AUGUST 2nd, 1997
Ginny laid in bed in Draco's arms, absently petting her Arnold plush and staring at the ceiling. Draco was still asleep and she was in no hurry for him to wake up. Last night was the first night since they had arrived in this awful place that she hadn't dreamed of either Riddle or Alys. No, last night was just blissful, empty sleep- she had woken up rejuvenated, feeling stronger than she had in a very long time.
That wasn't only thanks to a good night's sleep, though. The events of last night were enough to make her head spin. Draco had shown her last night how to access the bridge between them; though the bridge had looked impossibly long when she had landed on it, there were, in fact, doors at either end- one that led to Ginny, and one that led to Draco. Even now, if she focused on it, she could feel it, like a secret little compartment tucked away deep inside her, and she just had to will herself through it if she wished it. Her door was rounded at the top, and made of a vibrant cherrywood with black iron hinges. Draco's, on the far end of the bridge, was black, with ornate gold trim and paneling along the middle of it.
It was truly a magic of equals. Neither of them could compel the other to enter the bridge space, nor could they go through the other's door. They could call out for the other person, they could knock on the door, they could wait for them as long as they wanted... but there was no force here. Better yet, just like her Alys memories, anything that was discussed or thought up in the bridge space seemed attached to that rather than their individual minds- Draco had already tested it with Legilimency on Ginny. They could plot against Voldemort in peace, and as long as they were careful, he would be none the wiser- it wouldn't matter that Ginny didn't know Occlumency, that she didn't have access to her magic. She had an ally, a true ally, at last.
She was still taking it in. She had already spent a good bit of time reflecting this morning on her time at Malfoy Manor- all the confusing things that had happened, the cruelty mixed with sweetness and bits of sadness and regret that Draco had never been fully able to hide. His explanation made sense. His drunken ramblings had taken on a new kind of clarity.
Because you can't KNOW, Ginny, obviously.
Ever since she had arrived at Malfoy Manor, he had been trying to protect her, in a bizarre sort of way. She could forgive that, she thought- some of those memories were still horrible, but having the greater context for them helped. It was everything else that she wasn't sure about.
I may be a sorry excuse for a Death Eater, but I'm no Saint Potter.
That was true, though Ginny was sick to death of hearing about saints at this point. She couldn't pretend to understand what it would be like to grow up in a Death Eater's house, to grow up excited about Voldemort's inevitable return, but she couldn't excuse what he had said last night.
Back before you even made it to Godric's Hollow, when the Dark Lord promised you to me, my plan was to hide you away in the manor and keep you away from all the fighting.
Yes, they were going to have to talk about that today. Part of her was afraid to question a good thing- Draco was helping her not only survive the madness of being trapped in Voldemort's house, but he was going to research Alys for her, take a real stand against Voldemort for her, at least eventually. He could easily change his mind if she made him upset.
But she had to remember that the volatility she was so used to from him was, apparently, a result of trying to live this double life. A double life he did not have to live on the bridge. In some ways, she was going to have to get to know him all over again, adjust her expectations of his behavior. If he had meant what he said last night, he wouldn't go back on his agreement to help her, even if they fought about something. He had said he was okay with her hating him, after all, and she didn't hate him. But that didn't mean she was going to let him completely off the hook.
"Good morning," he whispered sleepily in her ear, stretching and curling toward her.
"Good morning," she said automatically, the tattoo prompting her speech. She grimaced. Getting rid of this blasted thing was going on their agenda as soon as it would be safely possible.
"How does it feel to be back in your rightful place?" he said with a smirk, and Ginny's grimace deepened. They had agreed last night that they should maintain their act in the physical world, even in private, as Ginny wasn't certain how much Voldemort knew at any given time but she was fairly sure that he could see what she was doing in the room. Hearing that voice come out of Draco's mouth, however, was a hard pill to swallow, even though she knew it was fake.
"Peaceful," she said, the truth coming out as always when he asked her a question. "I slept well last night."
"That's good," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear as he slid his arm out from under her and he crawled on top of her. "I've missed this more than you can imagine."
Ginny took a deep breath.
Is this okay? Draco's voice floated toward her from behind the cherrywood door.
Her eyes widened just a bit, surprised that she could hear it, before dipping her chin in the tiniest of nods. Draco smirked down at her before winding his hand in her hair and leaning down to kiss her deeply.
Come to the bridge. Draco's voice again. We need to practice using it while not losing track of what our bodies are doing- we won't always have the luxury of standing still when we need to communicate.
It was a weird feeling, trying to move her body and send her consciousness outside of herself at the same time. She wasn't used to feeling... split? That was maybe the best way to describe it. A dual awareness, of Ginny in the bedroom and Ginny on the bridge. Was this how Draco had felt for the past few months? She couldn't even imagine.
It took her a couple of tries, but eventually she got the cherrywood door open. She gasped a little bit as the misty area around the bridge filled her vision. Draco was waiting for her, a broad smile stretching across his handsome face- no hint of malice or cruelty at all.
"You did it!" he said. "Great job. You'll get it down in no time."
Ginny laughed. "Thanks, Professor Malfoy."
He smirked. "It'll take practice, but I'm sure you can do it- doing it while snogging is on easy mode."
"Guess that gives us an excuse to snog often then," she said, and his eyebrows shot up before he started laughing.
"This is too weird," he said before turning to walk more toward the middle part of the bridge. Ginny followed behind him, wondering the best way to begin.
"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked, resting his arms on the edge of the bridge as he had done last night.
"Good, mostly," she said. "This place is just incredible- I can't even believe it."
"I can't either. Part of me wishes I had done it earlier, but the whole permanent soul bond thing seemed a little extreme, even with circumstances being what they were. I really did try, Ginny, to make something else work, and I-"
"I know," she interrupted. "I don't blame you for that. If we survive this fight with Voldemort and the world goes back to some version of normal, then we can talk about what this... soul bond means, and how we live with that. But doing it the way you did was the right call."
Draco said nothing, and Ginny walked up to stand next to him, leaning her own arms on the edge of the bridge. It was wooden, but painted a pale blue-grey. She could imagine the ocean below her, though she had no idea if that was true, or even possible in this non-place.
"What I'm struggling with," she said, taking a deep breath, "is everything before Malfoy Manor." He tensed a little but said nothing, so Ginny kept going. "Everything that happened after the tattoo, I can understand- accept, even. I had some truly horrible moments with you there, especially the first week and a half or so, but I understand them differently now. I can move past those, especially if you continue to do things like ask me first if you can snog me. We were both in an impossible situation, and we were both alone, and you were doing the best you could to make sure I didn't end up in a more dangerous place, which was a real possibility."
She glanced at him. He was looking out at the mist, and while his hands were tight, she could tell he was listening.
"Before that, though," she said, "you made some choices that are obviously difficult for me to accept."
"I-"
"Let me finish, please," Ginny said, keeping her eyes on the mist. "I can't pretend to understand what it's like to be you. We grew up totally opposite- I can't even imagine growing up believing Voldemort's return would be a good thing. Before eleven, we grew up totally opposite. But after eleven... we grew up in the same place, and yet made very different choices, with real consequences not just for the two of us but the world too. I think," she paused to take a deep breath. "I think I need you to tell me how and why you became a Death Eater in the first place. I want to understand. But I don't."
Draco let out a big breath, dropping his head a bit. "The whole story?"
"Yes. Don't hold anything back, even if you think I won't like it. I'd like to decide that for myself."
Draco sighed again. "Okay. Can we sit down?"
The bridge created a bench for them. That was interesting- how much could they modify the space?
"Thanks," Draco said, and moved to sit down. Ginny followed. He clasped his hands in his lap and, on instinct, Ginny put her hand on his leg. He looked up at her, startled.
"I can't guarantee that I'm going to like what you're going to tell me," she said, "but we're in this together now, for better or worse, yeah? Even if I get angry, we'll get through it together."
"I don't deserve you," he said sadly.
"Enough about that. Start telling me."
He sat up a little straighter, bolstered by Ginny's words. "It was always my expectation, in one way or another. You heard my father at my birthday dinner- I was always expected to bring honor and glory to the Malfoy name, and that, as far as I understood at the time, was going to be the best way to do it. I remember when I told my father I might want to be a Healer at St. Mungo's- you would think I told him I wanted to go live in the Shrieking Shack for the rest of my days. Malfoys don't serve others, you see."
"Except for Voldemort," Ginny said, unable to help herself.
"Except for him, yeah," Draco agreed. "But I think my father sees that service, ultimately, as a path toward his own glory. He made this big speech to me when I was first brewing Draught of Peace for you, about how you would be the key to securing our family's place of power in the new regime, and I needed to make sure to make myself irreplaceable." Draco rolled his eyes, which shocked Ginny a little- she had never heard him say a negative word about his father before.
"That's the only reason he helped me with your Alys memories," Draco continued. "Because I told him if we didn't fix it, we would lose you, and thus our claim to glory under the Dark Lord. Anyways, that's not what you were asking about. The specific circumstances of me becoming a Death Eater happened right after the end of my fifth year. Keep kissing me, you froze up out there."
Ginny shook her head, startled, and drew her attention briefly back to her body. She had indeed frozen up. Draco stroked her arm softly, and she began kissing him back again.
"This dual awareness thing is... annoying," Ginny said.
"It just takes practice. You'll get it. Anyways- yes, I learned in bits and pieces from the Daily Prophet about what had happened at the Ministry. All I knew was that the Dark Lord had appeared, my father and aunt had escaped, and Potter was being called The Chosen One." Bitterness crept into his voice. "I stupidly thought that my father escaping was proof of his prowess as a wizard- that he was too clever to get caught. I quickly realized that that was not the case."
He flexed his hands before clasping them again, and his leg bounced a little under Ginny's palm. "I got home from school, and the Dark Lord was there. He had taken my father's wand as punishment for failure at the Ministry, and told me it had been decided that I would serve in his place. It's why I have this ring, to this day." He lifted his hand, pointing out the signet ring he wore on his middle finger. "Typically this ring is passed in my family from father to son when the father dies- it signifies the head of the household, so to speak. But my father was basically dead in the Dark Lord's eyes, so he didn't deserve to wear the ring, according to the Dark Lord."
Draco's eyes had gone glassy and distant, and Ginny rubbed her hand along his leg in an attempt to reassure him. He took a deep breath before continuing.
"That was… a scary time for me. I had never seen my father fail at anything. He was like a shell of himself- he barely even spoke, the whole summer. The Dark Lord was using the manor as his headquarters at the time, and that was about as pleasant as you can imagine, but I mostly kept to myself and avoided everything, except for Mother. I knew I had to succeed at whatever the Dark Lord ordered, because if I didn't… my parents' lives would be forfeit, and the honor of our name as well, which I can imagine doesn't mean a whole lot to you but means- meant? - a great deal to me. I was determined to succeed, no matter what, because this was supposed to be my family's path to glory, not our downfall. So when the Dark Lord ordered me to find a way to bring the other Death Eaters to Hogwarts, I eagerly agreed, even though I knew it was likely a suicide mission. If the Dark Lord couldn't infiltrate Hogwarts, how the hell was I going to do it? And then, to make matters worse, just before I left for school, Trelawney issued her first prophecy about the Hallows, and that became my responsibility too."
"You were under a lot of pressure," Ginny said. "Why didn't you go to Dumbledore though, once you got back to school?"
He laughed. "That's like asking why you didn't go to my father to hide your memories of talking about Alys. It worked out for you in the end- my father was the only one who could help- but you never ever ever would have done it on your own. I'm not sure you can appreciate just how far outside my realm of normal that thought is- going to Dumbledore for help."
Ginny frowned. "He would have helped you."
"Maybe," Draco said. "But then where does that leave my parents? My parents would never have accepted help from Dumbledore, not even when my father was at his lowest point. They wouldn't have even thought they needed "help." From my father's point of view, I would redeem the Malfoy name in the Dark Lord's eyes, and everything would be right as rain again. And I guess I did do that, after a fashion." He made a disgusted noise.
"Snape taught me Occlumency, and then Legilimency, over the course of the fall term, and I took to it like a fish to water," he continued. "I practiced all the time, so much so that I was exhausted between that, working on the Vanishing Cabinet, and trying to research the Hallows with next to no information. I made progress, but I'm surprised I didn't fall asleep in class more often than I did."
Ginny's thoughts flashed back on how tired Draco had looked at Slughorn's Christmas party.
"How did you end up talking to Luna?" she asked.
He laughed. "When I asked the Room of Requirement for information about the Hallows, the only bloody thing it would give me was an old copy of The Quibbler."
"Luna said you were asking about the Rotfang Conspiracy."
"She… what?" Draco said before laughing so hard he bent over. "Oh bloody hell. Fucking Lovegood."
"She's my friend, you know," Ginny said icily, withdrawing her hand from his leg. "You shouldn't laugh at her."
"Sorry," he said, sitting up again and wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "I'm not laughing at her, exactly- more the irony of it all. You could have known about the Hallows much much sooner if she wasn't so… eccentric. She was telling me about that conspiracy, not the other way around. She didn't think the Hallows were all that important, that they were something everybody knew about because of Beedle the Bard. But the Minister of Magic and gum disease? Now that was big news, and there was a large article in that edition of her father's magazine that I should certainly read."
Ginny frowned. "She knew you were looking for the Hallows?"
"She had no idea it was connected to anything related to the Death Eaters," Draco said quickly. "And I only talked to her the one time. She thought I was just asking about the magazine, I promise."
"She told me she thought you made bad decisions because you were lonely."
Draco turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.
"I told her that was stupid, but she was sure she was right," Ginny continued. "And now I guess I'm inclined to agree with her. If the only people you could go to for advice were Death Eaters, of course you would act like a Death Eater." Ginny hung her head. There was something terribly sad about that, knowing that things could have been so different if only someone had known to intervene.
"I… I was," he said quietly. "Lonely. But I don't want that to be an excuse- you're right, it's stupid. Lots of people are lonely and don't become Death Eaters."
"Now you're the one who froze up," Ginny said. She could feel him statically above her, not moving. As soon as she called attention to it, he began moving again.
"Sorry," he said. "You just… caught me off guard."
"It's alright. We're practicing," Ginny said. "Okay, so that's what the fall was like. Where do I come into the picture?"
"For me, or for the Dark Lord? They're different."
"Both, I suppose."
He flushed a little bit. "I was telling you the truth when I said my feelings started at the end of my fourth year, but I didn't really put them together until the beginning of fifth year. I couldn't let anyone know, obviously- not only would you have laughed in my face, then I would have had your brother and Potter on my case, and my ears would have fallen off from the lecture I would have gotten from my father. My mother, sweet as she is, wouldn't have been happy either- she has this way of looking at you when she's disappointed that just sours your stomach. So I just kept them to myself, and got angrier and angrier that I couldn't make them go away. So when I started learning Occlumency, I decided to lock you away- or at least my mental image of you. My mindscape is the ocean, and down at the bottom of the sea floor, there's a little pirate's chest that I used to hide all my memories and feelings of you. It served a double purpose, you see- I could try to ignore my crush, and if the Dark Lord were to look in my mind, he wouldn't see any affection for the blood traitor daughter of prominent Order of the Phoenix members. He would have no reason to question my loyalty, none at all. But of course, I fucked that all up."
He leaned back in his seat and tilted his head back, his hair falling to the side a bit. "I was trying to work on the Vanishing Cabinet the last night of term, but Filch caught me, so I lied about trying to crash Slughorn's party, and he dragged me in there like an idiot, so of course I had to act like I had meant to be there all along. So I went to get a drink… and I ran into you."
He turned to look at her. "That was the first time you ever looked at me without suspicion or hatred in your eyes- you were too thrown off to realize what was happening at first. I…"
"You don't have to be embarrassed. You already told me, unless you were lying before."
"I wasn't lying. But telling you like this is different." He ran his hand through his hair. "I was so flustered from that, plus a very unpleasant conversation with Snape right afterward, that I forgot to lock that memory away. So the next night, when Trelawney issued her final prophecy and the Dark Lord declared you would be the one to fulfill it, I couldn't hide my panic well enough. He immediately looked in my mind. For a moment, I thought I had played it off, but when that memory floated to the top for him to watch… you can't imagine the horror I felt. He watched, and he laughed, and joked about my desire in front of everyone, who also laughed. But, luckily I suppose, that particular memory was something the Dark Lord could understand without doubting my loyalties- physical desire, and jealousy of Potter. So he promised you to me, as long as I succeeded in my mission."
This was the part Ginny struggled with the most, but she was determined to hear him out completely before saying anything.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"Apparently your magnifying glass tendencies carry over even to this place," she said drily. "I was going to wait to say anything until the end, so I have the full picture."
"But you're thinking something right now, something you don't like."
Fine. If he wanted the honest truth, he would get the honest truth.
"I don't like that you were fine with Voldemort taking over the world as long as I was hidden away in Malfoy Manor," she said bluntly. "It's so staggeringly selfish. People suffering is fine as long as it's not people you personally care about? My family, my friends, everyone and everything I've ever known could all have been destroyed, but you would have been happy as long as I survived, hating your guts the whole time?"
He hung his head. "You're right," he said quietly. "It was selfish. I think that, in some ways, it felt like such an inevitability that I couldn't even envision another possibility. The Dark Lord was always going to win, it was just a question of who would survive the fighting. And, if we're being completely transparent, there are quite a few people on your side who I'm not the biggest fan of, and vice versa. I was so far removed from what death and suffering actually looked like at that point that it was easy for me to be okay with the idea for people I hated anyway. I didn't know what it meant, not really."
His eyes were far away again.
"But you do now?" Ginny asked.
"Yes," he said. "I do now."
"Draco, what happened while you were away?"
He covered his face with his hands. "I don't think I can talk about it," he said in a small voice. "I'm sorry, I can't-"
He started crying, and Ginny put her arms around him at once.
It was incredibly odd to be snogging him in her body and be holding him while he sobbed on the bridge at the same time.
"You don't have to tell me," she said, rubbing her hand on his back. "We don't have to figure everything out today. I just needed to know… I needed to know if you understood, truly understood, what you had done, and why it was wrong, even if you felt like that was the only choice you had. And I think you do. I don't hate you, Draco. I promise I don't. Thank you for telling me."
"I don't deserve you," he said, his voice stuffy from crying.
"Stop saying that. That's like me talking about my punishment. Stop it."
"Okay."
"Alright, I think if you snog me any more, my lips are going to fall off. Let's go back, yeah? Have a nice morning, if we can?"
He nodded, taking a deep breath. "Alright."
She tipped his chin up and pressed a short kiss to his lips. "It's alright, Draco. Or it will be. Together?"
"Together," he nodded, smiling at her.
She stood up from the bench. "See you in a second."
They walked back down the bridge to their respective doors, and went through them.
Ginny gasped into Draco's mouth as her awareness fully returned to her body, and he pulled away, panting.
"That is definitely going in the morning routine," he said, eyes sparkling with what Ginny knew he intended to look like malice. "Get up. Bath- now. I hope you haven't forgotten how routines work."
Ginny glowered at him as he moved off of her and she pushed herself out of bed, shuffling toward the bathroom.
Ginny. There was Draco's voice again.
What? she tried responding.
Thank you.
For what?
For hearing me.
Ginny smiled as she shut the bathroom door.
AUGUST 2ND, 1997
Being able to talk to Ginny whenever he wanted, and say whatever he wanted when he did, was so surreal that Draco found himself pinching his arm often throughout the morning to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
He wasn't dreaming, as far as he could tell.
The ritual, complicated as it was, had worked, and what was more, Ginny wasn't angry with him about it. Maybe she would be later, but at least for now, they were getting along, better than Draco ever could have expected. She had asked him some tough questions this morning, and said some hard truths, but they had gotten through that conversation alright, and had a relatively peaceful morning. They had completed their morning routine, such as it was, then had a leisurely breakfast that Draco was quite thankful for now that he had been out camping for a few days, and were now lounging on the couches reading. It wasn't the manor library, but if he lost himself in his book, he could pretend, and that was good enough for him.
At least for now.
If he thought too much about looking into Alys for Ginny, his stomach twisted into such a knot that he felt certain he would throw up. He didn't regret promising to help her, but actually taking some type of stand against the Dark Lord, even a secret one... it was enough to make his blood run cold.
But he wasn't doing that right now- he hadn't been permitted to leave the Dark Lord's house yet, so for now, he could read this novel and enjoy holding Ginny in his arms, and let that be enough.
That wasn't the only problem they had to contend with, though. He had looked in Ginny's thoughts this morning at her secret request, and she was right- there was something wrong with them. Draco couldn't tell what it was, exactly, but it hadn't come from Ginny. It was like an oily black patch in the sky that was her mind- it didn't belong there. On the bridge, he tried to give her a sense of what it felt like, so that hopefully she would recognize it the next time she dreamed, but he didn't dare call attention to it during Legilimency- they could only talk about it on the bridge. Whatever it was had likely come from the Dark Lord or was there on his orders, so it was in Ginny's best interest to seem ignorant of it. They would know more once she had another dream, now that she knew that they were not of her own making.
A note materialized out of the air and fell in Ginny's lap. She jumped, startled, before picking it up and unfolding it. Draco looked over her shoulder. An elegant, looping script read: Your presence is required in the ballroom.
Ginny glanced at the door. She had told him that the Dark Lord had removed it while Draco was away, only replacing it when he had come to fetch her for the party last night.
"Both of us, do you think?" she asked.
"I would assume so," Draco said. "He'll tell us when we get there if he meant something else. Get up now, let's go."
Ginny stood up, stretching her arms over her head and rolling her neck. She was wearing light pink robes today that reminded Draco of candyfloss. He stood up and walked behind her, shoring up his Occlumency as they exited the room. He belatedly wondered if he was supposed to change into his Death Eater robes, but the note had seemed to imply they needed to go down immediately. Hopefully that was the right decision.
He followed Ginny down the narrow hallway, the floorboards creaking under them as they walked, and down the stairs.
Right behind you, Weasley, he sent down the bridge. They never knew what they were going to walk into here, but he was with her- now and always.
She stood up a little straighter as she walked, and Draco bit back a smile. Too surreal. Entirely too surreal.
They rounded the corner and walked to the ballroom, at which point Draco opened the door to allow Ginny to enter first.
They weren't alone- the Dark Lord was on his throne, Nagini wrapped around his shoulders, and, Draco noted with sickening dread, already appeared to be in a foul mood. A handful of other Death Eaters were there, including Bellatrix, Snape, and Dolohov. Not a formal gathering, but not a private chat either.
"In your place, saint," the Dark Lord snapped, the Elder Wand held loosely in his right hand.
"Yes, my lord," Ginny said, and hurried forward to go up the dais steps. He had not called Draco forward, and Draco thought it unwise to attempt to ascend the dais uninvited, even though he didn't like the idea of Ginny going up there by herself. Instead, he came to a stop beside his aunt, who nodded quickly at him.
The Dark Lord waited until Ginny had knelt down next to him before speaking. "Why is it," he said slowly, twirling his wand, "that every time I succeed in something, something goes wrong right at the end? I come back to life, reborn, and fourteen year old Harry Potter escapes me through some bizarre twist of fate with our wands. My Death Eaters lure Harry Potter to the Department of Mysteries, he touches the prophecy, holds it inches away from you all, and it shatters, and my return is revealed to the Ministry far sooner than I had desired. I capture Sybill Trelawney, she reveals the path forward for destroying Harry Potter at last, I acquire the three items she listed, and somehow-" He clapped his left hand down on Ginny's shoulder, making Ginny jump and Draco fight back a wince. "Somehow, a fourth item got thrown into the mix, an item that isn't an item at all, but a headstrong little girl who would love nothing more than to murder me where I sit. I take over the Ministry of Magic- a feat claimed to be impossible! All of magical Britain is at my feet. Surely, surely now Harry Potter has run out of clever tricks and Order schemes. My Death Eaters gather intelligence that he is at the Weasley family home, they descend on the place, and do they capture him?"
Silence.
"Well?" the Dark Lord demanded. "Do they capture him?"
"No, my lord," Snape said.
"No, they don't capture him," the Dark Lord said softly. "They chase him to London- three Death Eaters to three teenagers. Should be more than an even match, no? But of course... Harry Potter slips away yet again. But it is worse than that, my friends. It is worse than that. Wormtail- bring him in."
Wormtail, who Draco had not noticed skulking on one side of the dais, tucked into shadows, scurried away toward the door.
Bring who in? Draco wondered. But then it hit him like a punch to the gut. Rowle's words echoed in his mind.
Young Goyle is missing.
"Antonin, I have always trusted your judgment when it comes to training our new recruits," the Dark Lord said, his hand still on Ginny's shoulder. "But this first batch... leaves something to be desired."
Dolohov bowed. "I'm sorry, my lord. I would be happy to retrain-"
"I'm not certain that will be necessary," the Dark Lord interrupted. "I'm still deciding."
"Yes, my lord," Dolohov said. Draco thought he looked nervous.
The Dark Lord was still deciding. What did that mean?
"Ginny, what is the main quality of a Gryffindor?" the Dark Lord asked.
"Bravery, my lord."
I'm here with you, Draco pushed down the bridge. Ginny did not respond.
"Bravery," the Dark Lord said. "That's right. Why is bravery important?"
Ginny bit her lip.
"I asked you a question, little saint," the Dark Lord snapped. "One I'd like the whole room to hear the answer to."
"Because it's... it's how you get through hard things," she said, and Draco could tell by how she said it that she had no idea if this was the answer the Dark Lord was looking for.
"It's how you get through hard things," the Dark Lord repeated, and then he did something rather odd- he lifted a finger and wrapped a bit of Ginny's hair around it, feeling it. Draco saw her start to hold her breath.
Don't panic, he sent down the bridge. It's alright.
"How long were you with Rookwood, Ginny?" he asked.
"I'm... I'm not completely sure. Altogether, slightly over a month, but there was a period where I was by myself."
"It was exactly twenty-one days," the Dark Lord said. "Three weeks of near-unending torment, followed by a week of almost complete isolation. And yet, not only did you physically survive, you came out still fighting, still strong as ever. Do you think bravery is what got you through that?"
"I... I don't know, my lord."
"Tell me what you think, if you don't know."
"Yes. Bravery, and hope, and maybe a bit of spite."
The Dark Lord barked a laugh, making Ginny jump again. He let go of her hair and brought his hand back to his own seat.
"Yes, spite is something you would know a bit about," he said. "But it's bravery that this recruit is lacking. Let's see if this fool can last through even five minutes of what you endured for three weeks."
Ginny's eyes widened as she turned to look at him, but Draco's stomach had already dropped- he had heard the door open, and a familiar voice already begging for mercy.
"Silence!" the Dark Lord ordered, and mercifully, Gregory Goyle fell silent.
Draco did not dare look in Goyle's direction. Fuck. What had happened to Goyle? The Dark Lord said he was lacking bravery. What did that mean?
"Kneel before your master, Gregory Goyle," the Dark Lord ordered, and Goyle did so, falling to his knees immediately. His arms were bound behind his back, and he had tear marks down both cheeks, which were streaked with dirt.
"You were assigned to raid the Weasley home in search of Harry Potter yesterday afternoon," the Dark Lord said. "Your first assignment after finishing training. You volunteered for it, Dolohov told me. You were eager to please, eager to show your loyalty. When he escaped, you followed him to London, and when it appeared likely that he would escape again, you decided to hold onto the Mudblood Hermione Granger's hair and Apparate with them. Brave, no?"
He looked down at Ginny, who looked incapable of speech at the moment. Her wide eyes were trained on Goyle's face. Luckily, the Dark Lord did not seem to expect a response.
"That, however, is where your bravery ends," the Dark Lord said in an icy voice. "I have already heard Severus's account of your memories, but I'll give you this chance, Goyle, to explain yourself to me. I shall know if you lie."
"Please, my lord, have mercy-"
"Pleas for mercy are not an explanation. Do as I ask, or I shall assume you'd like to skip directly to punishment."
"I held onto the Mudblood's hair and Apparated with them to some countryside place," he said in a rush. "But my shoulder got Splinched, and the Mudblood disarmed me. She and Potter both had their wands on me. Weasley was tied up, but soon he did too. They were going to kill me-"
"Seeing as they didn't kill Rowle or Avery, I highly doubt that," the Dark Lord snapped. "But you believed it to be true, so you pleaded for your pathetic life. Go on."
"I... pleaded for my life," Goyle said hesitantly, "and they said they would let me live if I gave them some information."
Oh fuck. What the fuck had Goyle done? How could Draco get him out of this disaster?
"And what information was this?" the Dark Lord asked, and Draco could tell by his casual tone that he already knew full well what Goyle had told Potter, Weasley, and Granger.
"They wanted to know how we found them, at the wedding and in London."
"So you told them about the Taboo."
"Yes, my lord."
"Tell me, Goyle. What is the point of the Taboo?"
Fuck.
"If someone says your name, my lord, the Ministry knows where they are and we can find them."
"Exactly right," the Dark Lord said, as though he was teaching a lesson, which, Draco supposed, he was in a way. "And why did we decide to use this method?"
Draco knew from experience that asking Goyle questions that started with why rarely resulted in a well-thought-out answer. He bit his lip, restraining himself from answering, reminding himself of Granger in class.
"Um," Goyle said.
"Who says my name without fear, Goyle?"
"Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter. That's right. And do you think Harry Potter will say my name now, now that he knows we are tracking him that way?"
"N-no, my lord," Goyle stuttered. "Please-"
"Don't let that word come out of your mouth again," the Dark Lord snapped. "So you wasted an incredible amount of Ministry, and thus my, resources putting this magic in place and letting it be effective for oh... maybe an hour at most. Harry is more arrogant than he gives himself credit for- he may yet say my name, but it will be by mistake, not casually as he would have done without this helpful little tip from you."
He paused, letting the silence linger. Draco could hear Goyle's heavy breathing.
"But that's not the end of it, is it, Goyle?" the Dark Lord said, running his hand along Nagini's hide. "What else did you tell them?"
"I told them I had seen Ginny Weasley," he said in a hoarse whisper, perhaps now realizing the gravity of his mistake. Draco's palms were sweaty.
"You did more than that."
"I... I gave them a memory," he said. "A memory of Wea- Ginny. The saint. I didn't call her that though, my lord- I didn't show them that she was here, or her powers. It was at Malfoy Manor."
"You thought this memory was relatively inconsequential, then," the Dark Lord said. "Something to get them to let you go unscathed."
"Yes, my lord."
You absolute idiot.
"Well, Ginny, I have to say, you were right to have doubts about these new recruits. That's what she was thinking during your initiation, you know- that you were too stupid to hack it as a Death Eater, you and young Vincent Crabbe both. Crabbe has yet to be tested in the field, but this has been a spectacular failure on your part. Draco, you were part of this memory. Given that you are not an idiot, perhaps you can explain to your friend here exactly what it is that Potter and his little friends now know about Ginny Weasley."
Draco made himself stand up straight, at attention. "They now know that Ginny was at Malfoy Manor, that she is bound to me through a modified Imperius Curse, that this tattoo is intended for all the blood traitors for rehabilitation, that Ginny is immortal and blessed by Death, that Death gave you important magical objects, that Ginny was the subject of a prophecy, that Ginny is a symbol for the immortality of the pure bloodlines, and that she has... outbursts that I have to manage and control, my lord."
In short, nearly everything. Goyle was weeping openly now.
"A good summation," the Dark Lord said. "Though you're missing one piece."
Draco frowned, considering.
"You offered to celebrate Ginny's sixteenth birthday at Malfoy Manor," the Dark Lord supplied. "You offered to throw her a birthday party, once you heard Daphne Greengrass describing the grand affair that was to be her coming of age."
"Yes, my lord," Draco said, hoping that was not somehow an overstep.
"We'll tend to that in a moment," the Dark Lord said. "Only nine days from now- not much time to plan a grand party. But for now- Goyle, you may plead for your life if you'd like. I'm not certain I'm going to spare it."
Goyle prostrated himself on the floor and began speaking a litany of pleas and requests for forgiveness and mercy, not even stopping to take a breath. It turned Draco's stomach.
"I think, in order to decide if I should forgive you, I need to see some bravery on your part," the Dark Lord said, and Ginny's face went white. "Dolohov, would you say that Draco was the most accomplished recruit out of this batch?"
"Yes, my lord," Dolohov said. "Though Selwyn is quite good as well."
"Good. I'm afraid that always giving out punishments myself grows rather dull. Draco, you'll be my hand today."
Draco's mind went blank.
"My lord?" he made himself say, his mouth unbearably dry.
"I know you know what to do," the Dark Lord said, a cruel smile on his face. "Bellatrix taught you well with all those prisoners in the cellar. And now that we know you're capable of murder, a little bit of punishment should be no problem for you to dole out."
Ginny's head whipped toward the Dark Lord, and Draco had to stop himself from swaying on his feet. He hadn't wanted to tell her yet. He certainly hadn't wanted her to find out like this.
"Oh, did he not tell you that that's what he went to do?" the Dark Lord asked, laughter in his voice. "That was their assignment- hunt down a group of Muggles, torture them for a few hours, and then kill them. Draco performed admirably- a combination of the Imperius Curse and Legilimency, according to Dolohov. Not unlike how he treats you, isn't it? Maybe he learned something. He did have a female target, but he didn't touch her- considered her blood too filthy to soil himself over, I believe his words were. Isn't that a relief?"
Ginny's breathing was shallow.
Tell me he's lying, her voice echoed down the bridge.
Draco was frozen.
He's… he's not lying.
Ginny swayed on her pillow, catching herself against the side of the throne.
"Such delicate sensibilities," the Dark Lord said, putting his hand on her shoulder again. "Today will be hard for you. But you'll watch. Now get moving, Draco, or I'll take your refusal as indication that you should be punished instead."
He would rather that, he thought, than have to use the Cruciatus on Goyle. But that would look weak to the Dark Lord, like Draco wasn't a good Death Eater. And Draco needed to be a good Death Eater in order to have enough freedom to research, for Ginny.
Not feeling altogether present, Draco stepped toward the dais and turned around to face Goyle.
"Begin," the Dark Lord said.
"Draco, please-"
"Crucio."
Goyle screamed, his back arching unnaturally as the curse hit him. Draco held it for maybe twenty seconds before releasing it.
"I will tell you when to stop," the Dark Lord said.
"Draco, I'm your friend, please-"
"Crucio."
Goyle pissed himself after a bit, a big, dark, wet stain spreading across the front of his robes. His aunt laughed at that, the sharp, cackling sound echoing oddly in Draco's ears. He wasn't able to see straight. Goyle's desperate, pleading, agonized face filled his vision anyway- he couldn't get away from it.
"You can let go for now."
Draco let go of the spell, and Goyle collapsed.
"What a good, obedient soldier you are," the Dark Lord said softly.
"Please stop," Ginny sobbed. Draco didn't dare look back at her, because if he did, he would fall apart.
"You're far too merciful, pure heart. Again, Draco."
"Crucio."
He thought Goyle might be unconscious at this point- he had least stopped verbally screaming.
Please, Draco.
Draco, I'm your friend.
Draco, you're killing me, I'm dying, stop, make it stop-
Ginny screamed, and Draco felt the air change behind him, like lightning was about to strike. He dropped the curse and looked over his shoulder at Ginny, who was surrounded by crackling golden light.
"Scream all you want, little saint. I'm not going to pull you out of your tantrum. One more time, Draco, for good measure."
Draco couldn't stop himself from shuddering. "Crucio."
This one only lasted maybe ten seconds.
"Alright, that's enough. That was about five minutes, wouldn't you say, Severus?"
"Seven, my lord."
"The most powerful magical number. Fitting. We'll let Goyle live for now- I'm sure this lesson made an impact on him. Tend to him, won't you? Make sure there's no permanent damage."
"Yes, my lord." Snape waved his wand and Goyle's unconscious form hovered above the ground. With a flick of his wand, Goyle started moving toward the door, Snape walking beside his body.
Ginny was still screaming. The Dark Lord sighed loudly.
"How tedious," he said. "I don't know how you put up with it, Draco. Why, I had to tend to her in the middle of the night a couple of nights ago. The poor thing had a nightmare. Something about a dragon, but she wasn't making a lot of sense. Ah well- that's a dream for you. Fix this now."
Ginny wasn't going to want to hear from him. He wasn't sure it would work. Robotically, he turned to face the dais again.
Merlin, that sight would never cease to scare him. Ginny's eyes were glowing so bright they were almost white, her hair was flying around in all directions, and her mouth was open impossibly wide in a terrifying, unending scream.
"You're six years old, and your mum and dad just bought you your first ever broomstick. You're ecstatic and can't wait to fly it. Bill takes you outside and watches you fly. You laugh and laugh because you feel completely free."
Ginny, I'm sorry, he sent down the bridge. I'm so sorry.
Ginny's condition remained the same.
"You're eight years old, and you're going to your first professional Quidditch match. Gwenog Jones executes a perfect Dopplebeater Defense against the Chudley Cannons, allowing their Seeker to catch the Snitch. You're jumping up and down, so excited, and giggle to yourself about Ron complaining about the Cannons' loss."
I should have told you last night, or this morning. But I couldn't talk about it.
The light stilled some, but not enough, not nearly enough.
"You're eleven years old, and a great tawny owl arrives at the kitchen window. It's holding your Hogwarts letter. Finally, it's here, at last. Just like all your brothers before you- you get to go away to school and learn to be a real witch. You imagine all the adventures you'll have, all the friends you'll make, and you can't wait for it to be September."
How could you? came Ginny's voice- utterly heartbroken.
It's unforgivable, he responded, his own heart rending in two. I'm sorry.
The light swirled more intensely again. His stomach twisted a bit- what if he couldn't pull her out?
"You're fourteen years old, and you've just been made temporary Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Now you can be taken seriously as a player- no more being in your brothers' shadows. Your crowning achievement is beating Cho Chang to the Snitch and winning the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor."
Greg is my friend. I should have taken his punishment instead, consequences be damned.
He realized with a jolt that the first Muggle he ever tortured, the father with the two little children, had been named Greg.
The light did not get any better, but it did not get any worse.
"You're fifteen years old, and you're in the orchard behind your house, playing Quidditch with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. You're practicing for tryouts. Harry's going to be captain, and he wants to hold tryouts for all positions, so you're helping Ron practice. You're going to be a Chaser this year, the position you really want. You throw the Quaffle, Ron blocks it, and Harry catches it down below you. He smiles at you, and you're happy. Part of the group at last. You soar up to the sky once he tosses the Quaffle to you, and you're above the whole world. Nothing can touch you now- you're invincible."
You shouldn't have taken his punishment. Ginny's voice. You just shouldn't have had to give it.
It was my punishment, to give it.
No. Never say that. We promised.
The light decreased some.
"You're fifteen years old, and you're on a hill, swinging from a great oak tree, overlooking an endless forest. Time stands still- there is no fear of the past, no dread of the future. There's only here and now, right in this moment. You're flying, and I'm right behind you, there to catch you if you should fall. You're free in this moment, and that's all that matters. I'm right there behind you."
The Muggle woman I murdered was eighteen years old. To spare her from the attention of the others, I made her run for hours in the forest, far away from her friends being brutalized and killed. I put her under the Imperius Curse, and made her join me in a cave. I used Legilimency to enter her mind and ordered her to act like I was showing her the most terrifying things she had ever seen. She showed me some kind of Muggle toy, a little train, like a miniature Hogwarts Express, going around on a track at her grandmother's house. There was lavender potpourri on the dresser, and white lacy curtains over the open window. She wasn't afraid when she died and she was in no pain, but I did it- I murdered her. Her name was Jane.
The light subsided all at once, faster than it ever had before.
Draco, I'm so sorry, came Ginny's voice, but it was quiet. She wobbled on the pillow on the dais before collapsing. Draco took an involuntary step forward but made himself stop.
"Good," the Dark Lord said. "You'll have to teach me that technique some time, in case this happens and you're ever… away, again. It's very effective."
"Yes, my lord," he said faintly, unable to pretend that he was unaffected.
"You're all dismissed," the Dark Lord said. "See to it that I am not disappointed again."
They bowed, murmured their assent, and began to leave- all except Draco, who took a step toward the dais stairs.
"I said you were dismissed, Draco."
"Yes, my lord. I just-"
"I have some unfinished business to attend to concerning Ginny. She'll be returned to you this evening. Now go."
Draco's stomach twisted. "Yes, my lord."
He left the room, and fury like he had never felt before filled his stomach. Goyle had been eager to serve the Dark Lord, had been fully bought in on this new regime, and this was how the Dark Lord repaid that loyalty? Goyle was a pureblood- the son of a Death Eater. And the Dark Lord was still content to possibly waste his life- seven minutes under the Cruciatus Curse was severe enough that even the Dark Lord was worried about permanent damage, enough to send Goyle with Snape. Why the hell had the Dark Lord thought that was an appropriate first mission for him anyway?
Ginny was right. None of them were safe. Any protection they thought they had was fleeting, as impermanent as mist.
And.
And. Unless someone did something about it, there were about to be a whole hell of a lot more Janes in the world.
Maybe Draco would have to be that someone.
AUGUST 2ND, 1997
Harry gasped, clutching the grimy bathroom sink in Grimmauld Place with both hands. He was sweating, so much so that his hair was sticking to his forehead. His scar was an ugly, vivid red stretched across his skin- hideously angry, near to bursting with pain.
They should have killed Goyle, rather than subject him to Voldemort. It would have been a mercy.
"Harry?" Hermione said, knocking on the door. "Is everything okay in there?"
"He knows we know, Hermione," Harry said, panting. "About the Taboo, and about Ginny. We can't go to Malfoy Manor- he knows."
"What?" Hermione said shrilly, and Harry took a deep breath before opening the door.
"I'll give you the memory for you and Ron to watch," he said dully, "but… maybe you shouldn't watch it. Goyle, he… he got tortured. Badly. But I saw Ginny's power, and… Fuck. I think I need to lie down."
"Of course, Harry, just rest. Give me the memory and Ron and I'll watch it, and we can talk about it later. Come lie down and rest."
AUGUST 2ND, 1997
Ginny groggily came to, and realized she was being carried. Her body swayed as the person walked, almost like a boat on the sea.
That was a nice image. Draco was like the sea. She could be a little boat, floating in the impossible vastness that was Draco's soul.
This person didn't feel like Draco though. They were taller, and… colder. There was no affection in the way they held her- it was a means to an end for them.
She tried to open her eyes, but it was far too bright. She closed them again, wincing.
Draco had killed someone- a young Muggle woman. From the sounds of it, he had done it as humanely as he could manage, and was eaten up with guilt over it, but the fact remained that he had killed an innocent, defenseless person.
How could Ginny ever come to terms with that?
She had wanted so badly to reach for him across the bridge, but she hadn't dared, not until the end. It was too new still, and she knew better than anyone how closely Voldemort paid attention to her thoughts when she was up on that dais. If he noticed her "going blank" as she had when she had thought about Merilda, she didn't trust herself to have a good enough explanation, and she couldn't risk exposing the bridge.
But that had meant that Draco had to torture Goyle alone.
She could feel his anguish down the bridge though. He could suppress it in his physical body, but his soul had been writhing in torment from what Voldemort had ordered him to do. Goyle was his friend. He was hurting him so, so badly. He wasn't allowed to stop.
Ginny? came Draco's voice. Are you awake?
Yes.
Where are you?
I'm not sure. My eyes hurt still.
She squinted, opening them just a crack, and jolted when she realized that Voldemort was the one carrying her.
"Be still," he said. "You and I are just going to have a little chat. Nothing to be afraid of, little saint."
I'm with Voldemort, she sent down the bridge. I won't be able to talk much- he'll notice I'm not paying attention.
Okay, Draco's voice said reluctantly. I'm with you. Just reach out and I'll be there in an instant. You're not alone.
Thank you Draco.
They were on the first floor, Ginny was pretty sure, though her vision still had spots of white in it. They were walking down a dimly lit hallway. The house was quiet- no one else around. Her heartbeat quickened as she heard a door open, and they walked into a room.
They were in Voldemort's study. He walked toward the chair in the middle of the room- the same one she had sat in last time- and put her down. Her body was still shaking, she realized. How long had she been in the light? How long had Goyle been tortured?
"Only a couple of minutes," Voldemort said. "Goyle lasted seven, and it had already been close to six when you broke. Did it feel like longer?"
"It... time is different there. It felt like a very long time, yes."
"Or perhaps you're just very sensitive. Even a minute of torture feels like an eternity to you."
Ginny fought back a scowl, and Voldemort laughed. He walked away from her and sat down in another seat, near a desk, facing her.
"Although I suppose this again proves my point," he said. "You hate Gregory Goyle. Not a single kind thing to say about him, and yet you were in absolute agony to see him be tortured. Why?"
"I know what it's like to be in pain," she said quietly.
"Yes, I daresay you do. Did Rookwood use the Cruciatus often?"
"No," Ginny said, her jaw tight. "That wouldn't have been effective."
"But surely he had to test it to determine that."
"Yes."
"How long did you last?"
"No idea. There weren't any clocks on the wall... my lord."
"Good save, little saint. I might have thought you were getting impertinent otherwise."
It was very difficult not to scowl, but Ginny did her best.
"Draco did well though, wouldn't you say?" he continued. "A proper soldier, following orders."
Ginny's heart twisted, and Voldemort smirked.
"He's mine, little saint," he said. "Just as you are. Just as the whole world will be." He turned away from her and started thumbing through a book on his desk. "It's very easy for me to lose interest in something as mundane as taking over the Ministry when I know what kind of magic potentially awaits me out there, through you. Can you even imagine, what it will be like? We'll see things beyond any of our wildest dreams. And those will be mine too, in time. But not yet. We can't rush things. I can't leave any loose ends behind here, and my loyal followers do deserve a reward, after all. I should make sure this world is ready for them before I leave, no?"
Ginny said nothing as she glanced over her shoulder at the door, fighting the urge to jump out of her seat and run. As soon as she had had the thought, the door vanished, and Ginny's heart skipped a beat.
"Sometimes I find it best to remove the source of a temptation when ignoring it proves difficult," Voldemort said, still looking through the book. "Hard to be tempted by something that isn't there."
Ginny did not at all think that was true- if anything, she was more tempted to try to escape now. But she remained quiet.
He looked through the book for another moment, and when he finally looked back at her, he stared at her with an intensity that made her want to disappear.
"In order to truly possess the Elder Wand, I had to best its previous master," he said. "Holding the wand, using the wand, was not enough. It had to be won, not just taken. As far as Borgin can tell, the stone and the cloak have no such restrictions- they are items, who can pass from owner to owner like any other. But you're not an item, are you, Ginny?"
He stood up and walked closer to her, and Ginny recoiled in her seat. She gripped the armrests tightly, willing herself to be brave.
"Yes, very brave," he said quietly. He tipped her chin up to look at him. "How do I win you? Harry Potter stands in my way; I have to kill him. But the Hallows must be mine before I do it."
Ginny's mind was blank with terror. Her heart was beating so fast that she couldn't tell one beat apart from the next.
"So frightened, and yet you'd think I'd made it clear at this point that you're in no danger from me," he said.
"It's not me I'm worried for," she stammered, knowing he would hear the thought anyway- there was no point trying to hide it.
"You're more worried for yourself than you allow yourself to admit, but yes, generally, that's true," he said, dropping her chin. "As a matter of interest, your entire family was arrested yesterday."
"What?" Ginny yelped, anger quickly replacing fear in her body. She glared up at him. "You said-"
"That they would be safe as long as you behaved, which you have, and they are," he said. "They aren't in Azkaban- they're in a Ministry cell, and they're together. But they weren't arrested because of you, incidentally. They were arrested because of your brother Ronald."
Because of Ron. Because he was with Harry?
"Yes," he said. "They would have been wanted for questioning regardless, once Rowle and Avery reported that Ron was spotted in London with Harry. But they were arrested for lying to the Ministry- tried to say that the ghoul in your attic was Ron with a bad case of Spattergroit, the fools. Severus got the truth out of them with Veritaserum, of course."
Despair so deep that she thought she might be dying flooded Ginny, taking her breath away. She looked down at her lap, her vision fuzzy.
"They didn't know anything useful, unfortunately," Voldemort said. "Harry was quite tight-lipped about his plans, whatever they are. Some foolish heroics, no doubt. I wonder- if Draco is a dragon, does that make Harry a knight? You've had that thought before, haven't you?"
"Please..." Ginny said softly.
"Please what, little saint?"
"Please don't hurt my family. I'll do anything you want, please..."
"How quiet your pleas for mercy are, compared to Goyle's screams," he said. He tipped her chin up again, and tilted his head a bit as his eyes moved over her face. "I'm still deciding what, exactly, I want, I think. We have all the time in the world to try things out though, don't we?"
He let go of her chin and picked up her left arm instead, examining the tattoo as her sleeve fell backwards. The tattoo twitched under her skin, making her nauseous.
"The day after tomorrow, you'll give your interview," he said. "You were finally feeling brave enough, you see, after your family was arrested for their other misdeeds, to come forward. You'll be a good actress for that, I trust?"
"Yes, my lord," Ginny said, wishing he would put her arm down.
"Does anyone other than Draco touching the tattoo make you nauseous, or is it specific to me?"
"I'm... I'm not sure. I don't think anyone else has touched it."
"Hmm," he said, running a long finger down one of the vines. "Something to test, to be sure. This is novel magic- we're still learning all the ins and outs."
"My family-"
"Won't be receiving these right now. As a favor to you."
Ginny sagged in her seat in relief. "Thank you, my lord."
"I cannot, however, release them- they make up nearly half of the Order, as I understand it, and they will, after all, have just gone through a very public arrest. They can't be seen out in the community. What should I do with them, I wonder? Bring them here?"
Ginny's eyes widened. "No, my lord."
"No? You don't want to see them? It's been months and months now."
"I don't want them to be here."
"I suppose it would be unpleasant for them," he mused, turning her arm over and looking down at Draco's initials on her wrist. "They might not all adjust as well as you have, and your new role could be very confusing for them. They just need to be kept out of the way for now. Perhaps I'll build a safehouse for them- they wouldn't be allowed to use magic, of course, and they'd have to be monitored, but that might feel at least a little normal for them, no?"
He traced his finger over the initials, and Ginny's stomach roiled spectacularly.
"Please, I'm going to throw up-"
He waved his wand, and her stomach settled instantly.
"No you're not," he said. "Now. Would you rather them be in a Ministry cell, or in a safehouse?"
Ginny bit her lip. What would be better?
"A... safehouse, my lord," she said. At least there, they might get to go outside, and they wouldn't be trapped in the bowels of the Ministry underground. Escape might be easier up there...
"They won't be escaping, little saint," he said. "And you had best hope that they don't try- I can only forgive so much, after all. If they somehow killed one of my Death Eaters, for instance, or if they escaped somehow and were brought back, I would have no choice but to kill them, no matter how upset that would make you."
Ginny bowed her head. "Yes, my lord."
He was still holding her arm.
"You looked lovely wearing my gift last night," he said. "Exactly how I wanted you to. You outdid yourself."
"Thank you, my lord," Ginny said, her stomach tightening again.
"Perhaps you deserve another gift," he said, and Ginny's mind flashed on the locket, the way it had burned against her skin.
He laughed. "Not like that, though that was a clever idea of yours. No, this isn't a physical gift. Look at me."
Her heart in her throat, Ginny looked up. Voldemort was smiling wickedly at her, and she knew in an instant what he was doing. Red eyes met brown, and Ginny cried out as he performed Legilimency.
"Be still," he said. "You'll be thanking me for this, I think."
His presence was razor-sharp in her mind, like talons digging into her flesh. She couldn't imagine thanking him for anything here.
She was doubly sure of that when the table she had been strapped to swam into view. She wasn't on it, but the straps were there, and there was a bit of blood staining the wood.
"So much pain," Voldemort whispered in her mind. "So horrible. You poor thing."
It's your fault! her mind screamed at him. You did this to me!
"It was Rookwood's pride and selfishness that did this to you," he said. "On my orders, it's true, but it never should have lasted as long as it did. You wouldn't mind seeing him under the Cruciatus, now would you?"
...no.
His laughter echoed in her mind. "Perhaps we can arrange that. But that's not why I'm here. I can take the pain away, Ginny. It can all go away."
As he spoke, the memory of the agony of the table softened some, almost like butter melting. What had been absolutely beyond endurance became marginally more bearable.
"Wouldn't you like that? You'll still remember what happened, but not the pain. No pain, ever again."
That was something Draco told her sometimes, at the manor. No pain ever again.
A flash of irritation sparked through her mind.
"He can't give that to you. It's outside of his control. I decide, not him."
Her mind flashed on her most recent dream, of the satisfied way Tom Riddle had descended to don the armor of the Antipodean Opaleye, and her stomach tightened with sickening dread. She couldn't let the associated thought form in her head though, not now. She pushed it away.
I don't want to forget what happened, she said quickly, trying to draw his attention there instead.
"You won't. You'll still know the facts of that time, but it will be like knowing the Statute of Secrecy exists, or that wizards and goblins have fought several wars over the centuries. Just the facts- no sense memories to accompany them. No pain, in other words."
She knew what she had to do- she didn't have time or space to think of another option.
Okay.
She felt his satisfaction flow through her mind like a ripple, and the image of the table shrank in her mind's eye. She gasped as she felt the memory of the pain recede, like it was being sucked out of her consciousness.
It was amazing. Her muscles were so light, lighter than she had even remembered they could be. The pain was gone, like it had never been. She called the table to mind, and she felt... nothing. No fear, no pain, no tension- nothing.
She was crying, she realized, but not out of pain or sadness- out of sweet, joyous relief to have a pain removed that she hadn't even realized she had been carrying.
"Th-thank you," she stuttered, and Voldemort withdrew from her mind. She fell forward a bit in her seat, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the change.
"Remember this, little saint. I can give you everything you want, or I can take it away."
Ginny nodded, still in a bit of shock.
"Would you like to go back to your room now?"
"Yes please."
"Then get up."
She stood up, wobbly on her feet, and looked around at the room. Her shoulders were so incredibly loose. It was bizarre.
I'm coming back to you, she sent down the bridge as she followed Voldemort out of the room. I'm okay- very tired. Need to rest. But we can talk after. Things I need to tell you.
Thank Merlin you're alright. Okay. I'm here waiting for you. You can rest here.