Stolen Innocence

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Potter Universe, nor am I getting paid.

Many thanks to Incognito and Aerileigh (who incidentally might not remember looking at this) for beta-ing for me.

Written in response to Lia's (Incognito's) Avant-Garde Challenge on the DG Forum (linked on my page).

WARNING: This contains many things that are not suitable for children or the squeamish particularly sexual violence and blood. Do not read this and then complain about it. You've been warned. There's a reason it is Rated M.

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I'm not strong. I'm weak. I'm only a child in this war.

I lie in the snow, blood seeping from the wound in my stomach, and I am struck by an errant thought: how many more children like me will die in this war? How many more girls will go through what I have? How many will be displaced—left homeless, parentless? How many?

I wish I could save these girls, but I know I can't. I wish I could. I would give my life a million times over to prevent another girl from going through this.

I inhale a ragged breath and feel the cold numbing the pain of the stinging slashes on my arms and legs.

I guess I'll have to settle for saving one life.

I turn my head to the side, hearing people shouting my name. I know they saw him come in and take me. He dragged me by the hair to the stream behind my home. I took his son from him, and now he would take me from my family. It was his way of paying me back, I suppose. An eye for an eye and all that nonsense.

I didn't rape his son though. That was hardly fair of him, though it's not like I expected Lucius Malfoy to be fair. He never struck me as that sort of person. He's a man who sought retribution for any wrongs done against him. It must have been why he joined Voldemort's ranks. He wanted the power to be able to make his enemies pay.

I hear my brothers now, screaming my name. They'll find me soon enough. I'll be gone by then though. He left me here to die, under a tree. I heard him Disapparate after he used me. He left me here with my skirt bunched around my hips and my knickers bloodied beneath me. But he didn't win. I won.

I got his son. I saved his son.

Draco won't pledge his allegiance to Voldemort. He can't. Not from where he is now.

It was simple feat, really—to save him. We fell in love in my fifth year. I went to the hospital wing a few days after Harry attacked him. Not to see him, of course. But I did see him—his body lying there, broken. I saw the pink scar that the spell had left behind. It stood out against his pale white skin. When he turned his head, he saw me staring at him. He looked so helpless.

He sneered at me. He was Draco Malfoy, after all. He didn't let Weasleys in. But I didn't give him a choice.

I don't know why I felt so drawn to him at first, but now I know why. It was Lucius.

We're all born innocent.

But Lucius—he robbed that innocence. He scarred Draco like he scarred me. Like my mind was broken into, so was Draco's. He was warped into a clone of his father, unable to think for himself, parroting his father's actions. He was, much like me, a puppet. His father abused him over and over but never physically. He wouldn't dare to leave behind a trace of his cruelty. I think it had to do with Lucius seeing himself in Draco. He's that type of person: self-absorbed. He wouldn't want to see his son's perfect features marred because it would be like seeing himself with bruises.

Draco and I met in secret after that day at the infirmary. We talked, shared stories. I told him about what Tom Riddle did, the way he stole my freedom from me and ripped my world apart. He told me about the torture that he had to endure when he was at home. Sometimes, usually after he had gotten a letter from his father, I would tell him about the antics my brothers and I would get up to. He would smile his secret smile. That's what I called it. He never told me what he was smiling about, but I liked that smile.

He never had a family like mine, so he was happy to hear about it. He didn't make fun of me and my family like he used to. The war changed us. He was sixteen. I was fifteen. We were only children, and we had both been through things that most adults couldn't even imagine.

The war made us grow up against our will.

He would hold me when we spoke to each other, whispering comforting thoughts in my ear while I recounted another horrific tale. I loved the way he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him, his body enveloping my own. The comfort of home was in his touch.

The rest of the school year went by, and things deteriorated in the world around us. It didn't matter though. We were safe in the walls of Hogwarts. At least that's what I thought. I felt betrayed when he did what he did. He let those monsters into our school, our safe haven. How could he have done that to us—to me?

He did it to save his family—a family who didn't even love him. I was his family. We talked about what would happen when the war was over. We would get married. On our wedding night, he would have all of me. Then we would have a big family, a close family, something he never had. But then he betrayed me for his father.

I didn't want to see him on the battlefield. I was scared that I would kill him. The hatred I felt coursed through me like poison.

It wasn't until later, when Harry told me that Draco couldn't kill Dumbledore, that I was able to forgive him. I couldn't stay mad at him for long. Even though Bill was hurt. Even though Dumbledore was dead. I forgave him because I loved him. My love for him consumed me to the point where I couldn't think without thinking of him. Being apart from him—he at the Manor and me at the Burrow—was torture.

We wrote to each other daily, sometimes four or five times a day. Then I got a letter from him—one that broke me and made me numb. He was leaving me. Lucius was going to take him to get the Dark Mark, and Draco said he would rather die. He couldn't bear the thought of being branded like cattle.

I wrote him back. I begged him to run, but I knew that he couldn't. There was nowhere safe. There was nowhere he could hide that his father or Voldemort wouldn't find him. He was only a boy. Yet, he was thrust into a situation—a situation that he couldn't control, couldn't make right. I continued to beg though, not being able to stand the thought of what he would do.

In his words, he told me that could never face me again with that tattoo marring his skin. He could never look me in the eye knowing that the man who ruined my childhood had marked him as his own. I knew what he was going to do. There was only one way that Draco could avoid getting the Mark.

And so he left me—left the world. I lost him. But I won so much more.

I won love. I now know what love is all about. It's that feeling of being so connected with a person that when they die, you feel pain until it blankets you in numbness. I was empty when he left me, so empty. The world around me was cold. It was bleak. Color disappeared.

Lucius came for me a week later. When he was torturing me, he told me he found a letter from me in Draco's fireplace. It had not burned enough to hide my identity, to hide the truth from him. So he came for me with his friends. They attacked my family while Lucius took me outside.

He took me roughly. He stole from me what I was saving for Draco. He said he didn't want me to die pure. He told me I wasn't pure. I was corrupt.

When he was finished, he walked away, leaving me bleeding behind my house.

I inhale, coughing as I do, and a spattering of blood flies from my lips.

I can see color seeping back into the world around me. The darkness of the night doesn't affect me. I can see the blinding white snow beneath me, the barren trees above me, and the bright moonlight shining like a guiding light.

Then I see him.

He is leaning against a tree, staring at me with a sad smile.

"It's time to go, love," he murmurs. He holds out his hand for me. "Are you ready?"

"For you, I'll always be ready," I whisper.

A smile lights up his face—his secret smile. "Come on then, Ginevra. Our adventure has only just begun."

I give him a smile of my own as my body becomes weightless.

The war made corpses out of us children. It made graves out of the earth. The war destroyed my family, but it didn't destroy me. With Draco, I am home. No matter where I am, with him I am where I need to be. He is my happiness. He is my world.

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Lia's Avant-Garde Challenge

You never thought there'd come a time when you were forced (okay--given the option) to write something unconventional. Well, my dears, that time is nigh. And before you get your knickers in a twist, I assure you that this challenge is not nearly as daunting as it looks. All I want you to do is write something that you have never written before.

'What do you mean?' you ask.

I mean, try something new--something different from what you normally write. Be daring. Stray from (your) conventional mould. Do you always write fluff? Try your hand at angst. Do you ordinarily focus on Draco? Well, throw the spotlight on Ginny this time. Have you never written in the first person? Start now. See? Not so bad. If you want to write something completely 'out there', do that too.

All I ask is that you be creative and follow the simple rules below:

1. It must be D/G oriented.

2. It must have a T-M rating.

3. You must use at least one of the following phrases in your story: 'there's something about your eyes', 'we're all born innocent', or 'you're a beautiful, f u c k e d up man' (replace 'man' with 'woman' or 'girl' if you wish to address the other gender).

4. It must be 1,000 words in length, minimum (this is not including author notes).

5. It must be beta'd.

6. You must post it on FIA as well as FFN--it's time to get over your fears, ladies (just be glad that I'm not making you submit to MNFF).