any real magical power at all. He could have had the entire Wizarding world eating out of his hand, if he had had an ounce of sense."

Mention of her first year made her think of the diary. He sensed it immediately.

"You've been thinking about the diary a lot lately," he said with a smile, like he was praising her for something. "Our first little connection. What a stroke of luck that Lucius hated your father so much. Though of course, it wasn't luck at all. It was fate."

Her stomach twisted. She wanted the conversation to be over.

"You can go back to sleep soon," he said in a irritated voice. "I want to check something first."

A casual flick of his wand sent her careening across the bed towards him. She yelped.

"Be still," he said. "This won't hurt, or at least I don't think it will." He grabbed her left arm and pushed up the sleeve, fully revealing the tattoo. "Fascinating," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "How it retained its original shape even after being ripped out. It connects you to Draco, but through his Mark, which is connected to me. So if I just-"

He pressed his finger to the tattoo. It twitched under her skin, but nothing in particular happened. He frowned.

"That's disappointing," he said. "I wonder where the break in the connection is." He turned her arm over, looking at the intersecting vines, before letting go. "Something else to puzzle over, I suppose." He stood up. "Rest well. You're still recovering." He turned and started to walk away.

"Wait."

He paused, surprised. He looked over his shoulder at her.

"What happened to the door?" she asked.

He smirked. "I took it away, obviously. You don't need it, as you aren't leaving this room, and you can see that I don't need it either."

He didn't need to speak aloud the implication that no one else would need access to the room at all.

She was in a cage.

"You can think of it that way if you want," he said. "I don't think of it as a cage. More like... a treasure vault? Like something at Gringotts."

Her nightmare flooded her mind and she gasped, feeling numb and tingly all over.

He laughed. "Good night, little saint. Sweet dreams." The wall rippled as he walked through it, reforming instantly behind him.

Blinding panic seized her. Her pain forgotten, she threw herself off the bed and ran toward the wall. She pounded her fists against it, hoping against hope that it was an illusion, but it was frustratingly, terrifyingly solid. She screamed as she slammed into it, willing it to let her pass. When that didn't work, she ran toward the window on the opposite wall. It shrank as she approached, until it disappeared, leaving her in darkness.

"No, no, no, no, help me, help me!"

The light swallowed her, and there was no one to pull her out of it. She floated, outside of time and space, for what felt like a very long time.

Eventually, her body fell asleep, and when she awoke, she was in a huddle on the floor. There were no doors or windows. She had no idea how much time had passed.

She was trapped in eternity.


JULY 29th, 1997

The room provided her a clock, and a calendar, once she had calmed down enough to think straight. It was mid-morning the next day; she hadn't lost as much time as she had feared. Being inside the light was so disorienting, and with no external signs...

She made herself take a deep breath. She couldn't panic now. She had to...

She didn't know what she had to do.

She had learned some things yesterday, but it felt too dangerous to think about them here when Voldemort could slip so easily into her mind. But if she didn't think about them, her brain drifted to very unpleasant places.

The scream she had heard, which she now knew belonged to Draco, played over and over in her mind. His arm nearly ripped off... had Voldemort been exaggerating? She hoped so, for Draco's sake.

Was he going to be alright? Would she see him again? Voldemort had said it had looked like she had commanded the wolf-beast to attack... Did Draco know that she hadn't meant for that to happen?

There was, of course, always the possibility that Voldemort was lying. Maybe Draco wasn't injured at all. But she knew, somehow... The scream had been real.

She stared at the ceiling, wishing she could think about something else. She was lying on the floor in a silly, petty refusal to use the furniture. She would not engage with the space beyond absolute necessity.

The room, for its part, was trying very hard to please her. It had become like a modified Room of Requirement; instead of giving her what she needed, it gave her what she wanted, or what it thought she wanted.

A magazine materialized in the air above her before falling and landing on her chest. She sighed loudly as she picked it up.

"Top Twenty Harpies Games: A Play by Play Analysis with Commentary by Romulus Santiago, former coach for the Spanish national team," she read dispassionately before dropping the magazine. "I know what you're trying to do. It won't work."

The room was determined. An easel unfolded itself nearby, a large white canvas materializing on it. A full set of oil paints and a collection of brushes appeared on a small side table next to it.

"No," she said. "Stop it."

She heard a plate clatter on the table, far away from her, but even from here, she could smell delicious breakfast food wafting its scent her way. It didn't smell like something Tilly would make- it smelled like Sunday morning at the Burrow.

"That's cruel," she said quietly. "Don't tease me with that."

The room's energy became more urgent, like it was desperate to find something she would accept. Books and candles and a good-smelling lotion and Chocolate Frogs and a real Golden Snitch and fuzzy socks and a stuffed Pygmy Puff plush that looked remarkably like Arnold- it tried them all. Soon she was in a veritable pile of random objects. Ginny covered her face with her hands, torn between laughing and screaming.

"I want to die!" she yelled at the room. "So unless you can find a way to kill me, don't bother."

The energy of the room subsided, but it felt... sad, almost. Sad and disappointed, like it had failed her.

Ginny sighed again. "Fine. Fine, I will eat a Chocolate Frog, you stupid-"

She stopped talking as she ripped open the packaging. Inside was a Morgana Chocolate Frog card.

Was this a coincidence? Or a clue?

Morgana was one of the more common cards to get. Not so unusual to find one here. She opened another card and sucked in a breath. Morgana. A third. Morgana.

She held her breath as she examined the card. Morgana had red, wavy hair- darker than Ginny's. She wore dark robes and had a pinched expression on her face, and clasped at the top of her robes... a golden stone.

Ginny hurriedly slapped the card down. This was too dangerous. Either Voldemort knew something and was toying with her, or the room was picking up on her thoughts, even subconsciously.

How could she possibly protect herself here?

Something about the motion of slapping down the card had reminded her of her dad. She used to play Exploding Snap all the time with Dad, Ron, and the twins... Thinking about it made her heart hurt.

That wasn't the memory, though. It was something older. What was it? She closed her eyes, trying to remember.

It had been a few summers back, now. The summer before she came to Hogwarts. Dad had come home with a pack of Muggle playing cards and a battered old book, The Royal Road to Card Magic. Muggles, he explained, did believe in magic, contrary to popular wizarding opinion. They just thought it was all illusions and sleight of hand. The boys had quickly lost interest, but Ginny had been young enough that she had been quite entertained by her father's amateur attempts at Muggle magic. What did he say the trick was?

You have to direct your audience's attention- where to look and where not to look.

That was an idea.

"Room, can you get me a record player? I want the Weird Sisters' second album, the version with the bonus tracks. And some nail polish- red, with gold sparkles. And a slice of chocolate cake. Please?"

The room spun to life, delighted to be of use.


JULY 29th, 1997

Draco stumbled down the stairs of the manor, his arm in a sling. It still hurt very badly, but he didn't have any time to waste. It was early morning, barely light out- his father was probably barely waking up. He had to be quick.

Greyback and Dolohov would be arriving soon to take him away to some remote location for training for a few days. He didn't know when he would be back at the manor, or when he would see Ginny again, but he had made up his mind. There was nothing that was too far. If she was angry, so be it. She had been angry at him before, and he had survived it. He would survive this too.

His father was convinced that the attack had been on purpose, but he knew it wasn't true. She had been seeing something else. There was no way she could have seen that monstrosity and not even flinched. It was the second sight- it had to be. She had been seeing something in the corner of the room that no one else could, and then all of a sudden she had opened a portal to another world.

And now she was trapped with the Dark Lord.

He hurried down the stairs to the basement. He had to be quick, even though every step jostled his arm painfully.

He was going to be in for a lot of pain the next few days, he thought.

"It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter," he murmured. He had to get back to Ginny.

He pressed his hand to the old stones. "Sanctimonia Vincent Semper."

The stones faded away, and he crossed the threshold into the Malfoy family's vault. A book this old wouldn't be in the library, he knew... It would have to be down here. But he didn't know exactly what it was called.

He hurried to the books and started thumbing through them, looking.

Finally, after an eternity, he found it. He skimmed the spell and its requirements, making himself memorize it. Old magic was strange, more complex than he was used to, but it would be too dangerous to bring the book with him, or tear out this page. He would just have to remember. He practiced the complicated wand movements, murmuring the words to himself again and again.

Once he was confident that he had committed the spell to memory, he turned inward, to the sea. He let himself sink down to the ocean floor, where his younger self waited.

I have to hide you away completely, one last time, he said. You won't survive where I'm going, but I have to go there to get back to Ginny. She needs me, and I have to-

His younger self nodded, like it already knew what he was going to say. His younger self approached him, sadness on his face, and then did something that shocked adult Draco- he kissed his cheek.

I love you, he said, before sinking down into the sand, hidden completely from view.

Draco the Death Eater touched his cheek, momentarily stunned.

He could do this. Ginny was waiting for him.

With a deep-seated confidence that was unfamiliar to him, Draco the Death Eater swam to the surface of the water.