When The Last One Falls, a harry potter fanfic

This is a one-shot that I've been working on for a little while. And for those of you who have been reading my other story, don't worry, I have the last chapter done and am going to post it later today.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter at all.

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When The Last One Falls

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September 9th

Three days.

Three long, hard days.

It'd been three days since I'd seen the sky, since I'd had food, since I'd known freedom, since I'd seen her.

I closed my eyes against the pain. But this pain had nothing to do with shackles keeping me pinned to the ground or the hard stone digging into my back. This pain went much deeper than the roiling in my stomach, the burn for water in my throat. This pain no magic could cure.

This pain tore at my heart more than any curse they threw at me because I knew that I'd never be free again. I would no longer get to hold her in arms and kiss her until we both felt dizzy from the fire between us. I would never again see her face light up when she laughed, or wipe away the tears as she cried. I would never get to say the three words that she'd longed to hear from me for so long; I could never say them because I was too scared.

But now it was too late. I'd wasted my time, took her for granted. In a way, this was all her fault. I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for her. But I never could deny her anything once she asked it of me.

It's funny how life can turn out like this. It's funny that just when I think that everything will turn out fine, it all comes crashing down around my head. It's funny how just when I decided what I wanted, it was all ripped away from me. It's funny how I can never have a happy life even though for the past year, all I've known is pleasure. It's funny that no matter how hard I try or how much I want it, I'll never be the man I wish I could be.

Yes, it's quite funny how life can turn out like this.

The only problem is…I'm not laughing.

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September 13th

I cracked my eyes open with the hope that I had every time I woke up: that this was all a nightmare and I'd be back in my own bed. But I wasn't that lucky. I sighed when I realized that this was real. Lacking the strength to even get up, I let my head continue to rest against the cobblestone floor, my cheek pressing against the cool stone.

Still they had not fed me. A few times they came in and questioned me, but each time I gave them no answer. My obstinacy would probably get me into severe trouble soon, for I doubted that he'd have much patience with me, but I refused to bring anyone else down with me. They'd have to kill me before I gave anything away…gave her away.

No, I didn't care how much torture they put me through. I'd keep my silence.

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September 14th

Today the door to my cell opened. At first I thought it was just another messenger, but it wasn't. This man, if a man he really was, said nothing. He opened the door no farther than he needed to and tossed to me a piece of the stalest bread I'd ever laid eyes on.

For over a week I had seen no trace of food or water and I thought that my organs were wasting away; they probably were. The savagery with which I tore into that piece of bread frightened me, but I was so deliriously happily that I paid little attention to it. My throat constricted as I swallowed that bread in all of two bites. I longed for water, but I suppose I should've been thankful they were even feeding me.

And if they were feeding me, then they must want me alive. I wished I was dead. But at the same time I wanted to live. The ironic thing is that I wanted to both live and die for the same reason.

That reason being that I wanted to see Voldemort fail.

If I lived, I could continue to defy him and his messengers, show them that I was stronger than they, that I would not cave in. Dying would, however, make for sure and for certain that I wouldn't give anything away no matter how strong my resolve is.

So as I lay in my cell, my body slightly stronger because of the brief nourishment it had received, I asked myself…Which would be better? Living or dying? At times I just wanted to die. Then I would be free from these chains that bind me. I would no longer have to suffer in my mind, going crazy because I didn't know if she was alright, if she was safe. I would be able to look down on her from Heaven and protect her, guide her through her life. I would be able to see her again. And even if I couldn't speak to her or touch her, just seeing her would be enough.

Yet while I was living, I couldn't help but hold onto the hope that rescue would come or that I would find a way to escape. In my heart I knew there was no escape, but the roaring in my mind these days was so loud that sometimes I couldn't hear that voice in my heart, the one telling me that there was no way out.

For there is no redemption for someone who has done what I have done.

There's no going back for a Death Eater.

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September 28th

I winced as the whip lashed towards me, wrapping around my torso with lightning-like precision. Bracing myself for what I knew was about to come, I had to bite my lip to stop from screaming out when the barbs on the end of the whip ripped pieces of my skin away from my ribs, letting free a fresh torrent of blood. My eyes rolled back, staring up at the ceiling.

"One more," said a deathly voice from the corner, and again the whip came towards me. Around my wrist were chains attached to the ceiling. My body dangled in the middle of my cell, the position I'd been in for the past three days. By now most of the blood had drained from my hands and arms, creating a tingling numbness.

But even still I could feel the pain.

I closed my eyes, willing the tears to disappear before they saw them. If they did, then they'd know that they were getting to me. I had yet to say a word, even from the day they'd brought me here. At first they'd tried to coax an answer out of me and when that hadn't worked, they'd tried starving me. Over the days, when they'd seen the extent of my stubbornness, they'd resorted to torture, both through magic and human hands. This was the second day they'd used the whip, doubling the amount from yesterday.

"Stop," the voice commanded. I let out a shaky breath, still unwilling to say a thing even though I wanted to scream from the agony I was feeling.

"Are you ready to speak now?" the voice asked, stepping from behind me until he was looking up into my face. I refused to look at him. I just stared straight ahead of me. He shook his head. "Such stubbornness. It is unheard of. But then, given who you are and how you were raised, I suppose I should expect nothing less."

As his eyes traveled over my torn body, he sighed, pleased with what they'd done. He glanced behind me to the man with the whip and nodded. "That is enough for today." The man behind me grunted and came forward, nodded, and left the room, wrapping the bloodied whip around his arm.

The first man looked at me again. "I will see you tomorrow. If you have learned nothing from these lessons, you only have yourself to blame." He turned towards the iron bars that served as my cell door. The clink of the lock sliding into place after him seemed to ring through my ears. He looked at me through the bars.

"Don't go anywhere," he said icily, looking at me with mocking eyes.

Then he turned and walked away, his black robe billowing behind him.

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October 1st

My toe twitched.

Wearily I looked down, the slight movement causing another unpleasant tingle to shoot through my shoulder and up my arm, still hanging from the ceiling. I saw a drop of blood hanging precariously from my big toe. I counted the seconds to see how long it would hold on.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

Then my toe involuntarily twitched again and the blood fell to the floor. Sighing weakly, I let my chin rest against my chest, wishing they would let me down. I'd been hanging from the ceiling for nearly a week now. Each day they came in, sometimes with the whip, sometimes with other tools. They'd already been here today. I had received sixteen lashes, more than they'd ever given me. I had blacked out soon after, the last thing in my eyes the sight of the two of them leaving.

When I'd woken up, I was alone.

I was always alone.

Even when they were with me, I was alone.

There was nobody to save me from this, no silver lining, no miracle, no happy ending.

The only things that kept me going were thoughts of her. When it all seemed too much to bear, a picture of her would appear in my mind and I would know that everything I'd been through was all worth it. Every ounce of pain was worth it if it meant that my silence kept her safe, kept them all safe.

My secret was out by now. Voldemort knew what I had been doing for the past year, knew that I'd never truly belonged to him. I wondered why he hadn't killed me as soon as he had found out; I'd seen him murder others for betrayal. I suppose the fact that he hadn't killed me yet was a bad sign. If I thought that he was showing me mercy, then I was a fool. The Dark Lord knew not the meaning of mercy.

Especially not when it came to the likes of me.

I heard footsteps approaching and I slowly raised my head. It was too soon for them to be coming back; they had only just left. For a moment I thought that I'd passed out again and days had passed.

The steps stopped outside my cell and I heard the familiar sound of the lock being released. My eyes focused on the sight of the man who had caused me so much grief over the past weeks, the man whose voice I had come to loathe.

Without saying a word, he raised his wand. I thought briefly that he was going to kill me, but it wasn't the killing curse that he said. Whatever it was, though, it released the chains from my wrists.

I dropped to the floor and landed in a helpless heap. I had fallen on my side, my bloodied and bruised side. Despite myself, I shivered as my bare stomach touched the cold stone. They had long-since stripped me of my shirt; all that remained on me were my dirty pants.

Mustering what strength I had left, I rolled onto my back, relieving some of the pressure on my side. One of my arms was draped across my stomach. And then, a strange burning worse than anything I'd ever felt started flooding through my arms. I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering what foul curse he was using on me now. Then I realized that what I felt was no curse, but my own blood as it rushed back into my arms.

I moved my head slightly so that I could look at the man. I let every bit of hate that I was feeling show in that one look, the first bit of emotion I let them see since I had arrived.

He looked back with equal disdain.

"Don't die just yet, Draco Malfoy," he hissed.

Then I knew no more.

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October 3rd

"Ginny," I said, looking into her watery brown eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's Harry," she said quietly, her voice shaking. My eyes narrowed.

"Potter? What about him?"

"He's gone," she whispered, looking dazed.

"What are you talking about, Ginny?" I asked. "He was at Grimauld, wasn't he?"

Ginny shook her head. "He came over to The Burrow two days ago. We – we told him about Hermione."

I swallowed as I saw the fresh tears come to Ginny's eyes. She sniffed and forced them back, looking straight into my eyes. "He just about went crazy when he found out, stormed out of the house and off to Azkaban with some crazy idea that he'd kill Voldemort."

My heart started pounding. Potter had run off? As much as I hated the prat, I didn't want him dead. He was the only person who could kill Voldemort and in turn give me a future.

"Well," I began slowly, "what are you trying to say?"

"Lupin and a few others tried going after him, but – but he stunned them and went by himself. He didn't want anybody else to die," Ginny said. "And he hasn't come back. Sn-Snape said…" she trailed off, no longer able to continue. I pulled her into a hug, smoothing her hair away from her face. I couldn't stand seeing her like this. Ginny was always so strong; she was the person who kept me sane, who kept me agreeing to Dumbledore's plan even though I loathed it and the old fool something fierce.

"Ssh, ssh," I said, trying to calm her down. "What did Snape say?"Ginny couldn't say anything because she was crying so hard. She just shook her head. "Ginny, what did Snape say?" I asked more forcefully.

"He – he said that…" she swallowed, trying to get a hold of herself. "Snape said that Harry burst into the room that they'd been meeting in, right in front of dozens of Death Eaters, and tried to kill Voldemort on the spot. Harry was stunned before one curse even left his mouth." She looked up at me shakily.

"And?" I asked, motioning for her to continue.

"He said lots of them wanted to kill Harry right away, but Snape said he managed to convince Voldemort to wait. They have him in a cell, locked up. Snape said that Voldemort wanted a few answers first, but that he was going to kill him within a few days, at the very most."

I closed my eyes as I envisioned my future disappearing along with Potter's life. If he died, then I had no chance. "So what do you want me to do?" I asked, opening my eyes. She looked fearfully at me.

"Go after him," she said softly. "You can get in there. Get him out. If Harry dies –"

"Then the prophecy is fulfilled," I finished for her. She nodded grimly. "If Harry dies, then we all die." I said this more to myself than to her. I gazed at her, wondering what life would be like without her. There was a chance that if Harry Potter died, I would still live. If Voldemort never found out about who I really was, I could live. But what about Ginny? She would die along with the rest of the Order. I wouldn't allow it. Life without Ginny was no life at all. It would be better to be dead.

"Please," she began, taking my silence as hesitation. "Even Snape can't do this one. You're the only one that can do it."

"I will," I said at once, wiping away her tears in an act of reassurance. "Don't worry, Ginny, I'll get him back."

Her chin trembled as she looked at me. In that moment I knew for sure that I loved her. I'd known for a while now, but I hadn't told her. Every time we parted, she told me she loved me, but I haven't yet told her. The only thing I can think of that's holding me back is my own fear, fear that I'll somehow fail her. Even after all we've been through, I'm still scared of letting her down.

"I love you, Draco Malfoy," she said, gazing at me passionately. I knew she wanted me to say it back to her, but I just couldn't. So I did what I always did when I came to this situation.

I kissed her.

"Ginny," I mumbled, my head moving ever so slightly. The rough stone pushing against my cheek started to pull me out my dream, the dream I had every night, the one where I relived my last moment with the love of my life.

"Ginny," I whispered, my eyes slowly opening to reveal my cell.

"Ginny…Ginny…" a new voice contemplated, and I jerked my eyes to the door.

He was here again. He was leaning against the bars, looking in at me with a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction on his face. "Ginny…" he repeated delightedly, quietly.

My heart leapt into my throat as I realized what I had just done. I had just given away a name. For the past month I had said not a word to them for the sole purpose of keeping Ginny and the others safe, and now I had just ruined it all.

"Who's Ginny?" he asked, an evil grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "A friend? A lover, perhaps?" He watched for my reaction.

For a moment I kept my face neutral, not wanting to get any deeper than I already was. But then I did something I hadn't done for nearly a month.

"She's nobody," I croaked, my voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Oh, she must be somebody very important, then," the man nodded, pretending to be serious. I felt shivers travel down my neck, not liking the way he was grinning. I had never seen him smile before. I decided that I liked it better when he was frowning at me. At least that was familiar. But this…this could bring nothing good. And it was all my fault.

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October 7th

I have never felt worry like this before. For four long days, I have sat in my cell wishing that I was dead. If I had been dead, I would not have revealed Ginny's name. And now they know she is somebody important to me. I can tell.

The reason I can tell is because they have stopped torturing me for information. Every day they used to come to me and try to get me to talk. Now they have stopped coming. I am fed one meal a day – bowl of mess they must call soup.

If I had thought that waiting for them to finally kill me was bad, this was worse. Every minute of every day my mind kept torturing me, feeling the need to pick up where they left off. I might as well have signed a warrant for Ginny's death. It wouldn't take them long at all to figure out who Ginny was. That wasn't a common name. And when they did figure out who she was…it was all over. For both her and myself, because if she's dead, then I know I don't want to live.

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October 12th

BANG!

I wearily cracked an eye open, wondering what was making such a noise.

BANG!

This time it was louder, closer. It sounded like somebody was trying to kick a door down. Then…

STOMP!

Someone was coming down the stairs. I sat up and pushed myself to the back of my cell, trying to be invisible. My heart started pounding so loud I thought it was making as much noise as whoever was coming down the stairs.

Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump, went my heart.

STOMP!

They were getting closer.

Thump thump, thump thump.

STOMP!

STOMP!

Thump thump, thump thump.

STOMP!

Thud.

I felt a sense of curiosity, the kind felt when something terrible is about to happen. Even though I hoped nothing was about to happen to me, I felt a burning desire to know what was going on.

"Get up, you stupid wench!"

There was a whimper of pain.

"I said get up!"

Next I heard a vicious whump! followed by a cry of pain.

"You think that hurt?" sneered the voice. "If you don't get up, I'll drag you down under flight of stairs just to show you the meaning of pain. Now get up!"

From where my cell was, I couldn't see what was going on. I had by now abandoned my position in the back of my cell and moved to the front, each of my hands wrapped around a black iron bar.

Then I heard the feet moving closer and closer to my cell. Finally, two people turned around the corner and into my sight. My heart seemed to stop dead.

A man, one I had not seen before, draped in a black robe, had his fist clenched in flaming red hair, dragging a half-standing girl behind him.

No, no, no, I thought, my eyes widening in horror at what I saw.

Not her. Please, God, not her.

Before my eyes, the one girl I loved was dragged by my cell. She didn't see me. I didn't want her to. She was wrestling with the man's hand in her hair, trying to loosen it. She was trying to stand, trying…but failing. Each time she got anywhere near a balanced position, the man yanked her viciously, sending her crashing to her knees, only to be dragged further on.

No longer curious but feeling a dead feeling inside of myself, I shrank to the back of my cell and wrapped my arms around my knees, staring ahead blankly. To describe the anguish I was feeling would be impossible. To say it felt as if my insides had frozen would be inadequate. I had done this to her. I had brought about her capture. If I hadn't been so careless, she would still be safe.

Then all my anger at myself disappeared, replaced by a small kernel of worry. It grew and blossomed until I was in a state of raw panic. My eyes widened as I thought of what she was going through right now. I could stand pain; it was how I was brought up. But she came from a family of love and happiness. She had only experienced true pain a few times in her life. She would never make it out of here.

I pushed myself to my knees and crawled to the front of my cell again so I could look out, try to get some glimpse of her. But it was too late.

They had taken her away.

She was gone.

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October 13th

The next morning as I was hunched in the darkest corner of my cell, they came to me again. This time though, they took me out.

I was curious, if my situation was allowed curiosity at all. For the time I'd been here, I had seen no room other than my cell and no people other than the man who fed me, the man who whipped me, and the man that, in my opinion, controlled them both; the latter two were the ones who came to me today. I had never seen either of them before I had been brought here, but I figured that they worked for Voldemort. Most people did these days.

And so, as they led me out of my cell, my arms held tightly behind my back, one man holding on to each of my elbows, I looked about me. I knew that I was in the prison and therefore I had an idea of what was most likely around. However, during my visits here working both as spy for the Order and when I came to rescue Potter, I had not come down to these cells, the ones underground that Voldemort used solely to punish those he hated most.

I guess betraying him and his followers was as good as reserving myself a cell.

And yet as they led me up the steps that I had heard Ginny being thrown down the previous night, I was curious. Call it human nature, my inner beast sniffing eagerly at the winds of change; make of it what you will. All I know is that as I walked through that door, my heart tweaked with something I hadn't felt in over a month.

Beyond that door was a light that assaulted my eyes so fiercely that I was forced to shut them against the pain it brought; as if you could shut your eyes against something that striking, though. I had been kept where the sun could not venture for so long. Now above ground, I had a tough time seeing. I was aware of the two men on my either side, but I couldn't tell if there were others in this room, an antechamber of sorts.

As I squinted through my pained eyes, I saw a small room that could be no larger than my cell was. There was a door across from the one I'd just come through. On my right was a window through which I could not gaze; the resplendent way in which the light permeated the room was too much for my eyes which were now accustomed to darkness. I turned the other way and was faced with a wall bare except for a scrimpy mirror that was hanging haphazardly.

What I saw in that mirror came as no shock to me, and in the few seconds I had to scrutinize my new appearance before I was yanked with unceremonious boorishness through the door before me, I saw concaved cheeks mocking what was left of my high, dignified cheekbones and dark eyes empty now of their once-elegant glow. My skin, which had always been pale by nature, had by now faded to a sickly white and my entire body was so thinned that the word "reedy" came to mind, something so repugnant that a bitter taste seemed to appear inside my mouth. Even as I stumbled into the next room, I mourned for the loss of my sturdy frame.

The next room was blessedly darker than the previous room and I was able to look about with my eyes opened normally. When I saw who was in the room, sitting in a chair leisurely, I longed to be back in my cell, but I forced an indifferent attitude on myself, just as I always did when I was around this person.

"Draco," sighed Lord Voldemort with pleasure. "How nice of you to join me."

I bit back a scowl at the way he greeted me as if I had a choice in the matter. Instead I said, failing to hide a bare hint of sarcasm, "Indeed."

"Mortum has informed me that you said your first word five days ago," stated Voldemort, an eerie smile playing about his thin lips. "He said you mentioned the name 'Ginny.'"

"I don't know any Ginny," I explained as calmly as I could. Inside I was quaking.

"I think you do," Voldemort mockingly declared. "I think you know exactly who she is."

"She's nobody," I insisted. "I don't know any Ginny."

Voldemort rose from his seat and strode towards me. The two on my sides tightened their grips on my arms as if they thought I'd bolt. I stood my ground though. When Voldemort was standing a few feet away from me, towering above me so that I felt like some insignificant child, he opened his mouth and breathed, "You know exactly who she is."

I said nothing. Really, what else was I supposed to say? Silence would be safer.

"It is true that you worked for the Order the entire time," Voldemort continued, his voice shaking, betraying the rage he was experiencing. "You demonstrated that much when you broke Potter out of here. Too bad he got away and you didn't," he sneered, chuckling at me disdainfully. "I never thought you'd be so sloppy in your work to get caught." Here Voldemort paused satisfactorily, apparently thinking that I was condemning myself in his delay of speech.

"And," he continued after a considerable amount of time, "in this precious Order of yours, there is one Ginny Weasley that is very much involved in it. Now, Ginevra is not a common name," Voldemort said condescendingly. "Neither is Draco. Those names do not simply walk about with any such person, and you would not mutter that name in your sleep if it did not belong to someone who meant something to you. Do you agree?"

Again I said nothing, preferring to stare at him stonily. Perhaps his question was rhetorical, for he didn't seem put off by my reticence.

"And even though you have decided that silence will be your end," Voldemort hissed, his red eyes seeming to penetrate into mine, "I decided that I would give you one last chance. After all, I am not completely lacking in mercy," he said, his lip curling. "But this time, I will tempt you with your precious Ginny. Maybe she will get you to talk."

"I told you," my voice cracking with both fear for Ginny and anger at this man, "she means nothing to me."

Voldemort smiled. "Bring her in," he barked, not taking his eyes off of me. The two men on my side strengthened their grip even further. Mortum, I now knew to be his name, was the one that controlled the others; though by himself he might seem as evil as my father or even as powerful as Voldemort, in the presence of the Dark Lord, he appeared no braver than he probably really was.

But my attention was focused not on the men holding me steady, but on another door in the drab room which opened, admitting two people. The larger of the two I recognized with a venomous burst of anger to be none other than Lucius Malfoy, my father.

The smaller person I knew to be Ginny, even though a black sack was hiding her face, tied loosely around the neck. Her arms were pinned behind her back by one of Lucius's hands; his other was digging into Ginny's back, pushing her further into the room.

A flurry of emotions hit me then, almost knocking my feet from under me. I wanted to scream at Ginny in anger, wanted to ask her how she could be so stupid to get caught. I wanted to go and hit my father for the way he was mercilessly pinching her arms; I could see his nails digging into her fair skin. Most of all, though, I wanted to wrap Ginny in my arms and whisper comforting nothings in her ears, erase the fear and pain that she was undoubtedly feeling. I also wanted to kiss her so slowly and passionately that she felt every ounce of love I had for her…even if I had never told her.

But alas, fate was not kind to me, never had been until Ginny came into my life. She tripped once coming across the stone floor and Lucius yanked her back viciously. He grabbed her alluring red hair which I had always loved to bury my hands in and whipped her head backwards, snarling down at her covered face.

"If you trip one more time then nothing will stop me from cursing you until you bleed out your ears," he hissed so quietly that I had trouble hearing him. I strained my ears, trying to catch what he said next to Ginny, but a soft chuckle from in front of me made me momentarily forget Ginny and Lucius.

"Are you sure she means nothing?" Voldemort murmured, but I could tell by the way his eyes glowed that he already knew the truth. I had paid too much attention to Ginny when she walked in for him to think otherwise anymore.

I sighed roughly in frustration and my fists clenched behind my back. Feeling my muscles tense, the man on my left tightened his grip further still, causing what I knew would be bruises later. That is, if there was a later for me. There was some sort of finality about the way Voldemort was looking at me, and I didn't like it. More importantly, I didn't like the way he turned and looked at Ginny with a predatory gleam when she and Lucius appeared by his side.

Desperately I looked to Ginny. Part of me wanted her to know that I was right here, that she'd be alright. But another part was ashamed for her to see me this way; I had been caught. She had asked me to come for Potter and I had, successfully getting both of us outside of the prison and running for the wards. Just as we'd stepped beyond the wards and were about to Apparate, a curse hit me and the last thing I saw before I woke up in my cell was Potter disappearing. Even if his hero complex had ordered him to return for me, he had probably been too surrounded with the Order to try coming back. He'd have been a fool to try anyway. If any of them had made any rescue attempts during the past month, I had not heard of it.

"Well, since we are all here," Voldemort exclaimed, "we can now begin. If at any time you feel like speaking, feel free to," he said, directing his words at me. He glanced once at Ginny, then back at me, and smirked viciously.

Unless someone had informed Ginny that I was in this room, she had no idea that I was here. I had a feeling that she would be finding out soon.

"Make sure you hold him," Voldemort said, looking at my two captors; I felt them nod. "And now, Ginevra; it is Ginevra, isn't it?" he asked of Ginny coolly, standing in front of her. "Or should I call you Ginny? That is what Draco here said your name was."

I saw Ginny stiffen, and her head moved as if she was looking for me. Voldemort laughed low in his throat before he turned to me again. "I guess she does mean something to you, Draco, and you to her. It will be fun to watch you squirm as I torture her. Though she seemed feisty enough last night, I doubt she will hold out long. What I am curious to see is how long you can last before you crack at seeing her body break right before your eyes."

My chin started trembling with the nervousness I was feeling for Ginny. Though she was standing as straight and proud as she could, I noticed her knees trembling slightly.

"First I will start off with asking you a simple question, without hurting the girl first," Voldemort explained. "Like I said, I am not a merciless man."

I wanted to strangle him, curse him into dust and stomp on his remains. But all I could do was stand there helplessly and watch as he twirled his wand lovingly in his fingers, watching for a reaction from me.

"When did you join the Order, Draco?" he asked. "Was it before or after you became a Death Eater for me?" At my silence, he continued with a sigh. "I was never able to decide which was worse, betrayal after loyalty or deception from the start." He gazed at me pointedly with those horrid, blood-red eyes. "You don't feel like speaking?" he asked; if he had had eyebrows, they would have been raised in mocking question right now. "No? Well, perhaps this will induce you to talk."

"Crucio," he stated as calmly as if he were greeting an old friend, his wand directed at Ginny's chest. She started screaming.I winced, wanting to look away from the sight of her writhing in my father's hands, preventing her from falling to the ground, but I could only stare as rage, guilt, and apprehension all swarmed about me trying to lay claim on my judgment.

"Stop," I whispered, cringing as Ginny's voice rose several notches and her legs twitched terribly underneath her. "Stop," I said more forcefully.

Several lazy seconds later, Voldemort took the curse off Ginny and turned to look at me in question. "You do not like seeing her body in pain, twisting and lurching? You should know that it is you who is causing her that pain. It is not I. It is you and your persistence of silence."

For once again, I was quiet. I had taken an oath to Dumbledore years ago, and I was not about to betray information now. But I couldn't stand seeing Ginny this way. Yet what else could I do? No matter how much I hated Dumbledore's cheeriness in the bleakest of moments and the misty way in which he talked to me at times, I could not betray his trust after I had worked so hard to gain it.

Voldemort sighed again, shaking his head sadly at me. "Still you are silent? Even when I torture her? Draco…Draco…how cruel of you. But before I proceed with her, I will ask another question. Does the Order know of the incident in Wiltshire with Art Zane?"

I kept my mouth shut. The Order did know of that incident regarding Veritaserum, two rogue Dementors, a werewolf, and one of the Ministry's top aurors, Art Zane. I didn't say anything about it though; I had been instructed not to.

"Well," declared Voldemort, turning back to Ginny. "I guess he doesn't care as much for you as I thought." He shrugged his shoulders. "Crucio!"

My face contorted into one of helpless rage, seeing Ginny thrashing about, trying to get away from my father. Her screams seemed like individual daggers plunging into my heart.

"Draco!" she screamed. I thought she was going to plead for me to say something, to get them to stop, but what she said hurt me even more. "Draco, don't tell them anything!" The sound of her saying my name brought back a torrent of memories, most of which I never thought to experience again. "Don't, Draco!"

"Stop!" I shouted, not able to take it any longer. "They know! They know about it!"

Abruptly Voldemort spun around to face me and Ginny, to my relief, stopped screaming as the curse lifted.

"They do?" he inquired curiously. "That's interesting." Looking pensive, he nodded at Lucius, who let go of Ginny. She fell limply to the ground, immediately curling into a protective ball. She was shaking so badly, though I knew it to be from pain and not fear. Undoubtedly she was feeling plenty of the latter as well, though.

I was wrestling with my feelings, trying to decide which was more prominent right now – my relief that Ginny wasn't being cursed anymore or anger at myself for giving away information. It was a hopeless situation. I knew it, and I was sure that Ginny realized it as well.

"There now, that wasn't so hard, was it, Draco?" Voldemort hissed. "A few more answers like that and I just might let her go."

Not likely.

"I'll try another question. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix – where is it?"

Now that one I simply could not answer, not even if I had wanted to. Dumbledore was the secret keeper of that knowledge. There was nothing I could do for it; he turned towards Ginny, who, oblivious on the ground, was taken by surprise when Voldemort hissed some sort of curse that I didn't catch. All I was comprehensive of through my desolation was that her body tensed and choking noises started coming from beneath the bag over her face.

I shook my head, tears that never fell coming to my eyes.

"Are you going to let her die, Draco?" Voldemort asked. "You're killing her with each second of your silence, letting her lay there, choking helplessly."

All I could do was shake my head slowly, gazing at Ginny's body.

"Answer my question."

I kept shaking my head.

"Answer it!" Voldemort screamed, his voice cold with fury.

"I can't," I whispered.

"Then you will watch her die!" Voldemort stalked towards Ginny and viciously ripped the bag off her head, revealing her tear-streaked face, her lips tinged blue. Her eyes immediately snapped on my own, and in that instant, I knew that she didn't blame me; I could read it in her eyes; she knew I couldn't answer Voldemort's question.

With a flick of his wrist, the curse left Ginny, but before she could gasp in any air, the Cruciatus Curse hit her already-worn body, causing her to start twitching again. She didn't even have the breath to scream. I could hear her gasping horribly for air.

I couldn't take it. Even though I knew it was futile, I started pulling against the men holding me, trying to get out of their grasp. I was stronger than earlier, nourished by the food, but I was still no match for their rested bodies. I struggled like a madman, and I surreally realized that I was screaming like one too, jerking my arms as hard as I could. I heard Voldemort laugh cruelly as he watched me struggle before he turned back to Ginny, flipping his wand; she followed the movement, turning a full one-hundred eighty degrees, lying on her stomach as her body continued moving with each spasm.

Livid and vengeful, I wickedly whipped my leg backwards, colliding with the spot I knew would hurt most. The man on my right swore, letting go of my arm as he doubled over in pain. The other, Mortum, snarled and tried to grab my other arm, but it was too late.

I spun around, my fist colliding with his jaw so hard that he fell to the ground, out cold. I was aware of Lucius standing behind Ginny making his way towards me angrily, but he needn't have bothered, for as I started desperately towards Ginny, Voldemort brought his other hand out to stop me, and I felt something invisible hit me. It wasn't a barrier, as I was accustomed to, but a curse.

I gasped as my breath was knocked out of me, and then I felt my strength seeping out of me like water draining from a broken glass. I staggered and fell to one knee, trying desperately to push myself back up, but it was useless. The other knee collapsed and I rolled onto my side, panting heavily. Voldemort was staring down at me triumphantly.

And just when I thought that it was over for both me and Ginny, I heard shouting from my father and someone else.

"My Lord!" Lucius cried, his arm raised and pointing off somewhere.

"Lo-lord Voldemort," a new person gasped, dropping to one knee in front of Voldemort, who scowled and lifted his curse off Ginny again.

"What?" he snapped.

"He- he's back, my Lord," the person wheezed.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter."

Never had I been so glad to hear that name before. Voldemort glanced at me in displeasure before he turned and walked towards the door, beckoning the messenger to follow him. I briefly heard him say, "Finish them, Lucius," before there was a pounding sound and a commotion broke out.

"My Lord!"

"No!"

"Look out!" my father cried. If I had had the strength, I would've looked up, but as it was, I was forced to stare at the body of Mortum, who was still lying on the ground; I saw my other guard fleeing the room.

Then I heard the sound of a body thudding to the floor.

"Stupefy!"

"Protego!"

"Ava–"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Argh!" came someone's infuriated cry.

"Stupefy!"

Another sound of a body hitting the floor. Then I heard feet running out of the room, followed by the sounds of distant cursing.

The room Ginny and I were in grew quiet. I longed to roll over and see Ginny, but I couldn't. Then I heard her struggling to get to her feet, gasping as she did so.

"Draco," she whispered, and the next thing I knew, she was kneeling in front of me, her arms covering my torso in an attempt at a hug. "Are you alright?"

"Just…tired," I heaved. "I don't know what he hit me with. But I…can't move."

"It must be strength-sapping curse," she said, her beautiful brown eyes sweeping over my body looking for other damage.

"You…you okay?" I asked with some effort.

"I am fine," she assured me. "A little sore, of course, but I'm fine."

"Who was that out there?"

"Well, Harry, I'd guess," she said. She glanced towards the door and then back at me. Ginny opened her mouth to say something but the door to our room was slammed open and heavy footsteps came toward us.

Struggling, still not able to see in the direction of the action, I lifted myself on one elbow and peered over my shoulder. It was Potter.

"Harry?" Ginny asked. "What are you –"

"Not now, Gin," he said hastily, dropping to our side. "We have to get out of here."

"But what about Voldemort?" she inquired.

"He's dead."

I gaped, and Ginny looked equally stunned. "Just like that?" she whispered fiercely.

He hesitated. "Just like that," he said quietly. Then he glanced at me. I felt humiliated, lying there barely able to move. "What's wrong with him?"

"Voldemort hit him with what I think was a strength-sapping curse," Ginny explained.

"Well," Potter muttered. "Here." he handed his wand to Ginny, who took it confusedly.

I watched as Potter grabbed my wrists and started heaving me over his shoulder.

I must have blacked out around then, for the next thing I knew, we were outside and a sense of déjà vu came over me. We were running for the wards, I could see, so that we could Apparate. From my torso up was hanging over Potter's shoulder, on his back, and I saw Ginny running behind us. We weren't going very fast – first, because I was sure my weight was slowing Potter down, and second, because Ginny was still recovering from the curses no matter how much she said she was fine.

Then she saw that I was awake and she grinned at me. "We're getting out of here," she exclaimed. I felt Potter start, and he said, "He awake?"

"Yeah," Ginny answered. "You passed out," she explained to me, seeing my questioning look. Then I glanced down and saw with horror that my face was hanging dangerously above a part of Potter that I'd rather not see. To distract myself, I wheezed, my breathing labored, "Me being saved by Potter? Oh hell…"

Potter scoffed. "Yeah, that's what I said. It just froze over."

If I had had the strength, I would've rolled my eyes. As it was, I could feel my body shutting down again; it was too tortured to function any longer.

Potter moved his hands to get a better grip on my legs to keep me from falling over his shoulder and I winced at the physical contact between the two of us; it was disturbing. However, I'd gladly be Potter's personal servant for the rest of my life if it meant I was able to see my Ginny again, so I wasn't going to complain. Gathering the last of my strength, I looked up to see her running behind me, her face one of worry yet full of unconditional love. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Ginny beaming at me through her tears.

----
October 14th

I awoke feeling disoriented. Before my eyes even opened, I was aware that something was wrong. I could feel my body pressing against something soft, and I wondered what had happened. Why wasn't I feeling the harsh ground of my cell digging into my back like always? Had I died in my sleep?

Frowning, I opened my eyes.

And blinked.

I was not in my cell in Azkaban as I had been for the past month. What I recognized to be my room at Grimauld Place met my eyes instead. I looked around in awe, and then the night before came back to me. I had been rescued, and now here I lay, surrounded by familiar sights and smells and sounds. It didn't seem to be real. How could this have happened? I was supposed to die in that cell, die knowing that I was ensuring the safety of so many. Why I had I been spared? Why had I been allowed to live?

I tried to sit up and was relieved to see that I could, although it taxed my energy to do so. I lay back against my pillow, staring at the ceiling. How foreign it felt to feel comfort underneath me instead of rock! I found myself starting to doze off again when my door opened.

In walked a vision, beauty incarnate, something I had dreamt of for a month and something I had thought never to see again. It was Ginny, you see. I loved the way she walked, and though I would never admit this to anybody lest it fall upon unwanted ears –namely two identical red-headed Weasleys who took particular pleasure in teasing me about Ginny– I thought that when she walked, she looked like a Veela. Of course Ginny didn't look exactly like a Veela; her red hair was far from Veela material. However, her hips swayed subconsciously when she walked just as a Veela's did. I doubted that Ginny knew of this, but I was very fond of those hips.

And she moved, completely oblivious to my observations. I, lying still on my bed, did not make known that I was awake. I chose to admire her further. Her hair, I noticed, was tied back. I liked it down. It was easier for me to run my fingers through that way. But I also noticed, with a pang of guilt, that she was limping slightly. Had something more serious happened to her than I had been aware of, lying cold and helpless in that prison floor as she looked down at me? I hoped not. I would never forgive myself if something had.

Ginny, sighing, walked over to my dresser and set down a tray of food. Her back was to me, and then she turned, her eyes widening as she did so.

"Draco," she cried and in an instant, she was kneeling by my side, smile firmly in place.

"Ginny," I replied my face cracking into a grin. It was tough, smiling again; it had been too long since I'd done so. But I was pleased to see that my muscles were not forgetful – merely indolent.

"How do you feel?" she breathed, her small hands holding one of my own as if for dear life.

Truth be told, I felt like I could fly just because of that simple touch. I didn't say that though. Malfoys did have some dignity. "I feel better," I said. "Not up to playing Quidditch, mind, but better."

She smiled that wonderful smile of hers, the one she reserved just for me. I was glad that I and I alone could see that smile. Nobody else should see it, anyway. "That's good," she said.

"And you?" I asked, reaching one of my arms around her and tugging the binder out of her air, enjoying the way it then fell about her shoulders upon release.

"I'm fine," she smiled, her eyes looking all over my body. Then she became serious. "We all thought you were dead," she explained to me. "All of us did."

"Tell me everything," I whispered, closing my eyes momentarily. "I want to know what happened."

"Well you know the beginning," Ginny said. "You went after Harry and then…and then you never came back." Her voice cracked. I could only imagine what she had been through upon my disappearance. "When Harry Apparated back, he was hysterical. He wanted to go back for you right away."

"Figures," I muttered, thinking of the way Potter could never leave a man behind. It was as honorable as it was annoying, though now we were square, I suppose. I saved him. He saved me. No more debts owed.

"Be nice," she said, though she did grin slightly. "Anyway, of course Moody and Dumbledore and the rest wouldn't let him. They practically locked him up; they were so mad at him for storming off like that. I guess Hermione's death really affected him…she was after all one of his best friends."

She sighed. "He kept trying to get them to let him go back for you, said he couldn't leave you now. And you know, the Order were the only ones to know you had disappeared. I guess Voldemort didn't want people to know that you'd betrayed him –must have been too embarrassed– because he didn't let the Ministry or Daily Prophet know or anything. So Harry couldn't very well go to the Ministry for help; all he could do was ask us. And I tried too, tried to get them to let me go or at least send somebody. But they wouldn't listen. Honestly I tried, Draco, you know I wouldn't just leave you there. I actually tried storming off like Harry did, but Ron caught me and then told Mum and then they wouldn't take their eyes off of me and –"

I shushed her, scooting over and patting the spot on the bed next to me. She climbed in, taking up half of what was left of the warm spot, myself covering the rest. Ginny leaned into me, her head against one shoulder, her arm resting on the other one. I closed my eyes, breathing in her scent; it was just like I remembered, sweet yet with a spiciness hiding underneath.

"I know you tried," I reassured her. "Don't worry about it. How did you get caught?"

"Oh, that…" she mumbled. "It was an accident. A few nights ago I finally convinced Mum and Dad to let me go out patrolling with Lupin and Tonks, and believe me, it took a lot of convincing for them to let me do that. You know how protective they are even if I am officially part of the Order."

"Yeah," I said. "I know."

"Well we were around Spinner's End, going to get Snape. He hadn't shown up for the meeting that night and Dumbledore sent us to check on him." Ginny stopped for a moment, picking what Draco suspected to be a nonexistent speck off his shirt. "And when we went inside, we found him."

"And?" I prodded her, though I had a bad feeling about her answer.

"He was dead. Killed just before we got there," Ginny sighed. "We walked in on the Death Eaters – four of them. We were too shocked to do much for a few seconds. Lupin was stunned right away and Tonks and I started fighting them, but she only managed to stun one of them before they got to us."

"Who'd she get?" I asked, still reeling from the idea of Snape being dead.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Ginny said. "She's being held at the Ministry since as you know Azkaban belongs –well, belonged to Voldemort. Anyway," she continued, "Tonks and I were Stunned. When I woke up, I was being led to my cell in Azkaban. Harry told me this morning that when I was taken –because Lupin and Tonks made it back just fine; they weren't taken– that it was the last straw. He snuck out somehow. Ron was pretty pissed when he found out," she chuckled. "He wanted to come too."

I smiled against Ginny's hair, thinking of how much trouble Weasley would have gotten into if he had cursed in front of his mother. That would have been fun to see. But more than anything else, I was content to just lay here with the girl I loved in my arms. It was peaceful, soothing.

"So Voldemort is really dead, huh?" I asked. I felt Ginny nod.

"Yeah," she said. "It was over, just like that. Harry killed him."

"But there are still bands of Death Eaters everywhere," I said. "We'll have to take care of those."

"Mm-hmm," agreed Ginny, sighing sleepily. "I think Dumbledore is already making plans, but they're all downstairs celebrating still. The whole wizarding world is celebrating right now. It was all over the papers this morning."

"That's good," I sighed. I wondered what life without Voldemort would be like. If it allowed me to be with Ginny and not have to fear discovery and death each morning, it would be good indeed. As it was right now, I would not rest until the last Death Eater fell dead. Until that time, I would never feel secure with Ginny being with me. However, we'd continue on in secrecy, only those in the Order knowing of our relationship, and then, when the time was right, others could know as well.

I tightened my grip on Ginny, making sure my arms were completely around her. I could feel her breathing start to slow down and figured she was close to sleep. My body was slowing as well, still not back to normal. But I pulled Ginny closer to me all the same.

"Hey, Ginny?" I whispered in her ear.

"Mm," she mumbled in response.

I brushed her hair aside so that I could see her face and saw that her eyes were closed. I kissed her on the forehead and said softly, "I love you."