Stockholm Syndrome: Draco and Ginny

Stockholm Syndrome: Draco and Ginny

A/N: Yes, you're reading this right. Misao did an A/N at the beginning of a fic. This is just to explain what's behind my planned Stockholm Syndrome series.

For those who don't know what Stockholm syndrome is, it's when the prisoner develops a relationship with the captor. This is Wikipedia's definition.

The Stockholm syndrome is a psychological state in which the victims of a kidnapping, or persons detained against their free will—prisoners—develop a relationship with their captor(s). This solidarity can sometimes become a real complicity, with prisoners actually helping the captors to achieve their goals or to escape police. The syndrome develops out of the victim's attempts to relate to his or her captor or gain the kidnapper's sympathy.

The syndrome is named after the famous Norrmalmstorg robbery of Kreditbanken at Norrmalmstorg, Stockholm which lasted from August 23 to 28, 1973. In this case, the victims kept on defending their captors even after their six-day physical detention was over. They showed a reticent behavior in the following legal procedures. The term was coined by the criminologist and psychologist Nils Bejerot, who assisted the police during the robbery, and referred to the syndrome in a news broadcast. It was then picked up by many psychologists worldwide.

I'm actually not going to use it in Wikipedia's sense. Rather, it'll be a much different effect. I'm not going to give away anything more than that.

And yes, it's a Draco/Ginny story. I recently got hooked on fanfiction for this pairing on Portkey. The fanfiction's delightful, even if the pairing have nil chance of ever actually getting together in canon.

So here I am. Thank you for taking another chance. I'll try not to let you down this time.

D/c: I own nothing. I do not own the loveliness that is the Harry Potterverse. I do not own Draco, Ginny, or even the idea of Stockholm Syndrome. Thank you.

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Stockholm Syndrome: Draco and Ginny

Day 0: The Kidnapping

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Draco Malfoy boarded the hopelessly Muggle elevator at eleven o'clock PM with plenty of time to spare. He deftly made his way to the back of the elevator and stood defiantly in the far corner, gaze fixed on the blinking numbers and letters flashing on the panel above the rows of numbered buttons. There were still lots of people in the elevator, even at that late hour. Several women glanced Draco's way, eyes shining their approval. Draco paid them no attention. There were other, more pressing matters at hand.

The years since Hogwarts had been good to Draco. His once pale blonde hair had gained a healthier color, he had grown several inches taller, and his Quidditch-toned physique had only benefited from the unique training he had received. Quite a few Quidditch teams had asked him to play, but he had turned them all down. Draco's life's work had never been a matter of choice for him. He'd known what he was going to end up doing since the day he was born.

Three years of training in a remote mountain hovel somewhere in Nepal had prepared him for the worst. In the three years he had been gone, his father had been caught and executed. His mother had been hunted down months later and thrown into Azkaban. The Wizengamot, led by Albus Dumbledore, had tried to prosecute Draco even in his absence, but lack of evidence had torn their case apart.

It was in that moment, receiving the news of his parents' incapacitation, that he had begun to doubt his sworn master, even if only a little. The Dark Lord had sworn he would protect Lucius Malfoy, but now he was dead. The Dark Lord had sworn to protect Narcissa Malfoy, but she was in Azkaban now. Draco could only guess at what would happen to him, but he had taken an oath and he would keep it. He was needed now, more than ever. The Second War was almost over, and not in their favor. He was needed to turn things around.

So he was here. Here, in the Dark Lord's only Muggle stronghold, a convenient transporting center for visiting Death Eaters. The route was completely Untraceable, the building owners all diligent followers. Yet it was still a Muggle building.

It mattered not. Who was he, Draco Malfoy, to question the motives of the greatest wizard to ever live?

The elevator shuddered to a halt on the 42^nd floor of the building. Muttering his apologies, Draco worked his way to the front of the elevator again and exited, turning left down the hallway. He was met by two burly guards at the lone door at the end.

“Wake up,” he snapped at the hapless minions. “Let me in.”

The taller one of the two pulled his wand out of his boot and pointed it at Draco's forehead. The blond boy felt a sort of brunt, stabbing pain where the wand connected with his flesh, and then it was gone. A circle of light on his left arm flashed three times. The guard nodded deftly and opened the door. “Your portal is to the right.”

Draco nodded back and stepped through, into a dimly lit room fashioned much like the Slytherin Common Room at Hogwarts. He turned right and walked onto a raised platform with ancient symbols circling the edge, taking his wand out of his coat pocket.

“Apparatum mordsre,” he whispered, pointing at the largest symbol. There was a rush of wind, a warm tingling feeling spreading from the soles of his feet, and then a flash of bright light. With that, he was gone.

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When Draco opened his eyes, he was standing in a dark room on a lowered platform facing a thin bamboo partition. Through the partition he could see the shadow of a figure sitting in a high-backed chair, fingers laced together in front of its face. It appeared to be staring into the flames opposite its chair.

Draco bowed low and spoke first, in a low murmur. “Master.”

Lord Voldemort turned to the wall and looked directly in Draco's direction. “Draco.” His voice was tinged with darkness and evil. “You took the Untraceable route, I see. Very good, Draco. The Dark Lord is pleased with your obedience.”

“It was nothing, Master.” Draco maintained his gaze on the floor in front of him.

Voldemort stood and walked around the partition, coming to a halt in front of his young follower. “It is almost time, Draco. Tomorrow, we shall see if your plans are truly worthwhile.”

“I know, Master.” Indeed, he knew.

“Do not fail me as your father did in the Department of Mysteries five years past,” the Dark Lord's voice took a menacing tone. “Lord Voldemort will not be pleased.”

“Yes, Master.” Draco's heart raced as adrenaline pumped through his veins. “I will not fail you.”

“Good.” Voldemort reached out and touched the exact center of the Dark Mark on Draco's arm through his clothing. Draco hissed as it burned. “Do not forget what you promised me. This is your first task, Draco. The first task is always the hardest.”

The finger trailed down his arm and to the wand clenched in his fist. “Your training was difficult. Appropriately so. Yet training cannot simulate what must be done here.”

Voldemort turned and walked back behind the partition, seating himself once again in the chair by the fire. “Tomorrow, it begins. Bring her to your lovely manor. I will see her a week after, as there are more important matters to attend to. I expect nothing less than a full report on Potter's activities when I again visit you. Am I understood, Draco?”

“Yes, Master.”

The Dark Lord Voldemort smiled menacingly. “Do my work, and I shall reward you greater than even your father before you. Fail me, and your punishment will be even more severe than his.”

Draco said nothing. There was nothing to be said.

“You are dismissed, Draco.”

“Yes, Master.”

Voldemort waved a hand in the air. Draco felt the rush of wind, the warm feeling from the soles of his feet. With a flash of bright light, he was gone once more.

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The next morning, Draco woke to the sounds of his personal house-elf Noddy tending to his breakfast. Noddy's eyes turned to his as he sat up in bed, clutching his head.

“Noddy is making sir breakfast, sir,” he informed Draco in the typical high-pitched house-elf's voice. “Does sir want coffee or tea, perhaps Butterbeer?”

“Not today, Noddy,” Draco growled. “I've got things to do.”

Noddy nodded and placed the tray of food on Draco's bedside table. “If sir is hungry during the day...”

“I know.” Draco glanced down at his house-elf. “Is the cell ready?”

Noddy beamed. “Yes, sir. Just as you asked Noddy.”

“Good, good,” Draco muttered distractedly. “I'll be off now. I'll be back with her later this morning.”

“Noddy will be here, sir. Sir's cell will be ready for her.” The house-elf smiled.

Draco stood up and got dressed, concealing a cloth laced with chloroform in his cloak and his wand in his pocket. He looked out the great bay window of the Malfoy Manor and stared over the brilliant landscape.

“Today's the day,” he told himself. Then he Disapparated.

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He appeared in Hogsmeade right on schedule, in front of the Weasley twins' new Hogsmeade branch. Looking around, he spotted all three of the other infiltrating Death Eaters situated in various posts around the target area. He sighed and sat down on a park bench in front of the shop, waiting and watching for the target to arrive.

Ginny Weasley. The youngest of the Weasel clan. Over the years, Draco had watched her grow into a young woman with alternating contempt and curiosity. The Dark Lord had known this from the start. As soon as Draco had graduated from Hogwarts, he'd been sent to monitor her activities.

She was close enough to Potter to trigger the overload of guilt, but far away enough to not be under stringent watch. Initially, Draco had lobbied for the kidnapping of Hermione Granger, but surveillance had indicated that she was too closely guarded. The Dark Lord had proclaimed a female to be the target; Potter would be more likely to come after a female hostage than a male. The choices had been eliminated, one by one, leaving just Ginny.

It was to be Draco's crowning moment, he was sure of it. The kidnapping of Ginny Weasley would shock the Wizarding World, and most importantly, Potter. Potter would come looking for her, and when he did, the Dark Lord would be waiting. Master would have the revenge he sought, and Draco would have the satisfaction of keeping the hostage.

She's not just a hostage to you, though, is she?

Draco frowned and glared at random passersby. There had been nagging feelings of worry in the back of his mind for a long time, ever since the first encounter with Ginny in Flourish and Blotts.

Come on, Draco. You know there has to be a reason why you've watched her all these years.

Please, he thought. Malfoys never even associated with Weasleys.

His thoughts were cut short, however, when one of the other infiltrators gave the signal. He looked up the street to see Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood coming up the street, alone, just like they'd observed. Draco's heart thudded in his ears as he stood up, covering his brilliant blonde hair with a hat and lowering it to almost cover his eyes. The other infiltrators were moving in, carefully surrounding the two girls.

Right on cue, the third member of the infiltration team whipped out his wand and jinxed the member right across from him, screaming the incantation as loud as possible. The jinxed member bellowed a furious “aargh!” and Jelly-Legged his way into the paths of as many shoppers as he could, being disruptive and loud. Heads turned up and down the street as the Jelly-Legged infiltrator found his target and punched a passersby wizard straight in the jaw.

The third, so far stagnant infiltrator now burst to life and bellowed, “Morsmordre!”

The Dark Mark burst into the sky, strategically placed over the Weasleys' joke shop even as the twins burst out of their shop onto the street, looking horrorstruck.

Curses and countercurses flew through the air in lethal little bolts, chased by screams fresh with fear. The member who had Jelly-Legged the other member turned and cast a seemingly random Cruciatus Curse on half the crowd, hitting none other than Luna Lovegood last of all. Ginny screamed amidst all the panic and fell by her friend, trying desperately to hold Luna's flailing arms and legs down as screams erupted all around them.

The moment had come. Draco reached into his cloak and took the chloroform cloth out, wrapped it around the base of his wand, and advanced on Ginny and Luna. He leaned down and pretended to check Luna's wrist for a pulse, deliberately avoiding Ginny's eyes.

“Is your friend all right?” Draco asked. “There seems to be a pulse.”

A look of sudden bewilderment crossed Ginny's face as Draco's voice struck something in her memory. “Do I know you?”

Draco turned and looked directly at her. Ginny's eyes opened wide in fear and she let out a sort of strangled half-scream before Draco's hand whipped out and the chloroform cloth was on her mouth and nose. She was out like a light within the minute.

Draco stood up and carried her in his arms, her unconscious head flopping limply side to side. He turned and made eye contact with the infiltrator who had done the cursing, then Apparated out of Hogsmeade with a crack, leaving a scene of panic and destruction in their wake. Draco appeared back in the Malfoy Manor, where Noddy was waiting with the surprisingly well-furnished cell door wide open.

Draco levitated Ginny's still-limp body onto the bed in the center of the room, himself following close after. He searched Ginny's body for her wand, unconsciously running his hands up and down her torso, and then found it in her jeans pocket. He waved his wand over Ginny and checked for bugs, tracers, bombs, or any other tomfoolery like that, but found none. Throwing her wand to the waiting and ready Noddy, he exited the cell and placed the appropriate charms on the walls of the room. Only now was it truly a prison.

With a sigh of relief he turned to Noddy. “It worked.”

“Yes, sir, Noddy knew it would.” The house-elf waved a hand toward Ginny's unconscious form. “Did she fight, sir?”

“No,” Draco replied. “No, she didn't. It worked perfectly. And now she's mine for a week.”

Noddy didn't raise any questions at his master's odd wording. As he helped Draco out of his coat and into his room, he turned to cast a final glance at the red-headed sleeping girl, wondering just what it was that drove his master to such lengths to find and capture her.

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In a dark room split in half by a thin bamboo partition, Lord Voldemort sat staring into the fire. Wormtail shuffled to his side with a plate of food, but Voldemort did not wish to eat.

“Is there s-s-something wrong, s-s-sire?” Wormtail asked haltingly.

“No, Wormtail,” Voldemort replied. But there was something wrong. In the back of his cunning mind, he sensed that something was wrong with young Draco Malfoy.

He intensified his gaze on the dying embers of the fire. Whatever was wrong, he couldn't be bothered with it now. Draco's little stint at Hogsmeade, while highly un-Death-Eater-like, had worked. Little Harry Potter would come running soon, along with Albus Dumbledore. When they did, Lord Voldemort would be ready and waiting.

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A/N: Not much to say…except…well, you know where the review button is. Please. Honestly, PLEASE.

Oh, and I'm so sorry for writing a Draco/Ginny fic. I was just thinking about Stockholm Syndrome and I wanted to do a fic on it, but I thought it through and realized that not many pairings would work. So here I am.

By the way, this story is working on the assumption that HBP didn't exist.

That is all.

Thank you,

Misao7

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Stockholm Syndrome: Draco and Ginny

A/N: So here we are, second chapter. Wow. This one's on the first day of the hostage week. Apologies to all who expected a review within…a month. I'm sorry, and I'll try to update more consistently soon. Thank you!

Enjoy,

Misao

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Stockholm Syndrome: Draco and Ginny

Day 1: Pain and Panic

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In Ginny's mind, she could still hear the sound of Ron's voice calling after her as she left with Luna for their Hogsmeade shopping trip.

“Be careful, Gin.” Ron, ever the overprotective brother, had spent a good ten minutes lecturing her and Luna on the importance of staying together. “If something should happen - “

“Relax, Ron!” She'd laughed. “We're just going to Hogsmeade. It's a village full of wizards and witches. We're not even going off the main street.”

Luna had drifted in then, in her mystifying little way. At nineteen years of age, she was no longer the Loony Lovegood of Hogwarts derision, but still retained a faint air of detachedness. Regardless, she was one of Ginny's best friends and one of her dear flatmates. “She's right, Ronald,” she'd said. “It's all almost over. The chances are slim at best.”

Slim at best. Ginny felt like kicking herself in the backside. Somehow, something had gone wrong. The Death Eaters had found her and Luna, unleashing a pretty good distraction and another onslaught of fear only days after Harry and the Order had finally managed to incapacitate Bellatrix Lestrange. Luna had been hit with a Cruciatus not five paces from Fred and George's shop. Worse, Draco Malfoy had somehow come back from dead obscurity and -

Oh, shit. Draco Malfoy.

How Draco had managed to stay alive after Dumbledore had taken Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy down would be something Hermione was sure to puzzle over for days. Even worse, Draco and the Death Eaters had obviously only been in Hogsmeade solely to kidnap her, which meant that they had been observing her for months.

The initial panic had worn off ages ago. Now Ginny was lying facedown on the bed, trying to go over her situation and figure out the best course of action like a regular Hermione or Harry. She had never been kidnapped before. She had never even been without her wand since second year. She had assisted Harry in retrieving Dobby the house-elf once, but that was it. Ron hadn't let her do any formal training, damn his brotherly intentions. Now look where that had gotten her.

Ginny scrunched her eyes even tighter than they had been, trying to stave off the moment she had to open her eyes and look around what was obviously a cell of some sort. Draco Malfoy. Oh, she'd had quite a history with him.

Ginny squeezed her eyes dead shut and turned her head deeper into the soft, cloud-like pillow. Draco probably didn't even care about what he'd done. He probably didn't even remember. Just another conquest. Just another entry in his book.

Ginny didn't know what to feel. She didn't know what to think. Draco Malfoy was among the more evil beings to walk the Earth, she knew. His father was a Death Eater. He was definitely one himself, one who had just kidnapped her for Merlin's sake. Death Eaters were cold, ruthless beings capable of anything. Death Eaters didn't feel.

There was no use hiding anymore. Ginny steeled herself against the worst and slowly, carefully opened her eyes, blinking several times to clear her vision. What she saw briefly astonished her.

She wasn't in a dark, dingy prison cell with rats running around and a single hole through which a pinprick of light shone through. Rather, this cell was more guest room than hellhole. She was lying on a relatively comfortable four-poster bed, soft and smooth between the sheets and nicely air conditioned. There was a bedside table with a large antique lamp and glowing wizard clock on her right side.

To her left, in front of a large glassy window, was a small parlor-like area with three or four comfortable-looking armchairs situated around an ornate coffee table. The dresser directly across from the bed was large and pricey-looking, with mahogany everything and a large, flawless mirror. The carpet was soft and plush beneath her feet as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The walls were painted a pleasant, light violet - how had he known that her favorite color was violet?

Ginny looked around, bewildered. The room looked more like a penthouse than a dungeon.

Bollocks. Being kidnapped in broad daylight was enough. Now she wouldn't even get to give graphic descriptions of her horrid living conditions to the legions of adoring, caring well-wishers at her homecoming. Some hero she was.

She stood and walked to the clearer-than-crystal window, feet making soft noises on the carpet. Malfoy Manor was situated on a hill overlooking what seemed to be the entirety of the British Isles. On the gentle slope of the hill beneath her was an obviously Wizarding village that seemed to be thriving. The area was decidedly lush and green, surrounded by rolling hills and acres of forest.

So this was where Malfoy had grown up. What insidious element was she missing? What vile secret of the happy little village below her had produced such a cruel, taunting, sneering boy?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind her. She whirled around, hand instinctively reaching for her wand in her jacket pocket, cursing as she remembered that it was gone.

A pair of huge eyes widened well below her eye level. “Miss is awake!”

“What?” Ginny barely had time to eke out the breathy question before the Dobby replica had placed a silver tray on the bedside table and whisked her back into bed.

“Noddy is happy that Miss is awake,” the house-elf told her as the tray reappeared inches from her nose, loaded with a delicious-looking lunch. “Noddy has been waiting. Sir told Noddy to wait for Miss to wake before serving him his dinner.”

“Malfoy?” Ginny asked as Noddy pushed a polished silver fork into her hand.

The elf nodded. “The junior, Miss. Sir is the only one left. Master and Mistress went away for bad things they did. Eat, Miss.”

Ginny apprehensively glanced at the delicious-looking feast at her fingertips. The elf caught her glance and smiled warmly. “Do not worry, Miss. Noddy has not poisoned Miss's food. Sir wishes that you stay alive. Master and Mistress would have wished you gone.”

“Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.” Ginny nodded, uncertainly taking a bite of the beef laid out in front of her. Her eyes shot up. “Wow, Noddy, thank you! This is delicious!”

“It is nothing to Noddy, Miss,” he said, even as his cheeks reddened. “Noddy is used to cooking for Sir. Miss is eating just like Sir. Oh - “ his eyes burst wide open - “ - Noddy has forgotten! Sir wishes to eat only after Miss has begun. Noddy must give Sir his food.”

Ginny nodded, still furiously chewing the delicious beef. Noddy rushed out of the room with a parting squeal and left her alone to her thoughts and her food.

So this is what it's like to be kidnapped. Ginny turned and surveyed the area. There were no visible exits. The room was a good fifty feet from the ground. If she tried to jump, she'd die. She didn't have her wand. Malfoy would have had enough sense to place anti-Apparition charms around the room and probably around the manor as well.

The door opened again. Ginny instinctively crouched low in the bed, pushed the tray aside, and clutched the silver fork. It was her only weapon, and she intended to use it wisely.

In walked Draco Malfoy.

He stood in the doorway and looked at her for a moment. Her eyes darted back and forth in between the window and him. He would probably torture her. Rape her, even. If she burst through the window she could, with enough momentum, jump far enough to reach the tree halfway down, but he would come after her. Did she have enough time?

“Have you been eating?” His voice was deeper than she remembered.

“Yes.” Ginny tried to keep the fear from her voice as he walked over to her bed. “It's very good, thank you.”

She made her break. She grabbed the edge of the cover and threw it in his face, broke out sprinting toward the window, and crashed through shoulder-first -

Ow.

Somehow, the move always looked cooler when Harry and Ron did it.

For a brief second, she was falling through the air. She was faintly aware of the glass shards and blood falling around her, and the throbbing pain in her right shoulder - she couldn't see anything, everything was flying past - there was an odd whooshing in her ears, not quite like the sound of the wind flying past when she was on her broom - and a second later she landed with a painful thump in the bushes.

Missed the tree, she thought with a grin, and then she blacked out.

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“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

Ow. Someone was slapping her lightly on the cheek. Somehow, it stung horribly with every smack.

“Sir, Miss is awake!”

“Stupid, stupid, STUPID!”

More slapping. Ginny groaned weakly and tried to lift her hand, but something cold and wet was pressing hard on it. A terrific weight was pressing down on her chest and stomach and it was becoming a little hard to breathe.

“Miss is awake!” Noddy's high-pitched squeal shot through her aching head like a lightning bolt. “Miss is awake! Sir must stop!”

The slapping stopped. The pressure on her chest lifted. A rough thumb forced her eyelids open and a piercing light was shone into her eyes.

“For Chrissakes…” a low voice muttered. “What the devil were you doing, jumping out of the window like that…could've been seriously hurt…”

The wet something pressing on her hand lifted. She turned her head from the sharp light and looked down to see Noddy applying some sort of salve to her bloodied hand.

Her head flopped back down. She'd failed in escaping. The dull, throbbing pain she felt all over body and the sharper piercing in her shoulder were all she had. Damn.

“I suppose you're going to beat me now,” she said dully. “And torture me with knives and corkscrews. And possibly rape me.”

“No,” Malfoy muttered. He was bent over her shoulder, doing something with a pair of tweezers. She couldn't see anything but the dark red canopy of her bed. “I'm not going to do anything.”

“Oh, please,” she said bitterly. “You don't expect me to believe that. Likely, you're going to - “

Malfoy stood up and threw something onto a tray by her bed. “Shut up,” he grunted, and leaned down again.

“What's that?” Ginny asked. “What's on the tray?”

“Bloody glass,” he said, with just a hint of mockery. “From your shoulder. Congratulations, Weasley, your little escapade earned you about seven pieces of glass in your shoulder, not counting the little bits that Noddy took care of.”

Ginny paled and tried to move her head, but Noddy's hand flew up and trapped it in place. “Hold still, please! Miss' hand is bloody, and Noddy wishes to take care of it.”

An hour later, Malfoy triumphantly raised the bloody tweezers in front of her face, in which was held a sliver of blood-stained glass. “That's the last one, Weasley.” He cast it off into the tray and turned back to her shoulder with a fresh gauze. “I would use magic to fix this, but I'm not supposed to.”

“Not supposed to?” Ginny shrieked. “I could be dying, and you aren't supposed to - ?”

“Relax and shut up, Weasley.” Malfoy's wand, clenched in his fist, appeared in her field of vision. “I can shut you up for you, if you'd like.”

Ginny clamped her mouth shut. She had to get out of this mess somehow. Maybe if she moved her hand a little, she could reach the tweezers -

“Don't even think about moving,” Malfoy muttered.

Ginny froze.

Malfoy was chuckling darkly. “Don't think for a moment that only Potter can read minds.”

Harry could read minds? Harry could read minds. Harry could read minds, and nobody had ever told her.

“Why would they tell you?” Malfoy wasn't chuckling anymore. His hands worked quickly and deftly as he taped the gauze to her shoulder and fixed an elastic band onto it so that she could move her arm. She noticed with a jolt that Noddy had left the room.

“Why wouldn't they?” Ginny asked defiantly. “I'm a member of the Order, just like everyone else. I deserve to know.”

Malfoy switched off the surgical lamp that had been hovering over her shoulder and reached over to examine her other hand. He stood up and carted the tray away. Just before he entered the doorway, he turned and looked directly at Ginny. Somehow, his gaze made Ginny want to crawl under her blanket for the rest of her life.

“Don't kid yourself.”

Then he was gone.

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