Without Remorse

Title: Without Remorse

Pairing: Draco/Ginny (who else?)

Warning: Is unBETA'd

Chapter I: Midnight Caller

Gloomy was the word Ginny Weasley used to describe her knew residence. She wouldn't call it home. She could never call it home. Instead she used words like temporary and lodging, but home was and never would be the word of choice. To Ginny Weasley a home was warm and welcoming. A home was supposed to smell like cinnamon and nutmeg not mildew and rot. Its habitants were supposed to be lively and rambunctious not listless and docile. The biggest household pest was supposed to be a Garden Gnome not a Boggart. But this house was not a home and it never would be.

She stood outside her brother's bedroom, her oversized pajamas doing nothing to combat the cold of the dingy rug beneath her feet. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was one of those houses that was never warm no matter what the season and at the moment she was feeling its full effects against her bare feet.

Gooseflesh covered the freckled arms, she had crossed squarely over her chest, but Ginny paid it no mind as she continued contorting her face into the unflattering scowl directed at the long-nosed freckled-face that was poked out of the narrow gap between the thick door and its frame.

"For the last time, the answer is no," her brother whispered angrily. Before slowly shutting the door with a squeak of rusted hinges and an ominous click of the newly installed lock being bolted.

If Ginny wouldn't have been so angry she might have laughed at her brother's attempt at restraining his temper for the sake of discretion at such a late hour, but the injustice she felt at his impatience kept her from seeing the humour.

Anger scratched out reason and the only urge she had left was the need to bang both feet and fists against her brother's door until her mother or father or any adult habitant would come to investigate. Whoever it was would surely catch all four of them up much later than any of them had reason to be. Capture and punishment seemed worth it if that meant that she wouldn't be alone in being disciplined.

Ginny raised her balled fist, but the sound of an unlatching bolt and the squeaky turn of the serpent's head doorknob stilled her outburst as the door opened and a bushy haired brunette quietly slid out, giving her a regret-filled smile.

"Ginny, I'm sorry but Ron and Harry don't think it's a very good idea" It was her pitting tone, the voice she reserved for delivering bad news, but it didn't matter what else she had to say. Ginny couldn't hear it over the blood roaring in her ears.

"Why don't you go back to bed, Ginny," she finished, the rhythm of her sympathetic tone not wavering. For a single moment Ginny had the odd urge to thump her, but lost her opportunity as Hermione shut the door with the same annoying click of bolting locks.

Time didn't seem to move as Ginny stood outside her brother and Harry's door. She wasn't sure how long it was that she stood there blindly tracing the dark wood with her eyes, but the brown swirled patterns were far from what she was seeing.

So this was it. It wasn't fair, but it was what it was. One mistake and she was on the outside again. One tiny mistake and the door was closed.

Feeling the need for instant vengeance creeping into her fingers and toes again and fearing the immature fit, she might throw if left outside their door Ginny turned stomping across the dark landing, not caring who or what heard her heavy foot fall on the creaking staircase.

She was on the first floor, her hand wrapped around the doorknob to her temporary bedroom when the shuffle of slippered feet on the staircase and her mother's mumbling voice made her pause.

"Bringing him here at this time of night, my word," her mum huffed, continuing down the flight of stairs. Her quilted dressing gown floating behind her like a purple cape as she reached the ground floor and moved toward the front door and out of sight.

The familiar sounds of unlatching locks and rattling chains caught her ear and curious by nature Ginny took quick cover in the darkness of the second landing. She moved to the cobwebbed railing squatting to try and see between the thick balustrades at whom her mother could possibly be greeting at such a late hour.

Anticipation built inside her waiting for her mum and the witch or wizard that had called to come into her line of vision, but the slim figure that followed her mum into the hall doused her excitement instantly. In his black robes and greasy hair, Ginny's potions teacher, Professor Snape was easily discernible from her brightly dressed mother. With disappointment settling into the pit of her stomach, Ginny turned to leave, when the second figure behind them emerged with its hooded robes and large trunk forcing her to stop.

This new addition was certainly worth staying around for, but Snape didn't seem to agree with her as without a word between any of them he none-to-kindly led the figure to the bottom of the staircase abandoning it to stand uncomfortably between its oversized trunk and the umbrella stand.

Her mother was uncharacteristically mute, already pushing open the door for the short trip down the narrow hall to the basement kitchen.

"Stay," Snape ordered in a pitch barely above a whisper. Ginny watched as he glided away from the figure and followed her mum out of sight leaving the hall in complete silence except for a few snoring portraits and her the beating of heart.

Something was certainly happening tonight and whatever it was it most likely revolved around the mysterious wizard who standing at the bottom of the staircase. Ginny's first instinct was to race to Ron's room and tell him everything she'd seen and heard. He would surely want to know about this, but a bitter reflection kept her from moving.

If things were reversed, if Ron was the one to discover the new guest would he come for her? No, he would get Harry or Hermione. His friends. His confidants.

Resentment rooted Ginny firmly to her spot on the bare floor behind the railing. Captivated she watched as the obedient figure moved its hooded head from side to side as it appraised its new surroundings. It slowly turned, skirting the disgusting umbrella stand it was close to and took a seat on its large trunk.

It seemed to be settling itself for a long wait and as it sat still Ginny tried to take in all she could have of its appearance. The dark dress trousers and worn trainers it wore were a combination she found most odd on the long limbed stranger, but it seemed to not be conscious of its unwise choice as the wide cuff of its robe began to ride up. A pale hand went to its head pulling the dark hood of its cloak back, revealing a sliver of a triangle nose and light hair. Ginny was engrossed watching the small details of the wizard's face being revealed, but the whining of the hall door's hinges and the sound of her mum and Snape's foot steps snapped her back.

"Pull your hood back up and get your trunk," Snape ordered in the same grave whisper.

"Follow me," said her mother gently, looking paler than she had before she'd gone into the basement kitchen. "And be as quiet as a shadow, please."

Panic jumped into Ginny's chest as her mother began ascending the stairs with Snape and the figure following. If her mother caught her, she would certainly know she'd been spying. Ginny didn't fear her mother's reprimands they had become something she had grown well accustomed too in the last year. But after 'The Mistake' her mother had misinterpreted her error for maturity. And almost begun treating her like a witch of age, but that would surely come to and end if she was caught eavesdropping.

Dust and dirt collected on her pajamas as Ginny slid backward across the wooden floor, crawling away from the banister and the quickly approaching company.

She'd reached the safety of the hall before fully standing and nearly bumping the moth-eaten curtain off a painting as she sprinted to the room she and Hermione shared.

Turning off the single gas lamp that lit the room, Ginny swung the heavy door nearly closed. She was going to need to hear what her mother and Snape had to say and if the door was closed that would be nearly impossible. Ginny strained her ears, but the only sounds that reached her through the thick door were, the creak of the floor boards, the shuffle of her mother's old slippers and her own uneven breathing.

Convinced they would hear her, Ginny held her breath as their silhouettes passed by the small crack she was watching them from and only when the hinges of the door down the hall screeched did she find it safe to exhale. Trying to even her breathing, Ginny opened her door a sliver wider hoping to catch something, but there was only the clatter of locks bolting and her mother's voice casting an Imperturbable Charm.

Using her back Ginny pushed her door closed, leaning against it with a contemplative sigh. Something was definitely different about their new guest and before the summer was over she was going to find out what.

TBC...

Have a question, just ask. Interested in BETA-ing? Let me know.

Author's Note: Devil of Lake666: I tried to email you this chapter but it just bounced back so send me an e-mail if you can.

Without further ado:

Chapter II: Curosity Nearly Kills the Cat

Ginny's eyelids refused to droop as she stared at the high-ceiling, her clasped hands pillowing her head as she laid wide-awake listening to her roommate's shallow breathing. Hermione had crept back into their room on soft feet two hours ago, but Ginny had refused to acknowledge her, and just turned to the wall as the bushy haired girl had crawled into bed.

But Hermione wasn't the reason she wasn't participating in a blissful slumber. Her mind was whirling with a myriad of questions and possibilities. Who was their new guest? Would her mother introduce him tomorrow morning? If not, why was he here? What was his purpose? Was he part of the Order? By the look of the trainers he wore, Ginny assumed that was a no. And above all what did Snape have to do with it?

When the ceiling refused to answer her, Ginny shook her head and turned onto her stomach. Brown dawn was beginning to pool on the floor through the grimy windows, a sign that her mother would be coming in shortly to wake her for help with breakfast. The days were beginning to start earlier at Grimmauld Place and Ginny couldn't help but feel that it was her Mum's own way of preparing her for something. A 'something' she wasn't sure she wanted to be prepared for at the age of sixteen.

A yawn escaped into her pillow and Ginny could feel the familiar heavy weight on her eyelids. She wasn't going to fight the Sandman and she would only be resting them for a moment, but soon she found herself sitting on a broomstick alone in the sky staring down at the Hogwarts’ Quidditch pitch except for an indiscernible voice yelling up at her.

"Ginny, get up."

Eyes flying open, Ginny sat up straight on her too firm mattress. She'd spent the last two summers of her life here, but couldn't get over waking up in a place other than the Burrow or Hogwarts and it took her a moment for her eyes and mind to register her surroundings. The gas lamp had been turned off the night before, but the rising sun had spilled through the window onto the wooden floor like a muddy rectangle giving enough light to see the rest of her bedroom.

Underneath an olive green duvet, Hermione had stretched out on her back and was sound asleep. The t-shirt she'd left hanging over the door of her wardrobe was still holding it partially ajar and standing in the threshold of her temporary bedroom was her Mum, a dirty wooden spoon in her hand.

"What time is it?" she groaned, squinting against the sudden light of the gas lamp her mother was busy lighting and trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes.

"Time for breakfast," she answered. "Now, stop being a lay-about. I need your help down stairs. Get Hermione and the boys up too."

Ginny could feel the after effects of her insomnia and wanted nothing more than to curl up into her warm sheets and sleep until noon, but she couldn’t, throwing off her covers to shock her body with the house's cold air. The soles of her bare feet wanted to protest as they met the floor, but she ignored them as her eyes narrowed on her roommate. Hermione had slept through her Mother's morning greeting and Ginny felt the odd urge to dump a bowl of cold water on the girl's bushy head.

000oooo000

Ginny yawned for what felt like the tenth time that morning as she took the bowls down from the cupboard. Chairs screeched across the floor behind her as Ron and Harry tucked in. They had already set the silverware (the only job they ever had) and were patiently awaiting their breakfast. She could feel her brother and Harry's eyes following her as she set each of their bowls down with a thud, but she instantly regretted it. No matter how hacked off at her brother and his friends she was, it was no reason to damage another person's property. The sudden realization of whose china it was sent a stab of sadness and guilt plunging into her heart.

Shaking her head to clear it of such depressing thoughts, Ginny sat down at her bowl of porridge and waited for her mother and father to tuck in. Nothing had been said yet about their new guest, but she supposed that they would most likely want to announce his arrival instead of having a stranger just sitting down to breakfast. But the majority of the meal was a quite affair, her Da and Lupin were going over the morning paper while Harry, Ron and Hermione whispering about Merlin know's what, and her Mother excusing herself to fuss around the kitchen.

Frowning, Ginny looked over the front-page her Dad was holding. The lettering was unusually small and her eyesight not being as sharp as she wished it to be wouldn't quite let her see the full headline, but three words did catch her eye: Ambush, Malfoy and Missing. Leaning over the table unaware of her hair falling into her porridge, Ginny squinted,trying to read more of the story, but the sudden folding of the paper sent her back against her chair.

Her face felt on fire as her eyes met her old professor's and he quickly set the paper face down beneath his bowl. Knowing the chastising she was about to receive for nosing, Ginny sat back and waited, but Lupin simply gave her a warm smile and turned to her brother.

"It seems the Cannons are doing quite well this year," he said conversationally. "Ron, don't you agree?"

Quidditch seemed to be the perfect opening topic because Ron and Harry fell into a very detailed discussion about the problems the Gryffindor team was going to face in the coming term.

Half-listening to her brother and Harry's vow that Malfoy was going to find his Nimbus in a very unpleasant place if he tried to pull the same dirty tricks he had last year, Ginny turned her head to watch her mother.

She was bustling around the small kitchen adding scones, croissants and a jar of homemade jam to the picnic basket she was carrying. Too busy coveting one of the freshly buttered goods, Ginny didn't notice that her eyes were following her mum right out of the room until the door had closed with an unnoticeable click. Suddenly curious, Ginny kept her eyes glued to the door until her mother had returned with an empty picnic basket in one hand and no signs of an explanation in the other.

Lunch and dinner had resulted in the same odd behaviour her mother piling food into a container before disappearing from the noisy meal only to return empty-handed. The ritual had become habit at every meal for the rest of the week and Ginny began to glance at her watch when her Mum exited the room. From the time she shut the door to the time she returned was exactly eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds give or take a tenth.

But this observation just came along with the other two things that kept Ginny occupied. She had been trying to get her hands or eyes on the copy of The Daily Prophet her Dad had been reading, but to no avail so she'd looked through the other bi-daily installments for a similar phrase or wording, but had found nothing.

Her nocturnal ventures had faired no better as she had sat every night with an Extendable-Ear in hand in the exact same spot behind the banister, but Snape had not returned.

Throwing her thick, messy braid behind her, Ginny plopped onto her bed to stare at the ceiling. According to her homemade calendar it had been exactly one-week today that their guest had arrived and from the meals her mother had been packing up he hadn't gone anywhere.

It hadn’t occurred to her to ask about him, but to ask about him meant that she had seen him and if she had seen him, that meant she had been spying. And spying was something Ginny didn't want to have been caught at, but the continued awkward silences between her parents and certain members of the Order were beginning to thin what little patience she had left.

Sighing, she searched the brown stains on the ceiling for answers. It was a habit she had fallen into out of boredom and this instance was no different. Today had been a rarity, nearly everyone was out of the house and Ginny was just contemplating how unusually quiet it was when the crash of breaking glass pulled her from her lethargy. From the sound the accident couldn't have been far from her room and Ginny jumped up from her bed padding to her bedroom door.

Strawberry jam was slowly sliding down the wall to pool on the floor with the shards of a glass jar, but that didn't hold Ginny's attention long. Light was pouring into the hallway from two doors down and the only obstruction was her mother's shadow and that meant only one thing. The door to the stranger's room was open.

It was the first time Ginny had actually seen it open. She'd tried a few times to catch her mother bringing him goods at lunch, but the older witch had always bested her and trying to open it herself or listen through the thick wood had resulted in nothing but a temporary shock and silence.

Her mother's angry whisper wasn't answered and as her mum locked the door and cleaned up the mess with a sweep of her wand an odd chill slithered down Ginny's spine.

She smiled to herself. Finally, she knew something no one else did.

During the big cleaning two summersago, she Ron and Hermione had been told to clean the room that stood between her own and their guests. It was a fairly good sized room filled with practically nothing, but there was one oddity, it was the only room that had a cupboard built into the wall.

After discovering only dirt and cobweb, Ginny had been chosen to clean it out. She'd grumbled about her brother being a Size-ist, that just because she was the smallest didn't mean that she should have to crawl into uncomfortable spaces for the sake of a thorough cleaning job, but with spider's nest covering her hair she climbed in.

Ridding the small walls of the cupboard of their thick dust had been more than a chore and when Ginny began to see the signs of actual wood she'd felt herself smiling. Swiping with her worn rag, she had jumped when she felt something underneath her palm. Orginally she'd thought it was a very arge insect stuck to the door but on closer inspection it turned out to be a tiny, but ordinary doorknob.

Curious Ginny tried to turn the small handle, but swore when it didn't budge. The small door was intriguing in of its self, but for someone to have locked it meant something much more interesting must be on the other side. Telling neither Ron nor Hermione, she had quietly climbed from the cupboard and excused herself from the room. It was a short trot to her own room, and she'd plopped onto her bed, digging through her rucksack until she found what she was looking for – a hair pin.

When she'd returned Ron and Hermione had been busy dragging oversized plastic bags to the rubbish chute so sneaking back into the cupboard unnoticed had been easy. Using a trick the twins had taught her, Ginny pried the small door open to disappointment. It was just another cupboard that led to another messy and equally boring room.

But this time it would be different. There would be something worthwhile on the other side.

000oooo000

Forming a plan hadn't been a long or hard process. It was simply built on good timing and stealth.

Her father, Lupin and the other three teenage wizards hadn't returned when her Mum became occupied preparing dinner and Ginny took it as her only opportunity to go completely unnoticed.

She hadn't been in the middle room since after they had cleaned it and it looked quite different as she opened the door. Five cots dressed in simple white linings and folded brown duvets at their ends were rowed against one wall and a window glass cupboard of potions and gauzes lined the other. With a sudden knot of pain in her stomach Ginny understood the exact purpose of this room.

The shocking realization brought out the frightened child she had been fighting to keep at bay and she was suddenly overcome by the compulsion to pad back to her temporary room and lay silently on the bed until dinner.

Time is of the essence Ginny, reminded a clear voice cutting through her apprehension and causing her to shake her head.

After quietly shutting the door, Ginny stepped lightly across the room moving between two cots and falling to her knees at the small door. Even after the remodeling the house-elf's door had gone unnoticed and she easily opened it.

Claustrophobia had never been a weakness of hers, but she was beginning to feel flustered as she had to wriggle inside the crawlspace. It was a bit smaller than she had remembered it and at sixteen it wasn't as easy to climb through as it had been at fourteen, but she got the outside door shut.

Beginning to sweat, Ginny relaxed against the closed door. This was harder than she had originally thought, but it was going to be worth it in the end.

<>She just knew it.

With the door shut, the cupboard was too dark, the only light being the thin ribbon of yellow beams coming through the floorboards, but that was all Ginny needed. Taking a breath, she faced the door. Physically it was how she remembered it, still small and grubby, but it looked different somehow. Logic told her that she knew this transformation had not been real but it was no help against her growing anxiety. Hand trembling,she reached out and touched the dusty door knob, but instantly recoiled. It hadn't shocked her.

In all honesty, she hadn't expected her mother and Snape to forget about it. She had thought that she would have gotten this far only to be met with disappointment at their cleverness. She had thought that they would surely have noticed something like an extra door, but as she took a deep breath and grasped the knob. It was obvious they hadn't.

The opposite cupboard was dark, but Ginny climbed into it anyway although something made her hesitate opening the door.

Once she opened that door there was no going back. If the stranger saw her, she would most likely be punished for her actions, but at least she would have a bargaining chip against her brother.

I only want a tiny glimpse, she told herself. He's probably asleep anyway. He can't be all that bad, if Mum's bringing him his meals.

Suddenly the image of a strawberry jam and thick glass flashed across her inner eye, but Ginny ignored it and opened the tiny door.

Ginny suspected that if you tried hard enough you could probably blow smoke the room was so cold but it would have done you no good had you wanted to see it, because the room was so dark she couldn't make it her own hand. She forced herself to ignore the nerves that were racking her stomach and sending gooseflesh over her bare arms and legs.

The floor was splintered and scratched her hands and knees as she blindly squirmed through the door. One hand before her as she crawled, searching for something to navigate her, but she didn't move far into the room before she felt a large flat surface against her left side and used it as a guide to slowly stand up.

Panic was beginning to pool in Ginny's stomach as she tried to look around to see exactly who or what was in here but not even the sun could penetrate the thick curtains. There was nothing.

Realization wormed its way into Ginny's head. Maybe it was the wrong room. Relief overrode Ginny's pang of disappointment and a chuckle nearly escaped her lips before a sound of brushing fabric and moving air caught her ear.

Ginny froze. Her muscles reflexively tensed at the sudden sharp sting on her neck. Something pointy was pressing painfully against her throat and her crowded mind couldn't force her body to move.

"Drop your wand," ordered a voice out of the dark. It was deep and drawling and took nothing away from the menacing feel of the wand against her neck. She tried to lick her lips but, her mouth had gone dry and for the first time since she'd put her plan into action, Ginny realized that this had been a bad idea.

"Don't make me repeat myself," threatened the disembodied voice, jabbing the weapon deeper into her skin.

Grimacing, Ginny went on to tiptoe to escape the pain but the weapon only followed her. "I don't have one," she honestly answered, sickened by the whine in her own tone.

"Then whatever weapon you do have, I advise you drop it."

"I told you already I don't have one," Ginny repeated. Her fear was ebbing with her sagging limbs as the familiarity of the voice pressed her mind to remember a face, but her memory came up blank.

"And I don't believe you," he continued. "So let's see your hands. Palms up."

Letting out a shaking breath, Ginny raised her hands, proving her innocence, but her sudden relief was demolished as long fingers wrapped around her forearms and the wizard pulled her fully into the room, blinding her eyes with the sudden kindling of the room's gas lamps.

"Who are you and what do you-"

Ginny felt her breath leave her lungs as she stared at the equally shocked boy who had pulled her into his room. She had had her suspicions about their guest and now she yearned to take back being right. She wanted to be wrong and that it was a kind old wizard from the original Order or a young Recruit, but all the wishing couldn't deny the truth.

It was Draco Malfoy.

TBC...

Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to update, but you know how RL can be. I hope to get the next chapter out quickly.

Special thanks to Rainpuddle13, who is not only a great author but an awesome BETA who came up with this chapter's clever title!

Thanks to: Swimchick1614, WaitingfortheSun, SauronofMordor, Ezmerelda, Anonymous, lukkiseven, Katiex, Adrial, Eri, and last but not least Elyse (and as you can see it will definetly not just be a oneshot, sorry if it came off that way before).

Chapter III: One Lie Leads to Another

*~*~*

Ginny felt her breath leave her lungs as she stared at the equally shocked boy who had pulled her into his room. She had had her suspicions about their guest and now she yearned to take back being right. She wanted to be wrong that it was a kind old wizard from the original Order or a young Recruit, but all the wishing couldn't deny the truth.

It was Draco Malfoy.

*~*~*

Fear wasn't a foreign instinct to Ginny, but she did find it strange that it was gripping her as thoroughly as it was. At the age of eleven when she'd faced Draco Malfoy inside Flourish and Blotts she'd felt nothing but the need to protect Harry. Two years ago, that evening in Umbridge's office she hadn't blinked at his threats or held her tongue when telling him what he could do with them. But now, inside Grimmuald Place completely unarmed Ginny could feel her left thigh twitch in the same familiar habit it did before a Quidditch match.

Adrenaline sharpened Ginny's sudden imperative sense of self‑preservation. Her left was firmly blocked by the now visible wardrobe and she took her only opportunity, lunging herself at Malfoy, but with a fierce jerk he flung her back against the wall with a painful thump. Hysteria was quickly overcoming her commonsense and she pounced at him again, but he only proved that he wasn't a Seeker for nothing, easily arresting her arm.

Trapped by his body, Ginny could feel his breath against her face as he whispered a spell that stuck her thrashing limbs to the dusty wall like fly paper. Unable to free her arms and legs, Ginny opened her mouth to scream, but Malfoy quickly put an end to it covering her mouth with the palm of his hand. The thought of biting him flashed through her mind, but was quickly squashed as he directed his wand back to its original spot against her throat.

"Weasley I advise you not to do that again." His demeanor was a mixture of surprise and confusion, but it was obvious Malfoy was composing himself quickly. "I'm going to take my hand from your mouth and you’re not going to scream. Do you understand?"

Ginny could do nothing, but nod, bumping the top of her head against the grimy wallpaper.

"Now, tell me what you and your family are doing here," he ordered with a more controlled voice, lowering his hand from her mouth, but not his wand.

"What are you?" she spat back, no trace of the high pitch that had distorted her voice the previous time she had spoken.

"I don't think you're in any position to be asking questions, Weasley," he replied and the feel of his wand digging deeper into her skin made Ginny hiss. "Now, I’ll ask one more time what are you doing here?"

She forced her eyes wide as she answered him through clenched teeth, "I can't say and even if I could I don't think I would be telling you now would I?"

To her surprise Malfoy pulled his wand from her throat as he took a single step back and crossed his arms. Ginny knew relief should have flooded her, but this controlled creature made her body more alert than when he’d been prodding her neck. He was silent as he stared at her and she could feel the weight of his gaze as he decided what to do next.

"Snape, where is he? What have you done with him?"

The sudden and unexpected question found Ginny’s mind blank. "Where's who?"

"Professor Snape. Where. Is. He?" he repeated, slowly pronouncing each word for her as if she were a small child.

"How should I know? The last time I saw him he was with you and my mother."

"Oh yes, how could I forget about your mother the squatty shrew who locked me in here," he said in his customary drawl. "I hope she knows I saw right through her pathetic attempt at a glamour. What is it you people wanted? Ransom?"

At his accusations, foul words and hexes instantly sprouted onto Ginny’s tongue, but the constant reminder of the wand he held help foster her self-control as she bit deep into her bottom lip while glaring up at him.

"I can't tell you why you're here, Malfoy. I don't know, but I do know my parents didn't bloody well kidnap you. My mother just let you in when you and Snape came scratching at the door."

"Liar," he accused his voice matter‑of‑fact. "If Snape were free, he would have come back to collect me by now. He would have brought Mother like he said he would."

"Are you so sure about that Malfoy, because Slytherins aren't exactly known for being honorable?" she asked, her bravery returning to her as she watched Malfoy’s face pale. It was clear he refused to acknowledge the truth and even with her arms and legs paralyzed, Ginny couldn’t help but feel a sense of victory.

“Just wait, Weasley. Wait until Snape comes for me, then you’ll see. Then you and your family will regret ever abducting me.” His voice wasn’t displaying any signs of hysteria, but Ginny could feel that his self-control was slowly draining from him.

“Oh yes, like I was supposed to regret when your father got out of prison. I must say I’m still waiting on that one, Malfoy,” she spat, resisting the urge to squeeze her eyes closed as she waited for the hex she was sure he would cast.

*~*~*

Draco shook with rage, but forced himself to keep his wand at his side and take another step away from the Weasley-girl. Controlling himself no matter the consequence was vital to him and his progress, losing his temper would resolve nothing and would only add to his list of already existing problems.

Except managing his decisions in a situation like this was more taxing than Draco had ever imagined. When he’d imagined interrogating a captor, he’d had the power. He’d had time to be methodical, but in reality things were moving much too fast and he needed to slow them down and take control of the situation. That’s what his father would have done, what his father would have wanted.

Desperate to take control of the situation and his emotions, Draco began to pace in hopes that he would be able to slow his actions and clear his mind. He needed time to think, to focus, to sort out what he knew as fact from the lies the Weasley-girl was trying to feed him.

Snape wouldn’t have left him here like a caged beast. No, it was another one of the Muggle lover’s lies, another one of her tricks. If she were anything like the rest of her kin, she was probably full of those. Draco stopped mid-step and turned an eye on her.

While he had been struggling with her, all he had seen were red hair and flailing limbs, but now as he got a decent look, she appeared different than he had remembered her at Hogwarts. She seemed shorter, not nearly as scrawny, older, but yet missing that air of polish that came with age. It was clear that class and style would forever elude her in her shapeless roll-cuffed trousers and oversized t-shirt. It disgusted Draco that any Pureblood could care so very little about their appearance, but he quickly reminded himself that the Weasleys were hardly your normal Pureblood family.

“Awfully rude to stare, Malfoy,” she spat, her narrowed eyes becoming black slits.

Draco sneered in reply, for a mere second he’d managed to focus on something trivial, something to distract him from his anger, but the Weasley chit had found the need to ruin it by opening her gob. Taking a deep breath, Draco resumed his pacing, directing his thoughts to more important things than the Weasel and her stupid mouth.

He needed a plan. The few options he’d come up with were beginning to collapse. The first idea that had sprung to mind was to simply hold her hostage, but no, that wouldn’t do. Weaselys were like Garden Gnomes - you kill one and there are ten more to take its place. He wouldn’t make it to the front door before being turned into a slug or a ferret or something equally foul . . . Again. Draco tried not to shudder at the sudden chill that tickled up his spine at the memories.

With the hostage scenario having failed in foresight, Draco knew his control was quickly deteriorating only to replaced with desperation. He wasn’t accustomed to this sort of treatment and wasn't going to be able to take this much longer, being trapped in this windowless room, not knowing where his mother was, not knowing anything. It was destined going to drive him mad.

How had he even gotten in here? It was a question he had been asking himself for the last week, but all his answers had been unsatisfactory. His self-exploratory question suddenly came to a new light for Draco: How had Weasley gotten in here?


She hadn’t just appeared out of thin air. She had crawled from somewhere, he had heard the dragging of her knees against the wooden floor. She had come from somewhere, but it had been too dark for him to see. If Weasley got in here then she knew how to get out, and in her predicament she had no other choice but to tell him.

“How did you get in here?”

"I Apparited," she answered with not even the decency of a blush staining her freckled cheeks.

Draco tried, but couldn’t stifle a mirthless chuckle. “Without a wand? That’s a talent indeed, Weasley, but since it’s quite obvious that you’re lying how about you try the truth?”

The widening of her dark eyes behind her unkempt fringe told Draco that her word had probably never been questioned before. How was it possible that she could have thought that such a blatant lie would have fooled him? His answer was simple. She was a Weasley and they weren’t placed in Ravenclaw for a reason.

Weasley overcame her sudden surprise, setting her pale lips into a straight line of stubbornness continued her assault of glaring at him but was only successful in painting the ideal picture of a shrew. To Draco it was becoming clear that obstinate was exactly what she was going to be.

Internally he released a sigh. It was quite obvious that Weasley wasn’t going to give him something for nothing. The idea of hexing her crossed his mind, but quickly vanished as he remembered that if her mother kept to habit, she would be bringing him dinner in a few hours and it wouldn’t do him well if she were to find her daughter covered in puss or scales.

"You tell me how you got in here Weasley and I'll lift the charm."

Her eyes shifted wildly from the door to him and back, her teeth digging deeply into her bottom lip. She wasn't going to be easily convinced.

“I can easily turn that temporary into a permanent sticking charm, Weasley, leaving you as a shabby ornament for the rest of your miserable life or you can just tell me how it is that you got in here,” he explained in way of persuasion.

"There's a servant’s door,” she began as if the very words were being ripped from her. “At the back of your closet here that leads into another room."

"And you crawled through this so called door?"

"Well, I didn't exactly walk through it did I?"

Draco lifted his eyebrow at her. It was certainly clear that he had the upper hand in this situation, but yet the Weasley insisted on running her gob. It was interesting really. Annoying to no end, but interesting.

“Why haven’t I seen it before?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you haven’t looked for it.”

“Is it a door that only you can see? Is it stationary or does it move?”

“Doubtful.”

"Then I want you to open it," he ordered, feeling as sense of accomplishment. The Bludger was beginning to fly now. But Weasley appeared to have different intentions as she continued to glare at him with her dark eyes.

"Well go on then," he persuaded, waving his wandless hand at her.

Blowing her red fringe from her face, she shifted her eyes to her pale wrists that rested against the dusty wall. "It seems you’ve forgotten that I can't move Malfoy."

“Right,” he agreed, waving his wand and whispering the counter-spell. The Weasley‑girl stumbled nearly falling to the floor as she regained control of her body.

*~*~*

Ginny shook her nearly numb limbs, hoping to force the feeling back into her arms and legs. Malfoy sticking her to the wall had been more harmful to her body than she had realized and now the painful tingling sensation was beginning to enter her feet. She was going to need a few minutes to recuperate if she was going to pull off her escape, but Malfoy was already raising his wand as she turned around.

“Enough of that Weasel,” Malfoy snapped, nudging her back with the wand.

With the incentive of Malfoy’s weapon against her back, Ginny gave her limbs one last shake and kneeled down and manipulated her body into fitting inside the cramped cupboard. With the gas lamp on inside Malfoy’s room and the door wide, she easily found the small servant’s door and quickly opened it to a draft of warm air coming up from the floorboards.

She could feel Malfoy’s eyes on her back as she stared into the darkness on the other side. To him it must only appear as another dark cupboard, but to Ginny it was freedom. A freedom she had no intention of granting him, but was desperate to gain for herself.

He was studying her every move as he waited patiently for her to crawl back out and let him have his turn, but Ginny had other things in mind as she took a deep breath and began quickly wiggling her body through the small door.

Despite being a Weasley, Ginny had always been small for her age, which in Quidditch had made her an average Seeker, but at the moment was quite fortunate as she easily passed her hips through the miniature threshold. Freedom and thus safety were feet away from her grasp, but as Ginny began pulling her knees through her limbs suddenly stiffened and she felt a painful scratching on the skin of her belly as he dragged her back through the hole.

Ginny wanted to stop him, to reach out and hold onto the sides of the cupboard, but her body refused to obey her and the need to scream overcame her as she got a bug’s-eye-view of Malfoy’s room.

“Oh foolish little, Weasel,” he chided, flipping her onto her back and staring down at her. “Did you honestly think I was going to make it that simple?”

A thousand words and hexes that her Mother had no idea she knew streamed through Ginny’s mind as she stared up at him from the grimy wood floor unable to even open her mouth.

“Goodbye, Weasley,” he drawled, smirking down at her.

Ginny wanted to close her eyes and hide from her own stupidity, but was unable and laid frozen on the floor staring at the water-stained circles on the ceiling above her. How could she have been so foolish? How could she have let Malfoy slip away? What was her mother going to say when she found the enemy gone and replaced by her own daughter?

A string of foul words quickly pulled Ginny from the list of scenarios and she strained her ears trying to listen as the sound of Malfoy's footsteps came storming across the floorboards.

*~*~*

“What did you people do to this room?” he demanded, and Ginny could see that his self-control had been broken as evidenced by the white rage on his face. He released the spell he’d placed on her and tucked his wand away before pulling her up by the collar of her t-shirt.

“We didn’t do anything,” she defended, grabbing onto his pale hands in hopes that he would let her go, but there was absolute no cheer behind his grin as he smiled and turned them around until her back met the wall she’d been previously stuck to.

“That’s three blatant lies in one hour you must be going for some sort of record Weasel,” he answered. “Now, tell me how to get out of this room!”

“I told you the only way I know how,” Ginny replied. “It’s not my fault if you can’t fit through the bloody door.”

“Oh, I can fit all right,” he answered, his fine brows knitting together. “But your lot did something to this room to stop me from getting out and I want to know how to lift it.”

“And for some reason you think that they would give a fifteen-year-old such information,” she answered honestly and surprisingly Malfoy released her, letting her slide from her toes to the heels of her feet.

“You knew I was trapped in here.”

“Only by chance-”

But Ginny didn't get a chance to finish her sentence as both of them turned in unison at the sound of bolts unlatching. The familiar sense of panic immediately gripped her again. That couldn't be her mother already, could it? How long had she been stuck in here? Worse, what if it was another member of the Order? If she were caught in here it would be seen as a much bigger offense than her innocent eavesdropping.

"Where do you think you're going?" Malfoy snapped, catching her arm as she reached for the servant's door.

Ginny had already acknowledged Malfoy's superior physical power so she knew fighting him would only lose her more time and even if she were to break free he would only freeze her before she made it through the crawlspace. The only option she had left was to reason with him.

"Do you know what my mother will do to me if she catches me in here?"

The smirk he wore was both cruel and sharp in its amusement. "Oh, I have an idea."

"Malfoy, what do you want?"

"Now, who said I wanted anything?"

Ginny glanced at the door. Her mother would be coming through at any moment. She didn't have time for Malfoy and his stupid games.

"Stop playing Malfoy. What do you want?"

*~*~*

Ginny sprinted across the empty landing not caring to muffle her footsteps as she took the stairs two at a time and skidded into the front hall narrowly missing the umbrella stand. The realization of how close she’d been to waking up the portraits and the feel of her heart racing in her chest brought her to a quick stop. She was going to have to compose herself if she planned to get through dinner.

She was expected back by midnight and had to be ready to deliver or Malfoy would make his threat a reality. It was hard for her to believe that out of the things Malfoy could have requested he asked for that. But Ginny found it more than an easy enough trade for his silence.

*~*~*

Ginny stood up from her knees, pulling the folded copy of The Daily Prophet from the back of her plaid pajama bottoms. From the lighting of the gas lamp the room wasn’t nearly as dark as it had been the first time she’d been there and she quickly found Malfoy.

He was sitting on his bed, a book laid open in his lap and half a moth-eaten canopy curtain pulled down to conceal him, but Ginny couldn’t see why as he was still wearing the clothes he had been before. Watching him nonchalantly sitting there on his massive bed, Ginny felt a twinge of regret and felt for the safety of her wand inside her pocket. The resemblance to his Father was uncanny as if he was ready to step right into his shoes.

Taking a deep breath Ginny crossed the room and stood at the end of his bed. He didn’t look up from the book as she tossed the newspaper onto his bed, just checked his wristwatch. “About time,” he announced, slowly putting his book down, grabbing at the folded paper.

He opened it up with a pop before laying it out on his brown duvet. He said nothing, but narrowed his pale eyes as he went over the second page from top to bottom.
“Can I go now?” Ginny asked, crossing her arms to both feel for her wand and to ward off the cold, she couldn’t see how Malfoy could bear it.

“Not yet,” he answered, flipping the last inked page.

Ginny thought that they were through, but suddenly he tore the paper apart sending thin sheets of gray and black floating onto his duvet and the floor.

“What is this?” he asked, tossing another long sheet of The Prophet over his shoulder.

“It’s what you asked for. It’s the paper,” Ginny answered, gripping her wand inside the pocket of her yellow dressing gown.

“I can see that Weasley, but where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s all there is,” she answered, growing annoyed at his demands. Didn’t Malfoy know that beggars could not be choosers? But by looking at him crossing his arms over his chest sitting on his bed like a child, Ginny assumed he did not.

“Well, it’s not enough,” he stated. “A fact that I’m sure your mother would love to hear.”

Instantly understanding his implication, Ginny narrowed her eyes. “Look here Malfoy, I brought what I could.”

“I can see that as well, but like I said it’s not enough,” he explained, pointing at the stack of shredded evidence.

Ginny felt her cheeks warm. Malfoy’s threats no matter how real they were seemed less menacing with her wand tucked safely within easy reach.

“I’m not scared of you, Malfoy.”

“I didn’t presume you were.”

Malfoy’s admission took Ginny by surprise, but she regained her composure quickly. “I held up my end of the bargain Malfoy, I hope I can safely assume that you’ll be honorable enough to do the same.”

“Of course Weasley, a Malfoy’s word is his word. I wouldn’t dream of telling your mother about your visit earlier this evening,”

“Good,” Ginny said, fighting down a sigh of relief but as she turned to crawl back through the cupboard door something stopped her. “Malfoy, what exactly do you mean by my visit earlier this evening?”

“Precisely that Weasel, I won’t tell your mother about your visit earlier this evening.”

“Yes but what about my being in here now?”

The smirk that was slowly forming on his lips as he stared at his fingernails made Ginny’s stomach burn with anticipation before he eventually looked up at her. “Well, my part of the bargain doesn’t extend to this visit, now does it? So, I wouldn’t be breaking my word if I were to tell your mother anything about tonight-”

“That’s not fair, Malfoy! We had a deal-”

Malfoy swung his legs over the side of his bed and Ginny tilted her head as he planted his feet and stood. “Yes Weasel, we did but you were just foolish enough to leave open a loophole.”

Ginny held her ground. Her face was growing warmer as her anger bubbled inside her. How could she have been so daft as to trust a Slytherin and a Malfoy to boot? She should have known that he would find another way to deceive her. She had been desperate yes, but she should have found another way.

“But your mother doesn’t have to know, Weasel,” he said, shaking his head.

Ginny couldn’t believe her ears. Was Draco Malfoy actually offering to do something nice for someone else? No, absolutely not, there had to be an ulterior motive.

*~*~*

“What’s the catch?”she asked, her big dark eyes staring warily at him.

“You do a few errands for me and I’ll do what I can for you as simple as that.”

She smiled softly to herself and took a step towards the door. “I’ve already told you, I don’t know anything.”

“But I do,” he replied inching towards. “So I’ll tell you what I can if you just do these things for me-”

“What kind of things?”

“I need publications, stationery, information about things outside these four bloody walls. You can get that for me and to hold up my end I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know about what’s really happening out there,” he said, knowing that every word he said was false, but confident in the fact the he had managed to sound sincere.

*~*~*

Ginny knew this couldn't be right. Making deals with Malfoys had never been a situation she desired to be in, but as he continued to talk she couldn’t help being convinced that maybe he was making a little bit of sense.

TBC....

Special Thanks to: rainpuddle13 for the lovely BETAing job. She rocks.