JUNE 5th, 1997
Draco Malfoy awoke on the morning of his seventeenth birthday with a sleeping Ginny Weasley in his bed. If he had told himself a year ago, or even six months ago, that this is how his birthday would begin, he would have been ecstatic. Surely all of his dreams had come true if that was the case?
Draco wanted to go back and punch his past self in the mouth. How stupid, how naive, how wildly optimistic to believe that this would be anything other than an absolute nightmare.
He rolled on his side to face her. She had stayed far away from him, tucked into one side of the bed, but the potions had done their work- her face was unmarred by worry or pain, her expression peaceful as she slumbered. This had to be the first good night's sleep she had had in over a month. He wasn't sure how long the potion would keep her under, but he wouldn't wake her. She deserved every last possible second of rest after her ordeal.
He watched her sleep for a moment longer before he slowly slid the covers off of him and stood up, taking care to keep his steps light. The Dark Lord hadn't specified what time Draco needed to report, but he knew that it was better to be ready to go at a moment's notice. Slowly, carefully, he opened his wardrobe to pull out robes and underthings for the day.
I'll have to make room in here to put her clothes, he thought as he rifled through his options. Hell, I'm going to have to buy her clothes. Transfiguring my things won't last long.
He walked to the bathroom and closed the door softly; the space looked no worse for wear after his absolute meltdown the night before. He sighed, tossed his clothes onto the counter, and stripped.
He had shattered the mirror last night, glass flying everywhere, just as looking inside Ginny's mind had completely shattered his heart. Not because of the memories- in truth, he had barely looked at them- but because of the landscape of her mind. Once it became apparent to him what the Dark Lord's intentions were, once he had felt the awful malice of Macnair's cursework in the Dark Mark, he had held onto one single piece of hope: once he got Ginny alone, he could explain everything, and safely hide the memories of their interaction away in her mind, just like he had practiced on Blaise. They could get through this mess together, wear the masks they needed to in public and be themselves in the safety of the manor. It was fine- well, not fine, but tolerable- if she hated him; it was expected, really. But at least this way, she would be able to see him- all of him. If she hated him, so be it.
He should have known by now not to get his hopes up. He turned on four of the taps- he needed some indulgence this morning- and slipped into the bath. Little magical swirls of steam rolled off the surface, the only hint that there was anything special about the water at all. He could feel it go to work immediately- like a less extreme version of the cream he had made Ginny use last night. Slowly, so slowly, the tension in his shoulders began to unwind.
Fate was cruel. How could an idiot like Crabbe have a mind like a warehouse, with dozens of rows of shelves and little nooks and crannies everywhere? How could Blaise have a whole city, when the entirety of Ginny Weasley's mind was the clear blue sky?
Nothing to interact with, nothing to shape or change, not even a cloud. In short- no place to hide.
Was that the mark of a Slytherin versus a Gryffindor? How forthright they were in their thoughts? How could there just be nothing? Just miles of blue sky in every direction. Didn't she ever need to lie? To protect herself from being seen too deeply?
He remembered the fire in her eyes when she had insisted she was never afraid of anything at the party. The determination she had fixed him with in the dungeons when he had tried to dodge her questions about hypotheticals. No, Ginny Weasley didn't hide. And that was a problem.
He would have to look again later today, now that he wasn't so panicked. She wouldn't like it, of course, but the sooner he found a way to safely let his guard down with her, the better. Without that assurance of mental protection, he dared not risk it, particularly given how important the Dark Lord had suddenly decided she was. Draco didn't believe for a second that Ginny couldn't die because she was meant to champion pureblood supremacy, but it was a stroke of genius for the Dark Lord to spin it that way. He would make Ginny into an ally, willing or not, and Draco was apparently supposed to be the one to facilitate that transformation.
He felt nauseous. This was supposed to be the end, damn it! He had done everything asked of him, everything. This was supposed to be his reward. But if that was the case, why did it feel so much like a punishment?
He would find a way to hide her memories. He would have to. He would go crazy otherwise. He could not be Draco the Death Eater 24/7. If she was going to hate him, he wanted her to hate him, not some version of him that wasn't even real.
She certainly hated that version of him. He had wanted to crawl out of his skin when she had screamed and thrashed against Bellatrix after his name had been called. She had just been through a month of who knew what kinds of torture, and she had still reacted like she was being flayed alive at the news that he was to be her... he didn't have a good word for it. Jailer? Controller?
Master, a nasty part of his mind whispered. He closed his eyes, his breathing growing shallow. It was too much. He couldn't do this. The absolute terror on her face when he had led her out of the Dark Lord's house had been sickening, and he was supposed to take pleasure in it. He was supposed to want her to look at him like that.
At the same time, as dreadful as his current situation was, there was a not-insignificant part of him that was grateful that it was him and not some other Death Eater. He knew what they would have done, how Ginny would have been received in their homes. Here, she was safe from all of that, as safe as she could be.
How safe, exactly, that was, Draco wasn't sure. He would explain away last night as wanting to give her a chance to recover from Rookwood, but if the Dark Lord looked in his mind in a week and saw that Draco couldn't even look Ginny in the eye, it would raise questions that would be very difficult to answer. He lifted his left arm out of the water, his Dark Mark shockingly black against his skin, against the white marble of the bathroom.
The Dark Marks were permanent. Draco knew that Death Eaters who tried to remove them or otherwise desert like Igor Karkaroff soon met a sticky end. Did that mean that Ginny's tattoo, and her link to him, was also permanent? Or could the Dark Lord decide that Draco wasn't such a good steward of his little propaganda piece after all, and regift her to someone else, someone more eagerly committed to the Death Eater cause?
That couldn't be allowed to happen. If Ginny's hatred of him was the price he had to pay for her relative safety, then he would have to pay it. Hadn't that been his reasoning when he had started down this path anyway? She was safer in the manor than out on the run with Potter, or wherever the fuck she would end up when the Dark Lord took over? The definition of safety had just changed. Draco had never envisioned a reality where Ginny's importance surpassed the Deathly Hallows, where the Dark Lord became interested in her specifically. He had never envisioned a reality where he would have to hide himself away from her, even if they were alone.
Speaking of hiding. He had been hiding out in here long enough. Sooner or later he was going to have to face her. He took a deep breath before willing his mind to the sea. It was time to be Draco the Death Eater.
I'm so sorry you have to hide, he told his younger self. Let me take care of us the best I can. You'll be safer down here. She'll be safer if you stay down here.
It was so strange. It was like he could see himself, at the bottom of the sea. He was sitting with his knees tucked into his chest, Ginny's pirate chest a few feet away.
I'll find a way to fix it, he said. I don't know how, but I'll find it.
His younger self nodded but gave no other response. He took another breath before letting all the guilt, all the shame, all the fear, fall away, like great weights sinking in the water. He wasn't forgetting them, exactly, but they couldn't be near the surface. Draco the Death Eater had just had a wonderful victory last night. He should be grateful, excited... happy.
He glanced toward the memories of last night and pulled out elements that might paint that picture. The momentary thrill- he couldn't deny it- that had run through him when the Dark Lord had called his name, no one else's. The pulse of absolute power when he had ordered Ginny to bow. The men clapping him on the shoulder as he walked out. Transfiguring a piece of his Death Eater robe into black knickers and silk pajamas. The scent of his soaps on her skin, in her hair, as she crawled into bed. His hand behind her head as he tilted her back, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep beckoned.
Hopefully that was enough. It would have to be enough.
He pulled the tab on the bath and grabbed a towel to dry off. He would answer her questions this morning, as he had promised, meet with the Dark Lord, and possibly meet with Snape. He knew more about Legilimency and Occlumency than anyone alive, save for the Dark Lord. If anyone could help him find a safe space in Ginny's mind, it was him.
He quickly towel-dried his hair, brushed his teeth, and applied deodorant and cologne before getting dressed. He looked at himself in the mirror and willed the light to fade from his eyes. They were the sea on a cloudy day. Flat and opaque.
No use stalling any longer.
He took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.
Ginny was still laying in bed, but she was awake, her eyes fixated on the ceiling. Despite everything, Draco's heart skipped a beat, and he cursed himself for it. She was really here.
"Good morning," he said as he walked to his wardrobe to do... something. Fuck. He hadn't thought this through very well.
Ginny said nothing, not making his job any easier.
"I trust you slept well," he said, his back still to her as he fiddled around with his robes. Still nothing.
"Yes, Draco, I slept very well, thank you for asking," he said, hoping to get a rise out of her. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her glaring at the ceiling. Good. Yesterday's events hadn't destroyed her.
"If you want me to answer your questions, I suggest you start speaking to me," he said, trying to channel what lording his prefect and Inquisitorial Squad privileges over other students had been like. What a different lifetime that had been.
"I slept fine," she said through gritted teeth.
"That's good to hear," he said smoothly, closing his wardrobe. He moved toward the two armchairs- so reminiscent of his time in the Room of Requirement- and sat in one. "Are you hungry?"
"No."
"Are you lying?"
Her glare deepened. "No."
He sighed for dramatic effect. "Well, I'm going to order breakfast for two anyway, and you'll sit here with me while I eat, and if you decide you want something, you're welcome to it."
"That's very generous of you," Ginny said sarcastically.
"One of my many virtues."
Ginny made a disbelieving noise and he had to bite his cheek in order not to laugh. Draco the Death Eater wouldn't find her sass very funny.
"Tilly."
Tilly appeared with a loud crack, casting a quick glance at Ginny before focusing on Draco.
"Yes, Master Draco! What is it you be needing?"
"Breakfast for two, please," he said. "We'll be taking breakfast in here. Bring some tea too, and some extra honey for Miss Weasley."
That got her attention. She lifted her head off the pillows and stared at him, her eyes narrowed. Her bed head was adorable.
"Right away, Master Draco!" Tilly said before Disapparating.
He raised an eyebrow at Ginny. "I told you I would answer all your questions this morning, remember?"
"Where is-"
"Ah ah. You're not a very good listener. I said I was going to order breakfast for two, and you'll sit here with me while I eat, and if-"
He bit his cheek again. Ginny had flipped the covers off dramatically and was stomping over to the other armchair. She plopped into it and crossed her arms over her chest, still glaring at him. His eyes flicked to her chest for a moment before looking back at her face. He hadn't transfigured her a bra last night. Did girls sleep in bras? He didn't know.
"There you go," he said in a patronizing tone and watched her bristle. "That was easy, wasn't it?" He waved his wand to conjure a small circular table between them, where Tilly would place their breakfast tray when she returned.
He leaned back in his seat. "Now. Ask away."
"Is Harry alive?"
Of course her first question is about goddamn Potter.
"Yes."
"Are my parents alive?"
"Yes."
"My brothers?"
"Yes."
"Are any of them captured, or injured, or-"
"They are all perfectly fine, as far as I am aware," he said. "As I understand it, Potter has some special protection as long as he lives with those Muggles, so he is safely tucked away at the moment. Your family's fine- you heard the Dark Lord last night, blood traitors are no longer on the extermination list. The Mudblood Granger is fine too, if you cared. No one's been ordered to do anything to her."
Ginny eyed him suspiciously, but he saw her shoulders relax just a fraction.
Tilly appeared just then, a massive tray with two plates of food, a teapot, two cups, and a jar full of fresh honey balanced precariously over her head.
"Your breakfast, Master Draco," she said, levitating the tray to the table.
"Thank you Tilly," he said. "Tilly, this is Ginny Weasley. She's going to be staying with us from now on. Say hello."
Ginny glared at him as he said from now on.
"Hello Miss Ginny," Tilly said, a little uncertainly. Draco would have to find some time alone in order to explain things to her.
"Say hello back," Draco said to Ginny. "Don't be rude to my house elf, she's very sensitive and I would hate if-"
"Hello Tilly."
Draco smirked at her. "You're not a good listener, but you're a quick learner. That'll be all, Tilly."
Tilly Disapparated, a worried look on her face. Draco sighed internally before picking up his fork.
"Dig in if you want some, Tilly is an excellent cook," he said as he went to take a bite of eggs. Ginny didn't eat anything. Her eyes were on the honey jar.
"How?" she asked.
"Beg pardon?"
"How did you know about the honey?"
He poured tea for both of them.
"That's a longer and more complicated answer," he said.
"I've got nothing but time," Ginny said in an acerbic tone. Draco laughed.
"I suppose you do. You want the whole story, from the beginning?"
Ginny nodded. Draco took a sip of tea.
"Alright then. Just about a year ago now, you and your idiotic band of friends flew to the Department of Mysteries on some foolhardy rescue mission, which was actually a trap laid by my father for the Dark Lord. Remember that?"
"Obviously," she seethed.
"The Dark Lord needed to retrieve a prophecy, and unfortunately my father failed to do that for him," Draco said, his chest tightening at the memory of his father's suffering. "But all was not lost- my father avoided Azkaban, and had the brilliant idea to consult the prophecy's source. You remember Professor Trelawney, don't you?"
Ginny's eyes widened.
"Thought so. It was very fortunate that Umbridge fired her- gave my aunt the opportunity to track her down and bring her straight to the Dark Lord."
"Is she-"
"Alive? No. She died right around Christmas. Anyways, where was I?" He paused to take a bite of food, his eyes on Ginny's face. He could see her mind working, trying to piece things together.
"Trelawney didn't remember anything about the prophecy for the Dark Lord and Potter," he said, "so he needed to come up with a way to get more information. Snape was able to put together a potion that could induce a trance state, force her to prophesize."
Ginny let out a little involuntary gasp.
"Yes, it was quite gruesome," he said, keeping his tone light, much lighter than he felt. "She died right after the third time, I saw it happen."
"What does this have to do with me liking honey in my tea?"
"I'm getting there, I said it was a long answer. Don't be so impatient. And drink your tea, Tilly brought that honey especially for you."
Ginny glared at him.
"Fine, die of thirst. Oh wait, I guess you can't."
She flexed her fingers on her arm, and Draco knew she wanted to hit him.
"Anyways, she made three new prophecies over the span of a few months. One revealed that in order to defeat Potter for good, the Dark Lord needed to find the Deathly Hallows and become Master of Death. The second stated that the Deathly Hallows could only be found where Death has been weakened, and the third confirmed that only a young witch, pure of blood and pure of heart, would be able to retrieve them."
Ginny suppressed a shudder, her eyes going distant for a second. She was no doubt remembering last night.
"Put honey in your tea and take a sip," he commanded, the deep voice scraping unnaturally in his throat. She gasped in outrage even as her hands did as he bade, and the light came back to her eyes.
"As prophecies often are, Trelawney chose particularly flowery language to instruct us with. Where death has been weakened," he said with a scoff. "So the Dark Lord needed some assistance, and he chose me to provide that assistance."
His own words from a year ago echoed in his mind as he made himself take another bite of bacon. I was chosen. I was chosen.
"All fall term, I researched what the Deathly Hallows could be, and puzzled over where something like death could be weakened, whatever the bloody hell that meant. Remember running into me playing Gobstones with Lovegood?"
Ginny's grip tightened on her teacup.
"The first clue I could find to the Deathly Hallows was in the Quibbler, of all bloody places."
"If you hurt Luna-"
"I didn't hurt your little friend, don't worry. Fortunately or unfortunately, Lovegood is an idiot, though she did give me a good head start. With copious amounts of research and a bit of lucky guesswork, I was able to figure out what the Deathly Hallows are- as told by Beedle the Bard, the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility, gifted by Death itself to Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus Peverell centuries ago in Godric's Hollow- thereby weakening him. It."
Ginny sipped her tea- good- and stared at him.
"I understand it sounds far-fetched, but you've seen your fair share of far-fetched things by now. I gave my report to the Dark Lord right after going on Christmas holiday, and that's when Trelawney issued her last prophecy."
"About me."
"About you, yes. Although it wasn't clear right away- many Death Eaters volunteered their daughters for this coveted position, I can assure you. But the Dark Lord suggested we choose who Dumbledore would have chosen, if the prophecy had been given to him. The idea to use you came from the Dark Lord himself."
"Why not just kidnap me then? Why did I have to be tricked into it?"
"Good question. Annoyingly, the prophecy stated you had to freely give of your purity. Freely give your blood, freely state your true intent, which ideally wouldn't be to take over the world with the Hallows, and only then could the Hallows be given."
Ginny put down her teacup. Draco stupidly wanted to hold her hand, so he picked up his own teacup instead.
"So you can see the problem," he said after taking a sip. "You were never going to go to Godric's Hollow if you thought you were helping the Dark Lord. You had to think you were helping Potter."
"Which is where you come in."
"Which is where I come in. While I was doing all this, I was also supposed to be finding a way to sneak the Death Eaters into Hogwarts- yes, I'm a busy man- and I needed your process to coincide with that. I needed to lead you along, but not too quickly."
"Is that how Dumbledore died?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Yes," he said. "And Hogwarts is fine, if you're worried. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. I needed to know more about you. I didn't have room for error. So," he said, and took a deep breath, "don't bite my head off, because she's perfectly safe now, but I cast the Imperius Curse on your friend Kathleen when we came back from holiday."
"You what?" Ginny shrieked, standing up and disturbing the breakfast tray.
"Sit back down," he said. Ginny did so, furious tears in her eyes.
"You're a monster," she whispered. She might as well have kicked him in the stomach.
"So I've been told," he said in a bored voice. "Like I said, she is perfectly safe- and no longer under the Imperius, incidentally. I let her go once we had you."
Ginny closed her eyes, her shoulders shaking a bit.
"Are you alright to continue? I can see this is making you upset."
"Keep going," she snapped, eyes snapping open.
"Alright then. Like I said, I needed to know more about you. So I learned about you from Kathleen. She observed you and reported to me for a few weeks, during which I learned a great deal of both consequential and inconsequential things, including the fact that you prefer honey with your tea. So, question answered, but I'll finish the story anyway, since I know you're burning with curiosity on how the hell I pulled this off."
He took another bite of food, realizing that the table might very well get upended very soon.
"Then we get to the Valentine's Day party, where I dropped my first little clue for you," he said, "and you went running right to-"
"Kathleen," Ginny breathed.
"Exactly, who told you not to tell anyone else, and that you needed to look into it further. This part gets a little boring, and you were there for it, so I'll speed run it- you both research and find nothing, I stage a conversation in the library for you and her to overhear, I give her a list of books for you to research, most relevant but some not. And you read, and read, and read."
"And find nothing," she said.
"Just as I planned," he said. "Like I said, I needed to stall a bit for time. But then I gave Kathleen a very special book- a book I created."
Ginny's eyes widened so large that he was afraid they were going to pop out of her head.
"Yes, one of my many talents," he said with a smirk. "I don't know who actually took the Elder Wand, which he stupidly called the Deathstick, from Loxias, but that made as good a place as any to invent some convoluted reason for you to go to Godric's Hollow and perform a ritual that I was only half-sure was going to do anything at all."
"The star charts-"
"Magically altered, and completely irrelevant."
"You made Kathleen convince me to go alone and not tell the Order," she said in an accusing tone.
"I did, and I'm sure she absolutely detests me for it," he said. "She fought very hard at the end, you should be proud of her- she was a good friend to you. She was instrumental in my work, no matter her attitude toward it, so I made sure she was spared that night. Her last command was to go hide in the Gryffindor dormitory until the next morning, at which point I released the spell. She'll probably murder me if she ever gets the chance, but she's fine, Weasley. Fine."
Ginny bit her lip, looking away from him.
"I know it's a lot."
"So where the bloody hell did the gem come from?"
"Absolutely no idea. Trelawney never mentioned it, and she's not around to ask now. So the Dark Lord unfortunately had to use more creative methods to find out that information."
Ginny's face hardened.
"What does a promise delayed but not denied mean?"
Fuck.
"The Dark Lord promised you to me as an incentive if I successfully completed my assignments," he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
"Like I'm a fucking trophy for good O.W.L. scores," she spat, still looking away from him.
"Something like that, yes," he said. "But your delivery was, as the Dark Lord said, unexpectedly delayed."
She whipped her head towards him. "So last night was what? Pity?"
Play this carefully.
"You had just spent over a month being tortured in I don't even know what ways," he said, making himself hold her gaze. "I figured you deserved a break."
"A break."
"Yes."
She laughed a cruel laugh. "So should I expect torture to resume imminently then?"
"I didn't say that."
"No, you just implied it," she said, clearly holding back angry tears.
"The Dark Lord told me to enjoy you," he said, keeping his voice cold. "I don't enjoy torture, as shocking as that might be to you."
"What the fuck is this, then?"
"This? This is breakfast. You've had it before, I've seen you in the Great Hall-"
His Dark Mark burned and he grabbed his arm with a wince.
"Duty calls," he said as he stood up. "As riveting as this Q&A session has been, I do have to get some work done today. Preliminary ground rules: you are allowed to explore the manor. Don't bother Tilly or my parents. The exterior doors are charmed to keep you inside until I return. Don't bother trying to climb down from the windows- it's too high, it won't work. I think that's it for now. Be good for me while I'm gone."
He Disapparated before she could open her mouth.
That went... not as absolutely horribly as it could have.
He walked up the path to the Death Eaters' headquarters, his mind on Ginny's furious face, at the amusement he had taken in poking at her this morning. Everything the Dark Lord would expect to see.
He held his own hands steady, not letting his trepidation at whatever the Dark Lord's expectations would be show. He needed a cool head, for Ginny. She would never know how he protected her, but he would do it again and again and again, forever if he had to.
Wormtail opened the door for him, bowing and wishing him a happy birthday. Draco nodded at him before walking swiftly toward the ballroom, fighting back a bit of nausea at the sight of the double doors.
She is safe in your room. She isn't going anywhere.
He knocked on the door.
"Enter," came the Dark Lord's voice, high and cold.
He pushed open the door and was surprised to find that the Dark Lord already had an audience. Macnair was there, as was Bellatrix and, sickeningly, Rookwood.
"Ah, the birthday boy," the Dark Lord said with a smirk. "Welcome, Draco."
"Thank you, my Lord," he intoned as he stepped forward and bowed before standing at attention.
"At ease," the Dark Lord said. "No need to be so formal this morning. We're just having a little chat."
Draco relaxed his stance.
"How is our little blood traitor princess today?"
"Very well, my Lord. She was exhausted after last night and slept well."
Macnair leered at him, reading something into his words that wasn't there.
"I'm glad to know she's in capable hands," the Dark Lord said, his smirk widening. Macnair laughed. "I'm sure you know why I summoned you here?"
"To discuss your expectations, my Lord."
"Yes," he said. "Your work in bringing her to me was impressive, so I believe you're uniquely qualified to take on this task. But first- a few things to watch out for. Macnair?"
"Did you run into any problems with the tattoo last night?" Macnair asked.
"No," Draco said. "Should I expect problems?"
"No," said Macnair, a touch defensively. "But all of our testing has been under laboratory conditions- she is the first full test subject. A trial run, as the Dark Lord mentioned."
Laboratory conditions? What the hell does that mean?
"This procedure is eventually going to be rolled out for all the blood traitors," he continued, "but it needs to be absolutely perfect to use at scale like that. Take note of any potential defects or quirks with it, and report them to me right away."
"I see," Draco said. "Well, one potential quirk to be aware of- the way the curse interprets the directives is quite literal. I told her to be quiet, and she was literally unable to speak until I told her she could speak again. The classical Imperius allows for a bit more nuance. Anyone bonded to a blood traitor will need to be careful in their word choice, and consider possible unintended consequences."
Macnair nodded. "That's good information. We'll want to prepare a training guide, most likely."
What the fuck?
"I can see you have questions, Draco, but we'll get to them in a minute," said the Dark Lord. "Rookwood?"
Anger boiled Draco's blood but he forced it to quiet.
"I ran a great number of tests on Miss Weasley during her time here," Rookwood said, "and while I can find no evidence that the gem is at all dangerous, we must remember we are dealing with absolutely unprecedented magic, from beyond this plane of existence. It could have features or powers we're unaware of. You'll want to keep her on a tight leash, and alert me immediately if anything seems amiss."
Did you keep her on a tight leash while you were trying to kill her?
"I will," Draco said, keeping his tone neutral, almost bored. "She showed no signs of anything unusual last night or this morning."
"'And I would expect that to continue," Rookwood said, looking oddly relieved. Was he worried something could happen?
"Very good," the Dark Lord said. "Which brings us to your role in all of this, Draco. As you are aware, the Ministry will soon be in my grasp, before the end of the summer, and Hogwarts with it. Things will begin to change at that point."
Bellatrix giggled, making Draco's skin crawl.
"The Mudbloods will be rounded up and sent to Azkaban," he continued, "and our errant purebloods will need to be rehabilitated, as we discussed last night. However, public opinion needs to be swayed. Master of the Elder Wand I may be, but even I cannot Imperius an entire country." He laughed. "And really, what a hollow victory that would be. No, people need to warm up to these ideas, and I think everyone in this room can agree that Miss Weasley is a far more likable spokesperson than any of us."
Bellatrix looked mildly affronted at this, which made Draco want to laugh. Was she actually jealous?
"Yes, Harry Potter's former lover speaking out against Dumbledore's regime and the horrible abuse she suffered at her blood traitor family's hands will go a long way," the Dark Lord said with a smirk. "She ran away to safety, among her real peers, and found shelter with the Malfoys, who welcomed her with open arms."
Draco took a deep breath.
"The Malfoys sheltered her, helped her unlearn the ridiculous notions she had grown up with, and even supported her in going to the Ministry, which she found to be surprisingly sympathetic to her plight," he said with a laugh. "It took only a little advocating on her part to get blood traitor ideals classified as child abuse, and affected children removed from their parents' custody. Those looking to avoid Azkaban, or to get their children back, can volunteer for rehabilitation, of course."
Bellatrix clapped her hands together and squealed.
"It's a brilliant strategy, my Lord," she said a little breathlessly.
"It's all thanks to you, Bella, you were the one who gave me the initial idea," the Dark Lord said. Bellatrix beamed.
"Yes, Miss Weasley will save the lives of hundreds of children with her work," he said, toying with his wand as he so often did. "And all throughout, she had the support of the Malfoys, the model pureblood family. She was so grateful, so blessed to have been taken in that she couldn't help but fall in love with their only son."
This is sick.
"I didn't choose you by accident, Draco. You make a wonderful foil to Harry Potter. You're exactly what she should choose."
Try telling her that.
"Thank you, my Lord," he said. "I'm honored."
The Dark Lord nodded. "So, my expectations of you are these: take these next couple of months to bend her to your will, and by extension mine. By September, she should be so well-behaved that she would have no trouble at all making a speech in front of the Ministry, or giving an interview to the Daily Prophet, or posing for Witch Weekly, or whatever else we think of for her to do. The perfect pureblood role model. What's more, she should be sickeningly, obviously in love with you by Halloween, if not sooner. Or at least appear to be," he said with a nasty grin. "You should, of course, enjoy her as you desire- she's yours. Do see to it that she doesn't fall pregnant, however- that would be embarrassing for both of you in the media. The fairy tale romances don't often involve pregnancy out of wedlock."
Draco was feeling light-headed. Bellatrix laughed again.
"Of course, my Lord," he said. "I will do as you will."
"We of course have the added benefit of this being absolutely certain to enrage Harry," the Dark Lord said in a bored tone. "If he comes rushing in to save the damsel in distress, all the better. You will of course summon me immediately if he should appear."
"Absolutely, my Lord."
"Anything to add, Bella?"
"No, my Lord, you've covered it," she said. "I'm looking forward to having a niece in the family." She shot Draco a grin which he forced himself to return.
"I'll instruct her to call you Aunt, if you like," he said, his stomach roiling. Bellatrix cackled.
"All in due time, I'm sure," the Dark Lord said with a sardonic smile. "Well, I don't want to keep you overly long on your birthday. You may go- give Ginny our regards."
Draco bowed, not trusting himself to speak, and started walking away, making himself control his pace. He was walking away, not running. Walking away, not running.
He ignored Wormtail on the way out, hurrying out to the grass to Disapparate.
I need a second. If I Apparate right now I'll splinch myself.
He walked over the edge of the hill, where a Muggle village lay below. Did they have any idea what lurked above them, plotting their doom?
He leaned against a tree and dove for the sea, needing to be fully submerged. This was never-ending. He would never be free of this, never. He would be with Ginny always, and never ever ever in the way he wanted. She would hate him, more than she already did, and he wouldn't even be able to do as much as tell her he was sorry.
He screamed under the water, and he threw up on the land.