Lies

jessica k malfoy

Rating: NC17
Genres: Angst, Drama
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 21/05/2005
Last Updated: 28/04/2006
Status: in_progress

Ginny is kidnapped by Draco on the pretense that he is saving her. Warning: There is only angst, violence, & dark drama here. No happy endings at all.

Chapters

1. Kidnapped

2. Get It Over With

3. Fall

4. Unhappy Christmas

5. Death and Beginnings

6. Spells and Alcohol

7. A Good Night's Sleep

8. Pain

9. Prisoner Forgotten (8)

10. Prisoner to Mistress

11. Birthday

12. The Dinner

13. Changes

14. Tough Choices

1. Kidnapped

CHAPTER 1 Kidnapped

Ginny didn't know what hit her.

For the past several weeks, Draco Malfoy had made his presence known, popping up in corridors when she was alone, watching her during meal times, and finally, during the last week of her 6th year, joining her for her nightly prefect's watches. He fell into step beside her as she pushed open doors and deducted points from misbehaving students.

He never said anything, not even when she demanded to know what in the bloody hell he was doing; he just watched her from underneath heavy eyelids, and that unnerved her.

“What are you doing?” she asked in surprise on the first night.

“Walking,” was his short answer.

She was taken back at his voice, realizing that he had rarely spoken directly to her before. He had always flung his insults at the Trio, never at her. “Did you need something?” she pressed, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Her glared at her, not in a cruel way, but in a way that signaled the end of the conversation.

The next night she asked again, but this time he said nothing at all, and she suddenly felt vulnerable beside him. He was at least eight inches taller than her, and although he gave the appearance of being thin, one sideways glance at his arms told her otherwise.

The third night she snapped, “Would you mind telling me why you're stalking me?”

Again, he didn't answer, so Ginny gave up asking.

On the last night of her watch, the day before she left Hogwarts for the summer, he looked at her and said, “You're in danger. Your whole family's in danger.”

Ginny turned to stare at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he muttered.

“And why should I believe you?”

“I think I would know.”

“So, you stalk me for a week, and then you expect me to believe you? Let me guess, we should all come hide at your place?” she snorted.

Draco stared at her with his ice colored eyes for a moment. “Are you forgetting who my father is?”

“No. I'm remembering. That's why I'm not believing you.”

He sighed loudly. “Why would I lie to you?”

“Why not?” she demanded. “I have no reason to trust you.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Have you ever spoke to me before?”

“I'm trying to help you.”

“I'm sorry, but why in the bloody hell would you want to help me? You've never been anything but a pain in the arse!”

Draco took a deep breath, and in the dim light of the hall, Ginny could see two identical dark pink splotches appearing on his cheeks. “Didn't you ever wonder who sent you all those flowers? Valentine's presents? The Christmas presents?”

Ginny stared at him. Of course she had wondered. The large, unsigned bouquets, the chocolates, the necklace she was currently wearing, the fancy quills and expensive inks, the black velvet winter cloak she absolutely loved. She had several guesses for secret admirers, but he was not one of them. “I don't believe you. Why would you send me girfts?”

Draco opened his mouth to speak and then stopped and shook his head. “Just listen to me. You need to get away from here, out of England. Go on a holiday this summer.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Did you suddenly forget that I'm a Weasley? I have a big family and we're poor, remember? We can't just take a holiday whenever we feel like it!” She shoved the set of enchanted classroom keys into his hands. “I'm going to bed. You can finish this up.”

She turned on her heel and stomped away from him, her mind reeling.

From behind her, she heard him softly say, “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” she snapped, whirling around.

“For this. Imperio.”

The world suddenly changed. It was like being in a dream; a dream where she knew that she was dreaming, but couldn't wake up.

“I'm sorry,” Draco told her again, stepping in front of her. “I'm just trying to keep you safe.”

Deep inside, she wanted to scream, to hit him, to kill him if she could, but she just stood there, frozen, staring at him.

“Listen,” he said, rubbing his temples with his thumbs. “Go back to your dorm, do all the things you normally do, and tomorrow, before the train gets to the Platform, you come find me.”

Ginny felt her body turn and begin to walk off.

“I'm sorry,” he called again.

Ginny went back into the Gryffindor Tower, and when Hermione called to her, she walked to the table, smiled at the trio, and sat down, just like she always did. Ginny felt like a very tiny person was fighting inside of her. It was so small, it was almost unnoticeable, but it was there. The real Ginny was screaming and crying and no one was noticing. In fact, she barely even noticed.

She talked to them just like she always did, played a game of Exploding Snap with Hermione, laughed as Harry and her brother chased the younger students out of the good chairs by the fire for the last time, and then went to bed, just like she always did.

She fell asleep easily, and dreamed about nothing.

The next morning was hustle and bustle, with trunks being magicked out of the Houses and animals being given back to the owner, students searching for their one missing item, it was only when Ginny dashed down to the Great Hall to grab some fruit for breakfast and caught a glimpse of Draco that the real Ginny was able to surface for a moment.

“No!” she heard herself screaming inside her head. “Fight this! Don't let him do this to you!”

Draco looked at her, his face vacant and expressionless, but his cold eyes betraying him. He nodded at her ever so slightly, and the curse took over again.

Ginny scooped up an apple, an orange, and a handful of pecans and headed back to her dorm, just like she always did at the end of every school year.

On the Hogwarts Express, Ginny left the trio alone and sat with her friends, just like always. Deep inside, she had the vague, uncomfortable feeling that her body was on auto pilot. When they spoke to her she replied, appearing interested in their conversations, and no one suspected a thing. The real Ginny was screaming with fear and desperation.

As if a switch inside of her had been flipped, just before the train reached the platform, Ginny involuntarily stood to her feet and went to find Draco. She found him alone, waiting for her in a tiny compartment that only seated two.

He didn't speak, just motioned for her to sit down.

She had no further instructions, so she sat stiffly, waiting. She could feel the train rumble to a stop, and still Draco made no move. He sat with his head slightly bowed, and his eyes locked on the window.

My family, the real Ginny was screaming, he's taking me away. Oh gods, what is he going to do to me?

Finally Draco stood to his feet and cleared his throat. “I have our luggage.” He wrapped one arm around her waist, and there was a slight jolt and noisy pop as they apparated.

It wasn't until he took the curse off of her that Ginny fully understood what was going on. The past 24 hours were a hazy dream in which she could recollect very little. She vaguely recalled the evening before and the train ride home. Her clearest memory was still fuzzy, but she could remember Draco using silencing and locking charms on the room she was now in. Draco was sitting on the edge of the great bed, rubbing his head.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her knees buckling under the sudden weight and ability to support herself.

“I just want to keep you safe,” Draco muttered, as if talking to himself and standing up.

As Ginny's senses came back to her, fear welled up in her chest. She shoved past him and yanked on the handle of the door. It didn't open. “What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?” she screamed.

Draco stepped back and raised his hands. “I'm trying to help, okay? I'm trying to keep you alive!”

“By putting me under the controlling curse? By kidnapping me?” The volume of her screams made her own ears ache.

“I'm going to let you calm down,” he told him, stepping away from her and towards a door she hadn't noticed. “This is for your own good.”

“No! You can't do this to me!” Tears she didn't want him to see were streaming down her cheeks and she could do nothing to stop them. “Please, I won't tell, I swear!”

He shook his head, his face unreadable. “You can't go. You'll die.”

“I'm going to die here, aren't I?” she sobbed.

He stepped through the door and was gone.

Ginny braced herself against the wall, trembling with rage and fear and fright. What was he going to do to her? How was she going to get out? As she rocked against the wall, wiping away tears, there was a small pop and then a shaky house elf stood before her.

“Miss?” she said apprehensively, “I is Sully. Master sends me here to help you.”

Ginny stared down at the little elf. It wasn't fair to take it out on the elf; she was obviously scared already. “I don't need help,” Ginny said finally. “I just need to get out of here.”

“How about yous get a bath?” Sully suggested. “A warm long bath is nice.”

Ginny slowly sunk down the wall until she was sitting on the carpet. She wasn't sure if she should scream in fear or laugh with the absurdity of it all. She didn't know if she would have more success in trying to escape now, or waiting and calculating a plan. “I don't want a bath. But thank you.”

“Very well,” Sully bowed. “I's be bring your dinner shortly miss, and if you needs me before then, you just pull this rope.” She motioned to a long dark green cord hanging near the large bed, and then apparated away.

Ginny scrambled to her feet and again tried the door behind her. If refused to open. She moved to the door Draco had exited and yanked on it, beat it, and kicked it, but it stayed shut. The third door opened into a large closet, and the fourth into a large, windowless bathroom. She went to the large window in the room that overlooked a garden, and found that it too was sealed and unbreakable. She threw herself on the bed in frustration and began to cry freely.

The house elf brought her a dinner tray with a large piece of broiled fish, potatoes, steamed vegetables, a thick slab of bread, and a crystal dish containing strawberries and cream. She poked at the food listlessly, her eyes painfully swollen with her tears.

She attempted to swallow a fork full of the meat, and found herself gagging on it. Instead she drank all the wine in her goblet and asked for two refills before exhaustion won and she fell into a fitful sleep.

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This is my dark fic & its going to contain nothing but angst. Draco is a very, very dark person in this one, just to warn you. There will be no happy ending at all, and some of you may not approve of the choices he makes and the things he does. Unlike Dark Days & its sequel, there is no redemption here.

********

On a lighter note, Vinofaerie & I have created a LiveJournal community for Draco & Ginny. It's a 100 word drabble community, so come on over & check it out. It can be found at Http://www.livejournal.com/users/ginny_draco100

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2. Get It Over With

A/N: My apologies to anyone getting multiple alerts. I blame it on my connection.

CHAPTER 2 Get it over with

Ginny counted three days passing through the window before Draco returned. She spent the entire first day and a good part of the second day trying to get out of the room. It was impossible. She spent the third day livid, making plans to kill Draco Malfoy if that was the only way out of the room. Sully brought her three meals each day, and a snack of some sort before in the evening, but she could hardly eat, as it was only her rage that was keeping her up.

The third day, Draco brought her dinner. He set a large tray down before her without speaking, then snapped his fingers and instructed the two house elves who appeared to put the bags on the bed.

Ginny had spent the day practicing what she was going to say to him, and now that he was here in front of her, she just wanted to throttle him.

“I assumed you were about the same size as my mother, so I had her seamstress make you some clothes,” he told her without looking at her.

“What are you playing at, Draco?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“I thought you might like to change clothes,” he replied evenly.

“That's not what I mean. Why am I here? Why not let me go warn my family?”
“Warning them won't do any good. You said it, where would your family go to hide?”

“Dumbledore could hide us,” she said desperately. “He's got hiding places. I've got to warn them!”

“You seriously think the Dark Lord doesn't have his own spies in the Order?”

“Well,” she fumbled, his words surprising her, “I'm sure, but-”

“Listen to me! They want Potter, of course, but they want your family first. Not only would it hurt the Order, it would crush Potter. I was a fool to warn you. This is the only way.”

“I'd rather be dead with them, than alive without them!” she spat at him.

Draco finally looked at her, giving her a long look, a look one might give to a child who does not understand the seriousness of what is going on. “This is your home now,” he said finally. “You aren't leaving.”

Ginny tried to count to ten, tried to beg herself to be reasonable, and screamed, “You sodding arse! You can't kidnap me!” She picked up her dinner tray and flung it at him. “I hate you! I hate you!”

He barely managed to duck the tray and its contents, and in one move he crossed the room and grabbed her by the wrists. “I'm risking my own life to save yours. I don't expect you to believe me now, but soon you will.”

She struggled to break free, refusing to let his words hurt her, refusing to believe him. “I hate you! You bloody bastard. You're probably going to kill me, aren't you?”

Draco's ice colored eyes bore into hers as she struggled fruitlessly to get away. “You have no idea. Why the fuck should I help you? I have no reason to, but I am. Think about that.”

“Let go!” Fear was wrapping its humid body tightly around her. His eyes were narrowed and piercing, and his jaw was set. She was positive he was going to kill her, or slap her at the very least. It was hard to breathe with him pressed so painfully into her, and she strained uselessly to break his grip.

Instead he tightened his grip on her wrists and shoved her into the wall. “You're not leaving. Not unless this war ends or I die, which ever comes first.”

“I hope you die!” she spat, straining against him uselessly.

He let out a cold, hard laugh. “Ironic, don't you think?”

“Just get it over with you fucking Death Eater! Rape me and kill me or whatever you have planned. Just do it!”

His grip on her wrists became so tight she couldn't feel her hands, and he knocked her head against the wall as he trembled with a rage so violent she could feel it radiating from his skin.

Oh gods, she quaked. He is going to kill me.

After a moment he let out a sigh of disgust and released her wrists, shoving her back slightly as he did. “One day you'll thank me.”

“For what?” she screamed at his retreating back. “For kidnapping me? For keeping me away from my family so you can kill them?”

The door snapped shut behind him and she was left in silence. She stood in the stillness and rubbed her wrists, concentrating her anger on the furious red marks his fingers had left, and refusing to allow tears to fall.

Several minutes later Sully popped into the room bearing another tray of food and meekly placing it before her. “Master said to brings you this,” she nearly whispered before beginning to clean the mess Ginny had made.

“How do I get out of here?” Ginny said softly, collapsing to the edge of the bed.

“Sully is a good elf, Missus,” the elf said flatly. “I has always served my Master since he was a brand new child.”

“Do you know why he brought me here?”

“To keeps you safe.”

“But my family, I need to warn them!”

“I don't knows about that,” the elf said, standing up straight. “Shall I draws your bath?” Without waiting for an answer she quickly went to the restroom and Ginny could hear the water.

She hadn't bathed since she'd been locked in the room, and although Ginny refused to believe that her situation was permanent, she decided that a bath would be good. Maybe it would clear her mind.

Sully gathered her soiled clothes with disdain and then helped Ginny into the bath. “Now you must eat tonight, Missus,” she intoned. “Master says so.”

“Sod him,” Ginny muttered.

Sully looked fearful. “You must.”

Ginny eyed the elf and hoped Draco wouldn't take her actions out of the creature. “Alright then,” she sighed.

“I will gets you some cream for your wrists. They will be as good as new.”

“No,” Ginny shook her head. “Leave them. I need to remember why I hate him.”

Sully shook her head disapprovingly and asked, “Will there be anything else tonight?”

“No. I'm fine, thanks.”

Ginny sunk lower in the tub as the house elf disappeared, hot tears burning at her eyes. She wasn't going to stay here. She was not. If she had to kill Draco Malfoy with her bare hands she would, but she wasn't staying. The tears slipped down her cheeks as her adrenaline left her and the memories of Draco's actions burned into her mind. It hurt to flex her wrists and she could see the bruises forming, deep purples and browns.

****

Ginny didn't see Draco for days after that. She watched out her window as the days passed and grew longer. The tree branches outside her window seemed to bow underneath the weight of the humidity and the ferocity of the sun.

Every day she climbed out of bed with a fresh resolve to find a way out of the room, out of the house, and back to her family.

Every day she had failed.

Every day she racked her brain for a plan of escape.

Nothing worked.

That morning, when she had woken, she hadn't jumped out of the bed and begun pacing the room, trying to doors and windows. They would be locked, just like always. Instead, she stayed in the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what Draco planned to do to her. She wondered if he really was going to just keep her prison or if he had other things in mind.

Instead she reached behind the headboard of the bed and made the 42nd tick mark in the wall. She'd remembered to count the days 42 times. The other days were lost.

She thought about her mum and her father, wondering if they were still searching for her. She wondered how long it had taken them to realize she wasn't coming home. She wondered if anyone had any clue at all about where she was.

Ginny refused to get out of bed when Sully came bearing breakfast, stating flatly that there was no point. “I have no where to go. I'm staying here.”

In the afternoon Sully returned, bringing lunch and a great stack of books. “Master says to brings these for you.”

Ginny stared at the books but did not move. She had no interest in books.

She slept. Weak from hunger and exhausted from fear, she slept. She lost track of the days and saw no one but Sully. When she was awake, she lay in the bed and stared out the window, getting out of bed only for wobbly trips to the loo.

****

Ginny didn't actually see Draco, but she knew he was there. She found single flowers lying on the bedside table, new bubbles and salts for the bath, strange Muggle toiletries since she no longer had her wand, and more books. One morning she woke to find a strange, flat contraption mounted on the wall across from her bed. Sully explained that it was a Muggle television and showed her how it worked. Ginny left it on continually, craving the faux human interaction.

She surmised that she had been there for about two months when she finally turned off the telly and dragged herself out of bed. She rang for Sully to bring her toast to nibble on, and then took a bath while Sully nearly smothered her with attention, pleased she was no longer in the bed.

Ginny grimaced as she caught a glance of herself in the mirror, dark circles under her eyes and her ribs clearly visible through her skin.

Sully shook her head as she toweled Ginny dry. “You needs to be eating.”

Ginny didn't answer right away. “Can you glamour these circles away?”

“Yes, Missus.”

The clothes Draco had brought Ginny hung loosely on her, so Sully took up the seams as Ginny attempted to do something with her hair. “Oh sod it!” she sighed emptily, smacking the brush down on the table. “Why am I doing this? He's going to say no!”

Sully didn't answer, but she picked up the brush and secured it into a loose ponytail.

“Is he here?”

“Master?” the elf squeaked.

“Uh huh.”

“Yes, he is home.”

Ginny glanced one more time in the mirror. “Will you ask him to come in here?”

“Yes Missus.” Sully disappeared with a pop.

Ginny sagged against the window, exhaustion taking over her body. She refused to give in, and sat in the tall stiff chair at the vanity, but Sully didn't return. Finally, after what felt like hours, Ginny gave up and crawled into her bed, unwanted tears threatening to burn her eyes. He wasn't coming. She should have known.

When she woke, the light from the setting sun cast strange orange shadows across her room and it took her a moment to realize that Draco was sitting there. His eyelids were heavy as he looked at her, and she noticed that he held his right arm away from him as if it were painful.

He looked . . . broken.

Suddenly she lost her nerve. “Are you okay?”

He didn't answer, just glared at her and grimaced.

Panic welled up inside her. “Is it my family?”

“No,” his voice came out in a hiss.

Slowly, carefully, Ginny rose from her bed and edged her way to where he sat, and knelt in front of him. Fleetingly she wondered why he wore the button down shirts in the middle of the summer. She began to reach for him tentatively. Her fingers trembled as she rolled up his sleeve until she saw it.

Burned into his pale flesh was a charred black skull; she could see the tender pink skin around it, signifying that it was new. She could almost smell the fear and pain and burning skin. She had to look away.

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3. Fall

A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone. I love reviews. And to answer a few questions that have come up, no Draco is not a victim of his father's manipulations. He makes his own choices. Speaking of Lucius, he could care less if Draco has Ginny locked away, he has other things to deal with. And if you are getting 20 million alerts, this is the reason: when ever I try to upload to this site, my connection pretty much dies. So every time I hit submit, y'all get an alert. Sorry.

CHAPTER 3 Fall

“Don't ever do that again,” Draco hissed as she turned her head away.

“Why . . . why would you do that?” she quaked, unable to control her trembling.

He stared at her, his expression strangely curious. “This is what I was born to do.”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, tears escaping her eyes.

He let out a cold, bitter laugh. “You're sorry? I have you locked away here, and you're sorry?”

She had no words for him, so she sat still, letting the tears roll.

“What did you want?” he asked after a long silence. “Sully said you called for me.”

“Nothing,” she shook her head.

“It was something,” he said crossly.

“No, I was just, just lonely.”

Gradually, Draco stood to his feet and reached for her hand. “Come here.”

She stood to her feet and let him lead her to the small couch near the window. He sat down next to her and reached for the telly remote. They sat together, watching it until Ginny fell asleep again.

When she woke she was in the bed, wearing one of the nighties Draco had brought her. She hoped it was Sully who had changed her. He came back that night, and the next, and the next, and they continued their ritual of sitting in silence and watching the telly.

“Have you heard . . . anything about my, my family?” Ginny dared to ask one evening.

“No,” he answered shortly without looking at her.

“Nothing? The De-, they haven't said anything?”

“No. They haven't.”

Ginny chewed nervously at her thumb nail. “Why don't you say we?”

“What?” he snapped, finally dragging his eyes away from the program to glare at her.

“You said they. Aren't you one of them now?”

“What fucking difference does it make to you?”

“Sorry.” Ginny stood to her feet and crossed the room to her bed, yanking back the covers and sliding inside.

The noises from the telly tried to fill up the silence in the room.

“What are you doing?” he asked finally.

She didn't answer.

“Hello?” he barked.

She heard him rise to his feet, and felt the bed move as he sat at the edge.

“Why are you asking me about that?”

“What else am I going to talk to you about?” she demanded, sitting up. “There's not too much we have in common. I guess we could always talk about you kidnapping me!”

Draco's face contorted and she wondered for a second if she had gone too far. “Why don't you not talk at all?”
“Because I get bored!” she shouted. “And lonely. It really sucks being locked up in here for months and months!”

He had no reply.

“So forgive me if I ask you questions that you don't like!”

“Just make sure you don't do it again,” he said spitefully.

“Get out!” she yelled. “Get out!”

“This is my house. I don't have to go anywhere.”

“I hate you.” She grabbed the only thing within reach, a small vase, and threw it at him. “I hate you!”

He ducked the vase and was on top of her in an instant, one knee pinning her chest to the bed, one hand clasping both wrists firmly above her head, and his other hand clenching her jaw so tightly that her teeth were cutting into the sides of her mouth. “You need to learn to control your temper, Weasley,” he snarled. “One more incident like that and you won't have the things you have now. You could have it a lot worse.”

“Please, get off,” she gasped. “I can't breathe.”

“Understand?”

She nodded her head the little that she could, but he didn't move. “Please, I can't breathe!” The room was beginning to fade from her vision and her brain was barely processing anything. “Please!”

At last Draco rolled off of her, and she gasped for air as he stomped from the room. He paused for a moment and then raised his fist, and smashed it into the wall.

Ginny sank lower into her bed and she wondered if he wished he had been hitting her.

****

He stayed away.

At first Ginny was glad, fearful of him, but as the sunlit days grew shorter and the leaves on the trees turned from green to golds and oranges, she missed him; she missed having a person. She craved human interaction, and the telly was of no use. Finally she broke down and asked Sully to beg him to come back.

“He gaves me no answer,” Sully squeaked, and Ginny thought he would never return. She went back to her habit of lying in bed without eating, sleeping the time away.

The days were short and gray when Draco returned, bringing a dinner tray. “Sully says you're not eating,” he told her flatly, his voice waking her up.

She stared at him, afraid to say anything that would anger him and cause him to leave her alone again. He seemed thinner than she remembered, but maybe she was wrong, as his arms still appeared sculpted. His ice colored eyes were haunted, and she noticed that he wasn't wearing a button down shirt. For the first time, she saw him in a thin undershirt and worn denim trousers. She hadn't been aware that a Malfoy would own such clothes.

Ginny struggled to sit up and found that she couldn't; the week of consuming nearly nothing had left her vulnerable and exposed.

Draco looked at her with obvious disgust written across his pristine face, before helping her into a sitting position. “You're going to eat now,” he muttered once she was situated.

Ginny nodded, afraid to try the rich looking bowl of chowder in front of her, but even more scared to contradict him.

Draco moved until he was sitting directly in front of her and handed her a goblet of water to drink, and then dipped the spoon into the bowl and lifted it to her lips.

The chowder was excellent, as all the food she had been served was, but her stomach rolled even at the small spoonful that she had swallow. She took another tentative sip of the water and prayed that everything would stay down.

Draco lifted a second spoonful to her lips, and then a third, and on the fourth, Ginny's stomach could handle it no more and before she could stop herself, she leaned to the side and retched.

Draco jumped back in surprise and then immediately rang for Sully while Ginny began to cry.

“She's sick,” Draco told Sully stiffly.

Sully glanced at the situation and said timidly, “Master, if I mays?”

Draco gave a sharp, rigid nodded.

“I thinks that she needs a light broth. She has not eaten all week.”

“Fine,” Draco told her.

“I'm sorry,” Ginny sobbed. “I'm sorry.”

Draco shook his head. “Sully will take care of this and I will get you a bath. Then we'll try some broth.”

“Okay,” she wept, angry at her weakness and mortified at her feebleness.

Draco stood and went to the bathroom and moments later she heard the water running. Sully quickly snapped her fingers and cleaned Ginny's mess and then removed the dinner tray. The elf then climbed onto the bed and stood over Ginny.

“Lift up your arms, Missus,” she instructed.

“What?” Ginny whispered, wiping at her tears.

“Go on now,” she commanded. “You cannot bathes with clothes on.”

“But I'm-”

“They is dirty anyways.”

With another snap of the elf's fingers, Ginny found herself very naked. She yanked the blanket over her chest as Draco reentered the room.

“I'll carry you,” he instructed.

“No,” she tried to protest. “I don't have any clothes.”

“I don't think you'll have any in the bath either,” he muttered.

“No, I, please-”

“Fine,” he shrugged with indifference. “Sully, get her robe.”

Sully simply snapped her fingers a third time, and Ginny was wearing the robe. Draco tentatively helped her from the bed. She was determined to walk on her own, to stop making a fool of herself in front of him, but her legs had other plans. She felt absolutely ridiculous, as her legs gave away the second time and she stumbled, clinging desperately to Draco's arm. She had never in her life been so vulnerable and pathetic, and she had brought it on herself by refusing to eat. She bit the inside of her lips and tightened her grip on Draco. She would not allow him to carry her to the bath.

It felt like an eternity of baby steps, but when she finally made it, she lowered herself to the side of the tub and let out a small laugh. “Oh gods. I did it.”

“Can you get it?” Draco asked woodenly.

Ginny nodded, hoping he didn't notice that she was gasping for air. “Are you . . . going out?”

“No.”

“Oh.” There was no way she was allowing him to see her naked. Absolutely no way, especially now that she was so skeletal.

“I'll turn around.”

Ginny eyed his back before cautiously removing the robe and sliding into the bubble filled tub.

The large bathroom was silent except for the occasional movement of the water.

****

After her bath, Draco fed Ginny her broth, and allowed her to go back to sleep. When she woke, the room was dark, except for the bluish glow of the telly.

“How do you feel?” Draco's words floated to her from across the room.

“Okay,” she answered quietly.

He crossed the room and pulled the cord to signal Sully. “Bring us dinner,” he commanded when she appeared.

Ginny sat still at the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do or say.

“It's snowing,” Draco told her after a moment.

“It is?”

He nodded. “First snow of the winter.”

Ginny's eyes moved to the large window. Sure enough, in the light of the telly, she could see the silver flakes falling past. “What month is it?”

“Almost November.”

“Oh.” I've been here six months.

“Here you is, Master,” Sully appeared, balancing a large tray of food. “I bring broth for the Missus.”

“Thank you,” he replied shortly, placing the tray on a table.

Ginny forced herself to sit at the table and methodically dip her spoon in the bowl and raise it to her lips. Six months . . .

She barely noticed Draco sitting across from her, and started when he spoke. “I have arranged for you to freely roam the Manor and the grounds when you are ready.”

She froze, the spoon hovering over the bowl.

“My parents are not here anymore. Mother never liked this place and convinced father to go back to the Manor in Wiltshire.”

“Where is this place?”

“Stonehenge.”

There was a short silence. “Thank you,” she said.

Draco didn't lock her door anymore, but it was nearly a week before Ginny felt strong enough to venture from her room. Draco showed her the dining rooms, the kitchen, several different living areas, guest rooms, the library, his office, the gardens, and the stables. It was a magnificent house, even if several of the portraits in the gallery sneered at her and clucked their tongues at Draco.

One afternoon, when the sky was clear, but the air was icy cold, Ginny attempted to leave the grounds. She walked away from the Manor in what she perceived to be a straight line, but managed to end up exactly where she started. She attempted it several more times when Draco was gone, but the result was always the same. The fourth time, when Sully entered the foyer to take her coat, the elf shook her little head sadly.

“Have you not got it figured, Missus? There are many, many charms and wards and curses on this Manor. You cannot ever leave.”

Ginny nodded. “I had to try.”

Usually Draco was at the Manor for dinner, but occasionally he wasn't. He and Ginny dined at the large table in the nicest of the dining rooms, and when he wasn't there, Ginny took her dinner in the library. They had little to talk about, but it was comforting to know that she wasn't completely alone.

One gray morning, Ginny woke to find Sully in her room, setting up a miniature Christmas tree.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asked with a yawn.

“It's almost Christmases,” the elf reminded her. “We is decorating the Manor today.”

Ginny paused, midway to her armoire. In the month or so since Draco had allowed her to rove freely through the Manor, she had given very little thought to her family or the fact that she was indeed, a prisoner. Dear gods, her family. Where were they? Were they even alive? “Sully?”

“Yes, Missus?”

“Do we have any copies of the Daily Prophet?”

“Not for you Missus.”

Ginny's heart sank. So she wasn't allowed that either.

Draco was present at dinner, and so she summoned all her courage. “Draco?”

“Yes?” He glanced up in mild surprise.

“Please don't be upset with me, but . . . I have to know.” She paused and swallowed a large breath of air. “Do you know anything about my family?”

Draco was silent, and she began to wish she had never opened her mouth. “I know some, yes,” he nodded finally.

“Are they safe?”

“I doubt it.”

She bit her lip. “Are they alive?”

“Currently, yes.”

A ridiculous swelling of hope surged in her chest. If her family had been in danger since at least the summer, and was still alive, then she was confident they would stay that way. “Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: The next chapter is where things start moving along. The biggest warning in store for you is character death. Also, we'll deal with insanity, some sex (cause I know y'all are pervy like that - or is that me???), violence, and all the wonderfully dark things I can drag up.

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4. Unhappy Christmas

CHAPTER 4 Christmas Massacre

The new confirmation that her family was alive kept her mood up even during the Holidays. The elves had decorated the entire Manor until even Ginny could feel the Holiday spirit surrounding her. No matter which room she entered, the library or the dining room, her bedroom or the loo, she was encircled with trees and fairy lights and garland and mistletoe. Of course, it was nothing like the holidays at the Burrow, where none of the decorations matched because they'd been bought or made over the years, or where each room smelled like delicious food. It was more formal, and less personal, but she couldn't help liking it. She'd made the mistake of standing under the mistletoe, and blushed furiously when a slightly intoxicated Draco gave her a small peck on the cheek.

On Christmas Eve, Draco had the elves serve them wine with their meal; he drank it nearly every night, but she never joined him. The wine loosened her mind and her mouth, and it was the best time Ginny'd had since she'd been brought to the Manor.

They talked through dinner, and perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was the fact that she was growing calloused, but the cheerful talk of their family's Christmas traditions didn't dampen her spirits. They settled in the smallest of the parlors, sprawled informally on the couch beneath the Christmas tree, and half way through her third glass of wine, Ginny realized that she'd had a glass too many. The festive room grew hazy as she tried to hold up her end of the conversation.

She could see Draco's mouth moving, and the blond hair that fell carelessly into his eyes. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, it was untucked, and his tie had been loosened considerably.

“Why'd you do it?” she slurred, interrupting whatever he had been talking about. “Why am I here?”

There was a long silence, but she was too intoxicated to care.

“Tell me. It's Christmas, I'm drunk, and I'm not going anywhere. So tell me.”

“To keep you safe,” he answered finally, his voice clipped.

“Bullshit,” she shot back, the words running together.

“Because no one else is ever going to have you.” His voice was smooth and hard as steel, and his expression had firmed into a mask of an indifferent sneer, but Ginny pressed on, the wine soaking through her brain.

“Now we're getting somewhere,” she slurred, pouring a fourth glass of wine. “Making progress.”

“Maybe you should go to bed.”

“Maybe you should tell me more.”

“What else is there to say?”

“Why can't anyone else have me?”

“Because I have you,” he growled, his teeth clenched and his eyes narrow.

“And that's why you brought me here?” she asked carelessly, finishing her glass and filling a new one. “Cause you want me? Tell me this. Do you want to kill me? Or do you want to fuck me?”

She slurped down her fifth glass while Draco watched her with eyes that could kill.

“You're not answering.”

“You are drunk. This was a bad idea.”

“No, no. I think it was a good idea. Truth serum,” she giggled, holding up her glass. “Yup. You know, you could have just asked. Instead of kidnapping me, I mean.”

“You wouldn't even listen to me when I tried to warn you,” he snapped.

“Because you were such a prat,” she garbled. “If you liked me, you could have approached it the traditional way, you know.”

“Who said I like you?” he fumed.

The last thing she remembered before passing out was watching Draco clutch his arm.

When she woke on Christmas morning, she was surprised to find that she didn't have a hang over, but was even more surprised to see a stack of gifts at the foot of her bed. She rubbed her eyes and realized that it wasn't really even morning. She climbed from her bed and pressed her face against the window. The sun was barely beginning to rise.

An idea occurred to her, and quickly she wrapped herself in a heavy coat and stuck her feet into her slippers. She tiptoed down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. Several minutes later she saw him coming, the owl bearing the Daily Prophet. She deposited the few coins that she'd swiped from the library into the owl's pouch and took the paper.

Ignoring the cold, and the new flakes that had begun to fall, she knelt to the ground and devoured the paper.

The headline on the front page was practically screaming attack. During the night, the Death Eaters had attacked several different locations, and survivors were few and far between. There had been an attack in Hogsmead, one in downtown London, and another in the country side of Faerie. Ginny felt sick. The houses in the photo were still burning, two people she didn't know frantically running across the grounds. But there was nothing about her family. Nothing specific, anyways.

At press time, the article stated, the death toll was 54 and still climbing. The biggest loss. The most devastating. So far, 62 injured. Everything is gone, one witch was quoted saying. My family, my house. How could they do this, and on Christmas Eve?

Ginny stomped into the house and up to the second floor. She headed for the door she had never opened, the door Draco had passed by when he had given her a tour of the Manor.

She watched her fingers reach for the doorknob, unsure of what to expect, not knowing if there were any wards placed on the room. Cautiously she turned the knob and pushed the door open. Draco's room.

She stepped inside, taking in the dark green décor, the enormous bed and desk, the huge bureau, the oversized chairs, and finally, the sleeping form in the bed.

Her heart caught in her throat, but another glance at the paper, and her resolve returned. Ginny marched to his bed, ready to rip him to shreds. But she paused as she reached the edge of his bed. There he was, sleeping, looking like some beautiful depiction of a fallen angel, his hair splayed messily across his pillow, his silver eyelashes floating at his cheeks. She realized with a start that his chest was bare, and then hated herself for admiring it; the way it was so clearly defined, smooth and pale, just like his arms. The way he was sleeping, she couldn't see the Dark Mark.

How easy it would be to kill him.

She could simply smother him with his pillow, or crawl across his bed and wrap her hands around her neck and refuse to let go until he had stopped moving. Better yet, she could simply pick up his wand, which lay unprotected on his nightstand. Then, tomorrow when the owl came with the newspaper, she would give it a letter for her family, telling them where she was. Dumbledore could break through the wards, and then she would be safe.

It could actually work.

Instead she felt a tear falling down her cheek and was surprised to find it there.

“Did you do this?” she asked, sitting at the edge of his bed.

Instantly his eyes opened. “What are you doing?”

“Did you?” She laid the paper down so he could see it. “Did you want me to pass out so I wouldn't know what you were doing?”

“How did you get that?” he demanded, his voice angry and severe.

“I waited for the owl,” she admitted, another tear falling. “Don't blame the elves.”

“You cannot be in here,” he roared at her. “I gave you the entire bloody Manor, but this is my room!”

“I just want to know,” she choked, trying to subdue her tears. “Why do you do this?”

“Because this is what I do!” he raged, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her. “I chose to dedicate my life to the Dark Lord, and if he wants us to massacre Muggles and wizards on Christmas Eve, I will!”

Ginny's head lolled back and forth uselessly as he shook her violently. She couldn't stop the tears. “I could have killed you,” she gasped. “I thought about it, but I didn't.”

“And I could kill you now,” he snarled, giving her a violent shove off the bed. He picked up his wand and pointed it at her crumpled shape.

Ginny glanced up in shock, taking in his wand and the fact that he had just thrown her off the bed. She turned her face from him and cried harder, pulling her legs up to her chest.

When she had cried until she could cry no more, Draco was still standing above her and she was still alive. “I'm sorry,” she said finally. “I won't come in your room again. And I won't get the paper.” She pushed herself off the floor. “I just don't understand.”

Draco lowered his wand, but continued to glare at her.

“Last night, I mostly had a nice time. I enjoyed talking to you. But I guess you're two different people, aren't you?”

She couldn't bear to see his face as she left his room, but as she reached the doorway she called softly, “Thank you for the presents.”

Ginny went back to her room and sat on the couch, staring blankly at her gifts, wondering if he really expected her to enjoy them.

Sully didn't come with breakfast, and by mid-afternoon, Ginny had grown weary of pacing the floor and she was hungry. She slunk down to the kitchen, hoping to avoid Draco. She crept into the kitchen and had just pulled the refrigerator door open when Sully spoke.

“Master, he is waiting for you,” she informed Ginny, her tone rather cool.

“I'm sorry,” Ginny mumbled, “I didn't mean to get you-”

“He is in the dinings room,” Sully interrupted.

“Oh. Okay.”

Ginny forced herself into the dining room. Draco stood to his feet when she entered, pulling out her chair.

“I was hoping you would get hungry soon,” he told her calmly.

“I'm sorry,” she managed to say, inwardly cursing herself. She was the one who had been kidnapped. She should not be apologizing.

He waved his hand to brush her apology aside. “Have you opened your gifts?”

“No.” She stared at her plate as two of the kitchen elves served them.

“I'd like you to. They are for you.”

“Okay.”

“Look,” he said with a sigh. “I apologize for my behavior. I didn't want you to find out about that or anything else that I do away from here.”

Ginny just nodded, taking a careful sip of her drink.

“I realize that . . . the circumstances that you are here under are not . . . desirable, but you're here. And I'd like it if we got along. So I think we should put all this behind us. The knowledge won't change anything.”

Ginny glanced up at him, meeting his eyes, searching for sincerity, and finding . . . emptiness. Her arms and neck still hurt from the violent shaking he had given her, and morbid flower like bruises had formed where his fingers had been. “Alright.”

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5. Death and Beginnings

A/N: Okay, my beta just left for a cruise through Alaska, so this is unbeta-ed, but I just finished it, (finally) so I thought I'd get it up. In more exciting news, I now have cable at home, so you should only get 1 alert!

CHAPTER 5 Death and Beginnings

Several days after they had celebrated the New Year, Draco found Ginny in the library, curled on a lounge chair, and a copy of a Muggle book called Stardust in her hand. Reading the book, she had the sneaking suspicion that the author was not a Muggle at all.

“What's that?” she asked as he sat in front of her. His expression was mournful, and he held a piece of parchment in his hand.

“I didn't have anything to do with this,” he said finally.

“With what?” she demanded.

He didn't answer, but bowed his head.

“With what? Oh gods, what is it?”

He handed her the parchment, and she realized it was the front cover of the Daily Prophet.

Woman's Body Found, the caption screamed. Identified as Molly Weasley.

Ginny let out a strangled gasp and clapped her hand to her mouth.

Molly Weasley, wife of Minister official and Order member Arthur Weasley, who was reported missing last Wednesday, has been found. Her body was found in a dumpster in Knockturn Alley, showing relatively few signs of struggle.

Ginny couldn't read anymore. She dropped the paper to the floor and buried her face in her hands. After a few moments, she felt Draco's presence beside her and flinched slightly as he placed an arm across her back.

“I didn't know, Gin. I didn't.”

For days, Ginny stayed in her room, sometimes sobbing, sometimes remembering. Draco stayed with her, feeding her and attempting to offer some sort of hollow comfort.

“Why would they do this?” she finally asked him. “Why my mum?”

Draco didn't answer.

“Why Draco?” she demanded. “You know! You're one of them!”

“Stop it, Ginny.”

“You do! You know! Just tell me! Tell me that the rest of my family is dead!”

“Stop,” he commanded, his voice winded and low.

“No! You know why! You're one of them!”

“Ginny-”

“Don't touch me!” she screamed, jerking his arm away from her. “I hate you!”

This time he didn't leave or punch the wall or shake her; instead he sat silently, his eyes focused on the telly. “I'm not leaving,” he said after a long silence.

Ginny drew her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth. “Oh gods. No, no, no, no. Mummy, my mummy.” She repeated her sobbing mantra until she had nearly lost her voice, crying for her mum.

Draco tucked her in as she fell asleep, and she whispered to him, “My mummy thought I was dead and now she is.”

****

By the time the first flowers started to bloom on the trees outside her window, and Ginny traded out the heavy black velvet winter cloak Draco had given her for Christmas for the lighter green cloak, she didn't wake in the morning with a physical pain in her chest. She didn't burst into tears when she thought of her family. She remembered to eat and drink and bathe. But it wasn't the same.

If Draco had told her when he gave her the news clipping, that in time, the pain would fade and life would become bearable again, she would not have believed him. But it had.

It was still painful, it still hurt. She still cried, but it was different. She wanted to curse time for making her grow numb to the news of her own mum's death.

“How do you feel?” Draco asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise. She hadn't been present at the dinner table with him since he'd given her the clipping.

“Like a traitor,” she muttered, sitting down heavily.

“What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

“Like I don't care about my family. Like it doesn't matter that my mother is dead!”

Draco remained silent.

“I'm not a bad person,” she nearly shouted, causing the elf who brought her wine to flinch. “So why don't I feel bad?”

Draco didn't answer until he was sure she wanted an answer.

“Well? What's wrong with me?”

“You're not a bad person,” he answered casually, as if discussing the weather. “You're just a person. Time changes things. You cannot possibly grieve forever. You'd die as well.”

“But I should be! My mother is dead!” Tears glittered in her eyes, but they didn't fall.

“She is. And if you punish yourself, she still won't come back.”

They finished the dinner in silence.

After, Draco had his elf bring them a light, sweet wine to the small, cozier drawing room. Ginny stared into space while Draco scanned the Prophet, and looked over his business papers. The silence was fine with him. The fire burning in the fireplace was unnecessary, but it gave the room a deceiving sense of warmth and family and coziness. He was just glad that Ginny was in here with him, not crying alone in her room.

The fire had burned low when he put away his paperwork and decided he was ready for bed. “You ready for bed, Gin?” he asked, noticing the now empty wine bottle beside her.

She shook her red head and mumbled, “I think I'll just sit here for a bit.”

Draco extended his hand anyways. “I'll tuck you in.”

Wobbly and unsure of herself, Ginny took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Bottle of wine aside, she didn't fail to notice his arm around her waist, and his hand still clasping hers as they climbed the stairs.

Instead of calling Sully to turn down the bed, Draco eased her onto her loveseat, and pulled the blankets down himself. Then he turned and pulled an emerald colored gown from her drawer.

Perhaps, she thought as Draco knelt before her and began to unfasten the clasps of her blouse, I should protest. But she didn't. It wasn't as if he'd seen her undressed before. And even though she knew she could refuse, she tried to tell herself that he had brought her here, and he could do whatever he wanted to her. But she knew he wouldn't. If she said stop, he would stop.

She let Draco undress her and help her into her gown, and then allowed him to slide into the bed next to her.

Ginny was almost asleep, curled against his warm, comforting body, when she heard him whisper.

“You're not a bad person,” he whispered, kissing her cheek.

****

When she woke, he was gone, but the sun was already creeping high in the sky, and she knew he was at work. Ginny took a long hot bath, subconsciously trying to scrub her demons away, and Sully brought her breakfast to her there.

“Master say I is to take your measurements today,” Sully informed her as she laid out Ginny's clothes.

“What for?” Ginny asked, scooping up bubbles in her hands and blowing them.

“I is to go to the seamstress for you. And I is bringing you a book so you can picks what you likes most.” The elf laid a glossy catalog on the ledge of the tub.

Ginny felt what might have been a smile - if she hadn't of guiltily stopped it - creeping onto her lips as she picked up the book. Shopping. Almost a year of being locked away, and she still liked the idea of getting new clothes.

Oh gods, almost a year. She couldn't believe it.

“Sully?”

“Yes, missus?”

“What day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

“And what month?”

Sully pursed her lips as if she wasn't going to tell. “April,” she answered finally.

Ten months. Ten months ago I thought I was going to be killed or raped. Instead, I'm bathing like a princess, eating my breakfast in the bath, picking out new clothes and trying not to think about Draco. And my mother is dead.

The thought hurt.

But mum knows where I am now. She knows I'm safe. It was silly, but Ginny instinctively looked at the ceiling. I do love you mum. And really, it's not so bad here.

“Is you okay, missus?”

“I'm fine,” Ginny smiled. “Better now, actually.”

She leafed through the catalog until she had picked a new summer wardrobe, and then climbed out. “Sully?”

“Yes missus?”

“Will you ask the kitchen staff if we can have a nice dinner for Draco tonight?”

Sully gave her an odd look. “I will tells them.”

“Thank you.”

Ginny wandered around the Manor, exploring new rooms until she grew bored and plucked a book from the library and took it to the garden. She tired to read the book - interesting, really, a history of Muggle pirates - and tried to content herself with admiring the gardens, but she couldn't stop thinking about last night's kiss on the cheek.

Why did he kiss me? Did he really think I was asleep? And his arm, no it was my imagination. No, his arm was wrapped tightly around me. She dropped the book on the lounge and began to pace the garden. Why am I thinking about Draco? So what? He's the one who bloody kidnapped me! Technically, that means he can do whatever he wants to me.

Ginny was stretched out on the lounge, book opened across her chest, and allowing the sinking sun to soak into her face when Sully appeared.

“Missus, we haves your clothes now.”

Ginny sat up. “Already?”

“Yes, missus. They is in your suite.”

Ginny scrambled up and hurried up to her room. She threw the closet doors opened and found enough clothes to fill a store, hanging before her, all made especially for her. She tried several of them on, before settling on a rather low cut sapphire colored gown. Funny, she thought, as Sully fastened the hook and eye clasps that ran up the back, how I've gotten used to dressing up for dinner. With Draco. With the person who kidnapped me. She tried to feel some sort of resentment or anger, but she couldn't find any. How did this happen?

“We has prepared Master's favorite,” Sully was saying, telling her the menu for dinner.

When Draco apparated home, Ginny couldn't help but notice the way his silver eyes became slightly warmer as he saw her.

Dinner was close to perfect, and just before she crawled into bed for the evening, she thanked Draco again for the clothes.

“It was nothing,” he nodded dismissively. “Is there anything else you need or want?”

Ginny was suddenly overwhelmed with the unwelcomed feeling of being alone. She didn't want Draco to leave. What has happened to me? she wondered desperately. I'm supposed to hate him, not want him. “Can you stay in here?”

Draco didn't answer. Instead, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

“I mean,” she faltered, “just until I fall asleep.”

“And then you want me to leave?”

Ginny's torn and conflicted feelings erupted again and she searched through them, confused and unsure. “No,” she said, finally. “Stay.”

“Stay?”

She wished he would stop repeating what she said and just make up his own mind. He was supposed to be in charge here, not here! She nodded. “I don't want to be alone.”

They lay wordlessly in Ginny's enormous bed, their eyes focused on the Muggle telly, but Ginny was keenly aware of Draco's presence next to her. It didn't help that he was wearing only his boxer shorts, and she was wearing a lilac colored silky gown he had given her.

“Are you working tomorrow?” she asked quietly.

Draco nodded and she found herself watching out of the corner of her eye, the way his pale hair fluttered against her pillows. “Why?” His eyes remained on the telly.

“Just wondering.”

“Do you not like being alone then?”

“No. Not really.”

“And you think I should stay here with you?”

“No. Of course not.”

But he didn't go to work the next day or the next, and when she finally asked him about it, he simply said, “It was time for a holiday.”

It was exactly one week after that Draco kissed her cheek again. This time Ginny rolled over in the bed to face him. Slowly, she brought her fingertips up to the spot his lips had been, searching his eyes, but not finding any answers.

She stretched her fingers out and carefully touched his lips. With her finger, she traced his lower lip back and forth, and then Draco kissed the tip of her finger.

Ginny drew her hand back and pressed the finger against her own lip, waiting for the remaining traces of his kiss to appear. Instead, Draco gently removed her hand and leaned closer, his lips brushing lightly across her own, once, twice, and then a third time before he drew back and closed his eyes.

The breath Ginny hadn't realized she was holding came out came out in little gasps. “Draco-”

“Sh, sh, sh,” he whispered, his eyes still closed.

Ginny lay there in silence and Draco didn't open his eyes again. She let her own eyes fall shut only after she heard his soft, steady breathing, indicating he had fallen asleep.

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6. Spells and Alcohol

CHAPTER 6

Draco went back to work at Malfoy Holdings, and Ginny found herself plunging back into boredom. She curled up on the Mahogany empire bed that was the centerpiece of the library, with its sleighed edges and plush sage green covering, and read every book the library held in just a few weeks.

After that, she re-explored the Manor, searching out the details she hadn't noticed. She found a room across the hall from Draco's suite that held the most magnificent bed she had ever laid eyes on. The bed itself was larger than her room at the Burrow and was made of a dark, carved wood, inlaid with gold Oriental accents. The bed was almost like a room, in that it had four walls, an opening for a doorway and three other openings for windows, a roof and a floor. The bed was at the very back of the structure, the front half almost like an entry way. The bed itself was covered in thick red linens, and the windows had matching curtains.

She couldn't imagine the work it had taken to get the bed inside the room.

Ginny stretched out on the bed, and for a brief moment, imagined Draco next to her. She felt her hand sliding down her stomach when she realized what she was doing. Even though she was alone, a blush crept over her cheeks.

“Draco?” she asked at dinner.
“Mm?” he glanced up from his stack of papers.

“I saw a room today . . . it was the one across from your room?”

He paused in his eating.

“Who does,” she fumbled her words nervously, unsure of what to say. He was looking at her oddly. “Whose bed is it?”

“Just a family bed,” he answered finally.

“Do you think I could move in that room?”

Draco took a large swallow of his wine before answering. “That's a Chinese Wedding bed.”

Ginny nodded.

“Have you ever heard of one?”

“No.”

He smirked slightly. “I suppose if you had, you wouldn't be asking me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Real Chinese Wedding beds were quite popular with witches and wizards around the 19th century, particularly in the Ch'ing Dynasty. Permanent spells were cast on them.”

“What kind of spells?”

“What happened when you touched the bed?”

Ginny bit her lower lip uncertainly. She wasn't about to tell him what she had thought of - that she had nearly touched herself, and walked out of that room with her panties wet. “Nothing really.”

He smirked again, and she knew that he could see through her lie. “That bed was made so that the person who slept in it would find more passion than they had ever known with their lover.”

“So,” she began apprehensively, “what happens if just one person sleeps in it?”

“Doesn't matter. It causes the same dreams.”

“What if the person doesn't have a lover?”

Draco shrugged. “It reveals desires.”

Ginny stared at her fork and felt the flames of mortification licking her cheeks.

“It reveals other things too.”

She couldn't bring herself to respond.

“If someone willingly sleeps with you in that bed, they will be yours forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“That's part of the spells. If I was in that bed and you came in there and we slept together, you would belong to me forever.”

Don't I already? her mind wanted to ask. “Oh.”

She could feel his eyes burning into her. “I said willing, Ginny.”

“I know.”

“So you still want to move in there?”

“No.”

Draco went back to his papers.

Ginny couldn't stop thinking about the bed, but she refused to let herself go in that room again. Draco Malfoy was not her lover. Draco Malfoy had kidnapped her and she was supposed to hate him.

Supposed to, but she didn't. She should, but she couldn't. She swore to herself she didn't think of him as her lover, but she didn't hate him. She tried to convince herself that it was simply because he was the only person she had seen in almost a year, but she rather enjoyed his company.

When exploring the house became tedious, Ginny attempted cooking, but the kitchen elves chased her out and reminded her that they were there to cook everything her heart desired and clean up afterwards. She settled on the gardens, and spent fruitless hours looking for weeds that weren't there and trying to remove invisible dust from leaves and petals.

Finally, Sully came to her. “Missus, I is not trying to offend, but we is feeling that we is not good enough for you.”

Ginny sighed and flopped guiltily into the lounge chair. “I'm sorry. I'm just bored.”

Sully handed her a tall glass of watermelon lime juice, and with her first swallow, Ginny could taste the heavy, sweet liquor.

“What's in this?”

“Just a drink, Missus.”

“Can I have another one?” She licked at the rim, tasting the freshly cracked pepper and sea salt.

Sully nodded and was gone with a pop.

Ginny downed her glass and slumped lower in her chair. May had come on hot and sticky. She wondered what her family was doing. Her dad would be at work. And the twins, they would be at their shop. Percy would be strutting importantly around the Ministry, and Bill would probably be making plans to leave Gringotts early to see Fleur. Charlie, he'd be taming a dragon, and Ron would be . . . She didn't know what Ron would be doing now that school was over. Maybe he'd gone with Harry to be an Auror. Or maybe he was the vice president of S.P.E.W. School. She should be taking her N.E.W.T.s right now, or giggling with her friends over what to wear and who was cute. And her mum, her mum should be bustling around the Burrow. But she wasn't.

Ginny fiercely wiped her tears with the back of her hand and eyed the moat and pond that ran along side the Manor. Maybe the sticky heat of May wasn't so bad after all. She stripped her clothes as she ran, leaving a trail of garments as she reached the edge of the moat.

She threw herself into the water, only to find it was less than 4 feet deep. Nevertheless, she submerged her head, and when she reappeared, Sully was there.

“Here you is, Missus.” Sully placed a silver tray with a pitcher and two glasses on the grass.

“Is Draco coming?” Ginny asked, instantly alarmed when she spotted the two crystal goblets.

“Tonight he is.”

“Oh. What time is it?”

“It is nearly four, Missus.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

Ginny poured another glass and went back to her floating. I've been here a year, her mind kept whispering. A year.

It doesn't matter, she argued with herself. This is my new life. I've accepted it. Aren't you supposed to accept the things you cannot change?

Fine, fine, take the easy way out. Your mum is dead and you're thinking about snogging the Death Eater who probably killed her. But you're right. Just accept it.

Go away.

“I'm going nutters. I'm really going mad,” she muttered aloud.

“I hope not.”

Ginny's eyes shot open to see Draco, sitting on the bank, a glass in hand.

“Having fun?”

She quickly tried to lower herself beneath the water, even though she was positive he'd had an eyeful already. “Um, yes.”

“Then I'll join you.”

Ginny couldn't help but blush and turn her head as he set his glass back down and began to undo his shirt. She could feel his eyes on her, and the quiet rustle of clothing as he stripped. She saw the water ripple as he stepped in, but couldn't bring herself to turn around.

“You can look now,” he said after a moment, a laugh in his voice.

Slowly Ginny turned around, relieved to see that the water came well above his waist, but mortified at the sight of his smooth chest and the knowledge that they were less than two feet apart and naked.

He shut his eyes and leaned back, and Ginny felt hot flames lap at her skin.

Oh gods, I can almost see . . . I can see that Mark.

“Ginny?”

“Hmm?” She was desperately trying to keep her body under water and at the same time appear casual, and not stare at him or his Dark Mark.

He stretched for the two glasses on the bank and she couldn't help but notice the curve of his lower back. He handed her a glass. “Do you still hate me?”

“No,” she whispered honestly.

“Do you like me, or have you just moved to toleration?”

“I, I don't know.”

“You don't?”

Ginny swore he had moved closer, closing the space between them. “I don't know you,” she said desperately. “I don't know who you are outside of here. I don't even know what you do when you go to work each day.” She paused. “And I don't know what you do when you leave here at night either.”

“Maybe there are things you shouldn't know about a person.” He was definitely closer.

“Then how can I know if I like you or not?”

“I think you already know.” He was mere inches away.

Ginny's heart was panting frantically against her skin, begging her, warning her. “I don't think . . .”

He took the glass from her hand and placed it back on the tray. His hand made its way slowly up her arm, trailed across her shoulder, and stopped under her chin. “Look at me.” He tilted her face up.

Ginny nearly turned and swam away, but she steadied herself and managed to look up. She could feel his skin pressed so lightly, and yet so heavily, into her own; she could feel things she hadn't felt before, things she hadn't even allowed herself to think about before.

“Are you happy here?” His lips were so close to her ear, she could feel the heat and alcohol on his breath.

“Sometimes.”

He brought his lips to hers and kissed her. It wasn't like the kiss they had shared more than a month ago, whisper soft and delicate. It was hard and needy, and his tongue was sweeping through her mouth. She could feel him, feel his hardness pressed into her belly, and without thinking, she let her hands wrap around his back, urging him closer to her.

With his fingers, he swept her hair back from her face and kissed her chin, and then moved to her neck and ear, and Ginny dropped her head back and allowed a small sigh to escape her lips. She was standing upright now, the water barely reaching her chest, but for that one moment, she didn't care.

Her bare chest was pressed firmly against his, and she was gasping for air.

“Sir?” a squeaky voice interrupted.

Ginny backed away quickly, but Draco looked at the house elf with murder in his eyes.

“I is sorry sir, but we is getting owls, and now howlers, sir. From your father, sir,” the elf quaked.

Draco closed his eyes, and looked as though he was trying not to explode. “Very well,” he said finally. “I will be right there.”

Ginny crossed her arms uncomfortably over her chest.

“Please bring us Ginny's clothes.”

The elf nodded and scurried off.

“Shall we?” Draco held out his hand.

She reached for his hand and tried not to notice where he was staring, and how his eyes were sweeping over her.

She tried to pretend like she wasn't watching him as they dressed.

As they walked back across the grass, he picked up her hand again. “I'll go get ready for dinner,” Ginny mumbled as they reached the house.

Even as she made her way up the stairs, she could hear Lucius's voice echoing from the Howler. “Leaving work early, all the Floo shut off at your home, what is going on?”

***

“Draco?” Ginny called several nights later. “Do you want to-” She stopped short, finding him in the entrance hall. “Where are you going?”

Draco sighed and continued fastening his cufflinks.

She had seen him when he had to leave because his Mark burned. He simply clutched his arm, nodded her a silent goodbye, and apparated away. He never dressed up for that.

“Look,” he told her, “I won't lie to you. I'll be entertaining a client tonight.”

“A client?” She hated the way her voice wavered so pathetically.

“Don't you think people wonder why the Malfoy heir never dates? Why he isn't engaged already? I can't have people getting suspicious.”

His voice was tinged with bitterness, but she didn't care. “Oh. Okay then.” She turned on her heel and tried to casually walk away, but she couldn't stop herself from walking just a little too fast.

“Gin, wait.”
She ignored him and kept going until she reached her room.

Oh how she hated herself for being so truly pathetic. She sat at the edge of her bed and buried her face in her hands, catching her tears as they fell.

I'm so stupid.

Part of her wished he would come running into the room and tell her he wasn't going. Another part of her, a small part that was quickly fading, hoped he fell for the “client” and left her alone.

She forced herself to sit still for thirty full minutes, and when Draco didn't come groveling, she stood to her feet and had a fit.

She picked up a heavy vase - the same one she'd thrown at him almost a year ago - and smashed it on the floor. With a piece of the China, she began to gouge the posts of her oak bed until they were discolored and marred. She considered smashing the telly, but quickly decided against it. She wasn't quite sure if Muggle objects could be fixed with magic, and she'd grown fairly attached to it.

She gave a start when a sharp corner of the china pierced her palm. She stared at the tiny dot of blood that escaped her puncture, and a new thought occurred to her. I could really hurt myself with this. Tentatively, she raised her left arm, and with a shaking hand, drew the sharp China down the inside of her arm. It wasn't enough to do very much damage, just a nasty scratch, really, but the blood that leaked out made her stomach churn. Hurriedly, she rushed to her bathroom and held one of the lush white towels against her forearm. When she was sure the bleeding had stopped, she threw the towel to the floor and went down the two flights of stairs to the wine cellar.

It was Sully who found her, completely intoxicated, but still awake, a half empty bottle of Muggle rum tucked between her legs.

Sully clucked her tongue. “I believes it is you bedtime, Missus.”

“No,” Ginny mumbled, her head lolling to the side. “I'm gonna sit here till I bloody well pass out.”

“The moment yous head touches your pillow, yous will!” the elf said rather crossly. She handed Ginny a small vial. “Drink this.”

“No,” she slurred.

“It's not to sober ups,” Sully informed her. “Although you could use it. It's so you will nots be sick in the morning.”

“Maybe I will be sick, and Draco can clean it up,” she snorted.

“Take it,” Draco's voice came to her from the doorway.

She tried to focus her eyes on him, but they kept sliding across his blurry figure. Ginny snatched the vial from Sully and swallowed quickly, and then pushed herself to her feet. Swaying, she tried to stomp from the room, and as she pushed past Draco, she hissed, “Fuck you. I do hate you.”

She stumbled up the stairs, and pushed the door to her room open. It took a minute, but she focused on the mess and changed her mind. She didn't remember yanking the bedclothes from the bed, but she must have.

“Sod it,” she muttered. She balanced herself against the wall and staggered to the room she had found weeks ago. She threw the door open and sloppily stripped off her clothes, and then let herself crawl into the absolute luxuriousness of the Chinese Wedding bed.

~~~~~~

A/N: I finally sat down and wrote out an outline for this story, and there's a lot of stuff to cover, so I've opted for longer chapters. However, that is not set in stone. Let me know what you would prefer, the longer chapters or short chapters that get updated a bit quicker. Also, if you are interested in plot bunnies for this site, you can go to http://www.livejournal.com/users/ginnyweasley100. That's my community for everything Ginny & I've been putting plot bunnies in there recently. Join up, join up!

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7. A Good Night's Sleep

CHAPTER 7

Draco's lips were pressing tiny kisses all across her body.

The alcohol was still in her blood when Ginny's eyes opened, and she squeaked in surprise at the unexpected intrusion.

“Sh, sh,” he whispered. “Let me love you.”

How could she refuse him, gloriously pale and naked and hard? Carefully she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her so that she could feel his hot skin against her own. The first thing she noticed was the way her breasts pressed so temptingly into his chest. The second thing she noticed was his erection, nudging at her thighs.

“I want you so bad,” he whispered, his lips tickling her ear, his hot breath making her weak with want. His mouth closed itself on her ears, gently sucking and nibbling. He moved gently to her neck as she gasped for more, and then to her lips, catching her in a sweet, soft kiss.

She arched her back, savoring the feeling of being so wonderfully crushed beneath him, and being kissed by him.

Draco moved his mouth down her neck, to her collarbone, and then to her breasts, gently taking one in his mouth, his tongue skimming across her receptive skin and nipples. He reached for her hand and held it in his own, guiding her to run her fingers across her other breast, and give slight tugs on her nipple.

Ginny moaned and arched beneath him, not above begging him for more. “Please,” she whispered. “Please.” She wasn't quite sure what she was asking for, but positive that if he stopped she would die.

His perfect hands were sliding between her legs, one finger gently rubbing against her clit, while the fingers on his other hand slipped inside of her.

“Draco,” she gasped, lifting her hips to force him deeper inside.

He brought his mouth to her breasts again, sucking on one nipple and then the other. She couldn't help but admire his body, long and slim, as he pressed against her. She loved the way his chest was so well defined and his flat stomach and smooth skin, and the way his hipbones protruded just so. And she definitely didn't miss his cock, standing erect and pressing against her hip.

She pulled his face to hers, wanting to taste him, taste his lips. She could devour him, she was sure. As they kissed, she drew them to their knees, and kissed her way to his neck, and down his stomach, until she was laying flat again, her face buried between his legs.

Ginny started at the base of his shaft, pulling her tongue from bottom to top, and enjoyed knowing he was admiring the view as he let out a soft moan. Without warning, she engulfed the tip of his cock on her mouth, licking and sucking, while Draco gasped. She slid down, taking him all the way, sucking him until her lips reached the very base, and she could taste the odd saltiness of his pre-come.

“Gin, Gin,” he moaned, his fingers in her hair, guiding her, and trying to resist the temptation to simply fuck her mouth until he came.

She released him after several moments and slid back up his body, allowing his cock to run through her sex, just enough to tease her clit. She placed her hand firmly on his chest and gently pushed him until he was on his back again, and then she lowered herself onto him. She panted as he slid inside of her, filling her completely. Slowly, she began to rock back and forth, grinding her clit against his pelvic bone.

Draco took hold of her hips and guided her into a smooth rhythm, groaning as she slid along his shaft.

Ginny reached up and cupped her own breasts, moaning as she twisted her nipples between her fingers. Only a few more moments, and Ginny could feel heat gathering inside of her, directly connecting her sex to her breasts.

Draco must have noticed as well, because his grip on her hips increased and he lifted his pelvis to meet hers.

Her breath caught in her throat and she buried her face in his neck, letting the waves of her orgasm sweep through her, causing her to tighten around Draco's shaft, until she was panting limply against Draco. Gently he pulled her face to his and kissed her, slow and sweet. She would have been content to lay there against him and fall asleep, but carefully he eased her off of him.

“Now me,” he whispered, reaching down and running his finger along her clit, making her moan and shudder.

He placed his hands on her hips and gently pulled her to her knees.

“Lay here for me,” he instructed. “Let me look at you.”

She couldn't have protested even if she'd wanted to. She was still panting from the tremors of her orgasm, her hair a mess and her skin flushed and moist, but she didn't care. Draco's long, beautiful fingers had dipped inside of her, curling up towards her stomach, and lazily stroking the most sensitive spot in her body.

She nearly screamed his name then, and if she could have spoken, she probably would have.

“Come for me, Ginny,” he whispered as his mouth ran across her stomach and thighs. “Be my good little girl and come for me again.”

She wasn't the most experienced when it came to sex, but she'd never had more that one orgasm at a time, and sometimes even getting an orgasm was challenging, but Draco's fingers were working magic.

He lowered his head and this time his lips encircled his clit, sending Ginny once again over the edge. She couldn't stop her body from trembling, and couldn't let go of the handfuls of hair she had clenched between her fingers. Before she was even through, while her body was still trembling, she felt Draco remove his fingers, and would have mourned the loss if she hadn't been mid-orgasm, and if he hadn't immediately lowered himself between her legs. She was so slick and wet, he slammed himself into her with bone jarring force, and all she could do was hang on.

He pumped himself in and out of her furiously, and then hoisted one of her legs over his shoulder.

Ginny never knew sex could be so good. There had only been one other person before now, and with him, once she figured out how to reach a climax, it had always only been about getting off. Now she understood when girls giggled about have sex for hours and hours. If Draco stayed here inside of her until she died, that was perfectly fine by her.

“Feel . . . so good,” he moaned into her ear.

“Harder,” she begged. “Please.”

His hips move faster, until he was as far inside of her as he could ever be.

She heard his breath hitch, and his movements become more frantic, and she felt his warmth inside of her as he came, collapsing onto her, his hair stuck down with sweat, and Ginny had never been more content as she was right then, lazily stroking his damp back and not wanting him to detach himself from her.

She woke from the dream with a start. The alcohol was still inside her blood, and for a moment, she couldn't remember where she was.

Draco's house, she remembered suddenly. The Chinese Wedding bed! She scrambled quickly from the bed, every intention of returning to her own room, afraid of the dreams the bed had given her when she realized two things. Her inner thighs were wet with her own arousal, and Draco was sitting in a chair, half shielded in the dark and staring at her.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Watching your dream,” he answered, his voice low.

Watching my dream? Or watching me dream? Ginny had even intention of storming past him and getting in her own bed, in an attempt to preserve one last shred of dignity. It wasn't working so well to begin with, as she was stark naked and still panting and wet, but it fell to pieces when Draco stood to his feet and grabbed her arm.

“You are a guest in my home,” he growled fiercely. “And you will treat it with respect.”

For a moment she was lost, and then she remembered her bedroom. “Sorry,” she answered stiffly. “I'll make sure it doesn't happen again.”

“Damn right you will.” He yanked her arm so that he could see her forearm. Despite the lack of light, the long, narrow scab was clearly visible. “Is this what you do when you don't get your way?”

She tried to pull her arm away, tried to escape his grasp, but only succeeded in making him tighten his grip. And she didn't fail to notice the way he was pressing into her, so similar to the way he had in her dream. “I'm sorry. I was . . . upset.”

She didn't like the small smile that crept across his face. “Funny how things change, isn't it?”

“Please let go. It's hurting-”

“Accio clothes!” he snapped, dropping her arm.

Ginny's clothes came flying to him and he gathered them in his arms. “We'll see how well you do in here. You need to learn to control your temper.” He smiled coldly again. “I enjoyed your dream. You were a good little girl, weren't you?”

With that, he shut the door behind him. Ginny stood still for a moment before striding across the room and trying the door. It was locked. He had really gone, taken her clothes, and locked her in the room. She stared at the room in disbelief, unsure of what to do. She wasn't about to get back in the bed, not if Draco could see the dreams that possessed her there. But it didn't matter. She wasn't going to give into him.

~~~~~~

If you are interested, you can go to http://www.livejournal.com/users/ginnyweasley100 for more updates on this story. There's a sneak peak out for Chapter 8. xoxoxoxox Thanks for all the reviews.

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8. Pain

For some reason this isn't showing up on the main page & it's annoying me to bits. So you have to look at this. Well, I am sorry. I'll make it up to you though. Go here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/ginnyweasley100 and you'll see a peak at the next chapter. Things are getting worse, yes they are. Or you can go to http://www.livejournal.com/users/ginny_draco100 & tell the world (in 100 words) why they are so damn super together!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

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9. Prisoner Forgotten (8)

A/N: Well, this is a shorter chapter, but it's here! Thanks for all the reviews. And for everyone who keeps mentioning Stockholm Syndrome, that is pretty much what Ginny has. Also, she seems to be getting some symptoms of Anxiety Attacks. One of the reasons this is shorter than usual, is because I'm finishing up betaing Wynter Grace's last few chapters of No Ordinary Love. You're gonna love them!

CHAPTER 8 Prisoner Forgotten

Ginny paced the room until she could see the sun rising outside the window. She was exhausted and felt dirty, refusing to get in the bed and afraid to sleep. Her dream still burned her mind, causing her to involuntarily shudder with a perverted mix of disgust and desire.

She debated on using the small attached bathroom to shower, but there were no towels, and so finally, she lay down on the floor, drew her knees to her chest and fell into an uneasy sleep.

When she awoke, there was a breakfast tray, with a pot of tea, still steaming. She devoured the food hungrily, and then decided to shower despite the lack of towel, and after that, set to work pacing the room again.

The sun had nearly set when there was a pop and Sully appeared with a dinner tray. “Thank you,” Ginny said with wide eyes.

Sully placed the tray on the table and didn't even look at her.

The next day was exactly the same, and Ginny began to feel a thick aching in her chest, as if she had eaten food that wouldn't go down. The room felt hot and suffocating, and it was hard to get a clear breath. She stayed huddled in the chair that day, gripping her chest and willing herself not to faint. “You are fine,” she chanted. “You are not dying.”

“He told you not to speak to me, didn't he?” Ginny asked Sully when she brought her dinner.

Sully simply popped away without a word.

The next day Ginny felt her will beginning to bend. Her thoughts were a continual mix of memories and worries about her family, the dream she'd had, and what Draco was doing. There was absolutely nothing to do except think, and avoiding thinking was the only thing that had kept her sane in the near year she had been at the Manor.

She didn't even attempt to talk to Sully when she came, didn't attempt to cover her nudeness, and only picked at her food.

The fourth day, tears began to fall and time began to evaporate. She hated the solitude more than anything. She hated the absolute silence and emptiness that seeped from the room. And for reason's she couldn't explain, she missed Draco. She missed dinner with him, and talking to him, sharing wine and watching the Muggle telly. She missed looking at him, the way his clothes always fit most perfectly, the warmth and comfort of a body next to her when she slept, and yes, even the way they had shared kisses. She tried to use the time to convince herself that Draco deserved her hatred, but she couldn't. He was all she had now, and she needed him.

Her body was stiff and tense from sleeping on the floor, naked and cold. She tried using the pillow and blanket from the bed, but had woken with a start in the middle of dreaming that Draco was easing himself in and out of her.

The fifth day, when Sully arrived with dinner, Ginny looked at her and said, “Please, I know he told you not to talk to me, but will you tell him to come here?”

There was no answer.

Ginny tried again the following night, begging and pleading, until Sully walked over to the Chinese Wedding bed and gently patted it.

“He wants me to sleep there?” Ginny asked, her voice trembling.

Sully was gone without a reply.

That night, when Ginny could keep her eyes open no longer, she gingerly eased down on the bed and instantly fell asleep.

She is on her hands and knees, and Draco has entered her from behind. His arms are wrapped around her waist, cupping her breasts with his palms, and he is balanced on her back as he thrusts into her. Her knees ache, but she can feel him as he slides in and out, his cock gliding back and forth over her sweet spot, drawing moans and gasps from her lips, and she has never felt so much like she is one with someone else. She presses against him, giving him deeper access, until she comes, painfully hard and feels him explode inside of her, collapsing on top of her as she falls into the pillows. When he finally rolls off of her, she pushes herself back up to her knees and crawls down his body. She lowers her face and draws her tongue across his cock, wanting it to grow hard again just for her, and wanting to see how they taste together.

It's only moments before he is full and erect again. He flips her onto her back and then places his knees on either side of her face. With one hand in her hair, he pounds at her mouth. She curls her arms around his strong thighs and grips him, encouraging him to come, and come hard.

When he is spent, it is her turn, and she kneels above his face, quaking as he draws his tongue through her folds again and again, making her dizzy with desire. She thinks she may have exploded as she climaxes, the bone jarring tremors long and painfully hard.

When she woke, she was sore and sticky. She sat that day, against the wall, her knees drawn to her chest. When Sully came, she watched her with large eyes, but neither spoke. Draco didn't come.

She slept in the bed again, vivid dreams filling her body, and still he didn't come.

“Please Sully,” Ginny sobbed, not caring enough to hide her tears or her body any longer. “Please ask him to come here.”

She thought she might be losing her mind. If she hadn't been able to see the sunlight, she would have had no concept of time. She couldn't think straight; her thoughts were a jumbled mix of family and death and Draco and sex. She only remembered to bathe because there was nothing else she could do. The air in the room, she was sure, had become thick and heavy, trying to suffocate her in her sleep.

She spent hours leaning into the shut door, begging and pleading for Draco. At times, she thought she could hear him in the hall, but no one came.

She continued to sleep in the bed and wake with lucid dreams heavy on her mind. Sully didn't speak to her, but Ginny was sure she gave her a sympathetic look or two.

Finally, Ginny sat by the door and called for him, over and over, until her throat was raw and she could barely speak. “Please Draco, I'm sorry. Please let me out! I'll never do it again, never! Please.”

She cried and cried, begging Draco and Merlin and her mum and anyone who might hear her.

“Please! I'll be good.”

Memories came back to her, unwelcome and unbidden. She recalled when she was only five or six, a summer when all her brothers were home. They had been playing hide and go seek, one of the few games they let Ginny play with them, and she found the perfect hiding spot, in a linen closet on the third floor. She waited for ages, for someone to find her, and when no one did, the excitement wore off. She tried to let herself out of the closet, only to find that the door was stuck. Looking back, it had probably only been minutes, but it felt like she had banged for hours before her mum came scurrying to let her out. Her brothers had given up on the game and gone to play Quidditch in the field.

Until now, she'd never felt more alone. Her mum had held her as she cried - cried because she'd been forgotten, because she had gotten stuck, and because she wasn't included in the games. It was always her mum who held her. “Mummy's little girl,” she would say.

As the sunlight began to fade outside her room, she began to give up hope.

Maybe Draco had forgotten her. Maybe he was out with his client again, treating her to dinner and wine, and then perhaps going back to her flat for a good shag.

Ginny wondered what she looked like. She was quite sure that the client didn't have uncontrollable red hair that should have been curly, or hipbones that protruded just a little too much, or breasts that were barely large enough to be considered a handful, or plain brown eyes. No, she was probably curvy and lovely, with straight blond hair and cool blue or green eyes and perfect teeth. She was, most likely, from a well known pure blood family, no doubt with money.

“Please,” she shouted again. “Draco, I need you! Please.”

Her hope disappeared with the setting of the sun, and Ginny wondered if he had simply forgotten all about her, and she would remain here until she died.

She crawled away from the door, sobbing, and climbed into the bed, too exhausted to care what dreams might come.

Then the door opened, and he stood there, the backlight from the hall giving him an eerie aura.

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10. Prisoner to Mistress

A/N: Ha ha! I finally updated. Once again, if you are interested in my stuff, or just Ginny stuff in general, you can go to http://www.livejournal.com/community/ginny_obsession and check out all things Ginny there, including sneak peaks of upcoming pieces of this story. And one more thing, to whoever told WynterGrace that I should stop betaing her stuff so I could write, please get ahold of yourself. I can't stand rudeness.

As the sunlight began to fade outside her room, she began to give up hope.

Maybe Draco had forgotten her. Maybe he was out with his client again, treating her to dinner and wine, and then perhaps going back to her flat for a good shag.

Ginny wondered what she looked like. She was quite sure that the client didn't have uncontrollable red hair that should have been curly, or hipbones that protruded just a little too much, or breasts that were barely large enough to be considered a handful, or plain brown eyes. No, she was probably curvy and lovely, with straight blond hair and cool blue or green eyes and perfect teeth. She was, most likely, from a well known pure blood family, no doubt with money.

“Please,” she shouted again. “Draco, I need you! Please.”

Her hope disappeared with the setting of the sun, and Ginny wondered if he had simply forgotten all about her, and she would remain here until she died.

She crawled away from the door, sobbing, and climbed into the bed, too exhausted to care what dreams might come.

Then the door opened, and he stood there, the backlight from the hall giving him an eerie aura.

CHAPTER 9 Prisoner to Mistress

Draco entered the room silently and placed the tray on her small table. He set it down without looking at her, and then turned slowly to face her, his eyes narrow and hard.

Ginny struggled to sit up in bed, unsure if she should let him make the first move or if she should just throw herself at him and beg for his forgiveness. She didn't think she could stand it any longer if he shut the door and left her alone again - she would have to find a way out of the room or a way to end her life if he left her alone again - but before she could move, he made his way to the bed.

Draco sat down on the edge and glanced at her with his iced eyes. “Are you ready to come out?”

She nodded fearfully, not trusting her voice.

“I don't ever, ever want you to hurt yourself again,” he told her, the words soft but the underlying tone severe and bitter. He picked up her hands and turned them over, examining the pink, shiny scars that she had left on her wrists.

Ginny nodded, pulling her knees tighter to her naked chest. “I'm sorry.” She couldn't stop the tears as they began to slip down her cheeks.

“Sh, sh,” he whispered, gently wiping away the tears.

Ginny's tears began to fall uncontrollably, and she buried her face in Draco's chest.

He pulled her limp, pathetic form into his arms, and scooped her up, carrying her out of the room, down the long hall, and into her own bedroom. He sat down on her settee and gently rocked her back and forth until the tears stopped falling. “You know I had to do that for your own good,” he told her.

Ginny just nodded, unwilling to let him go. “I'm sorry. I'll never, never do that again. I'm so sorry.”

“I know you are.”

He held her against him, and Ginny felt all the weights that had gathered on her chest evaporating. For the first time in over a week, she could breathe easy and clear, her senses filling with the warm, rich scent of Draco.

Draco snapped his fingers twice, and Sully appeared, bringing the dinner tray that had been left behind. “I want you to eat,” he told Ginny, prying her face from his chest.

She did, and noticed that the food tasted much, much better when she wasn't locked away, although eating nude while he watched with a silent, passive expression was slightly odd, but not enough for her to care. She was out of that room, and that was all that mattered.

When she had finished her meal, Draco gently pushed her to her feet and stood. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

He ran her bath water, and held her hand as she eased down into to the tub. Draco sat on the edge of the tub and soothingly washed her hair. When he began to wash the rest of her body, Ginny remained still and relaxed, allowing him to do what he pleased. He started with her shoulders, and then began to wash her back, moved down her arms, and then to her chest. He paused in his washing then, cupping a breast in each hand and breathing heavily against the back of her neck. After a moment, he resumed his work with the washcloth, cleaning her stomach and legs and then moving back up and running the cloth between her thighs.

There he paused again, and leaned down to kiss the top of her shoulder.

After he had dried her off, he handed Ginny a green gauzy nightgown, and for the first time in over a week, she wasn't naked.

She sat at the edge of the bed, more than ready to sleep without dreams, waiting for Draco to turn down the covers, when he asked, “Did you learn your lesson?”

She nodded submissively, afraid to do anything more.

“And who do you belong to?”

She paused only a split second before answering, his words startling her, but she paused a split second too long, because Draco's palm came crashing down on her face. She fell backwards, and slowly raised her left hand to her cheek in shock, staring at him, hurt and confusion in her eyes.

She slowly sat up, still holding her face and opened her mouth to speak. “Yo-”

His balled fist connected with her left eye, and this time, the impact sent her crashing gracelessly to the floor.

He lowered himself to the floor, and knelt on her, with one knee crushing into her chest. “Tell me,” he hissed, “who do you think you belong to?”

“You,” she choked, pain searing through her body as she felt the nauseating crack as her ribs gave way.

His fingers closed on her throat, crushing down her windpipe and digging into the flesh until she could feel the narrow trickles of blood as it trickled down her smooth, freckled skin.

“Show me.” Very slowly he eased his grip on her neck and with a brutal thrust, removed his knee from her chest.

“You,” she whispered, her voice trembling, as she pushed herself up to kneel before him. She bowed her head, not wanting him to see her tears. The pain was screaming so loud she could barely think, and she felt her body wavering with the pain.

He nodded. “I don't want you ever to forget that.”
How could I? a tiny voice in the back of her mind asked. “I won't.”

“We're going to put this behind us now,” he said, gentle again. He pulled out his wand and in an instant, the pain was gone and she was physically mended. He reached out and helped her back into the bed.

They lay in silence, faces turned towards the Muggle telly, but tears were still burning underneath Ginny's eyelids.

Just when Ginny thought she had a chance of falling into a semi calm sleep, she heard Draco's voice whisper in her ear, “Tell me about your dreams, Gin girl.”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she opened her eyes, knowing she had no choice but to obey. “Couldn't you see them?”

He nodded, his face just inches from hers. “I could experience them just like you could.”

She tried not to quake, recalling so clearly waking up sweating and sore and mid-orgasm.

“I want you to tell me.” His lips were so close to her ear, and his breath was so soft and warm, Ginny was unsure if she wanted to sigh and submit, or scream and run. But she knew what the second choice would bring. “I want to know exactly what you thought and exactly how you felt.”

Slowly, uneasily, she began to recount the dreams to him and as she did, Draco's lips moved from her ear to her neck, and his hand began to creep over her stomach, and then slowly inch upward to her chest.

Her voice hitched in her throat as she forced herself to speak in vivid detail of the way she felt the first time his fingers slipped inside of her. Draco's hand had crept back down and was slowly making its way underneath her gown and up her thigh. Her words sounded incoherent to her ears, as she was torn between the fear of refusing him and the fear of giving into him. If she did this, if she willingly gave into him, then it would seal her fate. She would go from prisoner to mistress, from missing her family to desecrating their memory, from determined to hopeless, from giving herself to the only person she had ever loved to making sex into something twisted and perverse. And yet, if she refused him . . . The still stinging handprint on her cheek was there to remind her, as was the altogether too fresh memory of being locked away.

She was going to have to decide quickly. Draco's fingers were brushing over the thin lace of her knickers as she tried to keep her voice steady while telling him the way she had felt having his face between her legs. It was a losing battle. Her voice paused and hiccupped and gasped each time his fingers made a light graze at her already wet flesh.

Later, she tried to tell herself that it was Draco who had decided and not her, but she knew that she had decided to give in. His fingers disappeared under her knickers and she let out a moan, losing her train of thought.

“Keep talking,” he whispered, rolling to his side, “and I'll do all those things for you.”

His fingers explored her and then his mouth, causing her to groan and whimper and gasp. He sent her falling, falling over the edge and then held her until her breathing was steady again.

“I want to have you Ginny,” he whispered finally. “I want you.”

It was too traitorous to say the words, so she did the only thing she could do. She kissed him and adjusted her legs so that his own body fit easily between them.

“I won't hurt you, I swear,” he told her, trailing kisses across her face, and probing her with his cock.

She nodded, not quite sure she believed him, and wrapped her arms around his back. He slid into her, slowly and carefully, watching her expression and caressing her face with his thumbs. When he slid into her fully, she let out a sigh of relief, but immediately wished she didn't enjoy the feeling of being full, of being loved, of being one with someone else.

He was gone in the morning, and when Sully brought the breakfast tray, there was an extra goblet.

“Master says you is to drink this. You will drinks it every week from now on,” the house elf told her.

“Thank you,” Ginny tried to smile, knowing it was birth control potion. “Where is he?”

“At works. However, he should be back soons. It is nearly 4.”

“Four?” she repeated. “In the afternoon?”

Sully nodded curtly. “You needed your rest, Missus. It has been a hard weeks.”

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11. Birthday

A/N: Alright, you clicked on the link that said you were old enough to be reading this, and it's rated NC17, so I'm including a link to the picture that inspired this one “scene” in here. Click at your own risk, because it's hot, sexy, NOT work safe at all! Also, thanks to everyone who reviews. I love reviews!

CHAPTER 10 Birthday

Draco's birthday was arriving soon, and Ginny threw all her energy into preparing for the day. There wasn't too much she could do, not besides planning the dinner and ordering gifts by owl post, but at least it gave her something to pass the time, that was always unreasonably long without him. She hadn't mentioned her plans to him, not even that she knew it was his birthday, as she wanted to surprise him.

The elves had agreed to cook his favorite meal, and Sully had procured several bottles of his favorite wine. The gifts Ginny had ordered arrived several days before his birthday; a watch, a platinum tie clip and matching cuff links, boring in her opinion, but something Draco could use and would appreciate, she reasoned.

She'd found out from the kitchen elves that Draco wasn't much of a cake fan, but did enjoy blackberry cobbler, so they had agreed to bake one of those, along with the not exactly fancy, but absolutely heavenly pork loin that Meega, the head kitchen elf could whip up, the small red potatoes dressed in parsley and lemon sauce, the grilled asparagus, the homemade Hawaiian rolls, and the first course, the crab bisque and spinach and strawberry salad. It wasn't particularly elegant, but she knew it was what Draco liked.

The night before his birthday, Draco came home from work late and in a foul mood. She heard the house elves scatter as he stomped into the room, his eyes dark and angry.

“Hi,” she greeted him with a smile, stopping short as she saw his expression.

He brushed past her without a word.

They ate dinner in silence, Ginny afraid to speak, and Draco glaring at his plate.

“I won't be here for dinner tomorrow,” he said finally, stabbing his fork into his meal.

Ginny's hopes fell flat. The deflated, disappointed feeling in her chest was worse than being hit or screamed at. Somehow, the emotional pain was a million times worse than the physical pain. The physical pain could be easily forgiven and forgotten, but the emotional, that stayed, no matter how many apologetic words were spoken. “Oh.”

“I assume you can handle one meal by yourself,” he sneered, narrowing his silver eyes at her.

She felt so stupid, so ridiculously dependant and juvenile, as her lower lip trembled. He sat across from her in his business robes, dressed in formal work wear, and according to the latest fashions, his shoes polished to a mirror shine, his body groomed to immaculate perfection. Just before dinner, he'd removed his matching platinum cufflinks and tie clip, tossing them casually aside, as if owning engraved platinum cufflinks was nothing more important than yesterday's edition of the news. It wasn't that her clothes weren't nice, because they were very nice, but just that she didn't fit well into them. Her hair was more frizzy than curly, as she had no wand to do her charms with. She wore no makeup, no jewelry, and would have arrived at dinner bare foot if Draco didn't look down on that. Next to him, she was the imposter, she was the one out of place.

“Y- yes, I can.” She stared down at her plate. Disappointment was a bitter pill, she realized. Almost worse than sorrow, because it was caused by someone she cared about, and someone who could do something about it. She blinked furiously, batting back her tears to no avail. She watched as a single tear fell, and hit her blue china plate.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” Draco yelled, standing to his feet, causing his chair to clatter viciously as it fell to the floor.

“I'm sorry,” she stammered. “I, it's your, I wanted to, for your birthday, and I had, I'm sorry.” She brought her hands to her face and pushed back her chair, running from the room.

She hated herself. She should have hated Draco, but she hated herself for becoming such a weak, dependant, pathetic person. She wasn't quite sure when it had happened, but after a year of living trapped inside the manor, of seeing only one other person, of being locked away, and losing her family - in more ways than one - Ginny had become a different person. It was almost ridiculous, the way she nearly worshiped Draco, craving his attention, constantly wanting to please him. But she did. She didn't know why, but she did, and nothing in the world could make her feel better except for Draco's approval.

She curled up on her settee and cried harder. She'd been planning his birthday for two weeks, and for nothing. He would be gone, with some client, she was sure.

It was only moments before her door swung open.

Quickly she rubbed her eyes and sat up. “I'm sorry,” she said again, her voice quivering.

Draco shook his head and crossed the room, kneeling in front of her. “How did you know it was my birthday?”

“I asked Sully once,” she admitted, staring at her hands.

“Look at me, Gin girl.” He placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face. “I'll stay here.”

“Really?” she asked, unable to stop a small smile from creeping over her lips.

He nodded. “I'll tell my mother that I will come the following night.”

She swallowed hard, forcing her tears down. His mother. “Thank you. I just wanted, I wanted to do something for you.”

He nodded his blond head twice and then pulled her into his lap. After rocking her back and forth for several minutes, he said, “Ginny, I have a question for you.”

She was startled by her name. She didn't think he'd once said her name since she'd been there. He'd called her Gin girl, but that was all. “Uh huh?”

“Who was your first?”

She felt his body stiffen as he asked the question, and she froze as well, unable to speak. “First?”

“Who was the first person you slept with?”

She made a timid noise in the back of her throat, unwilling to answer.

“It wasn't me.” His voice was bitter, but behind the resentful tone was a note of hurt, of being cheated, and being denied something that was rightfully his.

But that wasn't right either, Ginny realized, as his grip on her body tighten, for once, there was something about her that wasn't rightfully his. She'd never regret that choice.

“No,” she finally found a whisper of her voice. “It wasn't.” She hoped, prayed, that he wouldn't turn angry again, that he wouldn't want to punish her for things done when he wasn't around.

“Did you love him?”

You can lie, you know. “I did.”

He continued to hold her, still rocking ever so gently back and forth. “Do you miss him?”

She chose her words very carefully. “I miss all of them sometimes. My family, Harry, Luna, Colin. But, it's a different kind of missing them then it was when I first came here.”

“How so?” He still hadn't looked at her.

“It's like . . . it's like they're memories now,” she admitted reluctantly. “Like from something bittersweet that happened a long, long time ago.”

They were silent for a long time before Draco spoke again. “I'm expecting a call tonight,” he said, his hand unconsciously clutching his forearm. “So if you wake alone, don't worry, because I will be back.”

When they went to bed, he crawled in next to her, and that night he was gentle and slow, caressing her and treating her as if he really did love her. His hands moved slowly across every inch of her body, exploring and touching and tasting.
“Be mine, Ginny,” he whispered, rolling his hips gently in and out of her.

“I will,” she whispered back, not really knowing what he was asking or what she was agreeing to. “I am.”

Later, she felt the shift in the bed and heard the sharp crack as he apparated away, but when she woke in the morning, he was asleep next to her, looking impossibly angelic. It was easy to believe that he could never be capable of hurting anyone - not her, not whoever'd had the misfortune of crossing his path last night.

She stroked his cheek, not meaning to wake him, but he stirred anyways.

Ginny laid her head back against the pillow and smiled at the ceiling. She had a good feeling, a feeling she hadn't had in so long, that today would be a good day. She crept from the bed and entered the shower, deciding to surprise him with breakfast in bed.

Instead, Draco surprised her.

She had just rinsed the shampoo from her hair and opened her eyes to reach for the conditioner, when she saw Draco, naked and misted with the shower water. “What are you doing?” she asked quickly, before stopping as her eyes fully absorbed the sight.

He was nothing, if not delicious perfection. Draco's hair was beginning to stick down with the steaming water, long enough to fall into his eyelids and cover his ears and flatten along the curve of his neck. His chest was perfectly smooth, and muscled in all the right places, the dips between the muscles leading in a perfectly sexy V down to his groin. Even the black mark on his arm couldn't mar the beauty that was Draco.

He reached for her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her to him until they were pressed together, and then he kissed her on the mouth. His kisses never failed to thrill her, the warmth of his delicious lips moving against hers, the warm tangle of tongues, the small and soft moans the left his mouth only to enter hers, the feeling of being so incredibly close to him… She melted against him and began to circle her arms around him to drawn him closer when he suddenly pulled back and spun her around so that her back was pressed into him. He brought his hands up to cup her breasts in his palms, kissing across the line of her shoulders and up her neck, making her moan and completely forget her reason for rushing to the shower.

Slowly, one hand traveled down to her stomach as the other stroked her hard nipple.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered in her ear as his hand crept lower, until it covered her bare sex. “Beautiful.” Then he plunged his first finger inside of her, gently biting at her neck as she let out a gasp.

Wantonly, she bent her knees ever so slightly to force his finger deeper into her, rewarding him with yet another moan as he inserted a second finger and let the palm of his hand grate across her needy clit.

The arm around her breasts kept her buckling knees from causing her to fall flat onto the bottom of the shower floor as she rode his fingers.

“Come on,” he murmured into her ear. “Don't hold back, Gin girl. Come for me, scream for me.”

She didn't scream, but the heat and the water and the very naked Draco pressed into her back were making her moans louder and longer. She could feel her orgasm approaching, but instead of the gradual waves that built her up to her climax, it exploded inside of her without warning. She stopped riding Draco's hand, but her body was still trembling and tightening as he continued to curl his fingers inside of her.

“You feel so good, Gin girl,” he groaned into her ear.

Ginny used her hand to brace herself against the wall as the remaining waves of her climax swept through her.

“I'm not going to let you fall. Just let it go.” His thumb brushed over her clit, making her cry out. “Let it go.”

When she could finally trust her knees again, she wiggled around in his grasp until she was facing him. “It's your happy birthday. I'm supposed to be giving to you.”

He grinned. “What? You didn't like it?”

She shook her head quickly. “I liked it a lot. But now it's your turn.” She placed her hands on his chest and slowly slid down his body until her face was perfectly level with his thick, erect cock. Wasting no time, her tongue darted out and she tasted him, from the base to the tip, before opening her mouth and taking in as much as she could.

She couldn't help but smile smugly as she heard Draco's gasping intake of breath - he almost never made noise during foreplay or sex, and although she was sure she didn't want someone who screamed louder than she did, it was nice to know that her actions were appreciated.

Ginny kept one hand on his flat, hard stomach, and let the other wander down his thigh, and then slide up between his legs so she could fondle him. She knew that she was decent at what she was doing, but she had never quite enjoyed it the way she did at that moment. There was something completely erotic about being naked, wet, and on her knees for Draco.

Her thoughts must have come through in her actions, because in only a few moments, Draco was panting while rolling his hips towards her. When he came, she sucked him dry, wanting every last drop inside of her.

After a moment, he pulled her to her feet and simply held her tight, and at that exact second, Ginny began to wonder if she was falling in love.

The day was like a fairy tale, and not once did she think about her family or friends or even her freedom.

After the shower, Ginny insisted that Draco get back into bed, so she could serve him breakfast, and he agreed, but only if she served it naked.

Following their breakfast, which quite possibly could have set a record for world's longest meal, there was the attempt at world's greatest sex. They went to Draco's pool, and swam and drank and played lazily until the sun began to sink.

“Will we be eating dinner in the nude too?” Ginny asked with a small smile, stretched out on her plastic floating chair.

“Hell yes,” he smirked. “It's my birthday and we can do whatever we want.”

The dinner was absolutely perfect, and the being naked bit didn't bother Ginny at all; even the house elves didn't blink an eye at the two of them.

Dinner ended with Ginny sitting in Draco's lap as they fed each other cobbler, Draco `accidentally' spilling his on her breasts and licking it off.

“Happy birthday,” she said when they were done. “I hope you liked it.”

“I did.” He kissed her cheek. “Would you like to go with me to my mother's for dinner tomorrow night?”

Ginny froze, unsure if she had really heard what she thought he said. A thousand thoughts battled in her mind, wondering if his mother knew about her, if his father would be there, if there would be anyone else.

Draco's expression didn't change.

“Yes,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “I'd love to.”

~~~~

LINK:

http://www.livejournal.com/community/ohreally___/35196.html#cutid1 ***WARNING*** THIS IS RATED NC17. REMEMBER THAT BEFORE CLICKING HERE!

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12. The Dinner

A/N: I apologize for the really long wait, and I hope it's worth it. I swear, all future chapters will be out at a much quicker rate, as I now know exactly how this story ends. If you have totally forgotten what this was about, I'm sorry, so here's a summary.

At the end of her 6th year, Draco placed the controlling curse on Ginny and has held her captive since. Her mother has died - at the hands of the Death Eaters, no doubt. Over time, Ginny begins to enjoy Draco's presence, although his seeming mood swings are violent and unpredictable.

CHAPTER 10 The Dinner

When Ginny woke up next to Draco, she felt good. Her entire body was relaxed, her mind was calm, she was still naked with the feeling of delicious soreness in her thighs, and Draco's arm draped over her waist.

And then she remembered that she was going to dinner at his parent's house that evening. The mere fact that she was leaving the Manor - Draco's Manor, her Manor - should have elated her, but it didn't. The peacefulness she hadn't felt in nearly a year evaporated as doubts began to creep in.

She clearly remembered Narcissa's cold demeanor at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before her 3rd year. She recalled the way she had looked at her family, as if the Weasley's weren't even worthy of breathing the same air as the Malfoy's.

What would she say now? Ginny wondered. Not only was she breathing the same air as Draco, she was living in the same house and sleeping in the same bed.

And then there was his father. He'd been directly responsible for her near death in her first year, although later he claimed that he never thought Tom would actually try to kill her. The summer before her 4th year, while shopping for school supplies, she felt hands slip around her back and cup her breasts. Before she could make a sound, she was shoved into a corner with a hand over her mouth, and something suspiciously hard pressing into her lower back.

“It's a shame,” a voice breathed hotly in her ear, “that the Weasley's are blood traitors.”

One hand stayed pressed over her mouth, while the other roughly massaged her breast and then moved down, trying to creep under her skirt.

“Stop,” she hissed into his hand and throwing her elbow into his ribs.

There was one final grind of his pelvis into her back, and her attacker moved away. Ginny whirled around to confirm her suspicion - that it was Lucius Malfoy.

“You bastard,” she growled at him.

His lips curled into a sneer as he turned and left her.

“Good morning,” Draco's sleep cradled voice shook her from her memories.

“Morning.” She rolled over to face him. “Did you sleep good?”

He nodded and yawned. “Better than I have in a long time.”

“Me too.”

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “We'll have to get you a new dress for tonight.”

She nodded.

“You okay? Don't you want to go?”

“I do. It will be nice.”

“Then what's wrong?”

“Will your . . . what will your parents think of me?”

“Well,” he ran his fingers through her hair, “my father is still in Azkaban.”

“Oh.” She felt an immediate flood of relief wash through her.

“And my mother will approve of you. What's not to like?”

“The fact that I'm a Weasley.”

“You're a pureblood,” he reminded her flatly. “And I'd like to think, that given the choice, you would stay here willingly now.”

“Of course,” she answered without hesitating. She wondered if she really would. If given the choice between staying with him, or returning to her family, what would she chose? Draco, who had consumed her whole life for an entire year, or her family, who she had stopped missing months ago?

The sick feeling that had vanished with the news of Lucius's incarceration returned as she realized how shallow she had become.

“Good.” She felt Draco's body relax.

She nodded into his chest.

“I saw this green gown at a Muggle store in Paris,” he mumbled, his hands slowly beginning to move across her body. “I tried to get my seamstress to recreate it, but she couldn't get it right, so I'm going to send Sully for it today.”

“A Muggle gown?”

“I couldn't get my usual seamstress to make a new one like it on such short notice, so it will have to do.”

“Okay.”

“Are you nervous?”
She paused. “Yes.”

“Don't be. It'll be perfect. You're perfect.”

After breakfast, a nervous Sully arrived with a large box. “Theys were not receptive, Master Sir. I apologizes, but I has to erases their memories.”

Ginny winced at the thought of Sully facing the Muggles.

Something like a small smile briefly played on Draco's lips. “Of course. Muggles. No matter.” He shrugged and took the box. “You did the right thing.”

He pulled the dress from the box and held it up. “Here. Try it on.”

Ginny took the dress, her fingers reveling in the unbelievable softness of the material. The dress was so soft and smooth, Ginny was afraid her own hands would snag it, even though she received her weekly manicures from Sully. She held the dress to her body and was pleased to see that the neckline was not at all low cut; somehow she felt that cleavage wasn't the best thing to present to Draco's mother.

“Go on,” Draco encouraged. “Try it.”

She quickly shimmied out of her robed and Sully helped her ease the dress over her head.

It fit perfectly. The neckline skimmed directly over the top of her chest, concealing everything it should, the waist curved inwards in an hourglass fashion, fitting her like a second skin, and the skirt of the dress was A line, widening gently as it fell to the floor. The back of the dress, however, was completely cut out. It bared her entire back, dipping dangerously low.

“Um, this shows my-” Ginny began.

“No it doesn't,” Draco interrupted. “It's beautiful. You look amazing.”

“Is it appropriate?” she asked, craning her neck to see the back.

“I picked it out, didn't I?”

“Yes.”

“So with the right shoes and jewels, you'll be a goddess.”

“Oo, do I get new jewelry?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

“You get whatever makes you happy.”

“Okay.” She smiled at him, agreeing because it was the only think to do.

“Go on and relax,” he told her. “I'm going to shower and go to the office for a few hours.”

“On a Sunday?” she pouted.

“There are a few things I need to do.” He kissed her cheek. “Things I didn't finish Friday.”

“Oh.” Her eyes automatically darted to his arm.

“It's not that. So go relax. Swim, have Sully give you a massage, and get your nails done. I'll be back by four and we'll leave here at 5:30.”

Ginny made a small grunting noise.

He grinned. “Pouting won't help this time, Princess.”

“Fine,” she smiled back, giving up. “Then I'll relax.”

“Will you really?” he asked, stepping close and picking up her hand. “I want you to be happy. I hope you believe me when I say that I don't want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home.”

“I don't,” she said slowly. “Not anymore.”

“Then what is it?”

“It's not leaving the house, it's . . . meeting your mum.”

“Because she's my mother?”

“I think so.”

“Or because she's someone new?”

“Maybe both.”

“Don't.” He shook his head and she immediately liked the way his almost too long hair brushed against his eyebrows. “You're gorgeous Ginny. You're . . . nothing like the way my mother might perceive your family.”

Ginny waited for her reaction, to flinch or to be hurt by his statement, but it never came. Instead, she nodded, understanding exactly what he meant.

“And as for her being someone new, you don't have to be concerned with that. You are the only person in my life who means anything to me.”

“Okay.” She thought she could actually feel her heart soar at his words.

He pulled Ginny close to him, kissed her forehead, and then apparated away.

“I think I will bathe,” Ginny told Sully. “If you could draw my bath please.”

Sully disappeared with a pop and Ginny slowly picked up her robe and trudged up the stairs. She forced herself to breathe deeply. There was no choice but to be calm and accept what Draco had decided. Attempting to get out of it would most likely result in his wrath.

By the time she'd hung the exquisite dress in her armoire, Sully had the tub nearly filled with steaming scented water and thick bubbles. There was even a fresh bouquet of white roses by the bath. Ginny let the water run until the bubbles reached her chin, and then she leaned back and closed her eyes.

When Draco returned home, Ginny was all but ready. She'd been exfoliated and shaved, massaged, manicured and pedicured, her hair had been curled and piled on top of her head, leaving her bare from the nape of her neck to the near top of her bum, and Sully had presented her with the most beautiful pail of long diamond earrings. They dangled nearly to her shoulders and glittered more diamonds than Ginny had ever seen. The house elf had also brought her shoes, four inch stilettos that would put the top of her head level with Draco's cheekbones. The shoes were impossibly thin and strappy, black and speckled with diamonds that Ginny would have bet her life were real, and laced up her calves.

“Your dress, Missus,” Sully asked as the heard the crack of Draco's return apparation.

“Yes.” Ginny quickly shimmied into it as she heard Draco's voice.

“I'm back. Where are you?”

“I'll be right there,” she called. With a quick glance in the mirror, and brief amazement at the strange woman she saw reflected there, Ginny hurried down the hall.

“You're early,” she said, slipping behind Draco as he unbuttoned his work shirt.

“Because I missed you.” He turned around to kiss her and then stopped. “You look . . . you look amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I don't look like myself, do I?”

“You do,” he disagreed. “And you look like a goddess.”

“You'd better be careful,” she teased, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “You might anger the goddesses!”

“It doesn't matter,” he shrugged carelessly. “I don't lie.”

“Should I get your clothes?”

“The tux is in that closet,” he nodded, removing his shirt.

She pulled out the immaculate tuxedo, not failing to notice the Armani label in the jacket. She couldn't remove her eyes from his bare chest, and she wondered not for the first time if it was possible that she was falling in love with him. She lifted the shirt from the jacket and held it out to him.

Draco slipped his arms inside the white material, and Ginny moved in front of him, her hands brushing his skin as she buttoned the shirt. He changed his trousers, and Ginny carefully tied his bowtie and then helped him into his vest.

“This matches my dress,” she noted as she fasted the last button on the vest.

Draco nodded. “Sully charmed it.”

She handed him his socks and tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach as she then opened the small black box she'd given him the day before and gently attached the cufflinks to his shirtsleeves.

“Ready?” Draco asked, after running a comb through his hair and inspecting his appearance.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready.”

“If this goes well, maybe we can plan a holiday for later this summer.” His voice was neutral, but Ginny quickly understood the meaning behind the words - if she behaved.

“Really?”

He nodded curtly. “I told you, I don't want you to be a prisoner here. This is your home.”

“That would be . . . wonderful.” If she was honest with herself, she would have admitted that she was more nervous about sharing Draco with someone than she was about leaving the Manor or even meeting his mother. After all, Draco was all that she'd had for a year.

“Alright. We'll apparate.” He stepped closer and wrapped both arms around her waist, kissed her, and then there was a strange squeezing feeling, and a sudden change of scenery.

They were standing in a large, elegant foyer, complete with marble floors, an enormous crystal chandelier, and a gorgeous sweeping double staircase.

“You really do look amazing,” Draco told her again.

“So this is your mystery woman,” a voice interrupted.

Ginny looked up and felt her chest constrict. Standing before them was Narcissa - tall, slim, blond, and absolutely elegant. She wore a long black gown, gold earrings and a matching bracelet, with her hair swept into a graceful twist. She held a wineglass in one hand and had an appraising look on her face as her eyes took Ginny in from head to toe.

“Mother,” Draco stepped forward to kiss her cheek, “this is Ginevra.”

Ginny managed to keep her eyebrows from shooting up in surprise. She wasn't even aware that Draco knew her given name.

Narcissa placed her free hand on Ginny's shoulder and air kissed both of her cheeks. “It's lovely to finally meet you.” I've heard so many wonderful things about you, and you look absolutely divine.”

“Thank you,” Ginny smiled, trying to sound sincere and confident at the same time.

“What can I get you to drink?” she asked.

“Wine is fine,” Draco answered. “What ever you're having.”

Within seconds, a house elf appeared out of no where, holding a tray with two glasses. Draco handed Ginny her glass, and then they silently followed Narcissa to a parlor.

Ginny was too anxious to appreciate the change of scenery. Instead she found herself worrying about what Narcissa though of her. Weasley's and Malfoy's had never gotten along of course, and Ginny was quite sure that Narcissa knew some news of her disappearance.

After what seemed to be an eternity of small talk between the mother and son, Narcissa turned her attention to Ginny.

“Draco says the two of you have been an item for over a year and a half?” she asked, her voice even and soft.

“Exactly,” Ginny nodded, even though she'd only been with him for a year. Not arguing with Draco was a lesson painfully learned.

“I have to ask,” she continued calmly, “but since you seem serious, I suppose it's not terribly inappropriate.”

“Of course,” Ginny answered, dreading her next words.

“Why did you leave your family? The last piece of news I saw about your disappearance made the assumption that you were dead.”

Ginny desperately wanted Draco to answer for her, or at least to be able to glance at him for assurance. But she knew that not only did the rest of her evening depend on her answer, her entire future with Draco did as well. “Because I knew that my family would never approve. I knew that it was time to make a choice, and this is what I chose. I chose Draco.”

“Over your family?”

“I couldn't stay with my family forever.”

“Forgive me,” Narcissa smiled thinly. “I certainly didn't mean to pry.”

Ginny nodded, and finally allowed herself to sneak a glance at Draco. He didn't glance back, but he reached over and gently squeezed her hand, flooding her with relief.

Dinner was an enormous affair. First, there were hor devours, served in the parlor they were sitting in, and then they went to the massive dining room for a strange salad and creamy soup Ginny didn't recognize. By the time the fourth course arrived, Ginny discovered that the only way to make it until dessert was by merely tasting each course, which seemed to be a big waste, since the food was divine and no doubt expensive.

The main course was some sort of thinly sliced meat, garnished with a rich red sauce, artistically arrange on her plate. It was good, but completely foreign to Ginny, despite Draco's efforts over the last year to reeducate her tastes.

She sat through more small talk between Draco and his mother, speaking only when it seemed appropriate, and struggling to maintain the appearance of being truly interested.

It wasn't until a gigantic white birthday cake and dessert wine was brought to the table that Narcissa returned her attentions to Ginny.

“What are you planning to do about your education?” she asked coolly. “I knew I'd never have to work a day in my life, and yet I also knew the importance of an education.”

Ginny took a calm sip of her wine while her brain frantically shouted possibilities at her. The several glasses of wine she'd already consumed were trying to take control of her mind.

“Actually,” Draco spoke up, “that's something I've been meaning to ask you about. We haven't been able to find a suitable tutor for Ginny. I know how much her education means to her, and I was hoping you could recommend someone.”

Ginny wanted to sigh in relief, but instead she merely nodded and gave a slight smile.

“That depends on what you mean by suitable,” she answered her son.

“Someone with immaculate teaching abilities, of course,” he said. “Someone who will teach her more than just the dark arts, and someone who is discreet.”

“I'll see what I can do,” she replied.

The remainder of the dinner continued smoothly, and despite her assumptions that she would be thrilled at this new measure of freedom, Ginny found that the only thing on her mind was the fact that she didn't like sharing Draco. She preferred his undivided attention, and the knowledge that she was the only one on his mind.

Ginny would have never, ever told Draco, but she was bored. She preferred the silent dinners where Draco did his office work at the table to this. It was almost amusing, the way her thoughts and feelings had changed. Almost.

Before they left for the evening, Narcissa handed Draco a card. “It's for both of you,” she told him, “but the dates are flexible.”

“Thank you.” He took the card and gripped Ginny's waist.

“Goodnight,” Narcissa told Ginny, air kissing her cheeks again.

Ginny felt the again unfamiliar squeezing, and she was back in Draco's room.

“You were perfect,” he said, kissing her.

“Was I?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, his lips on her ear. “And mother liked you.”

“How could you tell?” Her head rolled back, giving him more access.

“Because she told you goodnight. If she doesn't like people, she tells them goodbye.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He moved behind her and began placing kisses along her bare back. “I've been waiting to do this all evening.” He knelt, kissing his way down her back, and then up again, gently sliding the dress off her shoulders. Then green material gathered at her waist and with an additional nudge from Draco, it pooled at her feet.

He cupped her breasts from behind, trailing kisses over her shoulder blades. “You are beautiful.”

She turned around in his grasp and removed his jacket and vest. Carefully she undid his bowtie and then unbuttoned his shirt, admiring the firm smoothness of his chest. She ran her hands up his stomach, across his chest, and then to his shoulders, pulling his shirt off in the process. She leaned in to catch his lower lip between her own and savored the taste that was truly Draco. She moved her hands down his perfect arms, determined to rid him of his clothes, but as her hand moved across his arm, she jumped back and stared at her hand. She had grown used to his Dark Mark, but this time as the palm of her hand passed over it, it felt like a fire had been lit beneath her skin. She was surprised to see that her palm wasn't singed.

“Fuck,” Draco swore, clenching his arm. “I should have known this was too good to last.” He shrugged his shirt back on and aimed his wand at a sealed chest. His heavy black cloak and mask came flying at him. “We'll finish this when I return.” He kissed her - something he'd never done before when leaving like this - and disappeared with a crack.

Ginny stood alone in the suddenly empty room. She raised her fingers to the exact spot on her lips that Draco had kissed, and then she walked across the room and sat down on his bed, preparing to remove her shoes. She laid down on Draco's side of the bed, her head spinning from the activities on the past 24 hours.

When Ginny woke, it was to Draco pressing kisses into her bare stomach.

She inhaled before opening her eyes. She was always surprised when he smelled clean. She could smell soap and shampoo and feel the damp strands of his hair brushing her skin. She always expected him to smell like death or blood or even smoke when he returned, but his extracurricular activities never betrayed him. In fact, if it wasn't for his mark, Ginny would have never known.

She reached out her hand to run her fingers through his wet hair.

“I need you Ginny.” His voice came out of the darkness, sounding strangled and cracked.

She felt the bed shift as he scooted towards her, and when he kissed her, even his mouth tasted perfect.

“I need you,” he mumbled again, his face buried in her neck. “I need you to save me, make me whole.”

She wasn't sure if he wanted an answer, or even what he meant, so she stayed silent, stroking his hair, and then moved her other hand to caress his back.

“No matter what happens or what has happened, I'm going to keep you safe. Know that, okay?”

His voice was needy and it was making Ginny nervous.

His hands were skating her body, touching every inch of her flesh, and his mouth followed suit, kissing and tasting between words. “I love you Ginny.”

The words were a bucket of ice to her soul, but she immediately opened her mouth, ready to tell him the truth, that she loved him too.

Before she could speak, his mouth covered hers as if he didn't expect an answer.

He loves me, she thought, letting her body automatically respond to him. He loves me.

He settled between her legs, his face resting on her chest, and although his lack of clothing was apparent, he made no move to enter her. “Do you think I'm terrible?”

His breathing was slow and even before Ginny could even think of an answer, and as she stroked his hair while he slept, she noticed that the first rays of dawn were creeping through the window. “No, I don't.”

-->

13. Changes

A/N: It was hard to write this chapter, because I felt that I couldn't quite get across the ever changing emotions of Draco and Ginny. I hope you enjoy it anyways. Keep the warnings in mind as well. Thanks again for all the reviews.

CHAPTER 12

June faded into July, and July gave way to August. Ginny barely remembered that her birthday was in a few days, and could care less that she was about to be 18. Once, in another lifetime, she had looked forward to her 17th birthday, but it had come and gone, and it had been months before she'd even realized it. It would have been sad if she'd taken the time to think about it, that she no longer cherished any of the things she once did. Change was, of course, something inevitable, and yet she'd never imagined that things would change like this. Once upon another lifetime, when things had been centered around school and family and friends, when her life was colored with pastels, she would have cared that her birthday was coming, but not anymore.

Since Draco's birthday dinner, his mother had made a habit out of coming over for dinners and showing up unannounced during the daytime. It made Ginny nervous to no end to be around her, particularly when she was alone, because Ginny's mind was always warning her that Narcissa knew something was amiss.

“Honestly,” Draco snorted when she finally dared to voice her concerns, “what could she possibly do about it?”

“Nothing, I guess,” she answered quietly. “She just seems suspicious.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is this really what you want?”

“What?”

“This. Me. Living here.”

“Yes. I already told you.”

Draco nodded to himself. “Good.”

Ginny began to nibble nervously at her thumbnail. “Draco?”

“Yes?”

“Since things are . . . different now, do you think . . . it would be wise to contact my family? Just so they stop, um, searching for me?”

His expression didn't change. “I brought you here to keep you safe. Obviously, in all the time that you have been here, you haven't figured that out yet. You have no idea what things that were planned for you, and carried out on your family. You have no idea what I have saved you from. You should thank the gods every night that you are not suffering the fate that was intended for you.”

For a fleeting second, Ginny realized the truth: that she had become so determined to believe in Draco, she'd managed to start believing her own lies. She'd begun to believe that she was at Malfoy Manor of her own accord. Then the second passed. “What has happened to my family?”

Draco ignored her.

“Are they okay?”

“You know what happened,” he finally snapped.

“Oh.” Mum. “I'm sorry. You're right. I wasn't thinking.”

The next two days were spent in chilly silence, until Draco mercifully broke the silence at the dinner table. “What do you want for your birthday?”

“My birthday?” she repeated, startled.

“You'll be 18 in a few days,” he said dryly.

“I know. I didn't know that you did though.”

He shrugged. “Like I'm going to let your birthday pass after what you did for me.”

“It was nothing,” she mumbled.

“What would you like?”

“I'm not sure,” she admitted. “I have almost everything here.”

“Well, think of something,” he instructed her, “and let me know tomorrow at dinner.”

Ginny mulled over it the following day, but could think of nothing. She had gorgeous clothes, more gems than she'd ever dreamed over, books everywhere, and the elves to tend to her every whim. The only thing she missed was her wand, but she wanted to ask for something she could have; the last thing she wanted was for Draco to be angry with her again.

“I have everything,” she told him at dinner that night. “I can't think of a single thing that I would want.”

“Somehow I assumed you would say that,” he told her dryly, sipping from his wine glass. “So I came up with a few suggestions.”

“Really?” She leaned forward. “What are they?”

“What about dinner and dancing?”

“Dinner and dancing?” she parroted.

He nodded, his expression amused. “I know a place in Milan-”

“Milan?”

“Yes.”

“As in Italy?”
“Ginny.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“They have a rooftop restaurant with an amazing dance floor.”

“Dancing in Italy?”

“Do you not want to?” he asked, irritated.

“I'd love to.” If she hadn't have been with him for so long, she wouldn't have noticed the small upturning corners of his mouth that signified a smile.

“Good. Then we'll go on Saturday.”

Ginny leaned back in her chair and tried to digest his words. They were going out in public. In front of other people. She was going to interact with other humans. She was going to dance with Draco. Now all she had to do was make it through the week. “What should I wear?”

“I'll send Sully to a place I know tomorrow. She'll bring you a selection of things that are suitable,” he told her, his silver eyes gleaming.

When Ginny woke the following morning, she stretched, and suddenly her stomach rolled. She jumped from the bed and ran for the loo, where she proceeded to retch away the remains of last night's dinner. She moaned into the empty room, and when she felt well enough to stand, rose to her feet and rinsed out her mouth and her face. She slunk back into Draco's room, grateful that he had already left for the day. Draco had seen her at her very worst - after she'd trashed her bedroom and been locked in the guest room with the Chinese Wedding bed - but she wasn't eager for him to see her sick.

She dozed again, and when she woke, she felt much better, so she went to her suite to see if Sully had returned with the clothes she was to choose from for Saturday. Inside her wardrobe hung several new outfits. The first was a black, shiny one shouldered dress that had an angled hem and a keyhole directly above her cleavage - far too tacky for her taste. The second was a two piece outfit, the black skirt probably no more than 7 inches in height and a matching tube top, both of which had laces up the sides to reveal even more skin. Absolutely not. The next was a dark green tube dress, with a large cut out across the hip area and a matching piece of material that Ginny supposed was to be wrapped around her arm. There was a pair of low denim trousers with the entire front of the leg, from hem to waist band, cut out held together with denim laces. There were things that claimed to be shorts, but were smaller than some of the undergarments Ginny wore.

Just when she thought she would have to call in Sully and beg her to find something else, she spotted the perfect dress. It was strapless and dark brown with deep green trim. It was made to be tight across the bust and then had a slight flair. The back of the dress stopped at her knees, but the slightly ruffled hem was jagged and the front angled up on thigh. And it fit like a dream.

She admired herself in the mirror for long enough to rightfully be called vain before carefully placing the dress back on its hanger and going downstairs to finally eat.

She settled on toast and potatoes, although she was sure Draco would have disapproved of her choice, and a nagging voice in the back of her mind was reminding her that if she ate all those starches, she wasn't going to fit into the amazing dress upstairs.

“Did you see some of the clothes that Sully brought home?” she asked him at dinner, even though he was bent over a stack of papers he'd brought home.

“Of course,” he flashed a rare and wolfish grin. “I instructed her on exactly what to get.”

She nodded, and took another bite, glad her appetite had returned.

“You picked the brown dress.”

“How did you know?”

“I knew you'd never wear any of those other things out in public.”

“Then why get them?” she asked curiously.

“I'd like to see you wear them privately.”

“Oh would you?”

“I would.”

“Maybe tonight then.”

He glanced up. “I don't think I'll be here.”

“Oh. Maybe later.” Once again she hated the way her voice so plainly betrayed her emotions, practically laying them flat on the polished table for Draco to see.

He sighed and instructed an elf take the papers to his office. “My mother would be furious if she ever saw me working at the table.”

“What do you do when you're out there?”

His silver eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“At night,” she breathed, unsure where her sudden courage - or stupidity - had come from.
The world darkened as he spoke, his words sucking joy and light and peace from every molecule that surrounded them, and yet Ginny could not stop listening. “I kill. Murder. Torture. Torment. Punish. I make people call for death, and I refuse to give it to them. I bend the will of others to my bidding. I serve. I do what I am instructed without hesitation, and for that, I am glorified among those who follow beside me. I am taking back what is mine, I am leading a war, and I am winning.”

Her stomach twisted with despair as his words surrounded her, breathless and able, not despairing, not tormented, the way she had wanted his darkest and most sinister secrets to be revealed. “Do you…” The two words rolled from her tongue before she could stop them, but then she snapped her mouth shut and said no more. She truly didn't want to know if he did anything else; if he participated in those vicious Death Eater games that were only spoken of in rumors and in secret. And then the thought occurred to her that Draco Malfoy, her savior, her protector, her captor, that he was a Death Eater, that he was a murderer.

“That is why you are here, Ginny. That is what your fate would have been if you stayed with your family.” His eyes were dark and uncaring, the viciousness of his words emphasizing the pointy, cruelness of his face.

“Has that been my family's fate?” she dared to whisper.

He ignored her question and continued. “I have been favored with the Dark Lord. I have never let him down. And imagine, if the only Weasley girl was caught, what a reward she would have made.”

Ginny stared into her plate, unable to eat, with heavy tears slipping down to the fine linen and wishing she had never asked. “Thank you then,” she said, finding her voice somewhere in the darkness that was smothering her. “Thank you for all that you have done for me.”

“I'll sleep alone tonight,” Draco told her, rising from the table.

Ginny buried her face in her hands and cried, trying to escape the thick evil that was trying to wrap its uncaring arms around her.

She dreamed of Draco that night. She dreamed that she stood by and watched as he raped Muggles. She woke to the very first rays of the morning trying to filter into the dankness that had surrounded her, remembered her dream, and scrambled for the loo, removing what little contents were in her stomach.

When Ginny caught her breath, she rested her elbows on the loo and held her face in her hands, wishing she had a Time Turner so that she could undo the night before.

Draco came home late from work all that week and didn't speak to Ginny, so she sadly gave up on the idea of rooftop dancing in Italy. She could barely eat, and nearly always threw up what she'd managed to swallow, and she desperately wished that Draco would make peace with her again. She hated the way she was physically sick over him.

It was on Friday, when he came home unexpectedly for dinner, that he found Ginny in the library, crying.

“What's wrong?” Draco asked irritably.

“Nothing,” she lied, quickly shaking her head. “I was just thinking. Are you home for dinner?”

“Don't fucking lie, Ginny,” he snapped, ignoring her question.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I was just . . . thinking about school. This would be . . . I would have graduated this year.”

He eyed her coolly. “No you wouldn't.”

“Oh . . .” She was confused, but didn't dare ask.

“They closed the school.”

“But, but they didn't last time, not when . . . Professor Dumbledore . . .” she trailed off, not daring to speak the words, not daring to remind him that he was the reason the professor was dead, not when it was the first time he'd spoken to her all week.

“The school was raided at the beginning of the year. Too many people died. Those who escaped were sent home and the school closed.”

“Oh.” The room was warm, but her skin prickled with the chill of his words. “Oh.”

He held out one hand. “We're having fish and chips tonight.”

“Fish and chips?” she repeated, allowing him to gently pull her from the settee.

“I distinctly remember you saying that it was your favorite meal.”

Ginny nodded and forced a smile. She remembered him replying that fish and chips would never be served in Malfoy Manor. “Thank you.” She hoped it would stay down.

It was almost funny to see such a casual meal served on such fine dinnerware, and almost funny to see Draco eat his with a knife and fork. Almost.

“I couldn't figure out what wine would go with our meal,” he said casually. “It was strange. I've never had that problem before.”

A true smile cracked Ginny's face. “I think it's beer.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Thank you for this. Really.”

He didn't answer.

“Will you be here . . . tonight?” she dared ask.

He looked up at her silently.

“I just thought I'd show you some of those outfits you bought.”

His expression didn't change, but he nodded. “I will be here.”

****

When Ginny woke, she was tucked comfortably beneath Draco's arm. Her extremely small skirt and top were still strewn on the floor, near Draco's clothes. She'd slept better than she had all week, but at the moment, the previous night's fish and chips wasn't settling so well. With all the speed she dared, she edged out from Draco's arm, crawled off the bed and then sped to his bathroom and carefully pushed the door shut behind her. She flipped the water on at the sink and then fell to her knees before the loo, just in time.

When it had passed, she rinsed her face, brushed her teeth, and crept back into the bedroom. Draco was still in the bed, but his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.

“Good morning,” she whispered, snuggling down beside him.

He kissed her forehead and wrapped one arm around her. “Happy birthday.”

She was taken back for a moment, surprised that she had forgotten her own birthday. “Thank you.”

Draco seemed in no hurry to move, and she was content to lie beside him, lazily drawing her fingertips over his body, feeling the line of every muscle and carefully avoiding the mark on his arm.

She could have stayed there all day, safe with him, warm with him, comfortable in the knowledge that she was here willingly, and that Draco would protect her from whatever evils were lurking outside the walls of the Manor. Draco himself may have been the evil, but as long as she was with him, she was safe.

Unable to coax each other out of bed, Draco had breakfast sent up. The elf who brought it was followed by two more elves, both bearing gifts.

She unwrapped her presents, finding jewelry and clothes and books, and lastly, in the smallest box, a framed photo. She gasped as she stared at it, knowing that it had once stood on the nightstand beside her bed at the Burrow. Her entire family stared out of the frame, waving frantically, the great pyramids of Egypt behind them. She glanced up at Draco, afraid to find out how he'd gotten a hold of the photo.

“No one was home,” he said quietly.

Ginny nodded slowly, the claws on her heart releasing their grip.

“I thought you would want it.”

“I do. Thank you.” She bit her lower lip. “Thank you so much.”

He nodded gruffly. “Now eat. No more shuffling your food around.”

They spent the lay lounging around the Manor, much like they had done on his birthday, until he reminded Ginny that they needed to get ready for their night of dinner and dancing.

“Wear the new diamond earrings,” Draco instructed. “They'll be perfect with that dress.”

Ginny shimmied into her dress, her excitement growing. Her hormones raced at the thought of dancing with Draco, their bodies pressed together, clothed, but hot and insinuating.

As she strapped on her shoes, she thought of Italian food, and suddenly her stomach rolled. She raced for the bathroom and flung herself to the floor, wondering what was wrong with her. She couldn't stop thinking about food, even though the mere though was causing her continued retching.

When she was through, she stood wobbly to her feet and reached for her toothbrush.

“When were you going to tell me?” Draco's flat, cold voice sounded from behind her.

She glanced in the mirror to see him leaning against the door jam, barefoot and wearing only his trousers.

“I don't know what's wrong,” she mumbled. “Mostly I feel fine, and then I just get sick.”

He remained silent until she was finished brushing her teeth. “Is that why you're not eating?”

She nodded.

“When did this start?”

“At the beginning of the week. Sunday, I think.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, pulled out his wand, and aimed it at her.

“What are you-” Ginny gasped.

Draco muttered words incoherent to her ears, and she glanced down to see a small light radiating from the front of her dress.

“What is this?”

Draco dropped to her settee and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What?” she nearly begged. “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“How thick can you be, Ginny?” he spat. “You're pregnant.”

She stopped breathing. She was quite certain that all the air in the room evaporated and that the world stopped spinning. “I can't be.”

“You are.” His face was tightly drawn and she could clearly hear his angry breaths.

“But I, but I took that potion. I take it every week.” She shook her hand frantically and stared down at her stomach. “I do!”

“I believe you,” he mumbled.

“I'm just sick. That's all.” Tears began to fall from her eyes. She could not be pregnant. After spending her entire life continually surrounded by more siblings than she could sometimes count, she had decided that children were out of the question.

He didn't speak for a long time, and the darkness and silence grew, but Ginny was afraid to draw more attention to herself as Draco remained perched on the edge of the couch, his face covered.

“So what will we do?” he asked, suddenly looking weary and tired.

Ginny could suddenly see the effects of his late nights spent doing those horrible things - the skin beneath his eyes was dark and hollow, and somehow he looked older, thinner, strained. His hair was obviously uncombed, and although no one else would have noticed it, Ginny realized that his trousers were unpressed. “What do you mean?”

“What do you want to do with it? With the child.”

“I don't know,” she croaked, sinking to the floor, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle. “I don't know what to do with children. I never wanted any. I'm too young to have children.”

“Obviously not,” he muttered.

“Draco, I'm sorry,” she whispered, hating the way her voice cracked. “I didn't-”

“It's hardly your fault. Accidents happen. This just isn't a good time.” He rubbed his forehead. “Do you want to keep it or abort it?”

She nodded and then whispered, “I couldn't . . . abort it. I couldn't do that.”

Draco stared down at her impassively and suddenly Ginny wondered how it was possible that two people so different could even abide in the same household. She couldn't resolve her problem by getting rid of a child whose existence she had just learned about, while Draco murdered people nightly.

“Fine,” he said tiredly. “That's fine. Then we're keeping it. Him. Her.”

She looked up at him questioningly.

“No one else can raise the Malfoy heir,” he informed her haughtily.

She nodded and stared back at her hands.

“We'll make this work.”

“How?” she dared to ask. “I don't know anything about babies! I can't raise a kid!”

“Don't you have ten or so brothers?” he asked rudely.

“I was the youngest. I didn't have to look after anyone.”

Ginny pulled her knees to her chest and rocked slightly, watching Draco from beneath her eyelids. He didn't seem particularly angry, only tired and broken. That scared her more than his anger did. For more than a year, Draco had controlled her life completely, and she was used to it. She liked it. She welcomed it.

“Come here.” He reached out and picked up her wrist, pulling her towards him and sitting her in his lap, rocking her back and forth as the two of them sat in silence, absorbing the news that their world had just been changed.

“I'm tired,” he said finally.

“Me too,” she nodded. The room was now dark, but in the dim light from the moon, she could still see the fatigue in his eyes.

He stood to his feet and carried her to the bed, laying her gently down and kissing her forehead before going to her dresser and plucking a violet colored nightgown from the drawer. He handed it to her silently.

“Do you have to leave tonight?” she asked quietly as she slid the gown on.

“I don't know,” he answered shortly.

“Oh.”

“Look, I know this is hard for you.” He ran one hand through his hair and seemed to sag under the weight of his thoughts.

“Are you going to sleep with me tonight?”

“Do you want me to?”

She nodded.

He undid his trousers and then slid beneath the bedcovers, his legs grazing hers.

The room was dark and quiet, but when Draco put his arms around her and pulled her close, Ginny knew that no matter what he had put her through, no matter how much she didn't understand why he did the things he did, she did love him.

“Draco?”

“Hmm,” he mumbled drowsily.

She opened her mouth, and decided it was time to confess her deepest secret. “I love you.”

-->

14. Tough Choices

“Decide!” Draco screamed. The veins in his neck bulged as he pinned her shoulders to the wall. “These are your only choices!”

Ginny's entire body shook with sobs while her sense of smell was invaded by the Firewhiskey that saturated his breath.

“We will be married in two weeks or there will be no child,” he raged. “Are you listening?”

He shook her again, and it took all the strength Ginny had to hold her neck stiff in order to avoid having her head bounce off the wall. “Yes.”

“Then what is your choice?” His words reeked of venom and for the first time in a long time, Ginny was afraid for her life.

They had gotten along so well in the three weeks since Ginny had confessed that she loved him, the same night he discovered her pregnancy, that when Draco brought up the subject of marriage, she assumed it was safe to tell him the truth.

“I'm not ready to be married,” she had told him. “I'm not old enough.”

His expression didn't change. “I would say that in every way except for the legal way, we already are.”

“I know. But, marriage is . . . permanent.”

“You are having my child. If my child is born and we are not married, it will be a bastard.”

“Don't say that,” she tried to protest.

“Not only that, if my first born is a bastard, it will not be the Malfoy heir.”

“Of course it would be! It's the first-”

“And, according to the law, if we are not married before the midway point of your pregnancy, the child will still be considered a bastard.”

Ginny frowned. “Why?”

“Do I make the laws?” he snapped.

“But no one even knows that I'm here. How would anyone even know?”

“Do you really think I'm going to hide my son from the world? This child is being born into great responsibility. His path in life has already been laid.”

His words froze Ginny, and she opened her mouth several times before she found the courage to speak in a whisper. “So I would be contributing to the Death Eaters? Strengthening their numbers?”

Draco's eyes narrowed and Ginny could feel the ice that had gathered in her stomach cutting at her flesh.

He had barely spoken to her since then, not until that afternoon, when he burst into the library, yanked her from the couch, and pinned her to the wall.

“What will it be?” Draco raised his left hand from her shoulder, as if he was going to hit her, bringing her back to the present. “Chose!”

Ginny's eyes darted nervously to the goblet he had brought into the room, a potion to terminate her pregnancy, she was sure.

“Before you decided, keep in mind that if you will not bear my children, I will have no use for you.” His voice was so low she could scarcely hear his evil words as they tickled her ear.

Her very bones seemed to melt from her body as the impact of his words struck her. If he did love her, it was in such a warped and twisted way he would just as soon abandon her or kill her if she didn't do his bidding. She sagged against the wall, until she was only held up by the pressure from his hands. She brought her hands up between his and covered her face. “Is that why you brought me here? Just for that?”

The wall rattled as he shook her, and her head connected with it. “How many sodding times will I have to answer that for you?” he hissed. “You are here so that you are safe! You are here so that you are not being fucked by men like my father. You are here so that the Dark Lord does not have you. You are here and so you are not dead, so you do not beg for death, and so you are not made to please all the wizards who want you. That is all.”

Slowly she removed her hands, but couldn't bring her saturated eyes into contact with his. “Then I am grateful,” she whispered.

“And what is your choice?”

“You. It's always going to be you.”

“Of course it is always me,” he snapped, grabbing her chin and forcing her face towards his. “I am all that you have.”

As Ginny nodded, it never occurred to her that Draco had just played her so skillfully that she really did believe him. She believed him when he said that she would be dead if not for him. She believed him when he insinuated that he would be done with her if not for this child, and even so, he would never let her go. She believed him and he was all that she had.

Draco stepped back and Ginny wilted to the floor. “My mother will be here tomorrow morning to help you arrange the wedding.”

Ginny lay in bed alone that night, tossing and turning. She thought about the life that was growing inside of her stomach. She could not honestly say that she looked forward to bringing a child into this world, particularly, into the world that she currently lived in. It would be so perfect, so innocent, and then if it was a male, he would be groomed for corruption. Her pure child would be brought up like Draco - without hugs or kisses or the informality of love, but with a heavy and stiff hand. The child would be taught to become a Death Eater.

Tears rolled into her ears, and Ginny slid out of bed, ignoring the mindless temptation of her Muggle telly and perched at her window seat. She had never needed her mum more in her life.

Slowly she raised her window. “Mummy,” she whispered into the humid night air. “I don't know what to do.”

She waited patiently, and felt a fresh batch of tears rolling down her cheek when there was no answer and no divine revelation, just the overwhelming sense of being absolutely alone.

Why do I do this? she asked herself. Why do I put up with his cruelty? Why don't I try to escape? Why do I want to stay with him?

Again, there were no new answers that came to her, but simply an old truth. She loved him. He was all that she had.

Ginny sucked in a fresh breath of sticky air and made up her mind. She crossed the room, seating herself at her vanity and lighting a candle. She reached for one of the many jars of facial creams she had, each of which she knew cost more galleons than her family made in a year, and carefully began to apply it, hiding the tear tracks and red blotches. She undid the top of a different jar and applied it to the finger-sized bruises that decorated her skin, rubbing gently until they were no longer visible. Next, she removed the bands that held up her hair, and carefully tousled the strands around her fingers. She stood to her feet again and removed the cotton gown she wore, and then her blue silk knickers. She chose a slinky, deep green shift from her armoire and pulled it over her head. She adjusted it so that it showed off just the right amount of cleavage, and with one last look in the mirror, she left her room and padded quietly down the hall to Draco's suite.

If she was marrying him, she was going to be the best wife and mother possible. There was no sense in living miserably.

She tried to steady the racket of her heart, but her efforts were useless. Instead she focused her energy into making certain that her outward appearance looked calm.

She didn't allow herself to hesitate as she raised her fist and knocked carefully on Draco's closed door. She waited several moments and knocked again.

When the door swung open and Draco stood before her, his expression irritated and sleepy, she discovered that even after all this time, the sight of him took her breath away. Only Draco Malfoy would sleep in handcrafted linen trousers and manage to look so attractive, when she knew he held so much wickedness and deception, and maybe somewhere, some confusion. Maybe that was why she loved him. She could barely peel her eyes away from him. Everything, his silver eyes that held such cold disinterest, the messiness of his slept on hair, the narrow point of his chin, the smoothness of his bare chest and stomach, even the mark on his arm that symbolized everything evil and cruel, they all held her attention. He was beautiful on the outside, and she was determined to bring out what was on the inside.

“May I sleep in here?” she asked quietly.

He stared at her with no compassion and no feeling.

Ginny held her ground and waited for his answer, ignoring the swarm of fairyflies that had invaded her stomach.

Finally he stepped aside and held the door open for her.

Ginny saw his heavy black robe tossed carelessly on the floor and knew that he had been called out earlier that night.

He crawled back into the bed with his back to her, but she didn't mind. She knew that he was no longer angry at her, and she didn't have to worry about him leaving her for anyone else.

The first caresses of sleep had only been brushing at her mind for several moments when she felt Draco's body shift and his hand glide across her skin. He didn't speak as he slid closer to her, until there bodies were pressed into one another. His hand moved across her stomach, and Ginny wondered what he was hoping to feel - perhaps the third life in the room. Slowly his hand moved up and cupped her breasts, and she could feel the delicate pressure of his lips against her shoulder blade. His fingers rolled her nipple through the erotic fabric of her nightie, and the smallest of moans escaped Ginny's mouth.

With his other hand, Draco moved her hair from her neck and let his mouth trail kisses up to her ear.

Ginny's legs twitched involuntarily as the electricity between her thighs intensified. “Please…”

He covered her breast with his hand, kneading it gently. “I want you. I want you so bad.”

She moved her arm behind her, until she felt him, hard and lustful. She tugged at his trousers until his shaft was wrapped in her hand. She moved her hand up and down, using her thumb to caress the tip.

Draco's fingers moved down her body, and then slid beneath the hem of her gown. He began to rub her clit, making long stroking motions over her sex. “You're so wet,” he groaned. “Feel.” He picked up her other hand and brought it between her legs.

Ginny gasped and arched her back. “Use your fingers,” she begged.

He centered her pointer finger on her clit, before gently sliding one, and then two fingers inside of her. “Like that?”

She rode his fingers for a moment, unable to speak.

“Tell me, is that what you like?”

“Harder. Do it harder.” The electricity flowing through her body was taking over her mind and all she could think about was Draco.

He pushed his fingers upwards with more force.

“Please,” she whispered, “please fuck me.”

Draco pulled her upwards and yanked her gown from her body. He leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth while wiggling free of his trousers.

Ginny ran her hands through his hair and pulled his face closer to her breasts.

“I'm going to make you come,” Draco mumbled while pressing kisses into her chest. “I'm going to make you scream.”

Ginny pulled her between his legs and brought her knees up. The slow intrusion of his shaft entering her most sensitive area filled her senses. “Draco, Draco…”

He pressed down slowly, pulled his body back, and then came down with enough force to make them both cry out. “Oh gods.”

“I want to ride you,” Ginny whispered in his ear. “Let me ride you.”

When Ginny woke in the morning, she was sleeping on top of Draco, and Narcissa was in the room, giving orders to Sully. “We'll need to find a caterer. Check with Master Hobkins. He is the best in all of France. Tell him that I want him, but if he is unavailable for whatever reason, we will go with Madam Tasco. I'm confident the Master will rearrange whatever plans he has to make way for us though.”

Both Ginny and Draco were naked and she was still straddling his body, and as Ginny slowly tried to roll off Draco without being noticed, she realized that he was still partially inside of her, and the nonexistent space between their skin that had previously been sticky, but was now stuck together.

“Mum, what are you doing here?”

Ginny hadn't even noticed that Draco was awake.

“You asked me to come this morning,” she said, continuing her dictation to Sully.

“I didn't ask you into my bedroom,” he told her from beneath Ginny.

“Then how was I to wake you?” she demanded.

Ginny carefully peeled herself from Draco and then pulled the sheets above her breasts. “Good morning.” She tried to remind herself that there was no need to feel ashamed of her actions inside her own house.

“Good morning.” The finally glanced over at the two of them. “Are you ready to do this? Or do the two of you need more time with your pre-wedding escapades?”

“Honestly mother,” Draco snorted. “We've been living together for quite some time now.”

“Yes, I see how well the separate rooms are working out.”

“They're being removed this week.”

Ginny glanced at him.

“We're going to have one suite,” he announced.

“Really?” Narcissa looked amused. “Then you'll be the first in the Malfoy line to share a room.”

Ginny tried to keep her expression neutral as she processed her new information. She was too afraid to ask what their married life would be like, but she was willing to place all the Knuts she had on the answer. Except for the room sharing and change in last name, everything would be the same. She knew that Draco did not really love her; at least, not in the way a normal married couple should love one another. Draco possessed her. He controlled her, and her pregnancy and marriage to him was just another part in his steps towards complete and total domination of her.

Her family would not be at the wedding. Her father would not give her away. Her brothers would not booby trap the honeymoon suite. Her mother could not help her pick out her dress.

Not that her family would have approved anyways. The animosity between the Weasley's and Malfoy's went back nearly a millennia. But all that was beside the point. She would be married. She would be a mother. She would be Mrs. Draco Malfoy, and she would remain locked inside the great Manor, living a sheltered existence. And her family would continue believing that she was dead.

The dread, the anguish, the hate and disgust she wanted to feel didn't come. Instead Ginny smiled up at Narcissa and said, “I'll get dressed and be right down. Have you had breakfast?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco's eyebrow raise a fraction of an inch, a sign she had grown familiar with when he was surprised.

“I have not,” Narcissa answered smoothly. “Scones and tea? Perhaps some fruit?”

“That sounds lovely. Sully, go see to it.”

Sully disappeared with a crack, and Narcissa turned on her heel.

Ginny paused a moment before getting out of the bed, waiting to see if Draco would react.

“You'd better hurry,” was all he said, yawning leisurely. “Mother hates to wait.”

Impulsively, Ginny leaned over and kissed his cheek before rolling out of the bed. She pulled her nightgown over her head, and with one last glance at Draco, she padded down the hall to her own room.

After a quick shower to rinse off any out of place body fluids, Ginny pulled on a pair of denim trousers and a light cotton blouse. She reconsidered her first impulse to head to the dining room with bare feet, and instead slipped her feet into a pair of rubber thongs that she wore outside. It wasn't like she was going to have much of a say in the wedding anyways.

When Draco came home for dinner that evening, he took one look at Ginny and began to laugh. “Is mother still here?”

“No,” Ginny groaned. “She decided to go to Milan. Something about someone's new line and getting a wedding dress made.” She picked herself up from the library floor where she had collapsed the moment Narcissa left. The entire day Narcissa had talked incessantly about clothes and decorations, about food and drink, about who would be invited and who would not be, about colors and flowers, until Ginny wanted to scream.

“So what did you decide?”

“I decided nothing,” she told him, sitting down beside him. “Your mother decided that our colors will be silver and cerulean, that our flowers will be roses and oriental lilies charmed to match, that I should wear my hair up and not down, and that I absolutely must get some new jewelry.”

“And you agreed?” he asked.

“It's fine with me. Did you know that it matters where people sit? For instance, we cannot have any of the less prominent guests at the tables nearest us.”

“Of course not.”

Ginny couldn't tell if he was being serious or just teasing her.

“That's my mother. All this for a small wedding.”

“How many guests will we be having?”

Draco didn't answer immediately. “The Dark Lord knows that you're here now. And he understands.”

Ginny highly doubted it. Her stomach clenched at the thought of him, knowing anything about her.

“He will not be attending, of course.”

She let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding.

“There will be my mother and father, my grandparents, and several co-workers.”

She was too afraid to ask if the co-workers were from his day job, or his night job. “Alright. It will be lovely.”

As the wedding drew closer, Ginny's fears increased. People were going to know that she was alive. If people knew that, they would talk. After all, according to Narcissa, it had been all over the papers when she disappeared, and she was presumed dead. If people talked, then eventually, word would get back to her family.

She had denied it for several days, but finally Ginny admitted to herself that after a year of living with Draco and only Draco, she didn't want to face anyone else. If her family or anyone else came looking for her, she would be forced to choose. And the thought of what her choice might be scared her. Draco was the only source of contact that she'd had for so long, she didn't know if she was even capable of living without him anymore. No one else would even think about calling their relationship healthy, but it was all that she had, and most of the time, it was all that she wanted.

Would I choose my family? Or Draco? It pained her that she even had to consider it.

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