Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series. If I did, Draco would have ended up with Ginny and nobody could deny their amazingness!

Well, here I am yet again. I took a small break from writing fanfic in hopes of rejuvenating my plot bunnies and letting them rest. But, like the famous person whom I have no idea said, "No rest for the weary!" They didn't get a very long break and already I'm eager to get writing again. So, that's what brings me here. I promise right now to put everything I have into this story. Let's hope it's the best yet!

Without further ado my lovelies…

Chapter 1

Draco POV

The night was cold and dark, the air filled with the acrid stench of the smoke from many burning homes and the roads were stained with blood. Everything was tinted green from the glimmering Dark Mark in the sky, a sign to all that many had died this night. Even now, I was wandering among those dead, looking for survivors. It had been a vicious battle, like most nowadays, and I'd seen too much death. The Order of the Phoenix had fought every step of the way, trying their hardest to drive those who served the Dark Lord from the small village recently taken over. They'd almost succeeded too, till my father joined the fray.

Lucius Malfoy was known for his cruel sense of humor, his cunning knowledge of dark magic and his willing use of that knowledge. Few could face him in battle. None fighting stood a chance. He easily cut those who opposed him down. The battle was over hardly moments after he arrived. The band of rebels had been forced to flee for their lives, leaving their dead behind. In the deepest part of my cold heart I felt bad for them, those who had been forced to leave loved ones. I had felt much the same when my father had killed my mother only the year before.

But those emotions were not safe and I'd learned long ago not to feel them. So I pushed them away, hardening my mask of resolve as I continued slowly through the streets of the silent village, looking for fallen comrades. The shadow of black on black caught my attention and I headed towards the figure lying on the ground, unmoving. With my foot I rolled the person over, not surprised to see blood leaking from under the Death Eater mask. He was dead. Silently I moved on.

I'd not gone another ten paces before I heard the voice of Walden Macnair from a few blocks away. "We got a live one here, boys!" he shouted, his voice sounding much too gleeful for the current atmosphere.

I almost felt sorry for the poor soul that Macnair stumbled across, for death was surely better that what was to come, what the poor survivor would soon endure. My feet quickly found their way towards where I could hear the voices of Macnair and the other two out looking for injured were now talking, clustered together a few blocks away.

"She's a looker," I heard one of them say, his voice lustfully gleeful. I cringed inside.

The third man grunted his appreciation. "She'll make a fine new whore," he muttered in a menacing voice.

I just rolled my eyes. Men like them would have their way with anything that moved. They disgusted me. As I walked around the last abandoned house on the corner and came into view, I saw small figure of a woman, hardly more than a girl really, lying unconscious on the ground with the three vile men surrounding her. Hardly sparing the girl a glance, I turned away. "Leave her for now and keep looking for our men," I ordered them, giving them each a hard look.

The three of them each looked like they wanted to protest my order but none did. In the Dark Lord's eyes, I was ranked under only my father and my aunt. The other's had to obey my commands, no matter how much younger than they I was. I hadn't been happy about this position granted me until now, for it would get the men away from the girl. She'd have to be taken back to my father, I knew that. But I'd do what I could to keep them off of her until then. If they had their way, they'd be taking turns with her right now, unconscious or not.

Grumbling under their breaths, the three men stalked away and got back to the task set them. I rolled my eyes, tired of the idiots I had to work with. I hadn't been happy when Father sent me out with them to look though the dead. I hated this task more than the others. I hated seeing death everywhere I went. Some of it was at my hand and the thought sickened me. I didn't let these feeling show though as I bent down over the girl on the street.

In the dark, illuminated solely by the mark in the sky, her hair was indistinguishable in color, looking just a dark color, possibly brown. She was lying on her side and I hadn't a clear view of her face. I almost didn't want to roll her over, or fear I'd know who she was. It was much easier to hand over the prisoners to my father if I felt no connection to them. Each time I'd had to hand over an old schoolmate though, no matter how much I'd detested them in school, it always left a sour taste in my mouth and discontentment in my heart. I'd come to hate this war and my part in. But there was no other way.

Gently as I could, for fear of her waking, I felt for a pulse without looking at her face. Her heartbeat was slow and steady but her breathing was weak and labored. Each breath she took sounded pained, even in unconsciousness, and each was harder than the last. If I were to leave her much longer, she likely would succumb to fate. Part of me thought I should; spare her the agony of what was to come. But Father wouldn't be pleased if I did so.

Heaving a sigh, I braced myself inwardly and rolled her over, all the while keeping my cold mask in place for the chance my comrades were watching from a distance. The face that greeted mine was a familiar one, soft and round and filled with innocence of her young age and inexperience. She wasn't more than seventeen, legal to fight but still so young. I shook my head as I looked down at the girl who was undoubtedly Ginny Weasley and let out a sigh.

Gathering her in my arms, I called to the others I knew were lurking nearby, waiting for their chance to have her before she was taken to my father. "Search the area. Leave the dead and bring the wounded back to be healed. Any prisoners go straight to my father," I commanded, knowing the young Weasley wouldn't last much longer unless tended to soon.

Without waiting for their reply, I turned on the spot and headed home. I apparated straight into the main hall where I was greeted by several trepidatious house elves. "Young Master Malfoy," one said as the three of them bowed to me.

Ignoring their greeting, I started issuing orders. "Tell father I have a prisoner for him to see and that she needs immediate care if she's to live through the night," I commanded, heading down the hall and off to a corridor.

Knowing where all the prisoners were taken, the elves disappeared to do what I told and gather what they needed to take care of the girl in my arms. I dismissed them from my mind and I headed down the long hall before finally coming to a door many dreaded. Trying not to think too much about what I was doing to the Weasley girl by taking her here, I headed down the steps into the dungeons.

I tried to ignore the sounds of those crying, screaming and weeping as I descended into the depths filled with cells for the prisoners. At my footsteps, I heard many inside the cells cry harder. They knew to expect pain if someone entered the cell. Many of these people died simply when my father was mad and wanted to vent his anger, some when he wanted to vent his lust.

I headed to one of the back cells, some of the only open. They were reserved for those needing to be healed before they were used for anything. Father liked to keep them weak, but with enough strength to survive most thrown at them. They were healed only when close to death. For them though, death was the only escape from this place.

Kicking the unlocked door open, I lay the girl on the small cot in the cell. Just as I turned to leave, not wanting to see what would happen after she was healed, I heard my Father's footsteps down the corridor and heading my way. I sighed softly, knowing there was no going away now. Instead, I did my best to look relaxed as I leaned against the wall.

"Draco," my father greeted as he walked into the cell, clapping me on the shoulder. His eyes fell on the girl on the cot. "You did good."

Putting on the façade I'd perfected many years ago, I smirked up at my father. "I know," I said, sounding smug while feeling anything but.

"Who is she? Blood status? Has it been found out yet?" he demanded, his gaze wandering over the young woman before him.

"Nobody has been sent to do so yet," I told him. "I only just arrived with her. But to do so isn't necessary. Her name is Ginny Weasley and as you know, the whole traitorous family is pureblood."

"Her age?" he asked without looking up from the Weasley girl.

"Seventeen," I answered without hesitation. "She was hardly old enough to fight."

"A good thing she did," Father said, his voice sounding maliciously happy. "She came to us because of it. Have you sent for house elves to tend her wounds? She won't last much longer if not and I've got plans for this one."

I wondered what his plans were but didn't not question. "Yes," I said instead, answering his question. "I sent one to get you and two others to come and heal her. They're waiting till you allow them in though."

"Ah," he said, turning from the girl and snapping his fingers. Two elves rushed in, cowering at his feet. "Heal her," he ordered the scared elves, which quickly leapt to do his bidding. "Come Draco, we must talk privately." He motioned me to follow him and I did so without question. It was best never to question the man that was my father. The smallest thing set off his tempter and, while I knew he wouldn't kill me, I didn't doubt he'd inflict pain. He'd done so before.

I followed in him silence upstairs and through the many hallways leading to his privet study. Entering the room after him, I shut the door and let myself relax causally into one of the chairs in front of the desk, giving off my usual air of boredom and smugness. I stayed silent though as Father made himself comfortable on the other side of the desk.

"Well, the Dark Lord has come to a decision that he will use to turn the war for the better, not like the rebels will last much longer anyway. They've lost many and are hardly able to fight anymore, now that Potter and his foolish friends are gone," he said, rolling his eyes and twirling his wand in his long, white fingers. The trio that had caused so much trouble had disappeared so long ago that, according to spies, even their friends and family had even up hope. Word had been heard that they'd died, but those rumors had been proved neither true nor false. The Dark Lord was turning his attention to other things now, such as building the new world order that he would be the head of.

I leaned forward, interested to hear what he had to say. Maybe if the war turned, I'd have to fight less and kill less. "What has he decided?" I asked, knowing it was a safe question and that Father wanted me to ask it.

"He has decided that all pureblood witches, no matter the side they choose or how much they protest, will be married to the pureblood wizards in his ranks. The Dark Lord wishes to raise a new and purer generation, one that will grow up to admire, fear and follow him," he said, sounding proud and regal as he told me the grand plans that had been formed. "We will control the future of the wizarding world. Only pureblood babies will be born."

"That sounds like a sound plan," I agreed, nodding my agreement. This would still the war. No matter how much they hated those they were forced to marry, the rebel pureblood witches would obey if only to protect their children they'd be forced to have.

"Yes, and even now the prisoners in every home are being checked over for blood status. Pureblood witches will be given to those of purest blood in the Dark Lord's ranks that are loyal enough to deserve them," he told me, leaning back in his chair in contentment, having had a good days work. "You and I both fall under this category of men of course. It is up to me who to take and who to give you."

I stayed quiet, thinking that over and wondering how long it would be before I was forced to marry a woman who hated me, or worse, one who was on the Dark Lord's side. If my father chose me to marry Pansy Parkinson, I wasn't sure what I'd do. I'd take outright hated to her obnoxious presence. But, luckily for me, most of the pureblood witches on our side were already married now and others soon following suit, her included and likely to Crabb. They were a good match and it would save me many headaches.

"I was thinking of taking the Weasley girl as my wife," Father said, pulling me from my thought. Startled, I simply looked at him. "Blood traitor or not, she is young and genetically likely to be able to bare children. Not only that, she's easy on the eyes and would be a warm welcome to my bed." He paused looking at me. "But you've done well, my son, and I will give her to you. You will take her as your wife. The Dark Lord will be pleased with the match and I'm quite sure you'll be able to handle her once she awakens. Use whatever force necessary but do not kill her. The Dark Lord wants children born."

I was shocked but did not let it show. Instead I nodded to my father, knowing arguing would be pointless and end in pain. In a way though, I was almost relieved at his decision. I knew she would have suffered greatly under my father's hand. "Thank you, Father," I said, giving him a smirk. "You are right to say she's easy on the eyes, minus the hideous red hair at least. I will be glad to have her, whether she likes it or not. The Dark Lord will get the children he desires."

"Be sure to show her who is lord of the marriage," he told me, leaning forward in his chair. "She will protest it and you must show her, her proper place. Should she try to escape and you must punish her. Should she disobey you, you must show her why she should not do so again. But, and though I know it will be tempting, you must not kill the little wench. The Dark Lord will not be pleased at the waste of pure blood, no matter how vile the person with it is. But, I know you will do well."

I nodded my assent. "When will the marriage take place?" I asked, wishing the conversation to end soon so I could get to the privacy of my own quarters to think over the turn of events.

"As soon as she is well and learned her proper place," Father said with a wicked grin on his face. "She will be healed before you're wedding though, fear not for appearances. And none will touch her innocence until you're wedding. I will forbid it."

Internally, I sighed at his plans. She wouldn't be raped at least but my father knew many other forms of torture to subdue her. I should have known Father would find an excuse to torture her first. He enjoyed the sadistic pleasure too much and it sickened me. But I didn't let on. "I want her by the end of the week," I said, knowing he would find my request as nothing more than eagerness to get a pretty girl in my bed.

"She will be you're by the end of the week," he agreed, standing up from his chair. Standing too, I was relieved when he dismissed me from his study and I could escape to my quarters, all the while head held high and pride I didn't feel in my step.

Well, kind of dark, no? I thought I'd try a new twist on things. I haven't done a fanfic like this before and I'm eager to find out how it'll go. What did you guys think of it? Was it okay? What did you like, what didn't you like? I need feedback, especially this early in the story. Your suggestions will shape the future of the story!

Remember, a happy author writes better and faster! So review and make me happy!