Unofficial Portkey Archive

Ginevra

The more we find, the more we see
The more we come to learn
The more that we explore
The more we shall return

This is easy to believe
When distant places call to me
It's harder from the palace yard
Fortune favours the free

-

At just seventeen Harry Potter died while murdering Voldemort; as the green jet of light shot from his wand and struck his foe squarely in the eyes another beam of emerald erupted from the tip of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand and Harry too passed away. After their leaders, their saviours, had been killed the entirety of Wizarding Britain went into chaos. It was utter devastation everywhere, however several month later the Death Eaters, or rather The Purebloods as they'd coined themselves, found themselves to have won…they now held power over everyone. Remaining members of the Order went into hiding, some survivors escaped and fled the country, while others were rounded up and sent into slavery or to receive the Dementors Kiss.

Currently in power was Sebastian Greengrass; he had been Voldemort's right hand man towards the end of the second war and it was widely acknowledged by all that he was the best man to lead them. Lucius Malfoy, while resentful that he had not been seen fit to run England had insured he'd become Sebastian's advisor and confidant, slowly infiltrating the new Ministry and gaining respect amongst his peers once more. Greengrass was a fair leader, he did not condone the killing of innocents but he did demand loyalty and as many would not accept him as their Minister they became fugitives to the law, mutiny was punishable by execution. His wife had died long ago but he remained with his two daughters Daphne, the eldest, and Astoria - the former was due to marry Draco Malfoy in a years time, at which point both would become joint leaders and relieve Sebastian of his duties. But in recent times the Minister had been ill; he was weak, tired, slowly dying and Daphne could not help but think that the responsibility of running the country would fall to her sooner than expected. A responsibility she never wished to endure. A responsibility she did not want to accept.

She was young - only eighteen - and beautiful and rich and spoilt. She loved life, she was pampered and pandered to, she had never known hardship or strain as both she and her sister had been shipped out to Italy for the duration of the wars, then sent back once all had been resolved. In fact, at that exact moment she was in the midst of a grand party; a party held by the Malfoy's in celebration of their son's return, he was to arrive back at any moment and Daphne had done all within her power to be beautiful for him. She had donned a Zabini original; an elegant scarlet set of robes which were backless and fell to the floor, leaving a small trail behind her. Her blonde her was tied up in a knot at the nape of her neck and her make-up was flawlessly applied. Appearance was everything to Daphne, she was renowned for her exquisite clothing and her pleasing-to-the-eye presence. Never was she not smiling, beaming to the world, even if the pearly whites she flashed were just covering up a knitted brow or a heavy heart.

She had been most inconvenienced when her father had informed her of his marriage arrangements for her, why should he dictate with whom she spent her life with? However, upon discovering it was Draco Malfoy that was her betrothed the future did not seem quite as bleak. He was attractive, strong and rich. His arrogance rivalled her own and he held the same things she with the utmost importance; appearance, social politics and the rich comforts in life. She had fallen in love with the beautiful blonde man with whom she was to live, rule and die beside. She hated it when he left for great periods of time to explore the world or to round up the renegades who plotted against her Father and the new society. And, although she knew he cherished his escapes away from London, that this would all cease once they were married and that he could no longer continue his philandering ways; he would remain faithful to her and to his post a as leader. Oh yes, Daphne was aware the selfish nature of her thoughts - to want to crush the passions of the man she loved - but if he remained where she could see him and bound to her by a unity of marriage he would never stray to the bed of another woman. She knew he would grow to love her, she would make sure of it.

"My son!" Narcissa Malfoy threw out her arms as the doors to the grand ballroom swung open to welcome her only child. He looked strong and brave and striking. Draco was simply clothed, his icy blonde hair long and shaggy and his face set with victory and arrogance. All these people were here to welcome his return to London. At the top table sat his mother and father alongside Sebastian Greengrass, his two daughters, his aunt Bellatrix and several other politicians that were in his father's pockets. Daphne Greengrass. His wife-to-be, looking beautiful and captivating and thoroughly pleased by his return. She would make a perfect wife, his father had been right to push them together and to convince Greengrass that a Malfoy would be the ideal companion for his daughter.

Draco accepted the embrace his mother had rushed to bestow upon him and walked her back towards the top table. He brushed passed his wife to be and her sister whereupon he greeted them accordingly not allowing for chitchat and completely ignorant to the slightly reproachful look Daphne allowed herself when she realised he was not going to greet her with a kiss or at the least a comforting touch. He gripped the should of Sebastian - he'd always liked the old man, he was powerful, impressive and daunting and yet thoroughly likable and fair. He was the kind of man Draco would have liked his father to be influenced by more. The other guests were almost silent, a hushed excited whispering being the only sounds. All were waiting to hear of Draco Malfoys latest excursion - had he caught more rebels? Discovered a plot to ruin their perfect world? Thwarted as assassination attempt upon Sebastian Greengrass?

"It's good to see you again, Son. Tell me; was the expedition fruitful?"

He observed his father briefly over the top of his goblet of wine which had just been pushed into his palm by his mother. He hated his father's pleasant façade; he knew the man cared for him but it seemed odd for him to be so sugar coated around others, Draco often wondered if even Narcissa had seen the true colours of Lucius.

"It was...profitable," decided Draco. "We discovered the reason we'd only ever caught wizard rebels, they'd sent all the women off together led by one, Ginevra Weasley." There was a great break out of murmurs and intrigued whisperings. Ginevra Weasley was one of the people that had been closest to Harry Potter. One of the youngest witches involved in the war and one of the fiercest warriors. "Yes, we stumbled upon their camp. She fought hard, I have to commend her - she saved countless women from our grasp but she was unable to protect herself a three others. We took them prisoner and they are currently being held in the dungeons…I shall be seeing which of them carry any worthwhile merits before sending the rest off to be questioned and sentenced." In truth, he'd barely had anything to do with the women he'd helped to capture; they'd fought with them and finally taken four captive - the other twenty escaping thanks to the youngest Weasley. He'd actually only seen Weasley from afar as he'd duelled with Granger - she'd always been his number one most hated female, he'd had no quarrel with the redhead apart from the fact she'd picked her sides wrongly.

"Odd," spoke Sebastian Greengrass, coughing slightly - the man was looking ever so tired. "That she was picked to lead them at such a young age."

Lucius sneered, "do not underestimate her simply because of her age. I fought with her during the third war -- she's stronger and more fierce than you'd presume."

"Aye. Merely making a point, Malfoy, merely making a point."

Draco nodded, agreeing, "yes, Flint said she put up a better fight than he'd have thought…all the women were looking to her. Even Granger seemed to follow her orders."

"Maybe worth holding on to this one then, Draco. She may have bargaining power…clearly an important figure to the other side." Draco watched as the Minister turned to engage his youngest daughter in conversation. He really did look tired, wrung out and utterly exhausted. Perhaps he was ill? Or, perhaps he'd been under greater strain than usual.

"Draco, I shall accompany you to inspect the new prisoners once the festivities have finished." He nodded at his father, knowing the look Lucius was shooting him; there were private matters to be discussed which were not fit for the ears of the respectable people currently seated around them. Must his father become involved in shady dealing once more? Was it necessary? Surely the world was as it should be now…Purebloods in power, they were involved with the highest ranking people, their riches and wealth restored, the Malfoy reputation slowly redeeming itself mainly thanks to him but partially to his mother and father for knowing whose arses to kiss. Draco was a golden boy in the eyes of the Minister, he believed in Pureblood supremacy, was able to deal with his issues like a man, fought hard and long to succeed and was enamoured by the thrill of the chase, the seeking out of enemies. What's more, he was due to marry the Minister's daughter and was never anything but a cordial gentleman to her.

Almost as if the Fates had heard his musings upon Daphne the orchestra began to play a tango and his betrothed looked at him pointedly, his mother nudging him slightly indicating that he should be asking the blonde beauty to dance. It was clear everyone in the room too was waiting for the youngest Malfoy and his future bride to begin the dancing. Once his goblet of red wine had been drained he stood and strode towards Daphne, his hand extended and waiting for her much smaller one to fill it.

"Miss Greengrass, would you care to dance?" He smiled seductively and she tittered.

"Of course, Draco."

He led her to the vast expanse of dance floor where upon he place a hand against the exposed flesh of her back and took one of her hands in his while she placed her spare hand upon his shoulder. He drew her exceedingly close, you could have barely dropped a knut between their bodies, and they began their elaborate, well practised dance. Each had been tutored in the art of dancing for a as long as they could remember and it really was a magnificent sight; to beautiful people robotically in sync with one another. This was the reason they were perfect to be joined in matrimony - they were so alike, so groomed to be the crème dela crème of their society.

Their children would be very blonde and very pale, Daphne thought, and of course, very beautiful. He really was a beautiful man but not in a conventional sense. His features were all so strong that they seemed to fight for which would be noticed first…he was more striking, more charismatic and sexy than simply being "good looking". She, Draco thought, was divine looking. No one could deny he was to marry one of the prettiest women society possessed, her body was toned and constructed to perfection, her face held a pretty charm to it and her lustrous hair begged him to tug at it. His only issue was that something was missing…something was not there and maybe it would manifest when their relationship became more solid. More substantial but right now he could not see her matching him in compatibility.

"How have you been, Daphh?"

"Good, thank you. Missed you --that is to say -"

Draco laughed, deep and rumbling in his chest; she didn't like to give much away, didn't like being as exposed as she' just made herself…he, however, knew that she appreciated his presence a great deal more than he ever had done hers. He further had a sneaking suspicion she fancied herself in love with the Malfoy heir. Which, of course, was slightly ridiculous; the two barely knew one another. He'd remembered her from Hogwarts, of course, she'd always been known for her fashion, for her looks - her Hogsmede outfit were the talk of the Common Room amongst the girls. Pansy, he recalled, had always been particularly jealous of Daphne's daring and yet undeniably impeccable clothing choices. He felt a little sad reminiscing over Pansy. She'd been a good friend and had been struck down by an Auror in the third war. It was safe to suppose said Auror had died swiftly afterwards at the end of Draco Malfoy's wand.

"Ahem. Father's fallen ill recently…he only came tonight because it was for you."

Draco nodded as he twirled Daphne then returned her back to the close hold he'd had her in before the extravagant dance step, "I thought he seemed a little off…give him my condolences."

"Yes, well, he's been ailed with whatever it is for about four weeks, Healers don't know what it is yet…but I-I'm sure it's nothing. I hope it's nothing." She coughed to hide the fact she felt awkward once more, "anyway, you've yet to say anything on my new robes. Zabini made them for me -- did you know he'd taken over his mother's business . . ." Just as he'd perhaps dared to think he was going to have a conversation with the girl which was slightly deeper than a puddle she seemed to have pulled the plug and reverted back to paddling into trivial waters.

-

As The Pureblood danced and drank within the confines of Malfoy House (Mansion, would be more appropriate. Their manor still resided in Wiltshire, however, Lucius had felt he needed to be nearer the buzz of activity that was London.) many floors beneath this knelt Ginevra Weasley at the feet of two large guards. Her long crimson hair fell in disarray about her shoulders, robes were torn and dilapidated and her face, arms and legs were littered with gashes - war wounds. Her wrists and ankles were shackled and men before her were taunting the restrained redhead.

"Fascist bastards! Get off of me!"

"Look, Red, there's two ways we could do this --"

"Or we could not do it at all, eh?" Screeched Ginny. "Get these fucking manacles off of me now!"

"You know your brother…which one was it, Ed?"

"Ooh, err, Percy it was. Or 'Perce' as we liked to call 'im."

"Aye, Perce didn't cause half the trouble you have, little'un."

"Wanker! What did you do with my brother? What? Tell me!"

"My, my a regular spitfire. Think she's a hellcat in the sack too, Reg?"

"Fuck you." Hissed the redhead. She'd been struggling for what seemed an age. She was so stupid…she should have told Hermione, Luna and Hannah to get out of there too, should have just let them take her…now four of the resistance will die…she could have stopped it at one, but no they'd convinced her to let them stay, to let them help. Idiots. She was snapped out of her inner rant to find the so-called "Ed" blundering towards her and attempting to rip off the remains of her robe. She began to scream and scream and scream. He succeeding in ripping a scrap off of her shoulder, leaving the skin exposed. He bent over her and sniffed at the exposed skin.

"Ugh. She fucking reeks mate."

Twat. She'd been on the run for as long as she could recall, had been held captive for four days and walked for hours on end, not to mention was stuck in a dungeon which, itself, smelt like it had seen airier days.

"Piss off, you cunts!" Her voice appeared amplified somehow, as though her inner magic had taken over in her desperation for someone, anyone, to hear her.

-

"Piss off, you cunts!"

The words reverberated throughout the entirety of Malfoy House. Every pair of ears heard the words loud and as clear as if Ginny Weasley had been there herself, whispering it into each of their ears. It was this that Draco took as his signal to go and sort out the prisoners himself. They needed to be kept under control, not allowed to spout off sonorous charms whenever they felt the urge.

"I have to go, Daphh."

"Wait!" Called the blonde, "I want to…to come with you. I want to see, to see them…" She didn't know why she'd requested such an odd thing. From the look on Draco's face he couldn't quite grass her reasoning either but he grabs the crook of her elbow all the same and practically dragged her from the function, shouting that everyone should continue their party and that he was to sort it all out.

"You need a job doing right then you should do it yourself!" He quipped before shutting close the large doors.

"I can't imagine why you'd want to witness the snapping of these women's wands, Daphne. It's not a sight -- a, well a sight I can imagine you wanting to see." And with that he let go of her arm and began to power walk towards the dungeons, Daphne hot on his heels. She, too, was baffled by her decision to watch these women at what would probably be the lowest point of their lives And yet she had to see, had to see what it was truly like to suffer…to see what Draco dealt with everyday. She loved her betrothed and wanted him and her to hold more in common.

-

"Oh go get shagged, fatty!"

"Reg, grab 'er arms. For fucksake just do it, yeah? It's the only way to put the bastard disabling charm on her magic."

"You do it then! I already got stunned."

"You fucking bitch, when this is on" he indicated a golden bangle in his hands, "and your magic is gone, that's when the real fun begins." His face looked dark and menacing and full of sinister promises.

"That the only way you can get your leg over, eh, Ed?" She sassed at him. She knew it wasn't the smartest way to react. She'd watched her three friends before her go through the exact same, the stripping of their powers, the snapping of their wands and she'd watched each of them just take it. Watched as three of the strongest women she knew turned to kicked dogs, too afraid to even look the two men in their eyes.

"You little whore!" Without thinking he backhanded her across the cheek bone and she fell, however as she hit the floor he sprang back grasping his finger which looked as though they'd suffered three degree burns. He should have known better and Draco said as much as he strode into the small enclosure, observing the scene before him. Daphne had stopped at the door of the cell, watching through cast iron bars.

"Rookie mistake there, Simmons." The guards knew, had been trained, that sometimes when a powerful witch or wizard was backed into a corner they became a positive powder keg of magical energy, sending out wandless and accidental curse left right and centre.

"Malfoy, nice of you to join us," greeted the redhead sarcastically as she lay on the floor, unable to correct herself due to her restraints.

"Now, now Weasley." He bent to her eye level and it happened in a instant, it felt as though a spiralling heat had zapped its way through his blood; he was inexplicably drawn to the filthy, vivacious red haired female. She was beautiful…just utterly beautiful. No make up, no false smiles, nothing…just pure natural magnificence. Her spirit was like fire and yes…he was completely connected to her. She intrigued him. So young, so strong, so brave. Like him.

"Should we just off this one, Malfoy?"

Draco looked as though he were almost considering their suggestion as he gazed into her brown eyes. Eyes that showed not fear or remorse but anger and a defiant will. "No…Sebastian thinks she may be useful. Bind her magic will you."

The tow men made their way once more towards her. "Unhand me! Get off! You fucking plebeians!"

This time, however, the men seemed not to forget their training and did not attempt to goad the Gryffindor princess further. Once the golden band was placed around her wrist Ginevra felt her power drain, felt her magic sap from her veins, felt part of her heart leaving her vessel. "You Neanderthals. You bastards!"

"Now, now, Weasley , lets not get too colourful with our language, hmm? We've heard enough profanities escaping that filthy little mouth of yours today." Lucius Malfoy had swept into the room as Ed and Reg pulled the redhead into a standing position, and as Lucius reached the point where he was stand not six inches from the fiery witch he reached out to place a finger upon her aforementioned mouth and 'shh-ed' her. Her only response was to spit directly in his face.

Daphne watched as Lucius wiped the saliva from his face and whacked the redhead with the metal serpents head of his cane, she fell unconscious immediately, once more crashing to the floor, blood leaking from the gash on her temple.

"Kill her."

"But, father, Seb--"

"I said, kill her."

"She may have some important knowledge…"

"Boy, you saw what she's like. She would not speak out against her people no matter how much pain you subjected her to."

"Truth potion, then."

"She'd have bit her tongue off before you had chance to uncork the vial."

"I really don't think --"

"You, Draco Malfoy are not required to think!" Barked Lucius, "I said kill her!"

"NO!" This time it had been Daphne whom had spoken out.

"Miss Greengrass?"

"I - I don't want you to kill her."

Lucius bowed his head slightly. "As you wish." He swept from the dungeon hissing that he and Draco need to talk later.

Their was a strange, pregnant silence in the air.

"Ed, Reg, come on." And with that he too left the dank cell, the two guards sealing the door behind them. "Daphne - you coming?" His voice was hard, like granite.

"No…I'm staying here…just for a while."

The men shrugged and quickly exited up the stairs, leaving the two women. She fell to the floor, she didn't know why she'd saved the girls life, didn't know why it had seemed important but she just wasn't going to allow Lucius Malfoy to kill such a spirit. The girl - Ginevra, was it? - had been magnificent. She'd never witnessed such an act of strength and pure will. Never once had she seen self pity in her eyes. She was envious of her and at the same time utterly in awe of her bravery and as her father often said "fortune favour the brave"…but Draco's motto was that "fortune favoured the free" and that was something Ginevra would never be again. In fact, Daphne mused, it was something that not many, even herself, could claim to be.

-

First chapter and we have our three protagonists introduced. I quite liked writing this chapter it had little foreshadowings for various future plotlines within the fic.

Love to hear your opinions, as always. I shall begin work on the next chapter of Painting Her Portrait too, this weekend!

Tasha.