JULY 27th, 1997
Harry paced in the Burrow's living room, his mind swimming from the wild chase he had just narrowly escaped. His brain was a cacophony of images and sounds, all fighting for his attention. Hedwig's cage free-falling through the sky, jets of green light shooting everywhere, Hagrid leaping off of his motorbike to tackle a Death Eater mid-air... It was too much. And above all, his wand spinning in his hand, shooting golden flames of its own accord straight at Voldemort... Had he had the Deathstick after all, if it was even real? The battle had been terrifying, but he wasn't sure it was more terrifying than any other time he had faced Voldemort. Was Hermione right- was there really no such thing as an unbeatable wand? Or had this been some kind of lucky break?
"Mad-Eye's body," said Lupin. "We need to recover it."
"Can't it-?" began Mrs. Weasley with an appealing look at Bill.
"Wait?" said Bill. "Not unless you'd rather the Death Eaters took it?"
Nobody spoke. Lupin and Bill said good-bye and left.
The rest of them now dropped into chairs, all except for Harry, who remained standing. The suddenness and completeness of death was with them like a presence. He felt Ginny's absence acutely. She should be here, with them. Who among the Death Eaters who had attacked them tonight knew where she was, what had happened to her?
"I've got to go too," said Harry.
Ten pairs of startled eyes looked at him.
"Don't be silly, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley. "What are you talking about?"
"I can't stay here."
He rubbed his forehead; it was prickling again, it had not hurt like this for more than a year.
"You're all in danger while I'm here. I don't want-"
"But don't be so silly!" said Mrs. Weasley. "The whole point of tonight was to get you here safely, and thank goodness it worked. And Fleur's agreed to get married here rather than in France, we've arranged everything so that we can all stay together and look after you-"
She did not understand; she was making him feel worse, not better.
"If Voldemort finds out I'm here-"
"But why should he?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
"There are a dozen places you might be now, Harry," said Mr. Weasley. "They aren't the only ones smart enough to have multiple safe houses, and he's got no way of knowing which one you're in."
"It's not me I'm worried for!" said Harry.
"We know that," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "but it would make our efforts tonight seem rather pointless if you left."
"Yer not goin' anywhere," growled Hagrid. "Blimey, Harry, after all we wen' through ter get you here?"
"Yeah, what about my bleeding ear?" said George, hoisting himself up on his cushions.
"I know that-"
"Mad-Eye wouldn't want-"
"I KNOW!" Harry bellowed.
He felt beleaguered and blackmailed: Did they think he did not know what they had done for him, didn't they understand that it was for precisely that reason that he wanted to go now, before they had to suffer any more on his behalf? The Weasleys had already lost one child, and nearly lost another tonight... And whatever Kathleen said, he could not believe that Ginny's disappearance was entirely unrelated to him.
There was a long and awkward silence in which his scar continued to prickle and throb, and which was broken at last by Mrs. Weasley.
"Where's Hedwig, Harry?" she said coaxingly. "We can put her up with Pigwidgeon and give her something to eat."
His insides clenched like a fist. He could not tell her the truth. He drank the last of his firewhisky to avoid answering.
"Wait till it gets out yeh did it again, Harry," said Hagrid. "Escaped him, fought him off when he was right on top of yeh!"
"It wasn't me," said Harry flatly. "It was my wand. My wand acted of its own accord."
After a few moments, Hermione said gently, "But that's impossible, Harry. You mean that you did magic without meaning to; you reacted instinctively."
"Just like an unbeatable wand is impossible?" said Harry flatly. "No. The bike was falling, I couldn't have told you where Voldemort was, but my wand spun in my hand and found him and shot a spell at him, and it wasn't even a spell I recognized. I've never made gold flames appear before."
"Often," said Mr. Weasley, "when you're in a pressured situation you can produce magic you never dreamed of. Small children often find, before they're trained-"
"It wasn't like that," said Harry through gritted teeth. His scar was burning: He felt angry and frustrated; he hated the idea that they were all imagining him to have power to match Voldemort's.
No one said anything. He knew that they did not believe him. Now that he came to think of it, he had never heard of a wand performing magic on its own before. Did that mean Voldemort did have the Deathstick? Was this some weird reaction to it on his wand's part? Why had nothing like this ever happened before?
His scar seared with pain; it was all he could do not to moan aloud. Muttering about fresh air, he set down his glass and left the room.
As he crossed the dark yard, the great skeletal thestral looked up, rustled its enormous batlike wings, then resumed its grazing. Harry stopped at the gate into the garden, staring out at its overgrown plants, rubbing his pounding head and thinking of Dumbledore.
Dumbledore would have believed him, he knew it. Dumbledore would have known how and why Harry's wand had acted independently, because Dumbledore always had the answers; he had known about wands, had explained to Harry the strange connection that existed between his wand and Voldemort's, had handled the Deathstick, whatever that meant... But Dumbledore, like Mad-Eye, like Sirius, like his parents, like his poor owl, all were gone where Harry could never talk to them again. Had Ginny joined them? Was that why they couldn't find her? He felt a burning in his throat that had nothing to do with firewhisky...
And then, out of nowhere, the pain in his scar peaked. As he clutched his forehead and closed his eyes, a voice screamed inside his head.
"I am the Master of Death! I have the Elder Wand, it's mine, mine! Why could I not kill the boy?
And into his mind burst the vision of several Death Eaters cowering before a furious Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. Someone who could only be Crabbe's father, based on the lack of neck and thick, gorilla-like arms. Someone he thought he recognized as Corban Yaxley, from the papers. And most satisfyingly of all, Snape, looking like he was begging for his life.
"You are the Master, my lord," Bellatrix said, kneeling before him. "Potter must have used some spell-"
"There is no spell!" Voldemort snapped before waving his wand at Bellatrix, who let out a horrible scream and writhed on the floor at his feet. "I should have triumphed. There should be no spell that can stand in the way of the Elder Wand, in the way of prophecy."
"P-perhaps we are missing information, my lord," Yaxley offered weakly. He had clearly already been hit with the Cruciatus.
"Information? What information?"
"I-I don't know. What if the prophecy hasn't been fulfilled?"
"What are you suggesting?" Voldemort snapped. He extended his wand, and Harry realized with a start that it was not the same wand that he had seen him use previously. It was Dumbledore's. How on earth did he get it?
Yaxley did not respond, and Voldemort hit him with the Cruciatus again.
"Only the Master of Death may triumph over the Boy Who Lived," he said in an icy voice. "Seeing as Harry Potter managed to escape yet again, there must be some remaining task, some missing piece with the Hallows. At least one of them still resists me. Rodolphus- bring me Garrick Ollivander immediately, I need an expert on wandlore. Crabbe- get Borgin. And Bellatrix- bring me the girl. We'll soon discover which one is the weak link."
It was over as quickly as it had come: Harry stood shaking in the darkness, clutching the gate into the garden, his heart racing, his scar still tingling. It was several moments before he realized that Ron and Hermione were at his side.
"Harry, come back in the house," Hermione whispered. "You aren't still thinking of leaving?"
"Yeah, you've got to stay, mate," said Ron, thumping Harry on the back.
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, close enough now to look into Harry's face. "You look awful!"
"He's so angry, Hermione," Harry said, panting. "Furious..." He quickly recounted his vision to them, making himself repeat the unfamiliar words. Master of Death, which sounded downright terrifying. The Elder Wand- was that the Deathstick? The Hallows, whatever those were. Something about a prophecy, a different one. And mention of the girl.
"That has to be about Ginny, right?" Ron said urgently. "Can you see anything else? Like where they are, or-"
"No, Harry, you mustn't," Hermione said desperately. "This link between you and Voldemort is dangerous, remember? Sirius-"
"Don't lecture me about Sirius right now," Harry snapped, rubbing his forehead. He closed his eyes, willing himself back into Voldemort's head, but nothing happened. The moment had passed. He punched the gate in frustration. "It's gone. I can't see anything else. They were in... a ballroom, it looked like. Tall ceilings. Marble floor. And... a throne."
"A throne?" Ron asked, incredulous. "An actual throne?"
"Yep. Must be wherever he's made his headquarters."
"And he said they're going after Ollivander and Borgin?" Hermione asked.
"And Ginny," Harry said. "I have to tell your dad, Ron."
"But Harry-"
"There's no time, Hermione!"
"What if it's a trap?" she insisted. "He just failed to capture you! What if this is to lure us out into the open again?"
Harry stopped walking. It had felt so real. But so had the vision about Sirius... He took a deep breath. "I still have to tell your dad. Maybe they can get to Ollivander before-" His voice broke, and he realized with a start that he was crying. Hermione put a gentle hand on his shoulder but he yanked away from her, hurrying inside. No one else was going to die if he could help it. He didn't give a shit about Borgin, but Ollivander was innocent.
And Ginny... She was alive. She had to be who Voldemort meant by the girl. She was alive, but she was in terrible danger, and Harry didn't know where she was or how to find her.
We'll soon discover which one is the weak link.
What did that mean?
"Mr. Weasley!" he called into the house. "Mr. Weasley, I need your help!"
JULY 27th, 1997
Ginny was curled up in the window seat of the drawing room, pretending to read a book. Some historical fiction novel, she was pretty sure. She didn't know- she hadn't actually read any of it. Draco had given it to her earlier this evening, knowing she would need a distraction, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to do anything but think of Harry.
The Order was moving him tonight, or at least the Death Eaters thought they were. She hoped against hope that Snape had gotten it wrong. Maybe they were waiting till the thirtieth after all. Although if that was true, they would just repeat this whole scenario in three days' time...
Neither of the Malfoy men had been commanded to participate in the attack, which Ginny had found a little odd, but she wasn't complaining. Draco had been sullen and withdrawn ever since starting his training with Bellatrix, though a quick trip to the oak tree had been a brief reprieve. He wouldn't tell her anything about it, and in fact had commanded her not to ask about it after her third time questioning him. Whatever it was must be truly awful, if he didn't even want to mention it to her.
Please, please, let Harry be safe... let him get away, please, please, please...
She glanced up from her book, taking in the three Malfoys. Draco and his father were engrossed in a game of wizards' chess, while his mother reclined on a chaise with a book of her own. It was rare for all four of them to be in the same room together aside from dinnertime, but Ginny had the sense that Draco wanted to be close to his parents tonight. If Voldemort killed Harry tonight... it would all be over. But if he didn't, he would be absolutely furious... Whatever happened out there, it would change things, and Ginny knew Draco didn't do well with uncertainty.
Her mind flashed on their times in the library early on, the faint classical music playing as a way to connect Draco to Narcissa even when they were apart. Did he even realize that was why he liked it? Or had Ginny's keen grief over missing her own mother given her a unique insight into the situation?
"Cissy!" Bellatrix's shrill voice rang out through an old gramophone in one corner. "Open this damn gate right now!"
"Goodness," Narcissa said, hesitatingly rising to her feet. "That can't be good."
Dread filled Ginny's stomach, but before she could even wonder what Bellatrix wanted, Draco and Lucius both cried out, clutching their left arms. They were being summoned.
Draco's eyes locked with Ginny's as Lucius stood up.
"Father-"
"We have to go," Lucius said brusquely. "Right now. Come, Draco."
He was going to have to leave her behind with Narcissa. And Bellatrix.
"Don't worry darling, everything will be just fine," Narcissa said, keeping her voice purposely light. Her eyes flicked to Ginny and then back to Draco. He nodded, looked at Ginny again, and then turned away, jogging after his father out of the room.
Narcissa made no move to go to the front gate. Lucius and Draco would let Bellatrix in, Ginny supposed. Ginny closed her book, no longer pretending to read, and looked at Narcissa with an unspoken question in her eyes.
What happens now?
"Whatever it is, we'll get through it together, darling," Narcissa said, smoothing her robes in anticipation of her sister's arrival.
Darling. Another habit Draco had picked up from his mother, although he tended to only call her that when he was... she didn't know what to call it. When he was being Malfoy, she supposed. When things were actually nice between them, he usually just called her Ginny.
How could Narcissa say they would get through it together? She wouldn't protect Ginny from Voldemort. She was keeping her here for Voldemort. They weren't on the same side. That was all pretend.
Anger started to stir in Ginny but before she could even think of something appropriately snarky to say, Bellatrix kicked the door open. She looked half-feral. Her hair was wilder than usual, and her cheeks were tear-streaked. Her eyes were lit with an unholy fire as she stormed into the room, right for Ginny.
"Bella, what-" Narcissa started, striding quickly to stand between them.
"Out of the way, Cissy!" Bellatrix snapped. "The Dark Lord demands her presence now."
Something must have gone wrong.
"Draco isn't here-" Narcissa started.
"He's been summoned as well! We all have been."
"She won't be able to leave," Narcissa said flatly. "Draco's commands. Only he can escort her off the grounds. The magic won't allow otherwise."
Bellatrix's face turned an ugly shade of purple in her fury. "The Dark Lord won't forgive delays! She has to come now!"
"Well then I suggest you go tell Draco to come back here and fetch her," Narcissa said coolly. "You might be able to still catch him if you hurry."
Bellatrix glared at her sister before looking at Ginny and saying, "Stay right where you are, girl. I'll be right back." She took off out of the room at a full run, hiking her robes up so that they didn't hinder her movement. Narcissa hurried to shut the drawing room doors behind her and turned to lean against them.
"What's happened?" Ginny asked, standing up.
"I'm not sure," Narcissa said. "Nothing good." She walked closer to Ginny and- shockingly- pulled her into a hug. "Be strong for my son," she whispered.
Ginny yanked back immediately. "For your son?" she asked in a scathing tone. "Oh sure- I'll be sure to hold out against torture from your deranged sister or You-Know-Who himself in order to make things easier for precious Draco. He's the real victim here, of course."
"My son protects you every day of his life," Narcissa said fiercely. "You know that. Now it's your turn to return the favor."
Ginny didn't know that. At all. Draco was kind to her at times. He wasn't as cruel as he could have been, at others. But protect her? In some ways, maybe- she recalled Lucius's work on her memories. But in others, his protection was painfully absent... She felt the ghost of his hands on her neckline, pulling it down in a room full of Death Eaters.
The doors burst open again at that moment. Bellatrix was there, followed quickly by an irate Draco.
No, this is definitely Malfoy... she thought with trepidation as she observed his eyes. Almost totally black. He stormed towards her and roughly grabbed her arm, yanking her forward.
"Ow! You're hurting me."
"Follow me, quickly."
He dragged her out of the room without so much as a backwards glance at his mother. Bellatrix was running again, and Malfoy was jogging behind her, pulling Ginny along.
"Ugh, not fast enough, Weasley." He stopped just long enough to scoop her into his arms and run down the front steps after Bellatrix, who was halfway down the path to the gate already.
"Draco, what's wrong?" she asked, bouncing in his arms as he ran. "Is Harry-"
"Don't speak." He was panting as he ran, his brow furrowed.
So much for that. She felt nauseous. What was she about to be dragged into?
"You have my permission to leave the manor with me," he said as he stepped through the gate, spinning almost immediately to Apparate.
They arrived at a too-familiar location. Stars twinkled overhead, oblivious to her plight as Malfoy carried Ginny into the house, his grip tight on her arms and legs. He walked straight for the ballroom.
No, no, no... Ginny hadn't been back there since that first night. Coming back here now felt so much more dangerous than the dining room. She wanted to tell Malfoy to put her down, but she couldn't speak.
For maybe the first time in her life, Ginny prayed.
I don't know who you are, or how to pray to you... Great Queen? But please, if you can hear me, help me...
Not a very eloquent prayer. Alys would not approve. But it was all Ginny could manage at the moment.
The ballroom was in a state of disarray. The curtains on one of the windows were half falling down, the casualty of some misfired spell. There were a small handful of Death Eaters in the room already, clearly terrified of the palpable rage emanating from Voldemort, who had Nagini coiled around his shoulders. There were two men bound and kneeling before the dais already. One of them was weeping, while the other seemed to be pleading for something.
That's Ollivander, she realized with a start. The wandmaker. Had something gone wrong with the wand? And who was that other man?
A tiny bit of satisfaction settled in Ginny's chest. All of this told her one thing- Harry was alive. He had escaped.
That would make whatever this was worth it for her. Hopefully. Probably. Maybe.
"Put her here, Draco," Voldemort said in a cold voice. "With the others."
Malfoy walked forward and put her down next to the man she didn't recognize.
"Kneel before the Dark Lord," he commanded, and she did so. "You may speak again, but only once you're spoken to."
And with that, he stepped back into the crowd of Death Eaters, leaving her alone.
That scared her more than she thought it would.
"You have the Veritaserum, Severus?" Voldemort asked, running a hand down Nagini's scaly hide.
"Yes, my lord," came Snape's voice.
"Give our friend Mr. Ollivander a dose."
"No, please, I'll tell you anything you want-" moaned Ollivander, who was looking distinctly worse for wear. His face was bruised and he had clearly been pulled out of bed based on his attire.
"That's what the Veritaserum is for, you fool," said Bellatrix. "The Dark Lord demands the truth."
Ginny couldn't get up, and she couldn't cry for help. Her knees were already beginning to hurt from kneeling- her light blue robes were thin, and the marble flooring was unforgiving beneath her. She scoffed internally. Had she really become so accustomed to luxury these past few weeks that even slight discomfort made her pause now? She thought, for a moment, just a moment, back to the table she had spent so much time on here, and her lip quivered. She couldn't go back to that. She couldn't.
Draco, please... Don't let anything happen to me.
The thought formed unbidden in her mind, and she was instantly angry at herself for it. Malfoy was the reason she was here at all. She shouldn't be asking him for help, even if he was the only potential source of it...
Snape forced a few drops of Veritaserum down Ollivander's throat, who choked and swallowed it.
"Good," Voldemort said, a modicum of calm coming over him. He twirled the Elder Wand between his fingers idly. "Now, Ollivander, it has been many a year since you and I have met. I never thought to need your services again, for I was always happy with the wand you gave me when I was eleven. However, that was a wand made for a mortal man. A powerful man, a powerful wizard, but a mortal one. This-" he said, gesturing to the Elder Wand, "-is a wand made for a god. Do you recognize this wand, Ollivander?"
Ollivander squinted. He normally wore glasses, Ginny recalled. "No, I-I've never seen it before."
"Then perhaps you've heard tale of it," Voldemort continued in a bored voice. "It has gone by many names, over the centuries. The Wand of Destiny. The Deathstick. Or its oldest name, the Elder Wand."
Ollivander grew visibly paler the longer Voldemort spoke. He had clearly heard of the wand before. Voldemort smirked, noticing the same.
"I thought you might recognize it," he said. "I acquired this wand a few months back, and, according to legend and prophecy, it should be all I need to defeat Harry Potter once and for all, and ensure my victory against the Order of the Phoenix. However, the wand failed me tonight. I want to know why."
"H-how did you acquire the wand?" Ollivander asked in a shaky voice.
"Is that relevant?" Voldemort asked sharply.
Ollivander nodded. "The wand's allegiance must be won from its previous master. That is how it has been passed down through the centuries, why its history is so bloody."
The air was thick with tension.
"I see," said Voldemort, his voice cold. "The wand's previous master was Albus Dumbledore, who is now dead."
Ollivander gulped. "W-who killed Dumbledore?" he asked in a tremulous voice.
Voldemort's eyes whipped to Snape, who was standing stiffly at attention.
"I see," he repeated, softer this time. "And murder is the only way to win the wand's allegiance?"
Snape did not move, but even from here his energy felt like that of a deer ready to bolt.
"N-no, murder is not required," Ollivander said quickly. "Disarming is sufficient- the previous master must be bested."
"That is good news," Voldemort said. "I would hate to lose my most loyal servant over something so preventable."
"If I may, my lord," Snape said.
"Asking to plead for your life, Severus?"
"No, my lord. I merely wished to convey the full extent of the circumstances to Ollivander. Given how you acquired the wand, I am not actually certain that I am its master. I never touched it before... the events of Godric's Hollow."
Voldemort stroked Nagini, considering. "What do you know about the wand's origins, Ollivander?"
"Its origins?" Ollivander repeated. "Only that it is very old... the oldest references to it are nearly a thousand years old. We have no reliable sources from that time detailing who crafted it, only that it was made of elder wood. Sources speculate that thestral tail hair is the core."
"You wouldn't consider Beedle the Bard a reliable source?"
"Beedle the Bard? The storyteller?" Ollivander asked, nonplussed. "It's... it's a fairy tale, m-my lord. A children's story."
"One would assume so," Voldemort said, "but they'd be wrong. I met Death, Ollivander, nearly three months ago now, and he granted the Elder Wand to the girl you see next to Borgin there. And I took it from her. But I did not disarm her."
Me? Ginny wondered in shock. Master of the Elder Wand? Could it be? Her eyes narrowed on the wand, and even though she knew she didn't have her magic, even though she knew it was impossible, she willed every last drop of her energy toward the wand, calling it toward her.
Accio Elder Wand. Accio Elder Wand.
"Ah ah," Voldemort said, his eyes flicking to her. "I knew you were too docile at dinner, Miss Weasley. Draco didn't have time to prep you for this meeting. You think to call the Elder Wand to you?"
"I'm sorry, my lord, I-" Malfoy started.
"Be silent," Voldemort snapped. Malfoy stopped speaking at once. "Well, what do you think, Ginny? Are you the Master of the Elder Wand, or is it Severus here?"
"I don't know," Ginny said.
"You hope it's you though," Voldemort said, smirking at her. "You're practically shouting your thoughts at me from down there. Hoping that the magic of the Elder Wand is enough to override the power of the tattoo, enough to unlock your magic so that you can kill me where I sit."
Ginny did not deny it.
"Draco has taught you to be a good actress, or commanded you to be one, more like, but I know your heart, Ginny Weasley. You forget that."
Ginny's blood turned to ice in her veins. Tom had told her that, through the diary. I know your heart, Ginny Weasley...
"We'll test it out," he declared, turning his attention back to Ollivander. "There are four Deathly Hallows, and I will be master of them all, tonight. There will be no more mistakes." He stood up, Nagini still coiled around him, and floated down from the dais. Ollivander and Borgin- from Borgin and Burkes?- both gasped. Ginny, having already seen this display months before, refused to be impressed.
"So if I am to understood you correctly, Ollivander, when I become the wand's true master, its magic will be more powerful than it is now. More like the tales of its abilities."
"That... that should be correct," Ollivander said, unwilling to make a guarantee.
"Very well then. Severus first. Come here, Severus."
Snape left the crowd of Death Eaters, passing by Ollivander's other side, his face expressionless. Voldemort waved his wand and conjured a floating flame above the crowd. He let it linger for a few seconds before extinguishing it and holding his hand out to Snape. Snape passed his wand to Voldemort, who somewhat reluctantly handed the Elder Wand to him in exchange. Voldemort gestured for him to back up a few paces, which he did.
"Fitting, that this appears to be young Harry's signature spell," he said. "Expelliarmus."
The Elder Wand went flying through the air and Voldemort caught it effortlessly. He cast the flames again. They were the same. His mouth thinned.
"Let us both hope then that Miss Weasley is indeed the wand's master," he said. "Release her hold, Draco."
"Stand up."
Ginny stood up. Voldemort walked up to her, a cold gleam in his eyes.
"Let's see, then," he whispered, pressing the Elder Wand into her hand and closing her fingers around the handle. The wand felt warm in her hand, warm the way her magic normally did.
Come on, come on...
Voldemort stepped back, and she raised the wand.
"Avada Kedavra!" she cried. The wand was warm in her hand, but nothing happened. The tattoo burned on her other arm, and she cried out, bending over for a moment in shock. Voldemort laughed.
"You're more ruthless than Harry," he said. "Do you know he only used Stunners all night tonight? And one Disarming Charm. Not a single lethal spell... not like you. You would kill us all with a single curse, if you could. Even your darling lover. But you can't. Expelliarmus."
The wand flew out of Ginny's hand even as she tried to hold onto it, and she took a single stumbling step after it, but Voldemort already had it in his grasp. He cast the flames, and they exploded over the crowd, more than triple in size and hot enough that people had to duck down to avoid getting burned. Voldemort laughed again, throwing his head back in delight.
"Death will bless her threefold," he said. "Of course. That's right. I overlooked it. They were given to you. And now I will take them, the proper way."
No... The most powerful wand in the world had belonged to her this whole time, and she hadn't even known it. She'd lost it, without the ability to do anything about it. Taken away before she had even known to reach for it.
Voldemort approached her again and pressed the ring and the cloak into her hands.
"I'm not taking any chances," he said. He backed up a bit and said, "Expelliarmus."
They flew out of her hands and into his, like a perverse game of catch.
"Thank you for your services, Ollivander," Voldemort said, his eyes on Ginny's now teary face. "You've been a great help to Lord Voldemort tonight. But I will need you until I know beyond a doubt that I have unlocked all of the wand's secrets. Bellatrix- escort him to a room."
"My lord, please-" Ollivander started, but Bellatrix yanked him up, causing him to yelp, and dragged him away. Ginny looked over her shoulder to watch him go, wishing desperately that she could save him. Tonight hadn't been his fault.
She looked back at Voldemort. "Don't hurt him."
He smirked. "Why would I hurt him? He just helped me. As long as he remains cooperative, he'll find himself in for a pleasant stay. Your lord is merciful."
"You're not my lord," she said. The words were out of her mouth before she could think better of them. She could practically feel Malfoy silently groan.
Voldemort did not look angry. He looked... curious.
"Borgin," he said, his eyes still on Ginny. Borgin bowed from his kneeling position, muttering praises Ginny couldn't quite make out. "I wasn't sure who to turn to for the other two items in question, but your artifacts research is second to none. I have in my possession what are known as the Resurrection Stone and the True Cloak of Invisibility. I need to possess them fully- no split allegiances, like we just ran into with the wand. You are to research their origins, find out everything you can about them, and advise me on any steps needed to ensure that they belong only to me. The stone has been passed through the Gaunt line; they described it as bearing the family coat of arms, but it doesn't- it's the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. And the cloak has been passed through the Potter line. Severus will see to it that you have everything you need. Please escort him upstairs, Severus."
"I am honored to serve, my lord, I will not disappoint you," Borgin murmured obsequiously as Snape walked forward, clearly annoyed at having to wait for Borgin to get up. The man finally stood after kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes and followed quickly behind Snape.
"Which leaves us with you," Voldemort said, his eyes never leaving Ginny's face. "Beedle the Bard only told of three Hallows, and so did Trelawney. But Death gave a fourth object of power that night. What makes a Hallow, really? A gift from Death? An object of unusual magical power? Some connection to death, or evading it? The gem seems to fit that criteria, don't you think?"
Ginny said nothing. Voldemort smiled at her. He walked closer and cupped her face in his hands, making her stiffen. She tried to take a step back but he wouldn't let her.
"Yes, the gem fits that criteria, but I've had a lot of time to think about it, Ginny, and I'm not so sure the gem is a gem."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, her eyes darting around, trying to find something to look at other than his face.
"It's an object, but only at very specific moments," he said, sounding for all the world like he was teaching a class at Hogwarts. "Most of the time, it doesn't exist at all. There's just you. How could that be, do you think?"
"No idea."
Voldemort chuckled. "I think, Ginny, that the gem represents the power that Death gave to you, and it's just that- a representation. A way for beings from this plane of existence to understand it, a visual aid, if you will. But I think the real fourth Deathly Hallow… is you. And you certainly haven't submitted to me. We can't allow that, can we?"
"Please my lord, she knows her place," Malfoy blurted. "I can prove it to you."
Voldemort looked profoundly annoyed at being interrupted. He didn't let go of her face. His fingers were cold against her skin.
"Speak, then," he snapped.
"One of her commands requires that she answers any question I ask her truthfully, with all relevant information. Isn't that right, Ginny?"
"Yes. I cannot lie or omit things," she said.
"Who do you belong to?" Malfoy asked.
"You-Know-Who." Her stomach lurched.
"And what is another name for him?"
Malfoy clearly wanted her to say the Dark Lord. "Voldemort," she said, keeping eye contact with him as she said his name. An angry ripple went through the crowd of Death Eaters, but Voldemort didn't look angry at all. He smiled.
"What a lovely little feature," he said. "You already knew what she would say."
"Yes, my lord. She said it once before. She knows her place."
"And yet, Ginny, you were ready to murder me tonight, and are clearly all too ready to defy me. That's no way to respond to your master, is it?"
You're not my master. She didn't say it, but Voldemort heard it anyway. He laughed again.
"Fascinating," he said. "Your conscious and subconscious minds don't agree. The tattoo commands you to speak truth, yet you don't accept it. Perhaps I didn't spend enough time with you last time- let's rectify that now. Legilimens."
Ginny cried out at the sudden intrusion. She had thought last time was painful, but it was nothing compared to this.
Malfoy had done her a favor, she realized, by pulling all those awful memories to the front. They had been easy to find, easy to sort through. Not like now.
His Legilimency wasn't like Malfoy's. He didn't land in any memories, interact with any of them. He just watched, but it was like he dug claws into her brain while he was doing it. If her mind could bleed, it would be doing so now.
He spent more time on her first week at the manor, watching Ginny's defiance against Malfoy's advances slowly break down. He lingered in her fear, in her despair, and despite her best effort, she let out a whimper.
He combed through memories, quickly growing bored of Malfoy's lighter moments with her and skimming ahead. He observed her anger and desire for defiance against Lucius and Narcissa, her desperate wish last week for some way to save Harry, the humiliation she had felt at having her chest exposed.
And then he came to her dream.
No! she yelled in her mind, which only made him hold on harder. She squirmed in his grip, but it did less than nothing.
He watched Bill and Fleur's wedding, felt her anguish at being seemingly forgotten and her sad relief that they had moved on without her. He observed her shock and sadness over Harry dancing with someone new and unknown to her, the way she both wished him well and wanted to scream desperately for him to see her instead. Then the dream shifted, and he watched an alternate version of her yield to Malfoy's questions.
Please be done, please be done, no more…
But there was more. Like the two were linked, her second nightmare came into view, and Ginny sunk away inside herself in despair. She felt Voldemort's shock turn to delight upon seeing his younger self standing behind her.
Who do you belong to?
You.
Ginny let out a wail, and Voldemort broke the connection. He dropped her face and she quickly looked down at the ground, her mind totally blank. She didn't feel capable of forming coherent thoughts.
"You know the truth, deep down," he whispered. "You've known it for a very long time, I think. You've been living these last few years on borrowed time, but you were always meant to end up here. Your rightful place is at my feet, Ginny Weasley. It's time you accepted that."
She let out a sob, suddenly feeling raw all over. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling like she might suddenly fall apart if she didn't hold onto something.
"Draco is right," he said. "You don't respond well to pain- it only makes you fight harder. We have some work to do still, but if you're very good for me, I'll consider a reward for you. You're so very worried about your family, aren't you, Ginny?"
She sobbed again.
"If you'll serve Draco to protect them, you should have no problem obeying me, no? All Draco can do for them is request I show mercy. I'm the one with all the power. Wouldn't you like for them to be safe? I can do that for you."
"You're lying," she choked out. A flash of irritation crossed his face.
"I suppose you'll want to be in a position to find out," he said. "You'll never know, unless you obey."
"What do you want from me?" she sniffled. "I already memorized your stupid script."
He laughed. "You think that's what's really important? Some silly little propaganda piece for the Daily Prophet? That is a distraction, a cute little spectacle for the masses while I install my regime. It matters, Ginny, but not nearly as much as what we saw in Godric's Hollow. That is what matters."
Ginny didn't dare to breathe.
"Ah, Severus. You're back. Good. Tonight, you'll brew another dose of the same potion you gave Trelawney, and we'll test what happens when we give it to little Miss Weasley. I have a hunch."
"Yes, my lord, but the potion takes time to brew. It won't be ready until tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, then," Voldemort said in an irritated voice.
Her stomach clenched. Tomorrow.
Please just let me go home…
"Since when did you start calling Malfoy Manor your home?" he asked with a smirk. "Draco has done quite a number on you, hasn't he?"
Ginny said nothing.
"I don't blame you, Draco," Voldemort continued. "You have excellent control over her actions, but it's her mind I need to yield now."
"Name what you want me to do with her, my lord, and I will do it," Malfoy said fervently. Anger sparked in Ginny's stomach.
Loyal to his master…
Voldemort looked over at him, considering. "She trusts you, though she would never admit it, and you have succeeded in changing her thoughts on certain things… yes, I suppose you can stay. You might be useful."
"Stay, my lord?"
"Yes. Stay here with her. She's not going back to your manor tonight. She's not leaving until she submits, and until I understand more about this power. I don't believe for a second that immortality is its only gift. Rookwood was a fool to focus so much on the obvious. And it was my mistake to leave this most important work in the hands of someone else. I will attend to it personally tomorrow."
No, no, no-
"Yes, my lord," Malfoy said a little breathlessly. "I'll stay."
"My lord-"
"Your son has made his choice, Lucius. Don't argue about it."
"Yes, my lord," Lucius said, his voice tight.
Someone help me, please, please, please-
"You don't need help," Voldemort said. "You're going to obey me, and you're going to be just fine. Rookwood was a mistake- I see that now. Your new accommodations-" he waved his wand toward the ceiling, "-will be much more comfortable. My little saint. If you're very good, maybe you can go home in just a few days. I'm not taking you away. Time will do that all on its own. But you already knew that, didn't you?"
It was as though a thousand years passed before Ginny's eyes. She imagined civilizations rising and falling, the seasons outside changing again and again and again, and here she would stand, exactly the same. And so would Voldemort.
Her vision was growing spotty.
"Time for you to rest, I think," Voldemort said, satisfaction evident in his voice. "Wormtail. Escort Ginny and Draco upstairs. The second to last door on the right."
"I-I need a Draught of Peace," she stammered, glancing in Draco's direction.
"No, I don't think you do," Voldemort said. "No more suppression- at least not for the next few days. We'll worry about that when you have to go out in public, but here? Your power can have full reign. I want to see it."
Pettigrew walked closer to them, wringing his hands a bit when Ginny did not immediately follow.
"Follow me," Malfoy snapped, and Ginny turned away from Voldemort at last.
"Don't worry, Ginny," he called after her retreating back. "I won't be far."
Her vision was very blurry now. She stumbled after Malfoy, letting the tattoo guide her steps as she couldn't clearly see where she was going. He had led her out of this room two months ago, and he was doing so again, but they weren't leaving this time. They weren't leaving-
She sobbed again, her heart pounding in her chest.
She's not leaving until she submits, and until I understand more about this power.
How long would Malfoy protect her, with that hanging over his head?
Her breathing was shallow. Panic had to be just around the corner. The light would protect her, but not for very long... not for long enough... Malfoy would pull her out, and then she would still be here. Still be trapped in this nightmare.
She tripped on the stairs, and Malfoy roughly grabbed her arm, pulling her upright again before following after Pettigrew.
Olive green walls. Narrow walkway. Two creaking steps. She remembered them all. Like she had never left.
He said she might only be here for a few days. But what if he was lying? He always lied...
"Breathe normally."
They went down the hallway, further than Ginny had been before. There was a pretty stained glass window at the end of the hall. She couldn't quite make out what the image was, but it would likely be pretty during the daytime.
"Through here," Pettigrew said in a high, reedy voice, gesturing at the second to last door on the right. Malfoy nodded at him and waited for Pettigrew to head back down the hallway before opening the door. Still under the compulsion, she followed him inside. He closed the door firmly behind them.
The room had to have been magically expanded, because it was massive- more than twice the size of Draco's room at the manor. Cream colored walls, plush rugs covering the hardwood floors, opulent white furniture with gold trim. The bed was covered in pillows and had a gauzy canopy draped over top of it. A vanity rested against one wall, with triple mirrors and a cushioned stool pushed in below it. A cream chaise with pale pink pillows lay near the window, over which heavy white-and-gold brocade drapes hung. A crystal chandelier dangled from the middle of the ceiling.
It was a room fit for a princess.
Or a saint.
"This doesn't look like somewhere to stay for a few days," she whispered.
Malfoy walked around the room, taking in the surroundings. He opened the large cream wardrobe's doors and found it empty.
"I wonder if I'm allowed to leave to go get a few changes of clothes," he said, more to himself than to her, "or if I should send for Tilly."
"No! Don't go," she said, stumbling forward a step. He looked at her, his face unreadable. "You said you wouldn't leave me alone," she continued, her voice shaking a little bit.
He sighed and shut the door. "No, I won't leave you alone. Come here."
She walked up to him and he grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Listen to me," he said, his nearly-black eyes locked on hers. "I don't know what possessed you to try to fight the Dark Lord all of a sudden, but it stops now, do you understand me? That was so incredibly stupid I can't even believe it."
"The wand was warm in my hand," she murmured. "I could feel my magic, just for a second. It's still in there."
"I told you that already!" he snapped. "Your magic isn't gone. I told you that. But guess who's probably not getting it back for a good long while now? You've lost, Ginny. You've lost. There is no reality where you somehow overpower the Dark Lord and fly away to save your precious Potter. You can yield easily, or the Dark Lord can rip it out of you, but the battle is already lost."
Those without power are doomed to be victims to them, if they do not yield or get out of the way.
"What the hell were you thinking, anyway, taunting the Dark Lord?" He let go of her shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your stupid Gryffindor pride is going to be your downfall."
Pride. Was that what it was?
Do you know what I see right now? A suffering village, and a woman too proud and arrogant to bow to a power stronger than her.
Were she and Alys the same? No... Even if that was true, yielding to Voldemort wouldn't save anyone. It would hurt them. But maybe Alys had felt the same way?
"Say something," Malfoy demanded.
"I'm sorry."
"Too late for that now. You cannot do that again, do you understand? I can't command you not to think traitorous thoughts, but they have to stop, Ginny. They have to stop."
Ginny said nothing. She was exhausted. So exhausted, but she couldn't sleep here, in this house...
"I want to go home," she whispered.
"So do I," said Malfoy bitterly, "but we can't go home now. Give the Dark Lord what he wants, be good tomorrow, and maybe we'll be home by Monday morning. Ugh, Merlin's beard." He pulled on his face with both hands, apparently overwhelmed. "My heart about stopped when you said the Dark Lord's name right to his face, so if you're trying to send me to an early grave, you're doing a damn good job of it."
"You promised to live a long time."
"And you seem determined to make me break that promise, in one way or another."
They stopped speaking for a moment, a pregnant pause between them. Ginny knew what Malfoy wasn't saying. If Voldemort decided Malfoy wasn't effective at controlling Ginny, or was in the way, he would kill him without another thought.
My son protects you every day of his life. You know that. Now it's your turn to return the favor.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Enough of this now. You are temporarily not required to drink the Draught of Peace in the mornings. Now- Tilly won't be able to Apparate directly into here. I'm just going to step outside and-"
"No!" She grabbed his robe sleeve, stopping him from leaving. "Don't go."
"We don't have any clothes, Ginny. Or any toiletries, or-"
"It doesn't matter," she said. "Don't go."
His expression softened, finally. "Okay. Okay. I won't go. Let's get ready for bed with what we have then."
Ginny did not want to go to bed. Not in this wretched place. But if she tried to stay awake much longer, she would fall asleep standing up. Reluctantly, she followed Malfoy to the bathroom, and promptly started screaming.
It was the same bathroom she had dreamed of. Exactly the same. Voldemort had seen it in her mind and recreated it here, a perfect copy. The same dark tile, so black it seemed to swallow the light. The same harsh lines. The same mirrored wall across from the doorway. The same large, cushioned seat, a mockery of Draco's "morning routine."
"What the hell?" Malfoy said, rounding on her. "What's wrong?"
"I can't stay here, I can't stay here," she sobbed.
Malfoy lost his patience. "Tell me what's going on right now."
"I dreamed about this," she choked out. "I dreamed about this place. H-he saw and he recreated it. To hurt me. To scare me."
"You dreamed about this bathroom?" Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow. "When you told me about your dream, I assumed it was at the manor-"
"Not that dream," she whispered. "The other one. When I woke you up."
Malfoy's brow furrowed. "What did you see that made you scream like that? Scream like this?"
"It was your routine, but it wasn't you doing it," she said in a shaky voice. "It was him, but... like how he looked coming out of the diary. He was called Tom Riddle then. The same age as us. Can... can I show you?"
She didn't know why she wanted him to see, all of a sudden. The last thing she wanted was more Legilimency. But he would be gentle. And if he saw, maybe she wouldn't feel so alone...
"You want me to watch the memory?"
She nodded. "Just... go slowly. My head-"
"I'll be careful. It's alright. Come here."
She didn't want to walk into the bathroom, but she did, stopping right in front of Malfoy.
"Look at me," he whispered, and she did. "Legilimens."
He was very gentle. His presence in her mind felt like a cooling balm over her wounds, just as pleasant as any healing cream they had ever used. Was he doing that on purpose? She had the vague impression of gentle ocean waves, the sea foam washing over the bloody claw marks on her consciousness and smoothing them out.
"When you're ready, show me what you want to show me," he said both out loud and in her mind.
She took a deep breath, and called the nightmare to mind. She and Draco dropped into it together, watching her alternate- future?- self. Draco leaned against the counter, arms folded over his chest as he observed the changes in Ginny. The larger tattoo. The way her eyes looked like she had seen a hundred lifetimes. Everything else was the same, as though she hadn't aged a day past sixteen. Her skin was pale against the black bra and knickers, and Draco frowned in disapproval at her half-naked form.
Tom Riddle walked into the room and Draco's eyebrows shot up. He had only ever seen Voldemort as he was now, snakelike and monstrous. To see him as a handsome teenager had to be jarring.
But Ginny knew that the monster had been there all along. She knew the dream wasn't real, knew it was just a memory, but she hurried over to Draco anyway and buried her face in his robes. He flinched, startled, before embracing her.
"Shh, I'm here with you," he murmured.
"Who do you belong to?" Tom Riddle asked in a bored voice, and Ginny knew that his hands were on her dream-self's shoulders.
"You," her dream-self said, and the dream ended. It dissolved around them, and Draco brought them back up to the present.
"That... was not what I was expecting," he said after a moment. He was panting a bit from some invisible exertion- had the Legilimency been challenging? Her mind had likely been a wreck.
Ginny shrugged, speech feeling a bit beyond her at the moment.
"The Dark Lord saw that memory?"
She nodded.
Malfoy let out a breath. "Well. I guess I don't know what to say about that, other than that dream wasn't you predicting the future. The Dark Lord modeled this bathroom after your dream, not the other way around. It was a dream, Ginny."
"For now," she whispered.
"We have enough problems right in front of us, yeah? Let's not worry about the future just yet."
"How?"
"What?"
"How can I not worry about it? I can't turn it off. It's on top of me all the time."
Malfoy bit his lip. "I wish the Dark Lord hadn't said no Draught of Peace. You're going to have a hell of a time sleeping tonight."
"I can't sleep here."
"You're going to have to. And," he said, letting out another breath, "I do need to leave you alone for at least a few minutes. I need to take a bath."
"No!"
"Yes. I have to take a bath, Ginny."
"You don't smell."
He started laughing, caught off guard. "That's not... that's not why. I just have to. Can you wait in the bedroom for me?"
Ginny shook her head. "I want to stay in here. With you."
"I'm going to be naked."
"I don't care. Don't leave me alone."
Malfoy put his face in his hands. "Alright. Shut the door."
She did, her heart pounding. She couldn't be alone. The memory of him stepping away from her in front of the Death Eaters played over and over in her mind. She had felt his absence like a physical hole. He couldn't leave her. He was proof her nightmare wasn't really happening.
She turned to face the room again, trying and failing to find some hidden courage. The tub here was different from at the manor. It was free-standing, but built right into the floor; it appeared to be made out of smooth, black stone, and while there was room to stretch out, it certainly wasn't as large as Malfoy was used to. There was only one tap- gold, extending out of the edge of the tub and curling over it like a hook. He turned it on full-blast before looking around. Between the mirror over the counter and the mirrored wall, there would be no privacy in here.
"I guess just... close your eyes. Or turn around and face the door until I tell you."
She couldn't close her eyes. She turned around and faced the door once again. She heard the rustle of fabric as Malfoy- Draco- removed his clothes.
"Luckily the floors here aren't charmed like the manor, or else I would be giving everyone a show," he joked. "I forgot, I just automatically dropped my robes on the floor."
Ginny couldn't laugh, but she smiled just a bit.
"Alright, you can turn around if you want."
She did. Malfoy's cheeks were tinged pink. There were no bubbles in the tub.
"I won't look," she said. "I just didn't want to leave."
"Look all you want," he said, trying and failing for cocky arrogance. She walked closer and he stiffened, but relaxed a bit when she sat down on the floor next to the tub.
"Thanks," she said.
"For what?"
"For not making me leave."
"Mm."
"Draco-"
"Shh. No talking now. We can talk in a little bit."
"Okay."
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back in the tub, a little furrow appearing between his brows. It reminded her of something... what was it?
His birthday celebration. Before his friends had arrived. He had laid down and looked exactly like this. She had thought he was taking a nap at first, but it had been too quick.
Occlumency, maybe? After today, it would make sense- loyal servant or no, he couldn't be comfortable taking a bath in Voldemort's house. But that would mean he was occluding at his party too... Why?
He was silent for what felt like a long time. Ginny looked around the room at first, but she didn't like to look at it for too long. She found her eyes lingering on him instead. She was sitting on his right side, the same side he had a dimple on when he let himself really smile. It didn't show up when he was smirking, only if it was a genuine smile. If she looked hard, she could almost see where it would be on his cheek. He had a very small scar on this cheek too, probably from Harry's Sectumsempra curse. Most of them were on his chest and abdomen, but there was just one little bit on his face.
Her eyes wandered. Strong, muscular arms- they had carried her probably a dozen times now over the last few weeks. Large hands, slender fingers. Broad shoulders. Almost unconsciously, she found herself lifting a hand, reaching for him, but he opened his eyes before she could make contact and she hastily withdrew her hand.
What the hell am I doing?
"Do you see any soap?" he asked her. There was no shelf or anything next to the tub, as it was away from any of the walls.
Ginny looked up at the counter, but it was empty.
"No."
"Hmm. Bring me my wand. It's on the counter."
She stood up and grabbed it, keeping her eyes away from Malfoy's reflection. The wand was cold in her hand. Not at all like the Elder Wand had been.
How could she have been the master of it, and not known? Damn it, damn it, damn it...
She handed the wand to Malfoy, who waved it and said, "Accio soap."
One of the drawers in the counter started wriggling open, and a bar of soap slipped out and floated over to Malfoy. He wrinkled his nose, making Ginny giggle.
"Not up to your exacting standards?" she asked.
"Hardly," he said. He grabbed the soap and began washing, and Ginny looked away.
"Who would put such a large mirror up anyway?" Ginny said, looking at the wall. "It's massive."
"A dream reality," Malfoy said. "And then someone replicating it. It's not supposed to make sense. Like how there's only one tap."
"Most baths only have one tap."
"The ones at Hogwarts-"
"Are luxurious by most people's standards. You've been living a different life than the rest of us."
"Hmm. I like my life better."
Ginny laughed. "Yes, I imagine you would."
"Does your bath only have one tap? At... your other home."
Ginny paused, her heart squeezing painfully. "Yes. Just the one."
"Hmm."
"Draco."
"What?"
"I have to protect my family."
"I know."
"But I don't know how."
"The Dark Lord told you how."
"I can't just change my thoughts. They just happen."
"You can start by never trying to attack the Dark Lord again. That seems like a step in the right direction."
"Can you really blame me? That's supposed to be the most powerful wand in the world."
"And you knew your magic was blocked. It was a stupid, risky gamble. And you can't just cast the Killing Curse perfectly your first time, with no practice. It wouldn't have worked anyway."
He sounded like he was speaking from experience. Ginny's throat was tight. "Have you... have you ever killed anyone?"
"No," he said sharply. "Not yet. We're building up to it."
"I don't want you to kill anyone."
"And the Dark Lord does want me to. So who do you think wins out there, in the end?"
No compulsion to answer. A rhetorical question.
"Do you want to?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. Her heart hurt. He was a Death Eater. Why was it so easy to forget that, even here?
"Don't look at me like that," he snapped. "Like I just kicked your favorite puppy. We both have work to do. Different work, but work just the same."
She tucked her knees into her chest. "What's going to happen tomorrow?"
"I don't know."
"You'll be with me?"
"If I can, yes."
"I can't be here by myself again."
"No one is going to torture you here."
"You don't know that."
"The Dark Lord acknowledged that pain isn't the way forward."
"Physical pain isn't the only kind of pain."
He was quiet for a moment. "I know that."
Ginny said nothing, exhausted by all the horrible possibilities of the future, and laid her head against the side of the tub.
"Accio towel," he said, and a black towel wriggled its way out of the cabinet toward him. "Look away. Or at least don't look up." He stood up, and she kept her eyes trained on the ground. She could see the barest hint of a reflection in the tile, causing her to look away again quickly.
He wrapped the towel around himself once he was dry and stepped out of the bath. "I also know," he said, "that the best way to avoid emotional pain here is to obey the Dark Lord. I will help you do that as best as I can, but you have to do your part. No more purposely causing problems- agreed?"
"Agreed," she said quietly. She didn't agree, not really. But she didn't know what else to say. Every time she thought she was as trapped as possible, something happened that tightened her chains even further. What if she wasn't allowed to go back to the manor?
"What are you thinking?" he asked as he walked to the counter.
"That I'm trapped here."
"You're not. I just said that. You behave, and you get to go home."
But he lies, Draco… he always lies…
"I assume you're not going to take a bath," he continued.
"No," she said.
"Alright. But you'll probably need to take one in the morning. I'm not bringing you back to the Dark Lord smelly." He winked at her in the mirror, but she didn't smile back. He sighed. "Come on then." He slipped his underwear on under the towel before dropping it. He waved his wand to dry his hair, gave himself a once-over in the mirror, and walked to open the door. Ginny hurried out after him, not wanting to spend a second longer in the bathroom than she had to.
The bedroom, though she had never seen it before tonight, wasn't much better. How was she supposed to sleep here?
Her stomach clenched as she remembered that Draco being allowed to stay had been something of an afterthought on Voldemort's part. She imagined trying to sleep here alone and shuddered.
"Draco."
"What?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For making sure that you would be allowed to stay. For staying."
He looked at her, confused. "Of course. I told you I wouldn't leave you, remember?"
She threw her arms around him, for real this time, and he let out a gasp.
"Okay, you're being very weird," he said as he embraced her. "I'm not complaining, but still. Very weird."
"You're all I have left in the whole world," she said into his chest. He froze. "I've lost everything and I'm never going to get it back. I can't lose you too."
He hugged her tighter, so tight that she momentarily struggled to breathe.
"You won't lose me," he whispered. "We just need to be very good, remember? If we're very good, we can stay together always."
"Until you die."
"Yes. Until I die. Which, if you stop trying to give me a stroke, will be a very long time from now. Ages and ages."
"I hope so."
"You have no idea how weird it is to hear you say that."
"You have no idea how weird it is to be saying it."
He laughed. "When did this happen?"
"I don't know. At some point you became… safe. Safer. Not all the time, but a lot of the time. I've lost so many things. So many. When I realized I had gained something… you can't blame me for being terrified of losing that, too."
He stroked her hair gently. "No, I can't blame you for that. At all." He kissed the top of her head. "Let's go to sleep, yeah? Take off your shoes."
He let go of her, and she reluctantly took a step back. She walked to the edge of the bed and slid off her shoes, leaving them within easy reach in case… in case what? She had to run away? Where the hell would she go? And how?
She was trapped.
"I'm a little surprised you haven't panicked yet," Draco said as he walked around to the other side of the bed.
"Me too," she said faintly.
"Any idea why?"
"No."
"Hmm." He pulled the covers back and climbed into bed. "Come on."
She didn't want to. But what was the alternative? She took a deep breath, slid the covers back, and climbed into bed, fully clothed. Draco hadn't commanded her to strip, and he made no comment about it.
The bed was soft. Not as soft as his, but soft. Like the Hogwarts beds. It was also smaller than Draco's bed- they were much closer together.
"You know what I noticed?" he asked.
"How much smaller the bed is?"
He laughed. "Well, yes, that. But I was going to say that the sheets are white."
"So?"
"So?" he scoffed, before sliding down and pulling the sheets over his head. "I'm in a cloud. Come on, come check it out."
She laughed, bittersweet tears coming to her eyes as she slid down next to him.
"Shh," he whispered, reaching forward to wipe her face. "No tears in the cloud."
"I can't help it."
"I know, love."
"Can we stay in here?"
"Yes. Until morning, if you'd like."
She nodded and scooted closer to him. He held his breath as she moved to rest her head on his arm.
"Tell me a happy memory from your childhood," she said. "You know lots of mine but I hardly know any of yours."
He looked momentarily surprised by the question, but his expression soon turned thoughtful. "Alright. Hmm. When I was younger, before I started at Hogwarts, I would wake up to the sound of my mother playing the piano. She would enchant the sound to carry up the stairs, calling me down to her for breakfast. I'd get up, and hurry down the stairs, and she'd wrap me up in a great big hug, like she hadn't seen me in ages, and then we'd go down to join my father for breakfast. We'd all eat together, and then I'd spend some time studying with Father- he's the one who taught me, before going to school. He was strict- I had to be on my best behavior, always- but if I did well, he would smile, and it always felt like I had won the most amazing prize every time it happened. If I was very, very good, he would take me outside in the afternoons, and we would play Quidditch, or as much as you can play Quidditch with only two people. I would fly around the grounds, and he would chase me, and I would just laugh and laugh- it was the best feeling in the world. Then Mother would be waiting inside for us, and she'd play games with me. Sometimes they were real games, like Exploding Snap, but we mostly liked to play pretend. She had a whole chest full of costumes, I remember… I had forgotten about it." He grew wistful. "That was a very long time ago, now."
"Your parents love you very much."
"Yes," he said, growing even more pensive. "They do."
"They taught you how to love."
He looked at her, suddenly wary. "I suppose so."
"I can't imagine having my parents all to myself," she said through a yawn. "Don't get me wrong, I loved having a lot of siblings- usually- but by the time I came around, Mum was already so busy… Just keeping track of Fred and George is a full time job by itself."
He laughed. "She loves you very much, though. I've seen it."
Her lip trembled. "Yeah."
He pulled her closer. "And she loves you still. And even though things are very hard right now, you're doing what you have to, to protect her. I'm sure, as things unfold, you'll be allowed to see her again one day. And she'll hug you, and kiss you, and tell you how proud she is of her brave little girl, surviving everything you have."
Ginny started crying.
"Shh, shh. It's alright, love. It's alright."
"Y-you really think I'll see her again?"
"Yes. If you're very good."
"What does very good mean?"
"I'm sure the Dark Lord will tell us, aside from the obvious."
"I'll… I'll try."
She didn't dare speak her other worry aloud, given where they were. Draco and Lucius both knew about Alys, that the gem could somehow be used as a weapon. They wouldn't want to tell Voldemort about it now, seeing as they had covered it up and then sat on the information for weeks, but would Voldemort find it anyway? And what would that mean for the Malfoys?
Nothing good, for them or for me. I have to try to keep Voldemort away from looking in their minds, but not clue him in as to why.
How would he even go about attempting to look for information on the gem's power? Would he somehow find out about Alys anyway? What would he do if he did?
"You're not going to be able to sleep, are you?"
"No."
"I'd like to command you to, then. You need your strength, your energy. I promise I'll be here when you wake up. Is that alright?"
"Alright," she whispered, wrapping her arms tighter around him.
"Go to sleep, Ginny."
Part of this chapter is an adaptation of Chapter 4: Seven Potters from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
A couple of things for the reader to consider as we're dealing with people's competing motivations here: Voldemort presents a lot of information as absolute fact in this chapter, and he could be totally 100% right, 100% wrong, or somewhere in between. As we have seen, he has no problem "spinning" a situation to suit his own interests, both to himself due to arrogance and to his followers to encourage their loyalty, so I encourage you to think critically any time he's giving other characters information (and sometimes the critical read may be that he's 100% right!). On Snape- definitely in a weird spot. Gonna include his rationale here as I'm not sure when we'll have another POV scene for him. He knows he has to stay alive long enough to tell Harry the shared soul information, and he knows Ginny can't die, so he takes a gamble here with revealing that he might not be the master of the wand after all. He doesn't try to attack Voldemort with the Elder Wand a) because he doesn't know if it's his and b) because he knows Voldemort has to kill the piece of his soul that's inside Harry. He looks potentially weak here, but even though he hates it he's trying to follow Dumbledore's orders on prioritizing Harry.
Let me know what you all think!