JULY 16th, 1997
Days passed, and soon the days turned into weeks. Ginny occasionally dreamed of Alys, but nothing of any particular substance. She couldn't make any sense of why she dreamed when she did, or how the content of the dreams was chosen- if it even was chosen, or if it was just random. Every time she had a dream, she would ponder it for a while upon waking up, but quickly let her thoughts drift away. Thinking about Alys was a reminder of how futile her situation was, and if she thought about it too long she found it much harder to "listen," as she and Draco had taken to calling it.
She had decided to call him Draco even in her thoughts. She had resisted it heavily for the first two weeks, but it had begun to feel like a pointless expenditure of energy. She was fighting a battle that didn't have a winning option, and no one would even know about it other than herself. Help wasn't coming. Alys was no longer a viable plan, and she could only hope that her family would continue to stay far away from the manor. She was resisting an inevitability, and it only served to make her tired.
Going to the oak tree had been a turning point, it felt like. He had understood her- truly understood her, both with giving her an outlet for her seemingly endless anger and with giving her a taste of the freedom that she so longed for. It wasn't enough- not really. But, she supposed, it was the best peace offering a Death Eater could reasonably make.
They had gone back to that area several times, at Ginny's request. It gave her distance from the manor proper and let her feel like she wasn't literally caged in by walls of hedges. It also felt more private somehow, even though they had plenty of time alone together within the manor's walls. Just knowing that they were separated from his parents, from the weight of who he was and who she was and why they were there together, gave her breathing room in a way that nothing else did. Up on the hill, she could forget about it all, at least for a little while, and while part of her was aware of just how deep a betrayal that was, it wasn't too hard to ignore when she was swinging and looking out over the expanse of trees. The land was timeless here, like it had always been this way and would continue to be this way, forever. Ginny's own looming immortality, whatever that would mean in the long-term, didn't feel so heavy when she saw the beauty of this eternal forest.
"What if I don't age, and just stay this way forever?" she had asked him the last time they were there- a little over a week ago. "Or what if I do age and just keep aging forever and ever until I'm thousands of years old, but still alive?"
He hadn't had any great answers, other than to assure her that "the Dark Lord" knew all kinds of advanced magic and would certainly be able to help if it came to that. That, of course, hadn't reassured Ginny at all- the less she had to do with Voldemort, the better.
Ginny grimaced, coming back to the present moment. Draco was pacing behind her, the wardrobe doors swung wide open. He had already made her change three times. There was to be a Death Eater meeting this evening, and Ginny was required to attend. It would be her first time leaving the manor since she had arrived here six weeks ago, and the first time since then that she would be seeing any Death Eaters besides Draco, Lucius, and briefly Rookwood.
"Put the green one back on," he said, still pacing. She struggled not to roll her eyes but did as he said. This robe was really more like a dress- fitted through the bodice, with tight sleeves that reached her elbows, leaving the tattoo exposed. He was already wearing his Death Eater robes, the sight of which had immediately made her nauseous. He had shown her his mask and made her memorize the distinctive whorls on its face; every mask was different, he said, and he wanted her to be able to recognize his in an instant. Why exactly that was, he wouldn't say, which only served to make Ginny more nauseous.
This meeting wasn't about her, he said. All of the Death Eaters would be attending along with some spouses, Narcissa included. It was an update meeting. It wasn't about her.
But she still had to be there, and she knew, deep in her gut, that she wouldn't be allowed to just sit quietly and ignore everyone. Draco apparently knew this too, as he had made her take a double dose of the Draught of Peace and had packed an extra one to bring along.
"Stop pacing," she said. "You're making me nauseous."
He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't let anything go wrong tonight."
"I thought you said this meeting wasn't about me."
"That doesn't mean things can't go wrong." He bit his lip, a nervous habit he had picked up from her, before looking her up and down. "The green is the right choice, I think. And here." He waved his wand and conjured a silver hair clip encrusted with tiny green gems. "Turn around."
She did, and let him sweep her hair into the clip. Her neck felt oddly bare this way- a bit exposed.
"Very pretty," he said as she turned to face him.
"And very Slytherin, of course." She had been hoping he would laugh, but he didn't.
"Maybe a necklace," he murmured, his eyes on her exposed chest.
"Is it that important that I look a certain way?" she asked.
"Your image reflects on me, yes. And the Dark Lord wants to see that you're capable of portraying what's required. This is the first time anyone's seen you in six weeks- people are of course going to be curious. And looking to find fault."
Her apprehension must have shown on her face, for his gaze softened.
"Don't worry," he said. "I protect you, remember? You're going to be fine. Let's go see what jewelry my mother has."
She started to walk toward the door, but he grabbed her wrist.
"Wait," he said. "I forgot something." He yanked her close to him and kissed her deeply. The momentary shock of it took her breath away, but she returned his attention after a second. She could feel tension leave his posture the longer he kissed her, and the longer she kissed him back. Finally, he broke away with a little gasp.
"On second thought," he said. "Tilly."
Crack.
"Yes Master Draco!"
"Bring me my mother's monogrammed necklace- the diamond one."
"Yes sir!"
Crack, and then crack again. Tilly had returned with a necklace in hand- a simple silver chain, with a diamond M pendant.
M for Malfoy, she thought with a scowl. Draco ignored her, stepping behind her and fastening the chain around her neck.
"You look beautiful, Miss!" Tilly said enthusiastically.
"She does, doesn't she? Thanks, Tilly- that'll be all."
Crack.
He sighed. "You're not going to like what I'm going to do next, but it is absolutely necessary." She stiffened as he spun her around to face him once again. "Look at me. From the point we leave the manor tonight until we return to the manor, you will be nothing but respectful and submissive to me. You will not give anyone any reason to doubt or question my control over you. You will act like what you are- a prisoner who has realized escape or resistance is futile and that your only way forward is reluctant obedience. You will be respectful and deferential to the Dark Lord, and quietly polite to anyone else we meet. If you feel like you might panic, get my attention and I will take care of it." He paused, biting his lip again as Ginny glared at him. "You will not resist any physical affection I show you, but neither will you initiate. Quiet acceptance is appropriate. You can look away now."
She did, her face flushed. You will act like what you are.
"I told you you weren't going to like it," he said.
"Fuck off."
He laughed, though it was cold. "Just reminding you of your place. Actually- look at me." Her gaze turned toward him involuntarily. "Legilimens."
This felt different than all the other times he had done it, except for maybe the first. He didn't land in a memory. No, he was moving from image to image, rapid-fire jumping between them.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, but he didn't answer.
She knew soon enough. Every awful moment between them, every horrible thing he had ever said, every bit of dread in her stomach when he would push their physical limits, came rushing to the forefront of her psyche, so intensely that she cried out and stumbled forward a bit. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her.
"You can look away," he said. "Let's go. Follow me."
Tears blurred her vision as she followed him out of the room. It was like she was here but also back in every one of her worst moments from the past six weeks. Why had Malfoy done this? Didn't he want her to behave?
I guess I have no choice but to behave, she thought miserably. That command is incredibly broad.
They stopped in the foyer, where his parents were already waiting.
"Stop crying," Malfoy snapped when he turned to look at her. He was Malfoy again. He had lost his first name privileges.
The tears stopped. He reached forward and wiped her cheeks, though there wasn't any tenderness in it. It was cold, detached. He was the Malfoy of her nightmares.
"Ginny, that necklace is beautiful on you," Narcissa said. "You should keep it- I have more jewelry than I know what to do with."
"Say thank you Mother."
"Thank you Mother."
Narcissa nodded at her, a bit uncertain.
"You've prepared her for tonight?" Lucius asked.
"Of course."
Ginny didn't feel prepared. At all. The command would guide her actions, but internally? She was walking completely into the unknown, and her only ally was suddenly hostile to her once again.
She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. He was a Death Eater. They could spend sweet moments together all they wanted, but he was a Death Eater, and she was his prisoner, and nothing would change that, not permanently.
She followed them out the front door and down the gravel path, willing her breathing to even out. She would get through whatever this was, just like she had everything else, and then it would be over.
Maybe Rookwood had had a point about distress after a moment of calm. Having to walk back into an audience of Death Eaters after so much time away felt like the worst kind of torture. She imagined the oak tree, imagined the weightlessness of swinging high above the forest, and made herself take a deep breath. Whatever this was going to be, it wasn't forever. She would obey Malfoy as he had commanded, and he would just have to take care of the rest.
"Take my arm," he said as they approached the gate. "I'm giving you permission to leave with me."
Probably the last thing he'll say to me all night without using a command. She hesitantly grabbed hold of his arm and he pulled her forward, right through the closed gate. The bars disappeared like smoke, instantly rematerializing once they had passed through.
"Hold on tight," he said, and she felt the familiar gut-tug of Sidealong Apparition.
It was like her first night with Malfoy, but in reverse. They had landed on the front lawn of a pretty brick mansion, covered in ivy. The place where Ginny had died a hundred times over.
"Keep a pace behind me as we walk in," Malfoy said as his mask materialized in his hand and he slipped it on. Lucius did the same after a quick kiss from Narcissa. Malfoy's parents linked arms and walked forward.
"I changed my mind," he said suddenly, his voice cold. "Why should you walk behind me like you're a slave?" He linked arms with her and began walking toward the house. She followed effortlessly, though she could feel her body wanting to stumble from the horror of approaching this awful place. Malfoy's command was in effect.
A short man she didn't know opened the door, bowing obsequiously to the Malfoys and ignoring her completely. She noticed he had a metal hand, and she realized with a start that this must be Peter Pettigrew. Or Scabbers, as she had known him for most of her life. She wanted to glare at him, but her face remained neutral as she allowed Malfoy to lead her through the house.
They didn't go into the ballroom, thankfully. They turned right instead of left and entered a large dining room, where a good many Death Eaters were already seated.
"There's my darling niece!" Bellatrix said before cackling, upon which a couple of other Death Eaters seated near her joined in.
"Say hello Aunt Bella," Malfoy said without pausing his steps.
"Hello Aunt Bella."
I want to die.
More laughter now.
"You've been busy, boy!"
"Not so high and mighty now, is she?"
"If you get bored of the Malfoy boy, honey, come give me a try!"
Malfoy gripped her arm tighter. She hadn't seen who had said any of those things- she wasn't looking at them, and she couldn't see through their masks anyway. She was trying not to look at anything at all.
"Luckily it's the Dark Lord's decision where she goes, not yours, Carrow," he said as he walked toward the head of the table.
Her stomach dropped. Carrow. That man was going to be teaching at Hogwarts?
Malfoy stopped right at the head of the table and pulled out the seat directly to the left of the head.
"Sit down," he said. She sat, and he pushed her seat in.
"Thank you," she murmured involuntarily. He sat down next to her, filling the gap between her and Lucius. The seat across from her was empty, but unfortunately Bellatrix filled the seat next to that.
"I must say, she cleans up well," she said to Malfoy. "She was a disaster the last time she was here."
"Makes sense for a blood traitor, right?" Malfoy asked. "She just needed the right environment to really bloom."
Oh how she wanted to punch him. Bellatrix laughed like he had told a clever joke.
"I'm sure the Dark Lord will be pleased with your progress," she cooed, eyes flitting to Ginny once again. "She seems quite broken in."
Like I'm a goddamn horse.
Malfoy laughed. "In public, yes. I like a little bit of her fire when we're alone."
Several Death Eaters laughed at that and Ginny felt the barest hint of a flush creeping up her neck.
Twisting the words of the sweet promises he had made her weeks ago, during their second agreement. Or was this the truth, and he was just that good at manipulating her along?
She didn't want this to be the truth. Hoped it wasn't the truth. But she wasn't sure. The coldness of his voice was jarring- exactly like it was when he had introduced their "morning routine." When he was trying to be as cruel as possible. He hadn't acted that way in a long time now. Surely that meant that this wasn't real, right?
Or he knows how to lull you into not fighting back.
She couldn't fight back anyway though. He could be as awful to her as he wanted, and she still would go along with it if it meant protecting her family. She had told him as much. Anything, forever, whatever you want.
The door closest to the head of the table opened, and everyone stopped speaking at once.
Ginny didn't need to look to see who had entered. She could feel the cold dread of Voldemort's presence as he swept into the room and took his seat at the head of the table, right next to her.
Every nerve in her body told her to run. But she couldn't. She wanted to scream, but she didn't. Her breathing remained even thanks to Malfoy's command.
"Good evening, my friends," he said, his voice making Ginny's skin crawl. "You may remove your masks."
A flurry of motion all down the table as the Death Eaters complied with their master's orders. She dared to glance at Malfoy as he vanished his mask. His eyes were so dark they were almost black.
"Wormtail," Voldemort said, and Pettigrew came scrambling into the room. "Fetch our guest." He hurried out of the room just as quickly as he had entered.
Guest? Like how I was a guest?
That possibility hadn't even occurred to Ginny. She had assumed she was the only one in her position and that that would be the case until September. Was she about to meet another blood traitor? Someone she knew?
"Welcome back, Miss Weasley," Voldemort said. "I trust that you've been well?"
"Very well, thank you, my lord."
She was trapped inside her own body, screaming to get out, but no one could hear her.
"My my, what a different reception than the one you offered us the last time you were here," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Draco has been keeping you busy, has he?"
"Yes, my lord."
Quiet chuckles spread down the table. Malfoy was smirking.
"I look forward to hearing all about it," Voldemort said. He reached forward and she flinched just a bit as his long, cold fingers picked up the pendant of her necklace.
"Fitting," he continued, before turning the pendant in his hand so that it made a W. "With how your life has been turned upside down these past few weeks. Exactly what you needed, of course." He dropped the pendant and withdrew his hand.
The door opened at that moment, and Ginny let out a startled yelp. Pettigrew was levitating an unconscious woman into the room. She was filthy and her clothes were torn. Voldemort lifted his wand- the Elder Wand- and guided the body so that it floated, upside down, above the table.
She glanced to Malfoy again. He too had looked at the body, but only for a moment. His face was impassive, even bored.
"It's better to be on the right side of history, isn't it?" Voldemort asked her, but she was saved the trouble of responding. The door opened once again and two men walked in- Snape and another man she didn't recognize.
"Yaxley, Snape," Voldemort said. "You are very nearly late. Severus, here. Yaxley- beside Dolohov."
The two men took their seats, with Snape sitting directly across from her. Voldemort turned his attention away from her and she let out a breath.
"So?"
"My lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall," Snape said.
It felt as though the floor had fallen out from beneath Ginny's feet.
"Saturday… at nightfall," Voldemort repeated. He stared intensely at Snape- using Legilimency?- but Snape stared calmly back, and, after a moment, Voldemort's lipless mouth curved into something like a smile.
"Good. Very good. And this information comes-"
"From the source we discussed," said Snape.
"My lord."
Yaxley had leaned forward to look down the long table at Voldemort and Snape. All faces turned to him.
"My lord, I have heard differently. Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy turns seventeen."
Snape smiled. "My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time; he is known to be susceptible."
Ginny's mind was racing, simultaneously clinging tightly to every bit of information and struggling to stay present in the room at all.
"I assure you, my lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain," said Yaxley.
"If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain," said Snape. "I assure you, Yaxley, the Auror Office will play no further role in the protection of Harry Potter. The Order believes that we have infiltrated the Ministry."
"The Order's got one thing right, then, eh?" said Carrow. He gave a wheezy giggle that was echoed here and there along the table.
Voldemort did not laugh. His gaze had wandered upward to the body revolving slowly overhead, and he seemed to be lost in thought.
Ginny's heart was pounding. They've infiltrated the Ministry. What does that mean?
"My lord," Yaxley went on, "Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be used to transfer the boy-"
Voldemort held up a large white hand, and Yaxley subsided at once, watching resentfully as Voldemort turned back to Snape.
Always trying to one-up each other.
"Where are they going to hide the boy next?"
"At the home of one of the Order," said Snape. "The place, according to the source, has been given every protection that the Order and Ministry together could provide. I think that there is little chance of taking him once he is there, my lord, unless, of course, the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday, which might give us the opportunity to discover and undo enough of the enchantments to break through the rest."
Where could that be? The Burrow? Grimmauld Place? Somewhere else?
"Well, Yaxley?" Voldemort called down the table. "Will the Ministry have fallen by next Saturday?"
Once again, all heads turned. Yaxley squared his shoulders.
"My lord, I have good news on that score. I have- with difficulty, and after great effort- succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse." Many of those sitting around Yaxley looked impressed; his neighbor, Dolohov, a man with a long, twisted face, clapped him on the back. Ginny didn't recognize the name.
"It is a start," said Voldemort. "But Thicknesse is only one man. Scrimgeour must be surrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister's life will set me back a long way."
"Yes- my lord, that is true- but you know, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. It will, I think, be easy now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, to subjugate the others, and then they can all work together to bring Scrimgeour down."
"As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the rest," said Voldemort. "At any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine before next Saturday. If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, then it must be done while he travels."
"We are at an advantage there, my lord," said Yaxley, who seemed determined to receive some portion of approval. "We now have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport. If Potter Apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall know immediately."
"He will not do either," said Snape. "The Order is eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do with the place."
Ginny's blood boiled as Snape spoke. He had betrayed them all, and now was leading the Death Eaters right to Harry. Her face remained impassive, but she willed every bit of her silent hatred toward Snape anyway.
"All the better," said Voldemort. "He will have to move in the open. Easier to take, by far."
Again, Voldemort looked up at the slowly revolving body as he went on, "I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than his triumphs."
He twirled the Elder Wand between his fingers before looking right at Ginny.
"I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be."
Ginny was shaking, unable to look away from Voldemort's horrid gaze. He smiled at her.
"Only the Master of Death may triumph over the Boy Who Lived," he said softly. "That was the first of Sybill Trelawney's three prophecies, the ones that led me to you. You were destined to give me the tools that will ensure my victory, destined to become a symbol of my power and the might of the pureblood lines. In some ways, one might say that you are the fourth Deathly Hallow."
Ginny said nothing, her breathing shallow. Everyone was staring at her.
"Still no reaction?" Voldemort asked, amused. "You've trained her well. But let's see what's going on beneath the surface."
He reached toward her again, one long finger tipping her chin up as his red eyes locked on hers. She stiffened, wishing desperately for a shield, for a rescuer, for anything, but she couldn't move.
Voldemort's Legilimency felt crueler than either of the Malfoys'. It was sharper, more calculating, like a razor blade being scraped across her consciousness. He skimmed through memories without landing in any particular one.
"You're quite indulgent with her," Voldemort said, his voice echoing oddly in her mind and in her ears.
"She's more enjoyable that way, my lord." Malfoy's voice. Far away. Echoes of faint laughter.
"And yet I see remarkable restraint on your part."
Malfoy's voice echoed in her mind. Okay, if I don't stop now I won't be able to stop, and I have to stop for now.
"I believe my aunt taught me the benefits of playing with your food before you eat it, my lord. Of savoring it."
The memory of the chocolate cake flashed in her mind, followed by him massaging the tattoo, followed by being pinned down in the library with his mouth on her neck.
I have you forever. There's no reason to rush things, contrary to your request to- what was it? Just get it over with?
Anger pulsed through her and Voldemort laughed, the sound echoing horribly inside her skull.
"Remarkable, the level of rage inside you, little girl. So different from the scared little eleven year old I once knew. You've grown up."
He lingered on the memory of Malfoy in the library, telling her his version of the fairy tale she had been reading.
"A princess locked in a tower," he mused. "That's exactly what you are- a treasure hidden away from the rest of the world. Though perhaps the title is wrong. If I am to be a god, then what does that make you? A saint?"
He held her gaze, though the Legilimency had ended. Ginny's jaw was tight.
Finally, he dropped her chin, and she took a great shuddering gasp, grasping the edges of the table for support. Her brain felt raw.
"Dolohov, do we have-"
"Draco." She spoke without meaning to, the compulsion guiding her mouth.
I must be about to panic, she thought vaguely.
Malfoy jumped into action immediately. He pulled out the vial of the Draught of Peace, uncorked it, and turned her face toward him.
"Open your mouth," he said. She did, and he poured the potion in, every last drop. "Close your mouth and swallow." She did, and leaned forward a bit in sudden exhaustion.
"This is the phenomenon you spoke of, Lucius?" Voldemort asked, his eyes back on Ginny.
"Yes, my lord. The Draught of Peace is effective for it, and Draco has learned the girl's signals. We should not have any further outbursts."
"I should like to see one, I think."
Ginny's stomach twisted in dread.
"But perhaps not now," he continued, sounding bored. "At a more private gathering, maybe. Dolohov- you have the materials prepared?"
"Yes, my lord," Dolohov said quickly. "They're ready for your review."
"Excellent. We'll tend to that in a moment." He pointed his wand at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds.
"Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort.
Snape raised his eyes to the upside down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity. Ginny's eyes drifted upward, and it felt as though she was the one at the end of the long tunnel that she had come to associate with the Draught of Peace. The woman, whoever she was, was miles away.
"Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.
"And you, Draco?" asked Voldemort as Nagini crawled up the side of his seat to rest on his shoulders. Malfoy shook his head, not looking at her.
"But you would not have taken her classes," said Voldemort. "For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage, who until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
No. Ginny fought as hard as she could to move, to speak, to do something, but she remained immobile.
There were small noises of comprehension around the table. A broad, hunched woman with pointed teeth cackled.
"Yes… Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles… how they are not so different from us…"
One of the Death Eaters spat on the floor. Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape again.
"Severus… please… please…"
Someone do something!
"Silence," said Voldemort, with another twitch of the Elder Wand, and Charity fell silent as if gagged. "Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of Mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept those thieves of knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance… She would have us all mate with Muggles… or no doubt, werewolves… But we don't accept that, do we, Ginevra?"
For the third time, Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape. Tears were pouring from her eyes into her hair. Snape looked back at her, quite impassive, as she slowly turned away from him again.
"Avada Kedavra."
The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters leapt back in their chairs.
"The pureblood lines can never die. Dinner, Nagini," said Voldemort softly, and the great snake swayed and slithered from his shoulders onto the polished wood.
Ginny gagged. No amount of the Draught of Peace would be enough for this. "Draco."
"I don't have any more-"
"Leave it," said Voldemort. "Let's see this power."
She saw Malfoy stiffen beside her, but her vision was already going spotty. She grabbed the armrests of her chair, willing herself not to lose control in this most dangerous of places, but her vision was filled with Nagini, whose jaws were opening, saliva dripping from her massive fangs as she approached the corpse-
Ginny screamed, and the light came to rescue her.
There weren't any snakes here. Or dead bodies. Or crying women. There wasn't anything here at all. No sights, no sounds, nothing. It was peaceful here.
Except for her arm. That hurt. It really was gross, like something alive was moving under her skin. Why did that happen? It seemed like something she should remember, but everything was so far away here.
There was a world outside the light. She knew that. But it was a bad place. Bad things happened there. She didn't want to be there. She was so tired of bad things happening.
You're six years old, and your mum and dad just bought you your first ever broomstick. You're ecstatic and can't wait to fly it. Bill takes you outside and watches you fly. You laugh and laugh because you feel completely free.
Her own laughter echoed in her head, the sense memory of the blades of grass in the garden scraping against the bottom of her bare feet as a tangible reminder of a happier time. Bill was there, smiling at her and cheering her on. He always cheered her on, no matter what.
You're eight years old, and you're going to your first professional Quidditch match. Gwenog Jones executes a perfect Dopplebeater Defense against the Chudley Cannons, allowing their seeker to catch the Snitch. You're jumping up and down, so excited, and giggle to yourself about Ron complaining about the Cannons' loss.
She was so excited. Gwenog Jones was like an artist in motion- the way she moved on a broom made the others look like amateurs. The Cannons didn't stand a chance. Ginny wanted to be like her when she grew up.
You're eleven years old, and a great tawny owl arrives at the kitchen window. It's holding your Hogwarts letter. Finally, it's here, at last. Just like all your brothers before you- you get to go away to school and learn to be a real witch. You imagine all the adventures you'll have, all the friends you'll make, and you can't wait for it to be September.
She was going to Hogwarts, finally. No more being left behind. She'd be with her brothers, in September.
September. Was there something else about September? She frowned- something not good about that, but what was it?
This voice, whoever it was, spoke again quickly. You're fourteen years old, and you've just been made temporary seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Now you can be taken seriously as a player- no more being in your brothers' shadows. Your crowning achievement is beating Cho Chang to the Snitch and winning the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor.
Cho Chang. Harry's ex-girlfriend. Ginny had beaten her to the Snitch. She had beaten her. Right?
You're fifteen years old, and you're in the orchard behind your house, playing Quidditch with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. You're practicing for tryouts. Harry's going to be captain, and he wants to hold tryouts for all positions, so you're helping Ron practice. You're going to be a Chaser this year, the position you really want. You throw the Quaffle, Ron blocks it, and Harry catches it down below you. He smiles at you, and you're happy. Part of the group at last. You soar up to the sky once he tosses the Quaffle to you, and you're above the whole world. Nothing can touch you now- you're invincible.
Relief flooded Ginny as she remembered what it was like to be up high in the sky. Anything was possible. She could see so far in any direction. No one was there telling her what to do or how to be- she was just herself, and that was enough.
Draco's face swam into view, though it was a little fuzzy. He was smiling at her, but it also almost looked like he had tears in his eyes.
"You're fifteen years old," he said, "and you're on a hill, swinging from a great oak tree, overlooking an endless forest. Time stands still- there is no fear of the past, no dread of the future. There's only here and now, right in this moment. You're flying, and I'm right behind you, there to catch you if you should fall. You're free in this moment, and that's all that matters. I'm right there behind you."
She reached toward his face with both hands, unsure if he was real. Her fingers made contact with his cheekbones and they both gasped, startled. They were real, both of them.
The light subsided, and Ginny closed her burning eyes. She collapsed forward and Malfoy caught her, his arms strong under hers.
"I want to go home," she murmured. "Can we go home?"
"Not quite yet, darling," he said, reaching up to stroke her hair.
"My eyes hurt."
"I know. It's alright- keep them closed for now."
She gradually came aware of distant murmurings around her. They were still at the Death Eater meeting.
Dread overtaking her, she took a stumbling step closer to Malfoy and he put his arms around her.
"Well, this is surprising," Voldemort said. "She trusts you."
"That has been a priority for me, my lord. If she's constantly fighting everything and everyone all of the time, she would be much harder to control. She wouldn't be as effective for what you need her to do- if she cooperates, it will be better."
That wasn't why he did it. Right?
She started to pull back a bit, but he didn't let her.
"An astute observation," Voldemort said. "And one that benefits you as well, no doubt."
"Yes, my lord."
Voldemort laughed. "How like a Malfoy. Wormtail- fetch a cold cloth for the girl's eyes. Our little saint is in pain."
She could hear distant sounds of motion, and soon Malfoy was tilting her head back and applying a mercifully cold cloth to her face.
"If it's alright, my lord, I'd like to hold her. It takes her a little while to recover when this happens."
He must have received some nonverbal cue of assent, as he guided her slowly forward and then pulled her into his lap. She knew she should look around, assess for danger, but her eyes hurt so so much and the cloth was the only thing helping. He pushed lightly on her shoulder and she curled into his chest, knowing what he wanted.
"I've heard Rookwood's theory on why this happens, but you've had a front row seat for it every time. What do you think is happening, Draco?"
Malfoy took a second to respond, considering his words. "They do occur in moments of panic or overwhelm. Usually the Draught of Peace is enough to take care of it, but if it's not caught early enough, or if the circumstances are more… extreme, such as they were tonight, the light tries to protect her like it always does. It's normally only momentary, long enough to eliminate the threat, but in this case the threat is internal. It's almost like it gets… stuck, or confused, maybe. It can't subside until the threat is gone."
"Which is where that list of memories comes in. I see. You discovered these using Legilimency?"
"Yes, my lord, except for the last one."
"Wise of you to follow Rookwood's advice. Do you think it likely that this could happen in a public setting?"
"If she knew what to expect ahead of time, she took a dose of potion right before, and I was there to help with any stressful moments, no. Despite all the stress she's been under, this has only happened a couple of times in the last six weeks. It's not like she loses control every time something unpleasant happens."
"And do you think that someone else would be able to accomplish this as well- prevent an outburst, or end one if it occurs?"
He stiffened below her. "My honest answer is no, my lord. I'm uniquely suited for this task, and you had the wisdom and foresight to give it to me. I'm devoted to doing whatever is necessary to accomplish our goals with her."
"Whatever is necessary," Voldemort said softly. "That's good, for the work is just beginning. You are, indeed, the right man for the job. Dolohov- show me what you've prepared."
There was a rustling sound, like parchment being passed around, and Ginny hesitantly reached up to remove the cloth from her face. She blinked several times after doing so- the room still felt bright, even though she knew that it was dimly lit.
Voldemort was reading over a parchment. Nagini was nowhere to be seen. The body of Professor Burbage was gone.
"This is good," Voldemort said. "Appropriate background information, and all the right talking points. Here, Draco." He passed the parchment to Malfoy. "A script for her first assignment. She'll do an interview for the Daily Prophet shortly after the Ministry falls. See to it that she memorizes the information; she doesn't need to be a particularly competent actress, seeing as the Prophet will write whatever we tell them to, but this will be the baseline for all her future work."
"Yes, my lord, absolutely. She'll be ready."
"Ready factually and ready emotionally," Voldemort said. "I don't care if you want to play house with her, but you need to increase her distress tolerance. There should be no risk of her losing control over anything short of a battlefield. Don't pamper her so much that she becomes spoiled."
Malfoy's grip on her was tight. "Yes, my lord."
"The same could be said for you. We mustn't squander your potential- you've done well with the girl, but there are other skills to learn. You'll begin training with your aunt starting tomorrow- she has already been such a good teacher to you, after all."
"Y-yes, my lord. Of course."
"It would be my honor to serve, my lord," Bellatrix demurred.
Training? Ginny thought with dread. Training for what?
"Now," Voldemort said. "A number of you have been involved in the goings-on with Miss Weasley, in one way or another. Who has questions, now that she is here?"
She recognized Macnair's voice, though not his face. "I have a question, my lord. It's been six weeks now of using the tattoo- have you observed anything else noteworthy with it, Draco?"
"Nothing other than what I previously reported," Malfoy said. "Giving conflicting commands is an easy mistake to make- you need to be mindful of what you say, how you say it, and the duration of the command. If you give conflicting information, the tattoo doesn't know what to do and tries to do both at once. Everything other than that works as intended. I do have to thank you for the little extra feature you included, though- one of my favorite things."
"Extra feature? What extra feature?"
Malfoy paused. "The responsiveness of the tattoo to my touch," he said, choosing his words carefully. "You didn't design that as part of the bond?"
"What happens when you touch it?"
Please don't say it, please don't say it-
"She loses her mind over it. How did you describe it, love? Literally nothing feels better. It's like nothing exists except for that."
Ginny covered her face with her hands as Macnair laughed loudly.
"The tattoo seeks to please its master," Macnair said. "I didn't realize how far that extended- even outside the commands. It's giving you what you want."
Malfoy laughed, though his grip on her remained tight.
"Truly an outstanding piece of magic," he said.
"Severus has been assisting in its continued development," Voldemort said, bored of the conversation. "Any news on that front, Severus?"
"As I was telling MacNair earlier, we will want to be selective in who we give these to, and who their masters are. Macnair disagrees, but I don't believe the magic will remain stable if we spread it too thin. A Death Eater shouldn't make more than one bond, and so we should choose their… what would you call them? Subjects? Carefully. They're a finite resource, and should be treated as such."
"You disagree, Macnair?" Voldemort asked.
"My lord, it is my view that Snape is being overly cautious here. We've seen even just tonight the level of control the Malfoy boy has over the girl. I see no reason to believe-"
"Because you're enamored with your own success," Snape said. "Draco has learned what so many of you struggle to understand- sometimes a subtle touch is what's best. Don't overplay your hand, unless you're content with the possibility of losing. I prefer to deliver on what I promise, rather than take foolish risks in the hope of gaining glory."
Malfoy grew tense underneath her once Snape mentioned his name. She sat up to look at Snape, but he pulled her back immediately.
"I didn't say you could sit up," he murmured.
"You speak the truth, Severus," Voldemort said. "The time for careless risk-taking has passed. We have no room for error. We will stick with a one-to-one approach for now, and revisit it if we should ever run out of Death Eaters." He laughed, and a few others joined in.
"Anything else?" he continued. Then, the voice she hated perhaps most in the world spoke up.
"Has there been anything else unusual with the gem?" Rookwood asked.
"No," Malfoy said. "Just these outbursts, as I've already mentioned, but nothing else unusual."
"And no other responses to physical threat?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Malfoy said coldly. "Does she look like she experiences physical threat often? I'm not in the business of randomly torturing someone so valuable to the Dark Lord, though I know the same can't be said for you."
"I never randomly tortured-"
"That's why you pulled out one of her teeth, right? Why you decided to use barbaric Muggle techniques to try to access the gem, which she still has the scar from, by the way-"
"What Muggle technique is this?" Voldemort asked.
"What did you say it's called?" Malfoy asked her.
"Surgery," she said quietly.
"I never-"
"She has the scar to prove it," Malfoy snapped. "I certainly didn't give it to her. Are you really going to lie to the Dark Lord and say you didn't do it?"
The room was tense.
"Show me," Voldemort said, and a cold thrill of terror ran through Ginny.
"It's… it's in an intimate place, my lord. Perhaps more privately-"
"Nonsense. Everyone, look away- let's preserve Miss Weasley's modesty."
"Sit up," Malfoy commanded, and she did so, fighting hard internally against the motion but unable to stop. He adjusted her in his lap so that she was facing Voldemort. She made herself look away as Malfoy gently pulled her neckline down partially, exposing the scar between her breasts.
"Tell me the truth, Ginny," Voldemort said softly. "Who gave you that scar?"
"Rookwood," she said, her voice shaking.
"And why did he do that?"
"He was trying to remove the gem. Magical attempts weren't working, so he decided to go looking for it himself."
"I'm surprised, Rookwood, that you thought a Muggle technique would succeed where magic had failed." He waved his hand at her, dismissing her, and Malfoy mercifully let go of her neckline, letting it return to normal.
"I wanted to provide you complete information, my lord. Without trying everything I could think of, I was afraid of missing something important."
"So you've said," Voldemort said in a bored tone, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Luckily, Miss Weasley seems no worse for wear, an unsightly scar not withstanding. I'm sure it can be removed if it bothers you, Draco."
"That… that would be good, my lord," Malfoy said.
Voldemort smirked. "The Malfoys always were a vain lot. Can't have any blemishes marring such a perfect canvas- that would reflect badly on you."
Malfoy said nothing, but Voldemort didn't seem to expect a response.
"Any other questions?"
No one said anything.
"Good," Voldemort said. "Now, it seems Hogwarts will have a couple of vacancies to fill. You all already know that Severus will be Headmaster, but I'm pleased to announce that Amycus will be taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, or perhaps we could just call it the Dark Arts post, and Alecto will fill Professor Burbage's position, with a rewrite of the curriculum of course."
There was a smattering of applause all along the table.
I have to stop this, but I can't, I can't, I can't do anything-
"And Yaxley, perhaps you could take Thicknesse's position after he assumes Scrimgeour's role."
"I would be honored, my lord!" Yaxley exclaimed, clearly surprised. More applause.
"You won't want the Minister post eventually, my lord?" asked a voice Ginny didn't recognize.
Voldemort laughed without humor, high and cold. "Gods don't typically take governmental positions, no."
The whole table laughed now, Malfoy included, and Ginny felt like she might be sick.
Please let this be over, just let it be over-
"No, I won't need a formal role," Voldemort continued, growing pensive. "I will be above all others, forever- that is my role."
"Praise be to the Dark Lord," Snape said, and the others echoed him quickly. Voldemort smirked.
"But where are my manners? My loyal subjects must be hungry, after the day's excitement. Here- eat."
He waved his wand, and food fit for a Hogwarts feast filled all of their plates, save for his own.
"Are you well enough to stand?" Malfoy asked her.
"I-I think so."
"Let me help you." He guided her into a standing position, her legs shaking, and helped her into her seat.
"I don't… think I can eat," she said quietly.
"Yes, you can," Malfoy said. "Eat at a normal pace, until you're full."
She picked up her fork and took a bite of potatoes. They were good. Not as good as Tilly's, but good.
Voldemort watched them eat, which was incredibly unnerving.
Does he not have to eat? Or does he not want people to see him eat?
That would be a reminder that he was human, she supposed. She was immortal and even she still needed to eat. But him? No, he couldn't allow the weakness of needing something, not in front of his followers. Gods didn't need things.
But he's not a god, she thought, her mind drifting into dangerous territory, of standing stones and crows crying overhead.
May the gods remember you.
Were gods real, after all? She had never thought much about it, before all of this. But Death certainly seemed like a god. Was Death not the only one?
Should she be praying?
When she had eaten as much as she could without making herself sick, she put her fork down and kept her gaze trained on a random spot on the table.
"What does the light feel like, Ginny?" Voldemort asked. "When you're inside it."
"It's… peaceful. Everything just sort of… falls away."
"Falls away," he repeated.
"Yes, my lord," she said, wanting to bite her tongue off for its treachery. "Like I'm very far away from reality. I don't really even remember who I am, when it's happening."
"Far away from reality, or perhaps in another one," he said, tapping his fingers together.
Ginny tensed.
"Haven't you wondered about what we all saw through that portal? Did that look like Earth to you?"
"No, my lord. I don't know what I saw."
"Another reality," he said softly. "With magic unlike our own. There is much to be done here first, Ginny Weasley, but perhaps when all of this is settled, you and I will go exploring."
She held her breath, her heart racing. What did that mean? She felt herself lean almost imperceptibly closer to Malfoy.
Voldemort laughed at her obvious discomfort. "I admit I may not be as gracious a host as the young man sitting next to you, but you and I were friends once. I was there for you when no one else was, don't you remember? And that too was all thanks to the Malfoys." He nodded briefly in Lucius's direction. "What did you call it? Like having a friend you can carry around in your pocket?"
Ginny said nothing, her breathing shallow.
"I had thought that was a mistake, an error on Lucius's part, but we can see now that fate works in mysterious ways. Remember this, and remember it well- I allow you to reside with the Malfoys because it serves my interests, and as a reward to Draco for loyal service. I intend for you to stay there for the foreseeable future. But make no mistake- your immortal life belongs to me, and me alone. We will outlive every single person in this room. When they are nothing but dust, you and I will still walk the earth- or perhaps, some place like it. I am the Master of Death, the master of the Deathly Hallows, and you are the fourth and final piece of the collection. You go where I go, in the end."
"Say yes my lord."
"Yes, my lord."
Voldemort smirked at her. "How obedient you've become. How Harry would loathe to see you this way. Circumstances being what they are, I don't think he'll get a chance before he dies, but if it's at all possible, I'll let you say goodbye."
I have to get out of here. I can't be here anymore. Please, please, just let it end.
Most people seemed to have finished eating by this point.
"We will prepare an aerial attack against the boy," Voldemort said, addressing the room. "You'll receive your assignments shortly. You're dismissed for the evening."
There was a murmur of "thank you, my lord"s from the group as they stood up.
"Be here at two o'clock, Draco," Bellatrix said. "I'll have everything prepared for you."
He nodded at her before extending his arm to Ginny to help her up.
"Leave the girl at home," she continued. "It'll be a little much for her delicate sensibilities."
"Of course. Thank you, Aunt Bella."
"As I said, it's my honor to serve. You have a bright future, like I told you before. With some development, you might even find yourself in the right hand seat," she said, shooting a glare at Snape's turned back.
"I would be honored indeed. Come, Ginny. We're going home."
He linked his arm with hers and moved them out of the dining room, following closely behind his parents. Luckily, no one tried to talk to them on their way out, not Rookwood or Macnair or Carrow or any of these horrid people.
How could Malfoy want to be around them? He wasn't like them. He wasn't, he wasn't...
Or he is, and he's just better at hiding it.
The memory of him drunk and crying came to her mind. No. He wasn't like them. He was many things, but he didn't have anything in common with Amycus Carrow. She refused to believe it.
They do have one thing in common though. They both willingly serve Voldemort.
These thoughts weren't helping. Her breathing was coming faster.
"Breathe normally," he said. "We're going home now." He walked them through the front door and only a few steps forward before he tightened his grip on her arm and Apparated them away.
The restrictions of all of Malfoy's commands from the evening fell away as soon as her feet touched down on solid ground outside the manor gates. She let out a wail and bent over double, clutching her stomach.
"Enough of this now," Lucius snapped. "The Dark Lord is right- your tolerance for these things is far too low. Pull yourself together."
"I'll take care of it," Malfoy said. His voice was cold, still exactly like what he had sounded like all evening. "She'll be better by the next meeting. I'll see you both in the morning- goodnight, Mother, Father."
"See that you do, or I will have to involve myself more in your affairs than would be preferable for either of us."
Narcissa looked like she wanted to say something, but at a tug from Lucius, she followed him through the gates.
Ginny started to stumble forward, wanting nothing more than to sleep, but Malfoy stopped her.
"No, no," he said. "I didn't say you could move."
"Draco, please-"
"Be quiet. I've been too permissive lately, it seems. You've been very obedient, but you forget yourself." In one fluid motion, he picked her up, sweeping one arm under her knees and using the other to support her back.
"I don't want-"
"I didn't ask you to speak," he said as he walked forward. "If you're going to scream like a child having a tantrum, I'll treat you as such."
She closed her eyes and imagined the oak tree. Where was that Malfoy? Where was Draco? She had come back to the manor, but where had he gone?
Away. Again.
"We're going to try something new tonight," he said, and she stiffened in his arms. "A variant on something you really like. It should be good."
She gripped his robes in her fist, not allowing herself to speak. The danger had followed her home. She wasn't ever really safe, except for maybe at the tree. Why couldn't they go there?
She didn't want this Malfoy to take her there though. He would ruin it.
Maybe tomorrow, she thought as he walked through the front door. After he comes back from... training.
Whatever Bellatrix had in mind, it couldn't be good. What would she make him do?
The manor was dark. He ascended the stairs, moonlight making little patches on the carpet through the paned windows. It was a full moon. Her mind wandered to Remus Lupin, who was out there somewhere, having a very bad night. He had been high up in the Order, before Dumbledore's death. Was he one of the ones running things now? Would he be one of the ones organizing Harry's departure from his aunt and uncle's house?
She wished she hadn't been at the meeting, even aside from her own involvement in it. Having to hear their plans about Harry and being completely powerless to do anything about them was worse than anything that could happen to her.
Well maybe not worse than anything... she thought, her mind flashing on Charity Burbage's corpse and Nagini's gaping maw.
"Relax," Malfoy commanded. "It's over now. You're about to have a relaxing evening."
Her body relaxed, but her mind didn't believe Malfoy at all. This Malfoy's idea of relaxing was usually anything but.
I just want to go to sleep, please please please... just give me a sleeping potion, let this be over...
He opened the door and set her on the bed.
"Let me prepare some things," he said. "Stay here until I get back."
He walked into the bathroom and shut the door, leaving Ginny to sit in dread. He had asked about the tattoo in the meeting- maybe something to do with that?
It's giving you what you want. Macnair's voice echoed in her mind. Malfoy took turns asserting his desire for her and denying any opportunity to pursue it, but apparently the tattoo knew what he wanted anyway. Unless Macnair was lying, but it hadn't seemed like it. He had been confused when Malfoy referenced the "extra feature."
What did that tell her about Malfoy? She wasn't sure. She wanted so badly to trust in their moments of safety, maybe because she needed them very, very badly. But there was a part of her that was insistent that the whole thing was a ruse, and she was like a mouse trying to make friends with a cat.
Or a snake, she thought, her mind back on Nagini. That must have been the same thing Dad saw right before he was bitten... She had known it was horrible, known how bad the bite had been, but to see it happen in front of her... She shuddered.
Poor Professor Burbage. At least she isn't suffering anymore. How many other prisoners do they have? And for what purpose?
All important questions. All things she was absolutely useless for. She could do nothing for any of those people. She couldn't even help herself.
Malfoy opened the bathroom door. "Alright, come here."
She stood up and followed him into the bathroom. The lights were off, but there were candles in the window, reflecting cheerfully on the glass.
Oh no.
"Please don't take this away from me," she said quietly.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. "I just prepared this whole space for you. I'm not taking anything away. You deserve a reward after your performance tonight. You did as well as I could have reasonably expected."
He reached into the tub and turned on a couple of taps, different ones from the one she normally used. One of them was bubble bath; the tub immediately started filling up with giant suds. The other one wasn't something she recognized.
"Well, go ahead. Get undressed."
"What?"
"I hope you're not forgetting our agreement. I do hate having to ask for something twice."
Her fingers were shaky as she reached for her buttons. Malfoy had seen her in her underthings plenty of times. Dozens of times. Maybe that was all this was.
"You can drop the robe on the floor, but put the necklace and the clip on the counter. I need to start a collection for you."
She did as he said, letting the dress robe fall to the floor and stepping out of it to walk to the counter. The candles reflected in the mirror, making her skin look paler than it normally did. Like her dream all those weeks ago.
It's not real. It's not real.
The tub had filled up quickly. The bubbles were so thick that she couldn't see the surface of the water in the reflection. She reached up and unhooked the clasp on the necklace. She set it down on the counter, placing it so that it looked like a W. Her own teeny tiny act of defiance. She removed the hair clip and her hair came tumbling down over her shoulders. It had grown a lot over the last couple of months.
Malfoy smirked at her in the mirror before turning to face the wall, away from both the tub and the mirror. "Undress completely and get in the tub."
"Draco-"
"Undress completely and get in the tub. Tonight had a negative impact on your listening skills, apparently."
Her hands moved unbidden to remove her underthings and she practically ran to jump in the tub.
The water felt amazing. What had he put in it? It had a bit of a minty scent, and she could already feel herself relaxing slowly.
He turned to face her and his smirk grew. The bubbles hid her body completely, but they both knew that this was a big step farther than they had taken thus far.
"No sense getting my robes all wet," he said, and started unbuttoning them. Ginny looked away, her gaze drifting to the window and the forest outside. Were there werewolves in this forest? It seemed likely, given its size. The Forbidden Forest wasn't this large, and it had all manner of terrifying creatures within it. It was a good thing, she supposed, that she hadn't managed to escape into the forest her first day here. She had had no idea of its size, no idea just how remote the manor was. She would never have made it out, and stood a good chance of getting eaten by something.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked.
"That there are probably werewolves in the forest, and if I had managed to make it out there, something would have definitely tried to eat me."
He laughed, but it was cold. "Until your special powers blasted it apart, that is. Nothing's going to eat you. Though you did look absolutely delicious in that dress- everyone there wanted to take a bite, could you tell?"
She closed her eyes and made herself open them again before he could say anything.
"Very good," he said. "Now- relax into the water."
She did, and let out a shaky breath. There was definitely something in the water, something in that other tap.
"It's a variant on the cream," he said, answering her unspoken question as he removed his robes completely, leaving him in his underwear, and knelt down next to the tub. "Not as strong, but combined with the heat of the water, it feels nice, doesn't it?"
"Yes," she answered, unbidden.
"I meant what I said before. You did as well tonight as I could have expected. My position with you is secure, as far as I can tell. And the Dark Lord was pleased with you, even if you still have work to do."
She didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. She just wanted to go to sleep.
"You could say, I'm glad to hear that, Draco. Thank you for taking care of me when I panicked."
"I'm glad to hear that, Draco. Thank you for taking care of me when I panicked."
"You're welcome, darling. I'll always take care of you. Tilt your head back."
She did, and he conjured a cup. He scooped up some water and poured it over her head, wetting her hair. He reached for the shampoo.
"Is this playing with your food, then?" she asked, unwilling to be afraid of the inevitable. He paused.
"You could say that, yes. But it's also increasing your tolerance."
"This isn't like what happened earlier tonight. At all."
He scoffed as he squeezed shampoo into his hand. "Of course not. But seeing as I don't have a giant snake roaming around, I work with what I've got. And what I prefer."
He started working the shampoo into her hair, his fingers scratching deliciously on her scalp.
"Did you know?" she asked dully.
"Did I know what, darling?"
"That your father was the one who gave me the diary."
His fingers slowed. "Not until after everything was over. He didn't want me to know too much, at the time. I haven't always been a skilled Occlumens, you know. But I learned about it later."
"The tattoo feels like that. Like the diary. Not when you touch it, but all the other times, if I pay attention to it. It's almost like a parasite- like it's alive."
He moved his fingers slowly over her scalp, scrubbing her hair. "It's not alive. Macnair would have told us that."
"It thinks," she said. "It expresses opinions- it knows things. It knows when you're close, it anticipates you touching it. Like that feeling of being on a broom right before making a dive, that building swoop in your stomach? It's like that."
"It's a creative bit of magic, but it isn't alive. It connects the two of us, that's all."
"It wants to please you. That's what Macnair said."
"And it does, every day."
"It liked that you said that."
"It's not alive, Ginny." He rinsed his hands, rinsed her hair, and reached for conditioner. "I'll have a healer come by for a consult on your scar soon. Someone trustworthy. It can probably be removed."
"So it does offend you."
"What?"
"That's what I told you about it the first time you noticed it. And you said your body could never offend me, remember?"
He laughed. "That's right. No, it doesn't offend me. But I don't want you to be carrying any marker from that time- I want you to be able to forget about it, after a while."
"I already have a marker," she said, lifting up her left arm, covered in suds.
"That came after," he said as he began to run the conditioner through her hair. "That's day zero. Any days before that, you don't need to remember."
"Is that why you wanted to teach me Occlumency? So I could forget Rookwood?"
His hands slowed again. "I didn't want to teach you Occlumency. That was an assumption on my father's part. You'll forget Rookwood in time. A blip in the timeline of your life."
"Isn't that how everything is, when you're immortal?"
"A tiny blip, then. Smaller than the others."
"I don't know what Ignotus was thinking, giving me this. He chose wrong. It's wasted on me. I want to give it back."
Malfoy's hands gripped her hair, slick as it was with conditioner. "He chose correctly. Your role was foretold, and you're fulfilling it. You'll continue to fulfill it."
"I know I always tell you I don't want to be a ghost, but I would rather be a ghost than a saint. At least as a ghost, my identity is still about me. Saints are all about something else."
"About something greater than themselves," he said, reaching to rinse his hands and then rinse her hair. "The Dark Lord is greater than all of us. All who serve him know that- we put his interests above our own, always. You're just slowly coming around to the idea."
"I'm not coming around to anything."
"Not by choice, maybe. I'm not the one who called you a saint." He started to reach for the soap, but stopped. "You'll finish your bath, and I'll watch." He folded his arms on the edge of the tub and rested his chin on them.
She reluctantly reached for the soap, lathered some in her hands, and began to wash. The suds from the bubble bath hadn't dissipated at all- she was still covered. But he was mere inches away, far too close for comfort.
"What are you thinking about?"
"That you're very close to me."
He smirked. "So I am. You liked it, at the meeting. You reached for me through the light."
"I wasn't reaching for you."
"Who were you reaching for then?" he demanded.
"The other you."
He froze. "What?"
"The other you. The one who laughs with me and took me to the oak tree. He comes and goes. He's been around more lately, but not tonight."
Malfoy's face was coldly furious. "There is no other me. All of it is me- you just don't like when I'm not being particularly sensitive to your needs."
"It's not about my needs. It's about you."
"You're mistaken." He stood up and turned to walk toward the counter. She could see that his face was flushed in the reflection.
"It's alright, Draco-"
"Don't speak." He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. "I don't want to be angry with you tonight. There is no other me. Perhaps I've been too indulgent with you, if you think my affection is some other personality entirely. They're the same."
They're not. You're lying.
"Are you done washing?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then let me fetch your things while you dry off. Before you came here, would you have slept with a bra on or off, if given the choice?"
"Off, but I would prefer on now."
"Off it is," he said as he walked out of the bathroom.
She hurriedly pulled the tab and reached for a towel, not wanting to be still drying off when he came back. She dried her body first, quickly wiping the water down and wrapping herself in a towel before using a second to wring out her hair. She had just stepped out of the bath when he returned. He had a beige pair of knickers and a light pink silky nightgown in his hands.
"Come get dressed," he said.
She walked over to him and pointed at her throat, reminding him that she wasn't allowed to speak unless the tattoo made her answer a direct question.
"You may speak again."
"Thank you." She took the garments from him. "Can you... turn around?"
"No," he said, eyes dark and cold. "Figure it out."
She bit her lip before putting the nightgown on the counter. She made sure the towel was tucked tightly around her before slipping the knickers on underneath it. She slipped her arms through the nightgown's straps, letting it fall over the towel a bit before allowing the towel to drop.
"Clever girl," he cooed, smirking like he knew just how much she hated it. "Sit down."
She did, pulling on the hem of the nightgown as she did. It was shorter than many of the others; she hadn't worn it before, even though she had been here for weeks.
It was pale pink. Just like in her nightmare. Not the same- that had been underthings, not a nightgown. It had been daytime, not nighttime. A rhyme of the nightmare rather than an exact match.
He picked up the hairbrush and began working it through her hair. He was still just in his underwear.
"What are you thinking about?" he said.
"A nightmare," she said. "I tried to tell you about it before. After... you told your father what I told you."
"Tell me now," he said.
"It was this, but different. I thought of it because this nightgown is the same color as the underthings I was wearing in it. I was really pale- like I had never gone outside. You had me answering questions instead of saying statements, for the affirmations. I could tell we had said them many times before. It was normal. And you were... like you are tonight."
"What were the questions?" he asked as he continued to brush her hair. His eyes were on his work, not her reflection.
She stared at herself as she responded, her mouth guided by the tattoo. "Who do you belong to? For how long? Who protects you? Who loves you? Who do you love?"
Her breath was shaky.
It took him a moment to respond. "My father's words really impacted you, apparently. I've never said that word to you before."
"No, I suppose you haven't."
"It's a bit early, don't you think? Like a bad teenage stereotype- 'I love you' after six weeks. Although I suppose a wedding is only a few months away..."
Ginny said nothing.
"Let's just start with the first one for now. Desensitizing you, right?"
Ginny said nothing.
"Who do you belong to?"
"You-Know-Who." The answer startled her- she flinched, and Malfoy stopped brushing at once.
"I'm guessing that wasn't how your nightmare went."
"No," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to say it."
Malfoy frowned. "Let's rephrase it. Who has the Dark Lord granted you to?"
"You."
He started brushing again- almost done now. "That's better." After a moment he put the brush down. "You don't need another use of the healing cream, you already had it this morning. Come with me."
She stood up and followed him into the bedroom, her skin tingly and numb at the same time. She was compelled to tell the truth when Malfoy asked her a question. It wasn't the truth. It wasn't. That's why it was a nightmare- it wasn't real.
But this hadn't gone the way her nightmare had gone.
The lights in the bedroom were low- only Malfoy's bedside lamp was on.
"Are we going to sleep now?" she asked.
"Soon. Get under the covers."
Oh no.
She did, her heart pounding. She stayed near the edge of the bed. He walked to the curtains and drew the drapes closed, making the room even darker.
"Draco-"
"Shh. I'll be there in a second." He checked the drapes for a moment before turning and walking to the bed. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't be silly- you haven't slept like that since the first night you got here. Move over."
She did, but only a little bit. He rolled his eyes before climbing into bed.
"I won't count this as a second request since you did technically move a little bit, but you know what I'm asking. Come here."
Her palms sweaty, she moved toward him and rolled on her side, facing him. What was he planning? Legilimency, maybe? She wasn't sure her brain could take it.
"No, on your back."
She bit her lip but did as he said. He climbed on top of her, under the covers, and she couldn't stop a whimper from leaving her mouth.
"Shh, it's alright," he said. "I've never hurt you, and I'm not about to start now. But I've given you enough space- you can handle snogging me lying down."
"You're also almost naked," she said, the words leaving her mouth before she could think better of them.
"So I am. And so are you. But we're not. Don't overthink it." And with that, he lowered himself over her and kissed her.
She willed herself to hate it. She had to hate it. The fear was there- it wasn't like it disappeared. But the kiss was just a kiss, a good kiss. She could hate that she didn't hate it, but the kiss itself? She didn't hate that.
"You know it's better when you kiss back," he murmured against her mouth.
"I can't."
"Alright," he whispered to her surprise, and kissed her again. He did not issue a command.
She laid there for a bit, letting him move his mouth over hers, but she flinched when he touched her bare thigh. He made a quiet, nonsense noise of comfort before gently letting his fingers trail along her skin.
"No further tonight," he whispered. "Just this. Moving the line just a little bit."
I have to hold the line.
He was holding back. He had said as much, she supposed, with his comment about not rushing things. But he wanted to be the one to move the line- she couldn't initiate. Was that about control? It seemed like it. But if the tattoo was any indication... they were very far away from what he really wanted.
It was pointless to think about. He was going to do whatever he wanted anyway, and thinking too much about why he did what he did or didn't was maddening.
He moaned against her mouth, a sound he didn't often make, and she stiffened in surprise. He kissed her long and slow before finally pulling back.
"Alright," he said, a little breathless. "You get a reprieve on Legilimency tonight. You can sleep now." He climbed off of her, turned off the lamp, and laid down next to her, on his back. "Goodnight, Ginny."
"Goodnight," she whispered.
It took her a long time to fall asleep, and when she did, she dreamed.
She was in a bathroom, but it wasn't Malfoy's bathroom. She didn't know where she was. It was darker than Malfoy's- all dark tile and harsh edges. She was sitting in front of the mirror, but it was a floor length one, taking up almost one whole wall, and she was wearing a black bra and knickers. The tattoo had grown- it took up her entire left arm now.
She wanted to get up and run away, but she couldn't move. Just like before, she sat perfectly still. Waiting for something.
She looked the same but somehow older here. Her features hadn't aged, but her eyes... they held a lifetime within them. Maybe multiple lifetimes.
Am I in the future? she wondered. The far future?
A man walked in, and everything in Ginny wanted to scream. It was Tom, exactly as he had looked when he had come out of the diary.
He didn't smirk like Malfoy did. His face was impassive, maybe even a little bored. Like this sight was something he had seen a thousand times before.
He put his hands on her shoulders, and Ginny could feel the tattoo reaching for him under her skin, yearning for contact.
"Who do you belong to?" he said, his voice high and cold.
"You."
She woke up screaming, thrashing around under the covers.
Malfoy was awake in an instant. He sat up and pulled the covers off of them.
"What's wrong, what's wrong?" he asked, all the cold from earlier gone. She couldn't see him in the dark, but she knew. This was Draco.
"Nightmare, nightmare," she sobbed, and threw her arms around him. He embraced her tightly and stroked her back.
"Shh, it's alright, it's not real," he said. "It's just a dream. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
He thinks the nightmare was about him.
"I can't live forever, Draco, I can't, I can't, because he'll be there too, I can't get away from it, it's inside me, ever since the diary, I can't get rid of it, I can't get rid of it, I threw it away but I can't get rid of it-"
"Ginny." He kissed the top of her head. "It's not inside of you. I promise. You're good- the most good I've ever known. Something horrible happened to you when you were very young, but you survived it. That is over now. As long as we keep doing what's asked of us, you're going to stay right here with me, and while I can't live forever, I plan on living for a long, long time. Things aren't so bad if you stay with me, right?"
"No," she said with a sniffle. "You promise you'll live a long time?"
He laughed. "Yes. I'm not going anywhere."
She hugged him tighter. "Don't leave me alone."
"I would never," he said softly. "I'll be with you always. Right behind you." He stroked her hair for a bit, until she had calmed down.
"Sorry for waking you up," she said.
"I would have wanted you to wake me up," he said. "Let's go back to sleep now."
Still embraced, they laid down together, and they held each other as they fell asleep.