Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to JKR.
Warning: Adult themes, graphic violence, some sexual references.
A/N: I apologise for the massive amount of typos and weird grammar in that last chapter. I've had very little sleep lately, so my brain isn't as quick to recognise my mistakes. On a high note, I've finished university!! Hopefully I will now have more time to write, but if I still take forever, please understand that I have my reasons for that.
A Forgotten Memory
Three days had passed. Three days spent in this rotten, depressing room, with no one to keep her company except for Draco Malfoy, and all he ever did was demand information from her anyway. It was enough to drive her insane.
Ginny let out an exasperated breath and leaned back against the wall, her knees pulled up tight against her chest. She stared at the wooden door, her only escape out of the room, and wondered how long it would be before she got out of this place. Was someone coming right now to rescue her? Did anyone even know she had been captured? Maybe they thought that she was already dead?
She rubbed her eyes tiredly, feeling her frustration building. She hated not knowing what had happened; she hated not knowing what was going to happen. All of this confusion and anxiety was becoming almost too much to bear, and there was always the worry that something may have happened to Harry. Their camp had been protecting him, and if he was gone, then their last chance in destroying Voldemort was also gone. Everything had rested on him getting better, but now her camp may have already unknowingly allowed the war to end all because they had been unprepared for the attack. It would all be their fault.
"It's just not fair!" Ginny suddenly screamed, throwing the lumpy pillow hard at the door. She watched it fall with a satisfying thump to the ground, feeling some release in having vented her anger out on the pillow, but then the overwhelming reality of her situation flooded back into her mind and she was once again left to brood on how hopeless her situation was.
She was a captive to the Death Eaters; people who showed no mercy and killed without a second thought. What hope could she possibly have in surviving this hell when the only person who had known what had happened to her was dead? Surely they would have come by now if they had known what had happened to her?
Angry tears started to well up in her eyes, slipping one by one down her face in painful trails. Tiredly she banged her head back against the wall, wincing slightly at the small surge of pain, and closed her eyes so that she would no longer have to stare at the miserable prison she had been locked in. She just couldn't take this anymore. It was all just too much, and even though she desperately wanted to cling to that hope that someone would come and save her, deep down she knew that even if someone did realise what had happened to her, her chances in surviving this prison were slim.
No one had ever survived being caught by the Death Eaters before. Why should she be any different? She was nothing special, no one important. She was just Ginny Weasley: a healer-nothing more and nothing less. What could possibly cause the Death Eaters to spare her life any longer than they needed to?
A small sob broke free from her throat, the sound pitiful and weak, and almost a mockery to her own ears. She had used to be so strong, so indestructible in her courage, but what was she left with now? Nearly raped; her family brutally murdered; her fiancé slowly dying with each breath, and now captive to the Death Eaters-how could she possibly ignore her pain any longer? What was the point in putting up a brave front when her very dignity had already been thrown to the dogs and left to rot along with all her hopes and dreams?
Burying her face into her knees, Ginny softly began to cry to herself, indulging in the self-pity and weakness she so despised. There was no point in pretending to be brave anymore. She was a fighter, there was no doubt about it, but she was also human, and it was only human to feel frightened and upset by her situation. She was not delusional; she knew that her time was running out. The longer she stayed in this prison the less likely it was that she would be rescued. Every day spent here was like taking one step closer to the edge of a perilous cliff. Death was just waiting for her; it smiled at her every day from those cold grey eyes.
Her hands clenched into fists at the thought of her captor. He encapsulated everything that the Death Eaters stood for to her. He was the face of her misery, and she couldn't stand looking at him any longer-even more so because he had murdered her brother, the last of her family.
She hated him so much, and she hated not being able to do anything to hurt him. All she wanted was to make him bleed inside as she did; to make him feel that gut-wrenching pain in his heart, so that he could feel the pain he had given her. She wanted him to suffer as she suffered, but her dark wishes would always just be wistful dreams. She was in his mercy; he had made that all too clear.
Three times a day he came in with her food, sat down on that stupid wooden stool, and then started interrogating her. She had not disclosed anything yet, but she could tell his patience was wearing thin. He seemed to be itching to find an excuse to hurt her and probably would the next time she refused to say anything. She almost welcomed the pain, thinking that it would numb some of the emotional agony that she was feeling, but her more practical side realised that if he did hurt her she would not feel any better. If anything she would just be in more pain.
The light shifted in the room, breaking from the suffocating darkness to become a dull sort of grey. Ginny glanced at the barred windows, watching the moth-eaten curtain flap lazily in the small breeze seeping through, and, judging by the shadows being cast on the walls, she angrily realised that Draco would be coming soon with her breakfast.
A sudden itch to just do something began to spread over body. Only for so long could she wallow in self-pity, but once again she could feel that stubborn fire burning inside her, forcing her to keep trying; to keep fighting.
Something had to be done. She could not stand sitting around like this every day, just waiting for her death to come. If no one was going to save her then she realised that she would just have to save herself. If she failed, well, at least she would know that she was truly trapped and could comfort herself in the fact that she had at least tried to break from her prison.
Realising that she didn't have much time before Draco would come with her food, Ginny quickly stood up from the bed and glanced about the room for ideas for her escape, while running her hands through her greasy, matted hair in an agitated way. She was intelligent enough to know that her only option was through the door, and that meant she could only do it once Draco had open it. She judged that he took about five seconds to close it and place the magical locks back on, which meant that she had very little time to get him out of the way and escape. It would be a close call, but she was sure that she could do it.
Having no wand did make things difficult. She was not stupid enough to think that she could fight him in unarmed combat, as he had a wand anyway, but there had to be something she could do. She was not the daughter of Arthur Weasley for nothing. If Muggles could find ways to fight without magic, then surely she could too!
Her eyes fell on the wooden stool; the same one that Draco always sat on while interrogating her. Ginny walked over and picked it up, feeling the hard wood under her hands and running her fingers along the splintered edges. This could work. It was strong enough to give a blow that would at least knock him out, which would give her enough time to hopefully escape before anyone noticed she had gone. She wasn't sure what lay outside this room, but she hoped that there wouldn't be guards swarming all over the place. If she were to do this she would need to have as little obstacles as possible.
Footsteps sounded outside the door, and Ginny recognised them straight away as Malfoy's lazy gait. She panicked, realising that she wasn't ready for him yet, but then the footsteps paused and muffled voices could be heard. It seemed, much to her dismay, that there were guards outside her door after all. The question was, how many?
Creeping closer to the door, stool in hand, Ginny placed her ear to the wood and listened closely, trying to determine how many voices could be heard so she could figure out how many men were actually standing guard. They were speaking too quietly for her to really tell, but then the voices began to raise in anger, and feeling just a little curious, Ginny began to listen more intently on as to what they were saying.
"Are you daring to question me, Harkins?" Draco's cold voice demanded.
"Everyone else is saying it too," another man's voice replied defensively, which Ginny assumed belong to Harkins. "You just think you can do what you like because you're the Dark Lord's favourite, but we all know what your family is like, Malfoy. You're traitors the whole lot of you! Don't think we don't know about your past! We know you saved that brat's life before! Who's to say that you won't help him again?"
For a moment there was silence and then Ginny heard a loud yelp of pain and something heavy drop to the ground. Her heart started thudding hard in her chest as she wondered what had just happened and what on earth they were talking about. What had Malfoy done? And who was this boy he had saved?
"Get out of my sight, all of you!" Draco ordered in a deadly voice. "And take this imbecile away with you! I don't need to waste my time on fools."
Ginny jumped in fright as the door handle began to turn next to her. She quickly clutched the stool tighter in her hands, her whole body practically throbbing with her heartbeat and her hands sweating slightly. If this went wrong, she was going to be in terrible danger, but at least she could take some comfort in knowing that the guards had gone. Apparently Draco came in handy after all.
The door started to open and Draco walked into the room muttering something darkly under his breath, while holding her plate of food. Ginny quickly seized her chance for escape before he could set the spells to close the door again, and swung the stool with all her might at his face. She heard the wood connect with a loud crack, one of the legs of the stool breaking from the sheer force of her attack, and for a moment could only stand on the spot in silent shock, surprised that she had actually succeeded in hitting him.
Draco let out an agonised groan and stumbled backwards, the plate of food dropping from his hands and smashing with a loud crash on the ground. He clutched his face where the chair had hit him, and Ginny could see a deep gash across his forehead where a particularly jagged part of the wood had caught his face and split the skin open.
It was at that point that Ginny realised how many precious seconds she had just wasted. Finally pulling herself together, she quickly dropped the remnants of the stool and started to run out of the room, only to feel a strong arm come out of nowhere and encircle her waist; pulling her back roughly into her prison. Her body slammed up against the concrete wall, her head cracking against the hard surface with a sickening force, causing all the breath to vanish from her lungs and her head to start ringing in blinding pain.
Dizzily, Ginny opened her eyes and looked up past the black swarming dots blurring her vision to see Draco glaring down at her, a large, angry lump already forming on his face. Blood was dripping down from the wound, making him look even more sinister, but that was nothing to the cold hate burning in his eyes. In that moment she felt more petrified than even what a basilisk could have done, and felt her hands begin to moisten with clammy fear. Now she was in for it.
"That," Draco ground out in a deadly voice, pinning her body hard against the wall, "Was a very stupid thing to do."
He flicked his wand briefly at the door, sealing them both in the room with an ominous bang, and then pressed the tip of his wand threateningly to her neck. His eyes narrowed darkly down at her, looking just about ready to murder, and not a trace of soft emotion could be seen on his harsh face.
Ginny swallowed in fear, feeling suddenly every bit as stupid as he had called her. How could she have been so idiotic as to want to risk this man's anger? He did not care about her; he had even admitted that he wanted to kill her, and she had no doubt that he would enjoy it too, judging by the dark, almost eerie glow in his eyes. He seemed to be filled with concentrated hate, and she had just turned all that hate onto herself.
He pushed his wand further into her neck, almost to the point where she thought it would pierce her skin, and unwillingly she let out a small whimper, unable to stop her fear from surfacing. She could tell that he was furious and honestly she didn't blame him. She could have killed him with that attack, but, unfortunately for her, he had managed to still stay conscious and stop her from leaving. Now, as she looked into his swollen, blood-covered face, she knew that she was going to pay for what she had done.
"It would be so easy to kill you right now," Draco said in a deceptively soft voice, his eyes never leaving hers. His wand was still digging into her neck, becoming even more painful as he increased the pressure, as if to prove just how easy it would be. He seemed determined to make her feel the full sense of how very much at his mercy she was, and Ginny had to admit that it was working.
She could feel her heart beating faster and faster, as if the agonised organ knew how close it was to death. Angry tears mixed with fear started stinging at her eyes, but not once did she remove her gaze from that hateful face glaring down at her now. She knew how much he wanted to kill her, and it almost felt as if looking away would trigger him to say those deadly words. She didn't want to die. Though she had little left to live for, even the barest chance of happiness was enough for her to keep fighting. She just couldn't die yet.
For a moment they just glared at each other and then Draco finally lowered his wand from her neck and wiped the blood that had started dripping down to blur his vision. He let out a small hiss when his fingers brushed the sensitive skin above his eye, and Ginny couldn't help but smirk at her handy work. At least she had managed to hurt him and spoil those perfectly cold features of his.
He noticed her expression and narrowed his eyes hatefully at her, his fingers clenching tightly around the wand in his hand. "I wouldn't look so smug," he snapped dangerously. "Death would have been far nicer than what I have in store for you."
That stopped Ginny's smirk very quickly. Immediately images of torture flashed into her head, but then she remembered him saying that she was in his care until Voldemort came. She assumed that meant that she had to be looked after and all her body parts and mental capabilities kept intact. That meant that all of his words were just empty threats at the most.
"You can't hurt me," she declared triumphantly, feeling her courage rising with her sudden epiphany. "You said yourself that you wouldn't kill me, and I'm sure Voldemort wouldn't want me damaged by Cruciatus or any other torture spells."
Draco's thin lips curved up into an amused smile. "Oh really?" he queried and reached his free hand down to take her hand in his, his eyes flashing in a dangerous way that did not bode well for her. "Are you so sure of that?"
She shuddered at his touch, revolted by the feeling of that hateful creature's skin on hers, and felt a shiver of fear slither up her spine. What was he planning to do? She had no doubt that he had not taken her hand for nothing, and felt a deep sense of foreboding rising inside her. It was clear that she had been wrong about him in not being able to hurt her.
He leaned his face down closer to hers so that she could feel his warm breath brushing against her ear, causing her body to stiffen at his sudden proximity. Her heart quickened instinctively and her gaze riveted itself to his chest, unable to bear facing him for fear of what expression she might see on his face. She knew he was not like those men who tortured their prisoners in a sexual way, but for some reason that only made her fear grow. He was so unpredictable, so mysterious; it frightened her that she did not know what he was going to do.
"You're right that I cannot kill you," he said softly into her ear, the tone almost like a lover's whisper. "And you are even right that I cannot torture you with Cruciatus, but there are other ways to hurt a person; ways that can be easily disguised."
His fingers, which still tightly trapped her hand within his, now relaxed their hold slightly. There was a pause, and Ginny could almost feel him smile his malicious smile-even though she could not see his face-and without warning he suddenly grabbed one of her fingers and pulled it back hard. She felt the bone snap with a sickening crunch and let out a loud shriek from the sudden wave of pain that flooded over her. It was so intense she could barely think.
Her body swayed weakly, and with tears burning in her eyes, she fearfully raised her gaze up to his cruel face. He was smiling fully for her to see now, in all his twisted satisfaction, and Ginny began to feel truly terrified at the thought of what else this man would do to her. It seemed like he had no feeling at all.
"Does it hurt, Ginevra?" he taunted in a falsely sympathetic voice, knowing very well that she was in a great deal of pain. "Does it make you want to cry?"
"You're insane!" Ginny whispered in horror, staring up at him through wide, tear-filled eyes.
Draco gave an unfeeling laugh and yanked back two more of her fingers, causing Ginny to let out another fresh scream of pain, her eyes squeezing shut in agony. A roaring sound rushed through her ears, her mind slipping into a dizzying sensation of disoriented distress, and then once again she was seeing black dots; though this time white flashes started appearing before her closed eyes as well. Her stomach twisted sickeningly, but all of this was nothing to the mind-blowing pain surging through her broken fingers.
Shakily she opened her eyes and stared down at her hand, noticing the odd angles her fingers were now shaped into. A sudden wave of nausea swept over her, the roaring becoming louder and louder, and before she knew it, she was falling forward and collapsing into his chest in a weak, helpless heap; only stopped from falling completely to the ground by Draco instinctively wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her.
Feebly she tried to break free from his hold, but her mind was clouding over with a thick darkness, giving her no choice but to rely on him for strength. She could almost feel her consciousness slipping away, her eyes fluttering shut in tired defeat, and then she had the strangest sensation sweep over her body, as if she had suddenly become weightless.
Dazedly, she realised that Draco must be carrying her, and mentally willed him to put her down this instant-not wanting him to touch her or hold her in anyway-but he did not seem to receive her telepathic protestations, and simply continued walking with her until they reached the bed. He threw her roughly down on top of the mouldy blankets and then grasped her wounded hand once more in his, though he no longer seemed to desire to break any more of her fingers.
Ginny blinked dizzily and finally dared to glance up at his face, just getting a glance of him aiming his wand down at her hand and muttering something under his breath. A warm glow surrounded her warped fingers, the bones mending back together, and then slowly the pain started to fade until there was only a dull pain to remind her of what had happened as well as her own shaken nerves.
Draco released her hand again and then glared coldly down at her, not a trace of pity in his cold, unfeeling gaze. It seemed he had not healed her out of compassion for her pain, and she was not stupid enough to think that he did out of guilt either. While the sick delight that had made her feel so ill was finally gone from his face, the pure hatred he felt towards her was still lingering in the depths of those steel-like eyes. She knew that he despised her with every fibre of his being.
"Don't push me again, Ginevra," he warned nastily, threatening her more with his frighteningly cold eyes than his words. "Or it will be more than your fingers that I break."
Ginny said nothing and turned her face away from him, tears spilling down her cheeks. She felt stupid, sore and terribly alone. She just wanted to leave this place and never have to look into those cold eyes again, but that was just a foolish hope. She was trapped here, and even worse was that she was trapped here with him.
Draco repaired the stool that she had broken and summoned it to sit back in its proper position next to the bed. He wiped some more blood away from his eyes and then raised his wand to his face, sealing the cut to stop any more blood from seeping out. The wound had been healed, but his face was still swollen, bruised, and covered in blood. He looked like a monster, which Ginny thought rather fitting considering the circumstances.
Grimacing slightly from the pain, Draco turned his attention back to her and calmly conjured chains to extend from the bedposts, securing her wrists and ankles tightly to the bed.
"What are you doing?" she demanded shakily, frantically trying to break free from the chains. She did not want to be anymore at his mercy than she needed to be, and felt that same old fear creep over her skin. It was like a slither of cold wind brushing across her bare flesh to send goosebumps prickling all over her.
"I'm making sure another episode like that doesn't happen again," he replied bluntly, shooting her a dark look through his cold eyes that told her all too well how much she was in his black books.
Ginny struggled against the chains binding her and realised in defeat that she was indeed trapped to the bed. Her eyes darted back to his face suspiciously, and she had to remind herself that he was not going to rape her. He would hurt her, but it seemed he was not monstrous enough to actually degrade her in that way. No doubt he probably thought it would degrade him.
Draco sat down on the stool and stared at her composedly, calming down back to his usual smooth-mannered self. "Now then," he began evenly, "we're going to continue our discussion, and I would ask you to remember that I am not feeling particularly disposed towards you right now, so don't try my patience and let's just get this over with."
"I already told you; I don't know anything," responded Ginny emptily, just as she always did.
He stared at her for a moment, his jaw twitching in frustration. "Is that all you are going to say?"
"There's nothing else to say."
Draco let out a frustrated growl and stood up off the stool. "Fine! If you won't tell me then I'll just have to find out for myself!"
Ginny stared up at him warily, wondering what he was going to do now. She could see his piercing grey eyes sparkling with anger and frustration, and felt a prickle of apprehension shoot through her. She had learnt very quickly to be afraid of him when he got that reckless anger in his eyes.
He raised his wand and Ginny felt only the briefest moment of trepidation and fear before he suddenly cried, "Legimens!"
It was the most defiling experience she had ever been subjected to. She could actually feel him probing her mind, sorting through her memories and thoughts to find whatever it was he was looking for that would help him. She, on the other hand, could only watch helplessly, unable to stop this breach into her privacy or block her eyes from viewing the painful memories that passed before her like a slideshow.
At first the memories started off harmless, with such trivial things as spending time with her family at the Burrow passing before her eyes, but then Draco moved closer to her memories of the war, and all the bitter memories that came with it began to float to the surface.
Charlie's dead body imprinted itself into her mind, forcing her to relive again how she had watched him die in her arms, unable to do anything more than weep and wish she had the knowledge to help him. She was forced to listen once again to the agonised screams coming from her tortured mother, though she had not been able to see what was happening due to the fact that she had been hiding in a cupboard, and had only known death had come when the screams had stopped.
On and on it went, with each memory becoming more painful; passing through death after death and battle after battle.
Black swarmed before her eyes, a pause in the painful recollections, and then Ginny could see Harry kneeling on one knee, proposing to her much younger and happier self. He gave her the ring that now hung around her neck, his kind emerald eyes lighting up with that warm glow she loved so dearly. The memory changed suddenly, and this time she was left to stare in horror as Voldemort cursed Harry on a battlefield strewn with bodies; watching that agonising moment as his body fell so gracefully to the ground, his eyes fluttering closed in a final, death-like manner.
The memories started coming faster and faster, almost as if Draco was getting impatient with his inability to find just what he was looking for. Elise's wasted face flickered before her mind, but that soon changed to the people at the camp screaming for their lives as the Death Eaters swarmed in. Ginny was running desperately, and then Draco Malfoy was walking towards her with his wand outstretched, his cold eyes meeting her own with dark intent…
Everything began to blur, until Ginny found herself trapped in a dark chamber with snake statues leering down at her. Her eyes lifted fearfully to stare up at the handsome, dark haired boy kneeling over her. He smiled and placed the small, black book in her hands-
"NO!" Ginny screamed, unable to handle it any longer, and for a moment she caught a brief glimpse of Draco's surprised face, when suddenly images began to surge before her eyes that she knew were not her own memories.
A skinny little boy with pale blond hair was running and shrieking with glee down a beautiful white corridor; running with that carefree happiness that only childlike innocence can give. A pretty woman, with equally blonde hair, soon caught up to him and stooped down to pick him up in her arms; claiming her prize with a triumphant "I've got you now!" Both the woman and the boy fell into a peel of happy laughter, the sound drawing a tall, blond man out from a nearby room. His grey eyes were narrowed slightly, but when he saw the woman and child laughing the stern expression softened into an amused smile.
The image started distorting, the people's faces fading in and out in a warped fuzziness, as if something was trying to hold the memories back. Bits and pieces of memory flittered together in a chaotic mess, becoming muddled and confused in their strange amalgamation, so that Ginny could barely tell what was happening at all. She could see black robed figures standing in a circle; lightening clashing around a tall tower on a dark night; green lights from the Avada Kedavra curse darting through a battlefield; dark marks burning on pale skin; a large building burning while the people inside screamed desperately; the blonde woman laughing, but then her laughter turned to loud, pained sobs-
Screaming, death, blood; everything was flashing before her eyes in distorted scenes, until finally a memory burst forth so clear that Ginny felt her brain protesting in pain.
A small, baby boy was lying naked on a stone altar, his loud cries echoing unheeded into the night. Stars gleamed in ghostly white up in the inky sky, and the full moon shone down in an unfeelingly beautiful way; not even caring that a child was twisting in desperate fear down below under its silvery light.
There was a circle of black robed figures surrounding the altar, each wearing the nightmarish mask of a death eater, with only their emotionless eyes showing through the slits. The circle parted suddenly and a tall man walked towards the altar in the middle, all the eyes behind the slits of the masks following him in silent devotion as if he was a very god himself.
This man was also cloaked in black but he was not wearing a mask, allowing his snake-like face and crimson eyes to be seen clearly through the night. He stopped in front of the altar and stared down at the baby boy, his red eyes smiling triumphantly in dark satisfaction. Silently, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a jade stone that had been carved into the shape of a coiled snake and gently placed it on the altar in front of the crying baby, where it began to glow in a dark, sinister green.
Raising his arms up to the sky, as if to bring the very heavens down to his fingertips, the man started to chant in a strange language, making odd hissing noises with his tongue, his red eyes locked on the crying boy. The jade stone began to glow brighter-the colour oddly reminding Ginny of the green flash that accompanies the killing curse-and continued to grow in its brightness until the sickly green seemed to surround the whole altar. The snake-like man's chanting became louder, the stone's light grew all the more brighter, and then suddenly the light shot out from the stone and buried itself deep inside the baby boy's heart; leaving the jade stone once again dull and lifeless.
For a moment there was silence. The chanting had stopped and even the baby had stopped crying, but then a cool gust of wind slipped through the circle and seemed to awaken the people to life once more. The snake-like man picked up the baby boy and held him out for all of the circle to see, a twisted smile forming on his face-
"ENOUGH!" someone shouted distantly in her head, forcing the vision to distort once more into a confused muddle of people and images. A violent pain surged through her mind and then the visions stopped completely.
She blinked and saw Draco stumble backwards, holding a hand to his head with a pained expression on his face. He was breathing heavily, and placed his other hand against the wall to steady himself.
"Enough," he muttered weakly, still not looking at her and taking deep, calming breaths.
Ginny said nothing. She was too frightened to speak, knowing that she had just witnessed his memories. She hated to think what he was going to do to her now and was just waiting for him to lash out at her. He seemed to be too shaken to do anything right now though. He was still leaning heavily against the wall, and she thought she could see the faint glimmer of tears glistening on his pale cheeks; something that disturbed her more than anything she had seen in his mind. How could a monster like him feel pain, let alone cry over it?
Draco finally looked up at her, his face even more pale than usual, and aimed his wand shakily at her face. She felt her heart leap up into her throat, and quickly closed her eyes; bracing herself for the inevitable curse that would come her way, but the pain never did come. Instead, she felt the chains remove from her hands and feet, leaving her free once again and perfectly unharmed.
Surprised, she opened her eyes again in the expectation of meeting his own, but he was already walking towards the door. He paused, standing silent for a moment as if contemplating something. His face turned towards hers, and for a moment she caught the deep sense of fear and confusion he was feeling shining through his steely-grey eyes, but then he tore his gaze away in anger and quickly left the room; the door slamming behind him with a loud bang.
Ginny let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding. What had just happened then? She had seen into his memories, there was no doubt about it, but that didn't make her any less confused.
Why hadn't he punished her? What could have possibly caused him to look so shaken and upset that he had practically fled from her presence? She just didn't understand it, and she felt just as confused by his strange behaviour as he had looked when he had met her gaze for those few seconds.
Something was definitely wrong about all of this. For one thing, she didn't even understand how she could have penetrated his mind without a wand or even casting a spell, and there was just something so terribly disturbing about the last memory she had witnessed.
Ginny did not know where Draco had been in that memory, but as she had witnessed it, a dark presence had entered her mind that she had only experienced once in her lifetime. It was the same feeling she had felt while being possessed by Tom Riddle's diary, an indescribable evil that seemed to suck the very life out of her soul and left her feeling hollow and cold.
She did not understand why his memory had caused her to feel that way, but she knew it had something to do with that stone. Whatever ritual the death eater's had been performing, they had used the most darkest of magic to do it.
But what did it all mean?
OOOO
Draco entered his room and slammed the door shut behind him, his fingers fumbling slightly with the latch as he locked the door. He banged his head against the hard wood and let out a deep breath, just standing there for a moment as he allowed his nerves to finally calm down.
His brain was in turmoil from everything that he had just experienced. The power of her mind had been overwhelming, and not only had she managed to send him out of her mind without the use of a wand, but she had also penetrated his own mind with complete ease. He knew that he was excellent at legimens and occulemency, and so he could not understand how it had happened. She should not have been able to see anything at all, and it had taken all his energy to stop the memories from surfacing; something he had never had to do before. He doubted even the Dark Lord had as much effortless power as she had shown. It was a disturbing thought.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to block his mind from the painful images that kept replaying over and over in his mind. The memories had brought back so many suppressed feelings, but it was the last memory that truly frightened him. That memory should not have been there. He had never witnessed such a ritual, and though a small voice hinted at the fact that there was one explanation as to why such a memory would be in his mind, Draco firmly pushed the thought away. He refused to believe that he might have been the baby. It was just ridiculous!
Then why was it in your mind? The voice questioned with malicious superiority, taunting him with the fact that it was the only explanation that made sense.
Draco clenched his fists and slammed his fist against the door. He wouldn't accept it. There was just no way he could have been that baby.
He could almost hear that irritating voice laughing in his head, and letting out a growl of frustration, he pulled himself abruptly away from the door and glared at the window opposite him. The sky was a dull grey, looking no more welcoming than a cold slab of concrete, and did nothing to soften his dark mood. He simply could not rid himself of the doubt and fear that now lingered inside him.
What if he had been that baby? What if he was the one that had been crying on that ominous altar under the unfeeling moon? What if he did have that strange light still inside him, and what did it mean for him if he did?
His eyes narrowed, seeing beyond the room to something only he could see. He knew what he had to do. There was only one way to find out if that memory truly belonged to him, and the answer was sitting conveniently in his master's bedroom.
Silently Draco turned and unlocked the door, now oddly calm in his movement. He turned the handle and exited the room, making his way stealthily down the cold, dark hallways, with a grim expression on his face. Further and further he went into the bowels of the Death Eater headquarters, until he came to a single wooden door.
Draco paused for a moment, staring at the handle in some doubt. He hesitated, not really sure if he wanted to know what that memory meant, but if he didn't do this now then he would never know if he had been that child or not.
"Get a grip," he muttered firmly to himself, and closed his fingers over the cold metal of the doorhandle. His heart was pounding in his chest but he did not hesitate again and quietly pushed opened the door, his eyes greeting the shadowy depths of the unoccupied room. Slowly he walked forward, pulling out his wand and lighting it to give some more light to the room, before quickly shutting the door behind him. It would not do to have people know that he had been in here.
His grey eyes scanned the room, resting on the large cabinet pressed up against the back wall. A small breath escaped his lips, and silently he moved forward and pulled open the black doors to reveal a curious stone basin with ancient runes sketched onto the top.
For a moment he just stood there staring at the seemingly innocent object, knowing that everything could change from the discovery he was about to make. It was a frightening thought, but he could not back down now. He had to know.
His hands closed around the smooth edges, and carefully he lifted the basin out of the cabinet and carried it over to where a table chair sat conveniently for his use. Placing the basin down on the table, he took a seat and then once more pulled out his wand. In a fluid movement, he pressed the wand up to his temple and closed his eyes, searching for the memory that Ginny had forced him to see. Once he had it firmly imprinted in his mind, he gently pulled his wand away and stared down at the silvery thread now hanging from the tip.
The same hesitation prickled at his senses, but he quickly regained his courage and thrust the memory into the basin, where it swirled around like liquid silver. His heart began pounding in his chest, and closing his eyes in deep foreboding, he reached out and touched the strange liquid, where he was pulled in from the power of the pensieve to relive the memory once again…
Draco sat up from the ground and stared around the clearing. It was a hilltop he recognised not far from his home in Wiltshire, known to be a place of worship for the pagans who had once roamed the lands so long ago. This did not bode well for him, but, then again, it was not that surprising that the Death Eaters would use one of the sacrificial altars by his home. There were many, after all, and Voldemort was the kind of person to take a fancy to old pagan altars.
He turned his gaze towards the circle of robed figures and slowly started walking forward, pushing through the circle to stand in the middle next to the altar. The baby was crying, just as it had been before, but his eyes were more interested in finding out who was standing around the circle. It was true that he could only see their eyes, but he had not lived with the Death Eaters for nearly six years to not know how to recognise them.
As he had thought, these were the Death Eaters that had thrived at the height of the old war. Macnair, Avery, Goyle, Crabbe, his aunt Bellatrix and her husband, his father-
He paused on his father, feeling a sudden pang in his heart. How long had it been since he had seen his father alive? It must have been almost four years now. Four years, and even now he could still see the bloody face and glassy eyes that had stared up at him from a body lifeless and cold.
Angry with himself for getting sentimental, Draco quickly tore his eyes away from his father's masked face and stared at Voldemort who was moving through the parted circle. Draco knew what was going to come next, but that did not stop the deep sense of dread from curling inside him as soon as he saw the jade stone being placed on the altar. There was just something so evil about it, as if it was filled with all the malice of the world.
Voldemort began his ritual, and Draco could only watch once again as the stone's eerie green light grew brighter and brighter until it shot out from the jade snake and forced itself into the baby's heart. His eyes narrowed, watching intently as Voldemort picked up the baby boy in his arms and held him out for the circle of Death Eaters to see.
"Behold, our future!" Voldemort cried out in a voice that made the hair on Draco's neck prickle unpleasantly.
The Death Eaters swarmed forward like flies to rotten meat, fawning at their master's robes and touching the child's naked body in deep reverence. Only one Death Eater had not moved, and Draco realised with a jolt that it was his father.
Voldemort's red eyes fell on his father's face and his smile became even more twisted. He beckoned Lucius forward. "You look troubled, my young friend," he remarked silkily, still holding the baby securely in his arms. "Surely you are not having second thoughts?"
Lucius lowered his gaze uncomfortably to the ground. "It is nothing, my lord."
"Liar," taunted his master cruelly. "I can smell your fear as easily I can see the lie in your eyes." He laughed and then turned his red eyes down to the baby in his arms. "The child will not die, if that is what you are worried about. He would already be dead by now if his soul had rejected the magic, but I believe I was right to have picked your son."
Draco felt his breath cut short, and all of a sudden the memory stopped.
He blinked, finding himself back on the chair in the master bedroom, and stared through narrowed eyes at the penseive. So it was true then? He had been the child.
"What are you doing in my room, Draco?" A silky voice asked, neither angry nor amused.
Draco jumped in fright and turned his face quickly to see Voldemort staring at him through contemplative red eyes. No doubt his master had already seen the pensieve and knew very well why he was in his room, but Voldemort always did take a delight in scaring people-as if his snake-like face was not frightening enough.
Standing up abruptly from the chair, Draco walked forward to his master, an angry gleam creeping into his eyes. "What did you do to me?"
Voldemort's eyes narrowed, but he did not curse Draco for his impudence as he might have done to anyone else. Draco always had received more license than the other Death Eaters, and the angry young man now glaring at his master finally had come to realise why. It was all because of the stone, or rather, what the stone had done to him.
Draco could feel the red eyes boring into his own and knew that Voldemort was reading his mind. He did not bother to put up any barriers, thinking that it was easier for his master to just see it than for him to explain it.
"I see," remarked Voldemort after a moment of silence. "You've learnt about the stone."
"Yes, I have," growled Draco, feeling very ill-used and upset. "And I want to know what it does!"
"Do not fret, my child. You are in no danger from the spell that was placed on you."
Draco eyed him suspiciously for a moment. He wasn't sure if he believed Voldemort, but he knew that he had little choice but to. His master was far too skilled in occulemency for him to even get a glimpse of any thoughts.
"Well why did you choose me?" he demanded finally. Even if the magic could not harm him, he didn't see why it had to have been him to carry it. There must have been plenty of other children who could have done it.
Voldemort poured himself a glass of wine and stared down at the crimson liquid in his glass. "It was your destiny to carry the magic of the stone. You should be honoured you were chosen for such an important task. Many Purebloods would kill to have such magic."
"Destiny?" Draco repeated with a scornful laugh.
"You do not believe in destiny?"
"I believe in myself."
Voldemort smiled, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. "I see."
Again Draco stared at his master suspiciously. He had a feeling Voldemort was not telling him something.
"How is my young Ginevra?" Voldemort asked, before Draco could question him any further.
"She's fine," answered Draco truthfully. He did not count breaking her fingers as anything worth mentioning, and he was reluctant to admit that he had infiltrated her mind and had his own invaded in the process.
"Good. I want her to be in good condition for the ritual."
"Ritual?" queried Draco curiously, momentarily forgetting about his own frustrations with his master as he looked at Voldemort with some interest.
The smile increased on Voldemort's snake-like face, his blood red eyes going even more sinister. "Yes, a ritual. Why else would I want her kept intact and safe?"
Draco frowned but said nothing. Voldemort took a sip of his wine and then placed the glass back down on the table. His eyes seemed to look past Draco, a small smile passing over his thin lips.
"Ginevra Weasley is a very special woman," he said softly, still lost in silent reflection. "She is of an ancient family that very rarely gives birth to female children. In fact, it just so happens that Ginevra is the seventh female in her family line to be born in the past seven centuries. Curious isn't it? That she is the seventh female to be born in the seventh century, and also happens to be the seventh child."
"What are you saying?"
Voldemort's red eyes locked onto his. "She's bound by the magical number seven, giving her powers far beyond what any of us could achieve. If she had the tuition she could very well overpower all of us. Of course she probably has no idea of this herself."
"Then we should kill her," said Draco bluntly. If she was really that powerful they should get rid of her now before she did anything drastic. He'd already experienced her powers of legilemency; who was to say that she didn't have even greater powers hidden up her sleeve?
Voldemort smiled slightly. "You are too rash. I do not wish to kill her, not yet anyway. She is far too useful to me, or at least her child will be." His eyes levelled on Draco. "That is where you come in."
"I don't understand," said Draco warily, not liking where this was going.
Voldemort's eyes gleamed ominously in the candlelight. "Ginevra has a special vulnerability to dark magic ever since she was tainted by my soul. You, Draco, are a living force of dark magic, thanks to the powers I placed on you at birth. If you were to fuse your magic with hers, her womb would be easily contaminated with that darkness, allowing her to give birth to the most powerful dark wizard or witch our world has ever seen. Of course, I would not allow the child to live. It is very easy to take the magic from an innocent if one knows the right spells to do it."
Draco felt his stomach twist in disgust. He had a feeling he knew what Voldemort was asking of him now, but he still clung to the hope that he might be wrong. "Just what are you saying?" he demanded, while inwardly hoping that his fears were not true.
"I want you to get Ginevra Weasley pregnant."
For a moment Draco just stared at his master with an unreadable expression on his face. Many thoughts were racing through his mind right now, but the most obvious was the complete revulsion he felt at the thought of even going near her in such a way.
"No."
"No?" Voldemort repeated, his eyes narrowing in irritation and some disbelief. Never had a Death Eater refused a task before.
Draco shook his head firmly. "I don't want to. I'll kill for you, torture people if I have to, but I will not do that."
Voldemort laughed softly. "Admirable sentiments, my boy, but your scruples are meaningless to me. You will do as I say."
Again Draco shook his head. "I won't."
He knew it was dangerous to push things in such a way, but he had a feeling that his master would not kill him for it. He was too precious, he knew that now, and he was going to make well use of that knowledge.
Voldemort's red eyes narrowed in anger. "You are making a grave mistake, Draco."
Draco remained silent. He had made his decision and he was not going to move from it.
"Very well, I have no choice." Voldemort raised his wand and aimed it at Draco's chest. "Perhaps the Cruciatus curse will soften your resolve."
OOOO
Ginny awoke with a start and rubbed her side where she was sure she had just been kicked. Her eyes wildly fluttered around the room and fell on a tall woman she had never seen before, who was standing by her bed and glaring down at her through fierce blue eyes.
A frown tugged at Ginny's lips, and for a moment she just stared stupidly at the woman.
"Stop staring and get up!" the woman snapped, grumpily placing a hand on her hip. "I haven't got all day, you know."
"Where's Malfoy?"
"That's none of your business," replied the woman bluntly, eyeing Ginny in considerable dislike.
Ginny decided not to say anything back. She was just relieved that she did not have to put up with her usual captor, though this woman didn't seem to be much better. She was rather fidgety, a complete contrast to Draco's relatively calm disposition, and kept tossing her silky brown hair over her shoulder in irritation.
"I can't believe he made me do this," the woman muttered bitterly to herself, now folding her arms crossly. "It's not my problem he got himself in the Dark Lord's bad books, and yet I'm the one who's left to do his dirty work all because he's afraid the men might do something to his precious prisoner."
Her blue eyes flashed back on Ginny. "You're lucky you got him, you know? The others wouldn't give a damn about you, but he's so finicky about things like that." She laughed and once again tossed her hair over her shoulder. "He says it offends his sensibilities or some such rot. Funny that; he'd rather we kill the girls than let the men rape 'em."
Ginny said nothing.
The woman laughed again and started twirling her wand in her hands. "I don't care myself. Our women get it just as bad from those so-called Light Fighters. S'pose it just gives 'em a taste of their own medicine."
"They would never do that!" retorted Ginny, goaded into speaking. "You're the evil ones who go around raping and pillaging! We're just trying to protect ourselves!"
"Ha! That's the funniest thing I've heard all day!" The woman chuckled to herself and looked down at Ginny with a pitying expression on her pretty face. "Do you honestly think that your men are so perfect and good? This is war, girlie, and war will make monsters out of everyone. Give men a bit of power and it doesn't matter who they were before, they'll all turn into unfeeling pigs sooner or later."
"That's not true."
The woman leaned forward and levelled her intimidating blue gaze on Ginny. "Oh ain't it? And how do you know, Miss?"
"I-I just do," stammered Ginny, though she couldn't deny that she felt a small prickle of doubt filter through her mind.
"Well let me tell you something, girlie. I've been to your camps and I've seen what your men do to the captured Death Eaters. They torture 'em just we like do, and if the prisoner happens to be a female, you can bet that they'll have a bit of unholy fun with her too. Your soldiers ain't saints; some of them are worse than the brutes we've got here."
Ginny shook her head in disbelief. "I don't believe you."
"Then don't, but you're living in a dream world if you think the world can be divided into black and white. I'd say it's more grey myself," her eyes gleamed in amusement, "but I don't deny that there are different shades of grey."
"Lara! The Dark Lord wants to speak to the girl!" A male voice called out through the closed door.
The woman, who Ginny assumed must be Lara, stepped back and gave another of her irritable huffs. "Always so demanding. Well c'mon on then. Looks like the master has finally decided to see you. He came back yesterday, took us all by surprise to be honest, but it was Draco who got the brunt of his black mood. Poor boy is still recovering."
"Lara!"
"I'M COMING!" Lara bellowed in exasperation. She sighed and looked bluntly at Ginny. "Well, hurry up! You don't want to keep him waiting, do you?"
Ginny quickly scrambled out of the bed and followed Lara out of the room. They walked down some corridors, and all the while Ginny could feel her heart beating painfully in her chest. She was going to see the Dark Lord, though what for she couldn't guess. She knew, of course, that he had been the one who had requested her kidnapping, but that did not make things any clearer on what it was he actually wanted with her.
Her mind idly strayed back to Draco, and vaguely she wondered what it was he had done to get into his master's black books. Perhaps Voldemort had found out about yesterday and had punished him for breaking her fingers? Or maybe it was something else?
"Here we are," Lara remarked, stopping in front of a door. She knocked three times and then waited patiently.
"Come in," said a smooth voice from within the room.
Ginny shivered. She knew that voice very well. Though it was older and more mature now, she could still recognise the lilting tones Tom had used to use on her when she was young.
Lara gave her back a small push. "Go on."
Shakily, Ginny reached up her and turned the doorhandle. The door swung open and there, standing in the middle of the room, stood Voldemort, a chilling smile curving his mouth and his eyes gleaming with dark mischief.
"We finally meet again, Ginevra."
A/n: Just thought I should apologise again if there are lots of typos. I have read over this a few times now, but, as I said before, I've had very little sleep lately, so it's more than likely that I have missed them.