Dim sunlight illuminated the pale outline of Draco Malfoy's form faintly as he lay unconscious upon an old but comfortable couch. Near him on a short divan lay Ginny Weasley, also looking remarkably pale. The room itself was rather shabby, though not ruined or untidy by any means. The peeling, gold patterned wallpaper and faded blue carpeting seemed to suggest the room had seen better days but the tiny bar and faded tobacco smell indicated that the room still enjoyed use despite its age.
Sunlight filtered in beyond heavy curtains of worn blue velvet, creating dappled patterns of light against the far wall. It wasn't yet noon and, despite the sunlight, the day was still bitterly cold. In the shadows of the dark and unheated room a man watched the unconscious teens, pulling his dark cloak closer around his shoulders and considering all that had happened and all that would be required to bring events to their proper conclusion.
Nothing had worked out precisely as he'd planned it - but he supposed he should have known that would be the case. He'd lived too long in the world to believe things wouldn't go wrong. What surprised him in this case was just how wrong they'd gone, and how quickly the situation had burgeoned into something almost too big for him to set straight.
He supposed he should have expected that, too.
In the end he'd set it straight. He had to. The consequences of failure might mean his own destruction, if the Dark Lord didn't already have it in mind.
"In the end you'll die, Snape," the scratchy voice murmured. "You and Malfoy, and anyone else who crossed us…"
-------------------
Harry walked around Sirius restlessly to stand next to Ron. Ginny's abduction in broad daylight, with two adult wizards present to boot, seemed to have unhinged him mildly. His eyes were bulging slightly and he kept muttering curses at Malfoy and all vampires in general as he walked.
"I just don't understand," he moaned, "What do they want with Ginny? If Malfoy's the one they want, why do they keep taking her?"
Harry put a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder. This whole ordeal was worse than the Chamber of Secrets and Ron was going insane imagining awful things happening to his little sister, whom he regarded as his responsibility.
"Ginny was a lure, Ron," Sirius said gently. "Morgan probably knew that Malfoy wouldn't trust her enough to go anywhere alone with her, and so she gambled on his more…chivalrous side."
"His what?" Harry burst out, almost laughing.
"He doesn't have one," Ron added scornfully. They would have laughed then, but an icy voice sliced through their incredulity.
"Apparently he does, Mr. Potter," Snape said softly, his eyes glittering. "Otherwise why would he have pursued Miss Weasley just now when he had an excellent opportunity to escape?"
Neither Harry nor Ron knew what to say to that - but neither were they convinced of Malfoy's chivalry.
"Oh come now," Caleb spoke up suddenly. "You people give him no credit. Why, just last month, when it rained for three days straight and the final year students had Herbology in Greenhouse Four, Draco took Pansy's cloak, which she'd asked him to hold, and threw it over a large puddle when she told him she was afraid to cross it."
Everyone just stared at him.
"What?" he asked with an innocent look. "She didn't like his suggestion that she jump over it and he flatly refused to carry her. Seemed like a chivalrous solution."
"Now that's Malfoy," Harry muttered.
"If you don't mind, we need to think about tracking these people," Snape said sourly, throwing a glare at Caleb.
"Right," Sirius agreed, hiding a smirk.
"They were taking us to London," Caleb said, his manner sobering. "One of them mentioned that they'd been paid very well to deliver us—or Malfoy, rather."
Ron whipped around to face Anderson. "London? Why London? How far is it from here?"
"Pretty far," Sirius muttered.
"London," Snape repeated. "It could be anyone. Most of the Inner Circle have dwellings in London, not to mention other Death Eaters in the network. And if it isn't an inside job—"
"It is," Sirius murmured, his eyes strangely unfocused. "I think I know who…"
"What?" Severus snapped, looking at Black with surprise and undisguised suspicion. "How do you—"
"I received some information earlier that I'm only now starting to piece together. I think it's tied in with your boy."
"What sort of information, Sirius?" Harry asked. Ron watched him intently.
"I received a message earlier tonight telling me that an old friend was holed up in London and awaiting a special surprise. They didn't know what it was, though. I had the impression that it was special news he was waiting for."
"An old friend?" Snape said slowly, his expression becoming darker. "Anyone we know?"
Sirius ignored the question, thinking hard.
"How soon can we get there?" Ron asked.
"We need to return to Hogwarts. The Headmaster must be informed—," Snape began but was cut off by a strangled cry from Ron.
"No! We can't wait another moment, another second! There's no telling what could happen. They could kill her—"
"Mr. Weasley, we cannot simply dash off to London without a word to anyone!" Snape said harshly.
"We don't have a choice," Sirius murmured. "Ron's right. The more time that passes the less likely it is that we'll find Ginny alive."
"Or Malfoy," Harry added, hoping to sway the Potions Master.
Snape stood stiffly, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He looked behind, as if seeking Hogwarts with his eyes alone, then turned to Sirius. "What do you have in mind?"
"I can summon Buckbeak with my wand. It emits a high tone that only he can hear. If he's within three miles he'll come." Sirius nodded affirmatively.
"I have my broom. Ron can ride with me. Anderson—"
"Is going back to the Hogwarts," Snape finished.
Caleb whirled around so fast he nearly fell over. "What? Why, Professor?"
"I'll not risk your neck as well as these two." He jerked his thumb at Ron and Harry. "Weasley is personally involved, as is Potter by default—," he said the last few words nastily, "--but you are safe and I'm not about to throw you back onto the chopping block."
"But….Professor—," Anderson tried to argue.
"Absolutely not - and that is my final word!" Snape thrust his broom at Caleb and pointed back towards the school.
"But I'm involved too! Malfoy's my friend!" Caleb shouted, his face flushing.
Well, that wasn't strictly true. In fact, as far as he knew, Malfoy only considered him a headache, a rival for the lovely Miss Weasley's affections. When he wasn't pretending he didn't want her affections, that is.
Snape's expression had softened slightly at these words. "I can appreciate that, Mr. Anderson—," Sirius snorted loudly at this, "—but if you get captured or killed once we reach them, I'll not have done you or your family any favors."
Caleb glared at the ground. He didn't want to leave but he couldn't deny that the thought of meeting the blood sucking goons again wasn't high on his list of fun things to do. Even so…friends didn't abandon friends. It just wasn't done. Still, facts were facts; he had no idea whether, if their places reversed, Malfoy would do the same for him. Not to mention that leaping back into the lion's den was hardly practical. If he was smart, he'd listen to Snape.
"Wait a moment." Black interrupted Caleb's thoughts. "If he's taking your broom, how are you getting to London?"
Instead of replying, Snape smirked nastily and asked; "That hippogryff can carry two, correct?"
"Two? What—," Sirius sputtered. Snape's expression became vindictive.
"Don't look so horrified, I wouldn't sit with you on that thing if my life depended on it. Potter can ride with you while I use his broom. I'll not leave my student to your care."
"Why not?" Sirius spat. "Unlike some people, I don't hold innocent students responsible for my own misery!"
Snape's eyes narrowed to slits, his mouth all but disappearing from a face that was white with fury. "Really?" he said finally. "That's not how I remember it."
Sirius's lip curled, causing Snape's expression to twist poisonously. "We always had different views on matters."
Ron interrupted then, his expression caught between fear and anger. "Maybe we should get moving? It's a long ride to London, I'll bet."
"Several hours." The Potions Master growled in agreement, his eyes attempting to pin Sirius. However, at Ron's words the fugitive dismissed his hated rival utterly, turning away and pointing his wand skyward. Harry heard him murmur a simple incantation and a moment later a sound emitted from the wand. Harry didn't hear it so much as feel it as it danced past him and up into the sky. He smiled and was about to compliment his godfather when something in the nearby trees caught his attention.
He froze, his expression freezing for a moment as he tried to make out what it was he'd seen. A shape, a shadow? His eyes searched the dimness for a few moments, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. There weren't that many places to hide now that the sun was well over the horizon and what shadows that were left were shrinking rapidly even under the trees. He concentrated on the spot and wondered if he should say anything to the others. He wasn't certain he'd seen anything, after all.
The decision was made for him a moment later when a pale hand came into view, gripping the bark of a particularly large trunk. Harry felt his heart jump, a chill crawling up his spine as his arms broke out in goose-bumps. Just as he drew breath to cry out a warning, however, the hand floundered forward, followed by the rest of the person it was attached to. The figure collapsed onto the ground at Sirius's feet, causing everyone to jump and whip out their wands.
It was Elizabeth Morgan.
"What in Merlin's name?" Sirius exclaimed, jabbing his wand at the prone witch. She was wrapped in a torn lavender robe and was covered in scratches. Harry was shocked at how frail and thin she appeared.
"So," Snape growled, "she finally shows herself."
"She's been with us all night," Sirius said, bending to examine the pale form more closely. "While in our animal forms she was able to give me information on where Ginny and the two Slytherins were and whether they were alive."
He would have said more, but at that moment Ron let out a roar and pounced on the almost unconscious woman.
"Where is she, you hag? What have you done with my sister?" he shouted, flipping Morgan over and shaking her roughly. "What have you done with her?"
"Ron!" Harry rushed to Ron's side and managed to pull him off of the woman, though he had to prize his friend's fingers from her shoulders. There were tears pouring down Ron's flushed face, but his expression was twisted with fury.
"Don't protect her, she's evil! She knows what they're doing! Just ask her, just—"
Ron tried to launch himself at Morgan again, but Harry managed to hold him back. Barely. Snape stepped forward and covered Morgan with his own cloak, then pulled her roughly to her feet. She was unsteady and leaned against him for support, but was conscious.
"Well, what do you know?" he snapped, then turned to Sirius. "What else did she tell you?"
Morgan merely looked at him, her strange hazel eyes unfocused, her body still swaying unsteadily. She needed all of Snape's support just to remain upright and it was obvious that she was in no condition to talk.
"She's been in contact with the Celt for a while," Sirius said quickly, "but I don't know how long. She helped me recover the kids and warned me when the vampires were about – still, I couldn't tell you for certain what her aims are. She's certainly been duplicitous."
"How do you know she and this Celt – whoever he is – are working against our enemies?" Snape asked with more curiosity than scorn. "Her word certainly wouldn't be enough even for an idiot like you."
Sirius ignored the insult, reminding himself that he'd never thought Snape was worth listening to in the first place.
"Word was passed just two days ago," he replied casually. Realizing by Snape's surprised expression that he hadn't received word yet, Sirius tried not to smirk too much. "The Vampire Nation has kept us abreast of the news they've collected through their spy network, and I met one of their agents last night," he nodded reassuringly to Ron, who was listening intently to everything the fugitive said. "I came here to make my usual contact, I had no idea Elizabeth and her contact would be here as well. Rather complicated things!"
"In more ways than one," Harry muttered, looking doubtfully at the unconscious woman.
"I think she's a double agent," Sirius said grimly, more to Ron than anyone else. It would explain much, he knew, and it would go a long way towards clearing her actions later if it was true.
"Can we trust that?" Snape asked angrily. Ron's eyes narrowed as he stared at the limp form of Elizabeth Morgan. He found himself hoping she was a double agent, one that was working for the wrong side. No one would question him if he strangled her then.
"We may need her," Sirius replied darkly, his own suspicions fluctuating more than he liked. "It's better if we bring her along. She may know who's behind all of this."
"Better yet, she may know exactly where they are," Snape nodded. A moment later they heard the flapping of large wings. They whirled towards the source of the disturbance, wands at the ready, and saw Buckbeak land gracefully near them. The Hippogriff shook his grey head, ruffling his feathers out, then greeted Sirius, who strode forward and stroked his regal head.
"Very well; we bring her." Sirius nodded towards Morgan. "But we're going to have to rest her up and we'll need a few supplies."
"Diagon Alley," Snape said immediately. "It's in the heart of London and we can find whatever we need there."
"Right then, let's go!" Sirius hopped onto Buckbeak's back.
"Hang on," Harry interrupted as Snape was about to speak, "who's she riding with?"
Caleb sauntered forward, grinning smugly and holding his broom out at an obvious angle.
Snape scowled as Sirius tried not to chortle once again.
---------------
Ginny was initially aware of the dryness in her mouth. An aching, parched dryness that made her instantly long for rain, a pond, anything with silky, cool water to drown in. Her tongue felt thick, sticking to the roof of her mouth and increasing her thirst. Everything else felt far away, though, as if she were standing at the back of a dark tunnel hiding from the world. Something was pushing her forward, however. Sounds and colors flitted through her mind as she gradually rose through the layers of unconsciousness.
A moan to her right caused Ginny to open her eyes. Draco lay on a faded couch, his eyes screwed tightly shut against the sunlight that was shining directly into his face. Ginny raised herself slowly on an elbow and looked around for the window. It was about five feet away from them, with lacy ivory curtains that didn't do a lot to block the light streaming in. Her body ached terribly and she wondered if she'd been trampled on by an army of dragons. She sat up slowly, rubbing her face and trying to clear her head.
Where are we, and what time is it? She wondered. The light could be either late afternoon or sunrise. Still, Ginny felt sure that they hadn't slept a whole day. Or had they? With a start she realized that it had been almost two days since she'd slept last and that had been in Gryffindor tower. The thought made her nauseous. In an effort to steady her nerves she forced herself to study her surroundings. They were in a faded but comfortable parlor, with several windows curtained in blue velvet, except for the one across from them. Presumably whoever owned this place wanted them awake at a certain hour.
There were low tables scattered in various corners holding ornamental lamps of green and blue glass, gilt wallpaper that had perhaps once emphasized the deep jewel tones of the room. Low settees sat against the front and back walls and various wooden curio cabinets holding a variety of delicate porcelain statuettes stood at the east and west walls. In all the room looked pleasantly lived in and Ginny found it ironic that it should be her new place of imprisonment.
"What the bloody hell is this place?" Draco's exhausted, scratchy voice ground out. Ginny turned to regard him and had to bite back a giggle at the petulant scowl on his thin face. It was somehow adorable and yet suitably Malfoy-ish. His eyes were scrunched tightly shut, and his thin lips were set in the most childish of pouts and she imagined he only needed a tender kiss to smooth his whole expression.
Would he let her kiss him again?
"I've no idea - but I'm willing to bet it isn't friendly," she replied briskly, mentally shaking herself. Best not to dwell on useless thoughts like that. He'd already proven that things would never change between them.
She felt her throat tighten as she remembered those moments after they'd been found by Harry and Ron, then took refuge from them by examining the room further. There were several paintings scattered around the room, the largest one holding the figures of a young bride and groom. The bride beamed happily at the short, mousy man next to her, and the young groom blushed and fidgeted, grinning with pride whenever he met the china blue eyes of his lady. They made Ginny smile. Near them was a slightly smaller painting of the same couple, but many years older. The woman still smiled gently, her blonde hair having turned white, but her eyes were sad. Her husband didn't bother with smiles, but looked morosely out at his surroundings, an occasional tear falling from his brown eyes. Ginny wondered briefly what had made them so sad, but then turned her attention to the rest of the room. As she studied her surroundings, she gradually became aware of her ice cold hands, her bruised upper arms, the exact shade of the carpet, the steady tick tock of the grandfather clock, the cracked and peeling leather stools next to the little bar, the silver platters holding—
Ginny did a double take. There were tarnished silver platters stacked with sandwiches and small wedges of cheese next to three bottles of white wine sitting on the bar itself. Ginny felt her throat tighten further as she saw a drop of moisture roll down the neck of one of the bottles.
FOOD!!
As Ginny stood and was about to crow, however, Draco's voice cut through her euphoria.
"We shouldn't touch that," he said stonily. So he'd seen it as well.
"What?" she asked uncomprehendingly.
Draco's eyes flicked hungrily towards the tray. "It's not a good idea," he insisted, standing slowly. "Anyone could have put this here."
"Yes, they could and evidently did." She rolled her eyes and moved quickly towards the food. "I'm not going to complain!"
Draco hurried to cut her off, moving in front of her with a determined expression. Ginny pushed him angrily, feeling her stomach growl as the smell of the sandwiches hit her nose.
"What's wrong with you?" she snapped, trying to reach around him for the wine.
Draco, meanwhile, felt his temper flare as he grabbed her hand and removed the wine bottle from it. She couldn't know that this was painful for him too; that the feel of the bottle's moisture on his hand made his dry mouth water horribly. The smell of the food was close to driving him mad - but they had no way of knowing if it was safe. His father had taught him about situations like this.
Remember that many things can be transformed into weapons of both torture and information. Poisoning food and water, for example, are simple ways of obtaining information you need, either with the promise of an antidote, or with Veritaserum.
"Ginny use your head, for Merlin's sake," he snapped. "Whoever captured us sent vampires to hunt us down. For all we know they might have poisoned the food!"
"So what?" Ginny seethed. Did he really care about poison at a time like this, when their stomachs were so empty they hurt?
Draco felt his teeth grind. She didn't care? She'd fought for her life with all the ferocity of a manticore, spurred both himself and Anderson into action where nothing else could have - even if she'd done it with offensive, presumptive statements - but now she didn't care? In a basilisk's eye!
"You might not - but I don't care to have to watch you wither before my eyes or burst into flame, alright?" he growled, grabbing her arms and trying to pull her back to the divan. Furious, Ginny dug her heels into the faded blue carpeting.
"Will you stop acting like a child?" he yelled as Ginny tried yanking her arms out of his grip.
"Childish? This from the boy who hasn't even outgrown name calling?"
"Don't start with that, Weasley!" Draco whirled to look at her, loosening his grip momentarily.
It was all Ginny needed. She gave a mighty heave of her arms and pulled free, then launched herself at the bar. Draco, incensed at her refusal to listen, tackled her and pulled her down. They fell onto the floor. Hard.
"Get off of me!" she shrieked, her fists pummeling him as she fought to regain her breath. Draco grabbed her arms (after being hit several times in the head) and finally managed to pin them down.
"Will you stop screaming like an idiot and listen to me!" he roared in her face. Ginny's eyes were wide with anger and shock but eventually she became still. She was lightheaded and shaky from struggling with him, her already low reserves of energy almost utterly spent. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to calm down.
"Alright," she growled through clenched teeth, "why would they poison us?"
Draco was trying hard not to gasp and give away his own weakness. He relaxed his grip on her arms but didn't release her, choosing instead to try and catch his breath. Now that she was lying still he found himself at a bit of a loss. He knew he sounded paranoid but everything they'd been through so far said that their captor, whoever he was, was willing to go to great lengths to accomplish his goal. And they were practically starving. The last bit of food they'd eaten had been little more than scraps provided by the fugitive Black and that had been the previous evening. His stomach growled audibly as he lay there and Ginny raised her eyebrows in sardonic amusement.
"You were about to say?" Her lip curled slyly.
Draco resumed scowling. "It's a very common trick to lace food with either a truth potion or poison to obtain information. I'm betting whoever had us brought here didn't simply want to invite us to tea!"
It was Ginny's turn to scowl as she privately conceded the validity of his point. One bite or drink might have had her spilling her guts. Literally.
"I'm sorry," she muttered sullenly. "I was just…I'm just reallyhungry."
"I know," he replied, staring at her flushed face. Her eyes were bright; mesmerizing when he looked into them. Now that she wasn't fighting him, he felt a warm awareness of her slender form steal over him. Her lips were pale, but he'd made them pink and swollen when he'd kissed them in that drafty barn. The memory came out of nowhere, jarring the young Malfoy and pulling his awareness of her deeper. His eyes focused on her skin, pale and soft, and on the curves of her face. The line of her jaw melted perfectly into the curve of her cheekbones, and the light of the room seemed to caress her skin, giving it a velvety appeal.
Ginny knew he was staring at her and felt herself blush. She slowly raised her eyes to his face, feeling her heart start to pound. The way he was looking at her, as if he could draw her inside of himself, made goose-bumps ripple over her flesh. His weight no longer felt suffocating but enticing, suggestive of something sweet and forbidden. His pale hair felt silky beneath her questing hand, the sunlight forming a halo around his head. His eyes turned dark and the lids grew heavy as he came closer to her, and she felt her heart open to him. A warm touch on her face made her tremble.
"Why do you have to be so beautiful?" he whispered, sending shivers over her skin. His face was close, his breath upon her cheek. Ginny felt a strange, delicious heat spread through her limbs, her mind becoming intoxicated by his nearness and his masculine, earthy scent. She felt herself pulling him close, felt his sleek muscles ripple beneath his clothing, felt his hands wrap around the back of her neck, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.
Would he let her kiss him again?
They moved at the same moment, their lips fusing together with a passion that literally took Ginny's breath away. Her body came alive with strange, thrilling emotions and sensations. A raw and overwhelming heat that made her long for him in a way she only vaguely understood. His mouth was warm and sweet, the faint smell of his sweat teasing her nostrils and intensifying the sensations swimming through her.
What's happening to me? she wondered hazily. Part of her—a large part—didn't care. His beautiful hands were touching her and that was all that seemed to matter. Yet a small voice inside of her kept whispering in fear.
What am I feeling? Am I sick? What's wrong with me?
But another voice was speaking, a louder one.
Draco, I love you! I love you and I don't care what anyone thinks! Whatever you want, I'll give it to you! I love you…
No - what will Mum and Dad think? What will Ron do? And the twins, they'll be furious!
Before these thoughts could penetrate the heated fog in her brain, Draco yanked away from her. So fast it startled her.
"No," he whispered, backing away from her and looking frightened. "No…"
Ginny stared stupidly at him, confusion clouding her mind. Her body was still roiling with heated emotions and her heart was palpitating in way she was convinced wasn't healthy. Everything felt so unreal, as if she were standing in a dream, and any moment now something would change and take her to some new fantastic place. Draco wasn't even looking at her, was just staring and muttering that word over and over. He pushed himself off of her and she sat up quickly, staring at him and trying to find her voice.
"W-what's wrong?" she whispered, suddenly aware that she was trembling. He didn't reply, just stared into space with his hands clenched tightly. A surge of anger intruded next, increasing her confusion. He was shaking as well, she saw, but this only made her angrier. She wanted to say something, yell out her anger and confusion at him. But she could think of nothing to say other than I love you and this is how you treat me? And somehow she didn't think she had the strength to say those words aloud.
Draco had backed into the sofa and then climbed onto it, his expression dazed and his eyes distant. Ginny stared at him, trying to read what he was thinking without success. She slowly rose to her feet, trying to rein in her emotions and calm her hammering heart. With no thought she walked over to the bar, grabbed one of the wine bottles and drank deeply. Draco didn't try to stop her.
The cool liquid slid down her throat silkily, but made her empty stomach cramp slightly. Ginny grimaced, quickly lowering the bottle and gripping the bar with her other hand as the pain passed. Her physical discomfort threw her emotional pain into sharp relief, and Ginny's hand tightened about the neck of the bottle as she fought to keep angry tears from falling. There was only silence coming from Draco. She turned slightly to peer at him from beneath the cover of her hair and found him still staring blankly at the wall, his eyes still wide and fearful. Ginny's anger boiled over, and she flung the bottle at him. It narrowly missed his head, striking instead the surface of a low table and shattering, sending the wine splashing in all directions.
"Bastard!" she screamed as Draco leaped to his feet in shock.
"Ginny, what are you—what the hell's wrong with you?"
Dizziness gripped Ginny once again; the result of a large gulp of wine and no food. She swayed slightly and gripped the bar more firmly for support as she turned to confront him.
"Weak minded toadstool!" she spat. "Afraid you'll get disowned for kissing me?"
Draco's expression went from shocked to grim. "Maybe I am. Don't tell me you're not afraid of what would happen if any of your brothers found out. Or, Merlin forbid, your parents!"
Not the answer she'd wanted to hear. "They're not here now!"
"Oh come on, Weasley," he said impatiently. "This isn't…it won't go anywhere. How could it? We need to stop acting like idiots and face facts."
"Idiots?" she cried, feeling her heart squeeze painfully. "Is that what we're doing?"
Draco scowled. "Yes," he replied heavily, crossing his arms. "This…this is a fantasy. There's no way we could…dammit, use your head!"
Ginny stared at him, seeing a million pictures in her mind as she lost the battle against her tears. Draco smiling at her as she hid behind that tree, his eyes caressing her as she passed him in the corridors at Hogwarts, the night they laughed till they cried in the kitchens, the first time he kissed her in that awful barn, his fragile coldness when he stood with his housemates. Was he right, and she just being petulant in accusing him? Was it all just pretend until they were safe, and then back to normal? Would he stop looking at her, stop arguing with her? Would everything that had passed between them just evaporate as if it had never happened? How could it? They had shared life and death experiences, had shared danger and had come to depend on each other for survival, how could either one of them just sweep it under the rug and go back to the way it was? Would that actually happen?
He was a Malfoy with a reputation to uphold, of course it would happen! She swallowed passed the large lump in her throat.
"There's only one fact I want to know, Draco," she whispered through numb lips. "Do you feel anything for me, anything at all?"
Draco's face drained of blood, and he looked as though he'd just been slapped. "Feel?" he shook his head. "What do you—this isn't the time—"
"This is the time!" she yelled, her fists clenching. "You're here and I'm here. No mother and father, no Ron or Pansy, just us. You've been making me lose my mind for too long and I need to know if you feel the way I do before we're both killed and all this time we've had to say or do something real becomes wasted!"
Draco's mouth opened and closed, and he seemed on the verge of tears himself. Ginny didn't care if she'd hurt him, however. She was tired of guessing, tired of pretending everything she felt for him was a result of fear. She loved him, and the thought of him not loving her back was more than she could bear, but she had to know.
"How wonderfully sentimental!" a snide voice observed, making both Ginny and Draco nearly jump out of their skins. They turned to find a short figure in dark robes standing in the doorway.
It was a man's voice that had spoken from deep within the robe's hood, and his identity was kept secret by the white Death Eater's mask he wore. Ginny felt her flesh crawl at the sight. The last time she'd seen figures in those hateful masks had been at the Quidditch World Cup event, and it had been a terrible night.
"Who are you?" Draco demanded, his voice lowering an octave. Ginny's anger with him disappeared immediately.
"I must say, Miss Weasley, that you're almost as dramatic as your mother." The figure said pleasantly, ignoring Draco's question. "Oh, she put Arthur in some tight spots in her time."
"What do you want with us?" Ginny asked in what she hoped was a strong voice.
"But I'm inclined to agree with youMr. Malfoy," he continued, walking forward into the room. "If Lucius were here he'd be most displeased!"
Draco flushed angrily. Straightening to his full height, he glared contemptuously at the little man who sought to intimidate them.
"I know you. I'd recognize your whiney voice anywhere, especially after hearing you grovel to my father!"
The short man stopped advancing, his one visible hand clenching. "Watch your tongue, boy. I'm not in a mood for your nasty little attitude!" The little man straightened his back in an effort to look taller, or more imposing. Draco sneered.
"Funny, I never hear you say that to anyone else. Then again, you wouldn't dare, Wormtail!"
Ginny gasped aloud, her heart giving a great pound. Wormtail? The former Peter Pettigrew? Impossible!
Fast as lightening, Pettigrew whipped out his wand and stabbed the tip under Draco's chin. "Just like your father," he murmured. "Always yammering on about how important you are, and how no one would dare touch you." He pushed the wand tip more firmly into Draco's skin. "Say anything else like that and you'll see what I dare, little worm!"
Draco's jaw clenched in anger, but he said nothing. Pettigrew nodded after a moment.
"I knew you could be reasonable." He lowered his wand and removed his mask.
Ginny stared at the face of the Potters' betrayer. His face was chubby and pale, with pointed, rodent like features. He was glaring at Draco, his mouth puckered petulantly. Ginny wondered if he wished he could have struck Draco down, and felt anger bubble up inside again.
"What do you want with us?" she demanded.
"I want nothing with you, Miss Weasley." The little man replied darkly. "My agents tell me you were the bait that lured young Malfoy into my clutches, and for that I thank you. But you should have been discarded by now. Still, it's not too late." he added cheerily.
"Leave her alone!" Draco said immediately, moving closer to Ginny.
"It's your own fault for grabbing her, boy," Pettigrew turned to the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine. "I have to cover my tracks, you know. The Dark Lord hates messes."
Ginny felt her insides freeze. "What could You-Know-Who possibly want with Draco?" she asked unsteadily. "If he wanted anything at all from the Malfoy family, I'm sure all he would have to do is ask Lucius Malfoy."
Pettigrew casually searched the back of the bar until he found a glass, then took his time opening the bottle and pouring before answering Ginny.
"You're right, of course," he said finally. "If our Master wanted for anything at all, he need only snap his fingers-" here Pettigrew's fingers snapped loudly, "-and it is done."
"Then why all the subterfuge?" Draco demanded angrily. "Why send unknown minions to attack me - and why undercut my father's business holdings? Lack of money would make it difficult to serve him with any sort of ease. For Merlin's sake, my mother was attacked in our own house! I've been attacked, stabbed at, almost blown up, kidnapped - what in Merlin's name is going on here? Such methods are unnecessary, we are loyal to Him! What have we done to offend him that he's found it necessary to move against us with no warning?" Pettigrew started smiling while Draco ranted. A snide, secretive smile, and Ginny longed to slap him. He took a long sip from his wine glass before speaking.
"Yes, your family's been through a lot recently, haven't they?" He seemed extremely pleased with himself, and Ginny suddenly understood.
"You're the one doing it," she said softly. Pettigrew's smile grew wider.
"Very good, Miss Weasley! Yes, I am the one who's made Lucius's life so difficult. Not an easy task, I assure you. But rather satisfying."
"You…little…RAT!" Draco exploded, his clenched fists rising. Pettigrew waved his wand in front of him.
"Watch that temper of his, Miss Weasley. I'd hate for him to meet his end in my mother's favorite room."
Ginny placed a restraining hand on Draco's arm, her eyes never leaving the vile little man. "Why are you doing this?" she asked as calmly as she could. Pettigrew shook his head.
"Well, seeing as you know this Malfoy, I wouldn't have thought you needed to ask. But considering the scene I walked in on…" He gestured nonchalantly.
"Revenge for all the times he made you look bad in front of the Dark Lord?" Draco asked, smirking.
"All the times he's made himself seem as if he were our Lord's most indispensable servant!" Pettigrew shouted, pounding his fist on the bar and causing the teens to jump.
"I have anticipated your need, my Lord. Is there anything else I can do, my Lord? My life is yours, my Lord. Poppycock!" Pettigrew turned and threw his wine glass into the wall, shattering the delicate crystal and sending the amber liquid splashing over several framed paintings. Two of the occupants of one of them, the elderly couple, huffed indignantly and rushed to a painting further down the wall.
"That pompous pansy turned his back on our Lord the moment Harry destroyed his body! He is not loyal, he's an opportunist! Just like Snape!" Pettigrew stopped speaking suddenly, going still as a statue. When he spoke again his voice was no more than a hiss.
"That lanky, greasy haired, good for nothing traitor! How could he have been allowed back into the fold? He betrayed us, he's been sniveling up to Dumbledore all of these years. He still is! Snivellus," Pettigrew hissed, and Draco scowled at the obvious reference to his favorite professor. "That's all he is and ever was. Only good for tagging after others and telling tales on them, or whispering to the master that someone's cheating on his exam—" Pettigrew paused, his hand clenching into a fist. "Why does no one else see this?"
He walked out from behind the bar and began to pace in front of the teens. Both Ginny and Draco were afraid to speak, not knowing what the obviously mad Death Eater might do.
"And yet they are praised! They are rewarded and sent on important missions while I fester here, forgotten! Which of them has truly served our Lord? Has he forgotten all that I have done, what I have sacrificed?" He slammed his right hand into the bar and it splintered, a large chunk of wood and marble bouncing to the floor. Ginny flinched and gasped as she caught sight of his silver hand.
Harry had told her about it but seeing it brought chills to her being. It looked heavy somehow, its silvery sheen reflecting the sun's light coldly. He could probably punch a person's heart out with it, and Ginny felt her fear rise as she stared at the cruel appendage.
Still, her courage hadn't abandoned her yet. If anything, his tirade made her indignant at his hypocrisy.
"I would hardly call that a punishment," she said in a low voice, indicating his silver hand. "It's almost a weapon, in fact. And where did you go?" she continued grimly. "You speak of their betrayal, yet I don't recall that you were among the Dark Lord's most loyal servants as they were sentenced to Azkaban!"
"Be quiet!" Pettigrew shouted, his face once again growing petulant. "I wouldn't have been able to do him any service by being locked up." he added after a moment. Ginny frowned in disgust, not bothering to state that the same could be said of Malfoy Senior and the other Death Eaters who escaped.
"You act as if you know for certain that Professor Snape is a traitor." Draco spoke suddenly. "I find that hard to believe. Impossible actually, especially coming from a snivel—coming from someone who was suspected of betraying the Dark Lord in the first place." Pettigrew raised the wand threateningly again, but Draco stood his ground. "Any one of the Inner Circle could be accused of treachery at one time or another, and Snape has always played dangerously and walked a thin line." As he said this, his eyes darted to Ginny, and it seemed that he licked his thin lips nervously. "But if he's truly disloyal, the Dark Lord would know, and he would reward that disloyalty quite painfully."
"Oh certainly," Pettigrew scoffed. "He'll just waltz right into Hogwarts and punish Snape. Better yet, he'll send an underling to do it, one that has the power to be unnoticed and yet can still slip past Snape's paranoid defenses. No problem!"
"You forget the meetings," Draco smiled coldly. "The many meetings held where the opportunity to punish betrayal could be leveled with impunity." Again, his eyes darted nervously to Ginny. Pettigrew scoffed.
"Too much important information is shared at those meetings," he said dismissively. "I never said Snape wasn't useful."
"The Dark Lord doesn't suffer betrayers to live," Draco growled menacingly. "No matter their information or positions. They become examples!"
"Enough!" Pettigrew shouted, turning and grabbing his mask in a swift, angry movement. "I won't waste my breath on his pet student, I have too many plans to make! You two will stay here until I call for you!"
With a sweep of his robes he was gone, slamming the door loudly behind him. Draco followed, determined to punish the sniveling rat Pettigrew. But as soon as he touched the knob he yanked his hand back with a cry.
"What is it?" Ginny asked anxiously.
"It burned me," Draco replied, examining his hand for any injuries. A face suddenly appeared in the center of the door.
"That's just a warning," Pettigrew's visage said smugly. "The next time, I'll make sure to burn your hand off."
Ginny closed her eyes, trying to banish the image of Draco stuck to the door as his hand sizzled and popped. Draco simply glared at the image as it melted away, laughing at them.
They remained that way for several minutes, she looking at him, and Draco looking at the door. When they finally moved, Ginny found that he wouldn't look her in the eye.
"Are you all right?" she asked softly. Draco mumbled that he was, then walked over and flopped on an armchair. She tried again.
"We need to find a weakness in that door. I'm not so good at charm unraveling, how about you?"
Draco nodded. "I'm fairly certain I could make some headway," he replied, looking steadily at the door. The silence descended again.
"Professor Snape would be very pleased to hear you defended him so," she finally said, just to get it out. Draco's faced tightened momentarily, then he beamed a tense smile at her.
"Thanks," was all he said before turning away again.
She understood his nervousness. Snape was a member of the Order, something she knew for certain but, of course, he didn't. Obviously Snape's work took him closer to Voldemort than she'd imagined before. Close enough for him to be considered a member of the Inner Circle? She wondered, and not for the first time. Close enough to be called a double agent, perhaps? If this was so, how could they be certain that Snape was really on their side? Was his skill at Occlumancy sufficient to defeat the Dark Lord's subtle intrusions?
Draco's nervousness revealed his uncertainty about speaking of this in front of her. He was assuming her to be completely ignorant, of course, yet how could he? It seemed to Ginny as if it should be obvious that the Weasleys would be involved in any organized resistance. Or perhaps he simply thought her ignorant of the pertinent facts?
Never mind that, what did Draco himself know? She allowed her eyes to rest on him briefly as she considered all he'd just said, and his sidelong looks. How far had he gone into her enemy's lair? How involved was he with the Death Eaters? From the things he'd just said, it would seem he was very involved!
Or was he? He might be merely referencing the meetings that had taken place at Malfoy Manor. Perhaps he was simply stating facts that were pertinent, which backed his own claim that Snape was loyal. He couldn't possibly know of Snape's involvement with the Order, could he?
The thought made her feel sick, as sick as the thought that Draco might already be too far into Voldemort's clutches, perhaps even a Death Eater. She flicked her eyes over to him, noting the stiffness of his posture as he stared at the door. Then she stared at his arms, though they were at that moment covered by the sleeves of his robes. She tried hard to remember if she'd seen a mark, any mark, on either of his arms. Her chest loosened a bit when no such memory came to mind.
"What are you looking at?" Draco asked sharply, making her jump.
"Nothing," she stammered, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I was just…thinking."
Draco's expression visibly relaxed, but his posture did not. "About what?"
"About when in Merlin's name you're going to get to work on that door," she snapped. "It isn't going to open itself, you know!"
He answered her with a glare. "I'm thinking a window would be better. The door's obviously trapped, and he'll expect us to try and hit it."
Ginny nodded and stood resolutely. "Let's get on with it then," she said grimly. "I'm thinking this little toad's ego has made him forget who he's dealing with."
"Why would he know?" Draco asked wryly, smiling in spite of himself as he also rose.
"Then he paid no attention to his hired thugs' tales of us," she tossed her hair and waved carelessly. "Woe to him!"
Draco shook his head and chuckled. He had to admire her spirit. A well known and not insignificant Death Eater had them in his grasp -- in his apparent stronghold -- and she wouldn't back down from the fight. Indeed, the set of her shoulders alone reassured Draco that their escape would be even more interesting than their capture.
With a nod he started for the nearest window.