TW: references to/threats of sexual assault. No one is sexually assaulted (or will be, in case anyone is worried after reading this chapter).
JUNE 4th, 1997
Ginny lay in a ball on the floor under the blankets, absolutely devastatingly bored. Rookwood did not return, though Bellatrix would not tell her why. It seemed that the report between Snape and Voldemort had gone badly for him, but Ginny didn't understand what the point was of just leaving her here since then. It had been days and days. Voldemort wanted the gem more than anything, he had made that perfectly clear. Had he given up?
Maybe they're waiting for me to go mad in here, she thought. The point, whatever it was, was clearly not for her to die. Food magically appeared three times a day, and while Bellatrix peeked in from time to time, she never attempted to harm Ginny at all, not even when Ginny had rushed the door and Bellatrix had had to wrestle her back into the room.
It wouldn't have worked anyway. As soon as Ginny had gotten to the threshold, she had felt loads of protective enchantments all over the area. Voldemort did not want her leaving this room, but he seemed to have lost interest in anything happening in the room, either.
Having nothing else to do, Ginny had replayed Rookwood and Snape's conversation over and over in her mind.
Magic doesn't work this way.
It's diffuse, Severus. Every drop of blood, every piece of flesh...
Considering this item is a gift from an apparently divine source, perhaps its magic does not follow our laws.
Perhaps you've been avoiding giving him bad news?
What was the bad news? And did that bode ill for Ginny as well, or was there some bit of hope there?
"Rookwood was trying to remove the gem," she said, her own voice sounding foreign to her ears. She spoke so rarely now. "And Snape said he was avoiding giving bad news. Does that mean the gem can't be removed?"
Alys would know. But Alys wasn't helping. Ginny had tried to contact her again, many times, and even ended up in the misty place once, but Alys hadn't been there. She had just wandered around, finding nothing, before finally waking up.
Ginny scowled as she remembered Alys's words.
In my time it was well-known that wicked men walked the earth. Those without power are doomed to be victims to them, if they do not yield or get out of the way.
If you have some power, I suggest you use it.
I will not help you, Ginny Weasley. That power has gone from the world, and I am glad of it.
It was cruel, cruel to have this supposed power thrust upon her and be unable to use it to save anyone, unable to do anything except continue living herself, no matter how accursed that life became. What was the goddamn point? This couldn't have been what the youngest brother, whatever his name was, had intended. Did he know Alys? The misty place didn't look like what she had seen through the portal, and Alys's memories were clearly of Earth. Maybe they had no relationship? Could the whole thing just be some bizarre cosmic coincidence? Death recycling gifts?
"Get up, girl."
Ginny had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't heard the door open. She moaned as Bellatrix yanked the blankets off of her, the lights bright in her eyes.
"Up!" Bellatrix demanded. "Rest time is over."
Ginny sat up, glaring at Bellatrix. Bellatrix sneered at her.
"Your clothes are disgusting. Scourgify!"
Ginny winced as the spell hit her clothes, blasting them with a wave of cold as some of the dirt and grime fell away.
"You try wearing the same clothes for weeks and see what you look like," Ginny said, pushing herself to her feet. Once upon a time, Ginny might have felt afraid to talk back to Bellatrix Lestrange, but no longer. What was she going to do- torture her?
Bellatrix's sneer deepened. "If you wanted different clothes you should have asked for them."
"I didn't realize Voldemort ran a concierge service."
"You dare speak his name!" Bellatrix grabbed the front of Ginny's shirt, pulling her forward, her wand pressed to her throat. Despite the fury on her face, she didn't curse her.
That settles it, Ginny thought with a smirk. She must have been ordered not to.
"Things stop being quite so scary when you can't die," she said in a deadpan voice. Disturbingly, Bellatrix's snarl disappeared, replaced by a wicked smile.
"We'll see," she said. "Incarcerous." Ropes bound themselves around Ginny's wrists, pulling her arms behind her.
"What are you doing?" Ginny demanded, struggling as Bellatrix spun her around.
"Escorting you to your audience with the Dark Lord," Bellatrix said, her voice dripping satisfaction. "Now get moving."
A cold thrill of fear ran down Ginny's spine as Bellatrix dragged her toward the door. She had wanted desperately to get out of this room, but not like this. An audience with Voldemort could mean nothing good.
Shit. What if he reads my mind? What if he finds out about Alys?
She had never learned Occlumency, didn't even know the basic principles. All she knew was that Snape had tried and failed to teach Harry, and that Malfoy was apparently good at it, based on the conversation Harry had overheard.
Of course he would be good at it, she thought as she struggled against Bellatrix, who was pulling her swiftly down a dimly lit hallway. He's a born liar.
She couldn't let Voldemort find out there was anything special about the gem beyond what he already knew. As if he needed another weapon beyond an unbeatable wand. Alys's words chilled Ginny's blood.
Terrible in its might. Terrible in what it could do.
"Stop struggling," Bellatrix hissed. "As if you could possibly get away."
Ok, I just need to fill my thoughts with other things. Don't think about it.
She belatedly realized that she should probably pay more attention to her surroundings, in case she was taken back to the room again. The hallway was narrow, with wooden flooring and olive green wallpaper on the walls. She was in a house, an older house by the sound of the squeaking floors. But where?
"Lift your feet!" Bellatrix griped as she pushed Ginny down the stairs. Ginny counted the stairs as she stumbled down them, filling her brain with inane facts and unimportant details.
Twelve steps down. The grain of the wood runs parallel to the length of the step. The fourth step down creaks. The ninth step down creaks.
They had reached the ground floor. It was more spacious down here, and more brightly lit. Likely used more often. A quick glance out a passing window showed that it was nighttime; the absence of nearby lights showed that they were likely in the countryside somewhere, away from other people. No one to run to for help, if she could even get through the front door.
Around a corner, through what looked like a main entrance hall, and down a little ways to the left they went, Ginny mentally cataloguing every boring detail of the surroundings. She thought of boring things. Binns' voice as he lectured. Weeding the garden. Visiting Auntie Muriel. Boring, safe, inconsequential things.
They reached a set of double doors. Ginny could hear faint murmuring behind them. Her heart began beating faster. What was she about to be dragged into?
"Don't speak until you're spoken to," Bellatrix said. "You will show the Dark Lord respect, girl, or you will regret it."
Not more than I already regret everything else.
Bellatrix opened the doors and Ginny took the opportunity to squirm harder against the older woman's grasp. Bellatrix paid her no mind, only tightening her grip before pulling her inside, shutting the doors with a wave of her wand.
She was in a ballroom. A gigantic crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a low light down on the room below. Emerald drapes covered the wall to her left, which must face the outside. At the far end of the room was a dais upon which Lord Voldemort sat on a throne, looking every bit like the wizard king he fancied himself to be. Nagini was wound around his shoulders, the light from the chandelier glinting faintly on her scales. Like some bizarre processional, Death Eaters in all their regalia stood in two straight lines, making a type of walkway for her and Bellatrix to approach the throne.
He does like to put on a show, Ginny thought with a sneer. She kept her eyes on the throne, refusing to let herself be intimidated, though the Death Eaters' uniform stances and faceless masks did a good job of it. Voldemort smiled at her, running a hand along Nagini's hide.
Him looking this pleased to see me can't be a good thing.
They had reached the end of the line of Death Eaters. Bellatrix shoved Ginny to her knees before the throne, putting her foot across the back of Ginny's calves so that she couldn't easily stand up.
"Welcome, Miss Weasley," Voldemort said smoothly. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight."
As though I had a choice, arsehole.
"Is this all for me?" she asked, jerking her head around to indicate the level of formality. "Seems a bit fancy for a prisoner." Bellatrix dug her heel into Ginny's leg but Ginny refused to flinch.
"In a manner of speaking, I suppose you could say that it's for you, yes," Voldemort said, unconcerned. "I gather my Death Eaters together regularly for us to discuss progress on our plans, and tonight's updates are all about you, so I figured you might as well join the party. At ease."
As one, the Death Eaters moved out of line and gathered a short distance behind her.
"You can let her stand, Bella," he continued. "She isn't going anywhere."
There were probably thirty Death Eaters behind her, not counting Bellatrix or Voldemort himself. No, she wasn't going anywhere. Bellatrix removed her foot and Ginny awkwardly got to her feet, her wrists still pinned behind her.
"As you all know, either through being an eye witness or through rumor," Voldemort said, fiddling with his wand- the Elder Wand- as he spoke, "we have Ginny Weasley to thank for my most recent victory in Godric's Hollow. Thanks to her, I have become Master of Death- master of the Elder Wand, of the Resurrection Stone, of the Cloak of True Invisibility, gifted by Death himself. Let us show her our appreciation."
The Death Eaters clapped and cheered behind her, and Ginny's face grew hot, her greatest shame being thrown in her face. Voldemort's smile widened as Ginny glared at him.
"Yes, without Miss Weasley's intervention that night, these gifts may have laid forever beyond my grasp. But Fate has always looked out for Lord Voldemort, and has continued to do so." Nagini began to move, sliding off of his shoulders and down one side of the throne. Ginny suppressed a shudder. This was her first time coming face to face with the snake who had attacked her dad in the Department of Mysteries. It was bigger than she had imagined.
"There have been whisperings among you of the fourth gift that Death gave that night," Voldemort continued, his voice deceptively calm and utterly at odds with the shiver of tension that ran through the crowd behind her. "The gift that Death did not see fit to present to me, and instead bestowed upon the girl before us. Doubtless, you wonder why I have not taken it for myself- why Ginny Weasley remains among the living. Some of you even whisper that I am incapable of taking it."
There was definite tension in the crowd now. Was Rookwood among them? Or had he met a sticky end in the face of a thwarted Lord Voldemort?
"I am here to tell you tonight that you're right," he said. "Observe. Avada Kedavra."
Green light shot toward Ginny and she made herself hold her head up high, unwilling to be cowed by this display. Golden light exploded out of her, reflecting in the chandelier above and making the room look like it was covered in a million twinkling stars. She heard a couple of Death Eaters gasp behind her. Slowly, perhaps more slowly than it had previously, the light dissipated.
"I am incapable of taking this gift. It belongs to Ginny Weasley alone," Voldemort said, though he didn't sound disappointed. "Who here remembers the words of dear Sybill's last prophecy? To whom does the prophecy refer?"
Ginny narrowed her eyes. What prophecy?
"A young witch, pure of blood and pure of heart," one of the Death Eaters said, a voice she didn't recognize.
"Excellent, Dolohov, yes," Voldemort said, smiling wickedly at Ginny, whose blood had run cold. "Pure of blood and pure of heart. You see, Ginny, it was no accident that you ended up in Godric's Hollow that night, though I daresay you've worked some of that out for yourself by now. I orchestrated your arrival many months in advance; it was foretold."
He paused, as though expecting Ginny to speak, but she said nothing. She felt sick to her stomach.
"I confess I was confused, even angry, upon discovering what, exactly, you had been given," he said. "I didn't understand it. Why would you be blessed with immortality- for that is what it is, friends, make no mistake- and not I, who has gone further down the road than anybody toward surpassing the constraints of humanity? But I understand it now."
He stood up and began to pace on the dais.
"Why did it have to be a pureblood who retrieved the Deathly Hallows?" he asked. "You heard Sybill's words, and how they echoed Beedle the Bard's fairy tale. A young witch, pure of blood and pure of heart, travels down a lonely, winding road at twilight. The symbolism of the pureness of heart is obvious, friends, but what about the purity of the blood? What were we meant to understand with that message?"
No one spoke.
What the hell is he getting at?
Nagini had moved closer to her, descending from the dais at some point during Voldemort's speech, and Ginny had to force herself to not back away from her.
"It is clear to me now. The pureblood witch cannot die," Voldemort said, raising his voice. "Ginny Weasley is a symbol, a reminder that our most sacred bloodlines must be preserved. They cannot be allowed to perish from the world. Our cause is a holy and just one!"
The Death Eaters rallied at this, clapping and cheering behind her. Ginny's face was twisted in rage. He meant to turn her into a stupid mascot, some piece of propaganda. She wouldn't let him.
"You see the irony, though, I think." He jumped down from the dais, not bothering with the stairs. His robes billowed behind him as he strode toward Ginny. "Our champion of blood purity is a blood traitor," he continued, reaching out to tilt her chin up with one long finger.
Ginny spat in his face.
The reaction from the crowd was immediate. She could feel bodies moving toward her, could hear their shouts of outrage and promises of swift punishment, heard requests to be allowed to discipline the blood traitor bitch.
Voldemort, however, was unmoved. He tilted his head back and laughed before holding up a hand to the Death Eaters.
"Calm yourselves, friends," he said. "What other reaction could we expect? She doesn't know any better." He took a moment to wipe his face before continuing. "Ginny Weasley has grown up in the biggest blood traitor family in Britain. How could we expect her to respect us, to respect *herself*, knowing the beliefs she has been exposed to? She was given no opportunity to learn otherwise, not with Hogwarts under Dumbledore's command. It is not her fault." He dropped her chin.
He expected me to spit in his face. Wanted me to, probably, to make his point.
"You're twisting things to fit your own agenda," Ginny said fiercely, doing her best not to let her voice shake. "I'll never help you."
"I didn't expect you to say otherwise," Voldemort said before turning to walk back toward the dais. He floated upward before landing in front of the throne and taking a seat.
Showing off, Ginny thought with a glare.
"Our policy historically has been to treat the blood traitor the same as the Mudblood," Voldemort said, his attention falling back to his wand. "While I still agree that we cannot allow the threat of a blood traitor to go unanswered, I have realized that we cannot diminish our numbers any more than we already have- blood traitor or no, pure blood still runs in their veins."
The crowd shifted uncomfortably at this news. What was he suggesting?
"So, I've devised a solution," he said, a wicked grin gracing his face. "And Miss Weasley here will serve as our trial run. Macnair, step forward."
One of the Death Eaters moved forward to stand roughly parallel with Ginny. He stood at attention, his arms crossed behind his back and his legs shoulder-width apart.
"As you all know, Macnair has been working tirelessly for months now to refine one of our greatest weapons, the Imperius Curse," he continued. "Macnair, tell us- what are some of the weaknesses of the classical Imperius?"
"The curse requires the sustained magical effort and concentration of the caster," Macnair said, "as well as grants its victim the possibility of overcoming the spell's effects through sufficient willpower. If sufficiently resisted, the curse shows visible signs such as hazy eyes and a confused demeanor, alerting others to the victim's state."
"Exactly right," Voldemort said. "Useful in wartime, but not very practical long-term. Bella, hold her please."
Bellatrix grabbed Ginny's arms immediately. Ginny began to thrash about, trying to kick, but Bellatrix held her tight.
"The blood traitors will not be killed this time around," Voldemort said. "They will be... rehabilitated. They cannot be allowed to congregate together, to spread their ideas and poison the minds of their children. They need the mentorship and guidance of a respectable pureblood family, someone to... hold them accountable."
The energy in the crowd had shifted. It felt almost... greedy. Ginny continued to struggle, fighting back the beginnings of tears.
I will NOT cry in front of them. I have to get out of here!
"I've had time to think long and hard on who you should be bonded to, Ginny Weasley," Voldemort said, amusement dripping from his voice. "Someone you might connect with. Someone like Harry perhaps- oh yes, I know all about your little tryst with the Boy Who Lived, don't look so surprised. Yes, someone like Harry. Tall, handsome, around your age, a good Quidditch player... yes, I have just the match in mind. Draco, step forward."
"No!" Ginny yelled, thrashing harder than ever.
"Oh dear, I don't think she likes you very much," Voldemort said in a mocking voice as another Death Eater- Draco Malfoy- stepped out of the crowd and stood at attention besides Macnair.
Ginny finally, finally, landed a solid kick on Bellatrix's shin, who shrieked in pain and let go of Ginny's wrists. She started to move but Bellatrix tripped her, causing her to go careening forward. She wasn't able to break her fall with her wrists bound behind her; she went crashing to the ground.
"That looked like it hurt," Voldemort said with faux concern. "Draco, why don't you help her up?"
She felt his hands on her arms, felt his shadow lean over her, and she yanked back.
"Stay the hell away from me," she snarled. She couldn't see his face behind the Death Eater mask- the eyeholes were dark, too shadowed to make out any features. He hesitated for a split second before grabbing her firmly and pulling her to her feet.
"You see, boy?" Voldemort asked. "A promise delayed but not denied. Lord Voldemort keeps his promises, you need only have faith."
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
"Thank you, my Lord," he said, his voice cold and distant. Death Eater Malfoy.
"I'm afraid there is some pain involved in this process, but it's nothing you haven't felt before. Macnair, instruct them. Give us a demonstration."
Macnair walked to stand in front of the dais, facing the crowd. "Bring her forward."
Malfoy did so, holding her far enough out from his body that she couldn't kick him.
"Fuck you, let go of me!" she yelled, twisting and pulling away from him as much as she could. The Death Eaters laughed.
"Careful what you wish for, little girl!" one of them called out, making the Death Eaters laugh louder. "That's exactly what he's going to do!"
Ginny's mind went blank before she twisted as hard as she could, making Malfoy almost lose his grip.
This can't be happening. I have to get out of here. Alys, help me. Alys, help me!
"Someone else will need to hold her," Macnair said. "I need the boy's arm."
"With pleasure," Bellatrix said savagely, still angry about getting kicked in front of her master. She stormed forward and seized Ginny's arms, pulling her away from Malfoy.
"Come around this way," Macnair said to Malfoy, gesturing for him to stand across from her. "Hold out your left arm and roll up your sleeve."
Malfoy did so, revealing his Dark Mark- a great ugly scar marring otherwise perfect alabaster skin.
"Her turn," Macnair said, gesturing at Ginny with his chin. "Same thing."
Ginny felt something sharp against her back- a knife- cut the ropes on her wrists before Bellatrix yanked her left arm out in front of her, keeping a firm grip on her right.
"No, stop it!" Ginny yelled. "Stop, please!"
"Oh now she says please," came a Death Eater's voice from the crowd. "Not so brave now, are you, little Gryffindor?"
"Come closer, don't be shy now," Macnair said to Malfoy, who did as he was bade. He held his arm out, perfectly still, so that it was next to Ginny's, who despite Bellatrix's best efforts was still squirming to get away. Macnair moved to stand next to them, his wand extended over their arms.
"A bit of pain now," he said before beginning to chant an incantation over and over again, one that was unfamiliar to Ginny. "Integra dominatio corporis imperio. Integra dominatio corporis imperio."
Ginny was no stranger to pain at this point, but even she could not fight back a scream as inky black tendrils rose up out of Malfoy's Dark Mark and wrapped themselves all over her forearm, snaking over each other in a pattern that filled itself out with leaves and vines. The horrible wrongness of it went beyond her body, touching something deeper... her soul. The part of her that had never recovered from the inky touch of Tom Riddle.
Nothing would ever be as bad as this. Nothing, nothing...
An eternity later, the pain stopped. The ink stopped swirling, sinking itself deeply into Ginny's skin. Macnair lowered his wand.
"It is complete!" he yelled. "Who would like a demonstration of its power?"
The Death Eaters cheered.
"Please," Voldemort said. "Indulge us."
"You can let her go," Macnair said to Bellatrix. Bellatrix did so, taking a step back. Ginny didn't even try to run. She grabbed her left arm, shocked. Her eyes were wet, but she was beyond trying to hide it now. It had hurt so badly, so deeply. Like nothing she had ever felt before. And now it was inside her, all over her...
"Draco, give her your wand," Macnair said. "Let's see what our little blood traitor can do."
Malfoy hesitated before looking up at Voldemort, who nodded. Slowly, he withdrew his wand and extended it, grip first, to Ginny. She snatched it and immediately pointed it at Voldemort.
"Avada Kedavra!" she yelled, rage as she had never felt flowing through her. But nothing happened. She felt no rush of energy, there was no flash of green light. Nothing. Incredulous laughter floated through the crowd.
"Whoops," Macnair said with a laugh. "Doesn't seem to be working for ya. Here, try mine."
He tossed his wand to Ginny, who fumbled for a second but caught it. She threw Malfoy's useless wand on the ground and pointed the new one at Macnair.
"Stupefy!" Nothing. No flash of red light, no energy in the wand. Nothing.
"No," she murmured, her hand shaking.
"Blood traitors cannot be trusted with magic, at least at first," Voldemort said, laughter evident in his voice. "Don't worry Ginny, it's not permanent- you can earn it back eventually. With good behavior." He let himself laugh for real then, and the Death Eaters followed, all except Malfoy, who merely stooped to grab his wand off the floor.
"Show us what else it can do, Macnair," Voldemort continued.
Macnair turned to look at Malfoy. "Focus on your Mark and give her a command, out loud."
For a moment, Malfoy said nothing. Then, in a deep voice not his own, he said, "Bow to the Dark Lord."
Ginny did so, without even thinking about it. It just happened, like her body was held up by strings Malfoy was controlling.
What the fuck is this?
This wasn't like the Imperius Curse. Ginny felt fully alert, no warm and fuzzy feelings in her brain. There had been no voice in her mind suggesting a course of action, indeed no pressure at all. It had simply happened, like her mind had nothing to do with it.
"You'll notice by the shocked look on her face that this improved version functions a little differently," Macnair said. "The spell is bound to flesh. No longer will you need to convince your target to follow your orders. Simply speak your command, and the spell does the rest. The mind has no control here. They don't have to be such narrow commands, either. If you, for instance, instructed her to always greet you at the door when you arrive home, she would do so. If you instructed her to immediately reveal any communication she might receive from the Order of the Phoenix, she would do so. No special effort required on your part- the tattoo does all the work."
Alys please, please, please... help me, I'm begging you, I'll do anything, please, please, please...
"Marvelous work, Macnair," Voldemort said. "Truly revolutionary. Draco, what do you have to say for yourself? A good bit better than just giving you the girl, no?"
"It's incredible, my Lord," he said. "Thank you. What would you have me do with her?"
A couple of the Death Eaters laughed. Ginny thought she heard one mutter, "Like he doesn't know."
Voldemort waved his hand in dismissal. "We can discuss my expectations tomorrow. For now, enjoy her. Happy early birthday."
More Death Eater laughter, over a quiet, "Thank you, my Lord," from Malfoy.
"Go on home now," he said. "And Ginny... behave yourself."
Even more laughter. Ginny thought she might faint. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears and her legs felt shaky, like she could collapse at any moment.
"Come with me."
Without looking at her, Malfoy turned to leave and Ginny followed behind him, trying with all her might to make her feet stop moving. They moved through the jeering crowd of Death Eaters, one or two of them clapping Malfoy on the back as he passed.
Stop moving, stop moving, STOP MOVING.
She kept moving, following Malfoy out of the room, through the foyer, and out the front doors into the night.
"Hold onto my arm."
Ginny did so.
"No," she moaned, but the sound whipped away from her as they Apparated.
They landed just outside an enormous gate mounted between two hedges, probably fifteen feet high. Beyond the gate stood an enormous manor surrounded by beautiful, well-tended grounds.
Malfoy Manor.
"Malfoy, stay the fuck away from me-"
"Be quiet and follow me."
Ginny closed her mouth and followed him. He removed his mask and it vanished in a cloud of black smoke. When they approached the gate, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through it without opening it- the solidness of the bars became like smoke as they passed through. The tattoo on her arm tingled.
Malfoy let go of her hand and kept walking forward, so Ginny kept following. She opened her mouth but no sound would come out- as good as any Silencing Charm.
The totality of her situation came crashing down on Ginny as Malfoy opened the front door and she let out a little gasp of air. Black spots filled her vision. But she didn't pass out. She had to keep following.
Some small, rational part of Ginny admonished her to pay attention to her surroundings, reminding her that she could be trapped in a room again and wouldn't she like to know how to get out?
The bigger, traumatized part of Ginny knew it didn't matter. She was trapped inside her own body. Malfoy didn't need to lock any doors.
Perhaps due to the late hour, the manor was deserted. They passed no one on their way through a grand, two-story foyer and up two flights of stairs to the third floor. The manor was beautiful and cold, a beautiful and cold place for beautiful and wicked people.
In my time it was well-known that wicked men walked the earth.
Finally, Malfoy stopped and opened a door. He hurried inside and she followed, unable to stop herself. He slammed the door shut, and before she could even look around to gauge her surroundings, he grabbed her face with both hands.
"Legilimens," he said firmly, his grey eyes locked on hers. His consciousness crashed down into hers and she gasped at the unfamiliar sensation, at the intimacy of the intrusion. He flipped through memories so fast that Ginny couldn't even make sense of them before pulling out just as quickly. He dropped her face and spun away from her, breathing hard.
Ginny wanted to ask what the fuck? but she couldn't speak. He hadn't told her to stop being quiet.
He stood like that for a few seconds, long enough for Ginny to take in that they were in a bedroom. His bedroom. Ginny stared at his back, keeping her eyes away from the bed.
After a long moment, he waved his wand and two armchairs appeared next to one of the long windows on the opposite wall.
"Sit down and stay there until I get back," he said, pointing at one of the chairs. Ginny sat, and he stormed off into what must be an adjoining bathroom, slamming the door shut. She heard him cast a couple of spells, including an Imperturbable Charm, before there was a dull thunk from inside the bathroom.
What the hell is he doing in there? It must have been loud to be heard through the Imperturbable Charm.
Whatever he was doing, Malfoy did not come out right away, which gave Ginny time to take in her surroundings more thoroughly. This whole wall was covered in windows, looking out at the grounds behind the manor. She could see a hedge maze and what looked like rose gardens from here. Further in the distance was a gazebo. Beyond the grounds lay a forest, which even from here looked deep and ancient.
Within the room was a wardrobe directly to her right as well as a mirror- of course- and then the door to the bath on the far right. To her left were bookshelves, crammed absolutely to the max with books. Across from her lay the bed, crisp white sheets folded perfectly against the dark wood frame.
Alys. Alys, can you hear me? Alys!
Finally, the door opened and Malfoy stepped out. He had taken off his Death Eater robe, making him look more like he had at school. But Ginny wasn't about to be fooled.
"Right," he said. "You've had a long day. A long few weeks. I will answer all of your questions in the morning. For now, go take a bath and get ready for bed. There is a cream in a green container on the counter- use that all over. Leave your clothes on the floor. There are pajamas on the counter. Come back out here when you're done."
Ginny stood up and walked to the bathroom. Malfoy wouldn't look at her, which suited her just fine. She slammed the door shut behind her, letting its volume speak for her.
The bathroom was beautiful, just like everything else in this wretched place. Unbidden by any conscious thought on her part, Ginny began to strip off her clothes, dropping them on the floor where they promptly disappeared.
No no no no no.
Still she stripped, pulling off her soiled and wrinkled clothes until she was completely naked. She glanced back at the bathroom door, which stayed resolutely shut. There was no lock on it. She dropped the remainder of her clothes- the only possessions she still had- to the floor, where they promptly disappeared.
This can't be happening. I have to fight back. But how?
She walked to the enormous soaking tub and turned on the tap, or one of them anyway. There were over a dozen. She stepped into the bath as it filled up and immediately let out an involuntary sigh. The water was deliciously warm, truly the perfect temperature. Not at all like the tepid stream of the shower in her prison cell.
She sat down and let the water fill the tub, fighting with herself. She should not accept any pleasure here. But it had been so, so long since she had had any reason to feel good, any reason at all.
Don't give in. He's counting on you not fighting back. Don't let them win.
Ginny reached for shampoo and began to wash her hair, luxuriating in the rich citrus scent and the thick lather it made in her hair. She hadn't had shampoo in the cell, only a bar of soap. She hadn't seen herself in a mirror, not properly, in weeks, and she could only imagine what she looked like, what she smelled like.
Of course he wants me to bathe, she thought with disgust. Can't have me soil anything of his.
Shampoo was followed by conditioner and body wash. The water was mildly dirty now- Bellatrix's Scouring Charm really hadn't helped much with her clothes.
He said take a bath and get ready for bed. I wonder how long I can stretch this out.
Not long, apparently. If it had been a command under the classical Imperius, she might have been able to negotiate with herself- she couldn't get ready for bed until she had taken a bath, and who really got to decide when the bath was over? But reasoning with her arms and legs didn't seem to do much good. She pulled the tab in the bath and reached for a plush, fluffy towel to dry off with.
This is torture, she thought, not letting herself enjoy the softness of the towel. Worse than anything of Rookwood's. At least he was honest. This is all a lie.
She walked to the counter and looked for a green container, eyeing it with suspicion once she found it. Was it magical? What was it going to do to her?
She gasped as she started rubbing the cream into her arm. It was magical- it was a healing cream of some kind, designed to relieve muscle aches and pains. This was something a professional Quidditch player might use to help them get through a tough season. It had to be insanely expensive.
It felt so good. So good. She had been strapped down on a hard surface for weeks, tortured again and again, and then left to make herself a nest on the floor after that. Her muscles had been screaming at her for so long that she had grown numb to it, but not now- the relief they felt as she rubbed in the cream was intoxicating, and exhausting. She was so, so tired.
No. Don't let your guard down. He's doing this to you on purpose. You have to protect yourself! Stay awake.
Releasing the tension from her muscles allowed Ginny's fear to bubble up, her defenses down. Her hand shook violently as she grabbed a comb and ran it through her hair, as she brushed her teeth, as she looked around in vain for anything else she could do to get ready for bed. There was nothing.
True to his word, Malfoy had left her pajamas. A pair of plain black knickers along with black silk pajamas, pants and a long sleeved button-down shirt. She slipped them on, hating them and hating herself for enjoying the material, before she could stall no longer. She opened the bathroom door.
Malfoy was in bed, in pajamas of his own, and he was reading a book. The room was dark save for a small lamp on his bedside table.
"Come to bed," he said without looking up.
Stop, stop, stop.
Ginny walked to the bed, her breathing shallow. Malfoy still wasn't looking at her. She grabbed the covers, pulled them back, and slid into bed, staying as far away from him as possible.
The bed, of course, was impossibly soft- softer than any bed Ginny had ever laid in. The sheets felt like butter against her skin, the pillows like clouds underneath her head. If this was anywhere else, it would be heaven. How ironic, that hell could be so deceptive.
"Nothing to say?" he asked, his eyes still on his book.
Ginny said nothing.
"Oh, sorry, I forgot. You can speak freely."
"If you're going to rape me, just get it over with," she said, her voice tight.
Malfoy turned the page of his book.
"Good night, Weasley."
Ginny's hands made fists on the comforter. Fine. If he wanted to play stupid games, she wouldn't play along. She would just wait for the inevitable.
It didn't come. Malfoy kept reading, seemingly content to stay far away from her on his side of the bed.
It didn't make sense. What was he waiting for?
Rookwood was predictable. Bellatrix was predictable. Hell, even Voldemort was predictable. She knew what they wanted from her, how they would react to her. With Malfoy, she was beginning to realize she had no idea what to expect, no idea what he wanted if it was not this. And that made him dangerous. She clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle a sob but he heard anyway. He closed his book.
"Tilly," he said. There was a loud crack.
"Yes, Master Draco-oh!" A house elf had appeared at the foot of the bed, standing in between them, and looked thoroughly startled to see a crying stranger in Malfoy's bed.
"Miss Weasley is having a very bad day," Malfoy said. "Bring me a Calming Draught and a sleeping potion, please."
Tilly the house elf Disapparated but came back almost immediately, two vials in her hand. She gave them to Malfoy.
"Thank you."
"Of course, Master Draco. Let Tilly know if you be needing anything else," she said before casting a furtive glance at Ginny and Disapparating again.
Malfoy scooted closer to her.
"No," Ginny said with a sniffle, shaking her head. "No potions."
"Yes, potions," Malfoy said. "You need to rest."
"I don't want-"
"I don't care what you want. Drink these of your own volition, or I will order you to drink them."
Isn't that the same thing?
Still, she didn't see much point in arguing. She dropped her head and held out her hand, resigned.
"Calming Draught first," he said, handing her one of the vials. "Drink all of it."
Ginny did. The effect was almost immediate, compounding the relaxing feeling the healing cream had left behind. She was practically asleep already when Malfoy leaned her back and tipped the second vial into her mouth.
"Good night," he murmured.
Just before she drifted off completely, she heard him say, "Tilly? Another Calming Draught, please."