Standard disclaimer applies; only the plot is mine.

Author's note: This is the revised version of my previous and uncompleted story, Obsession Fulfilled. It has been revised to take into account HBP so be forewarned, spoilers ahead.



It seemed that he had always wanted her; from the time he’d been nine years old and first spied her at a Ministry Christmas party.

The Ministry had decided to have a Christmas party for employees and their families, and had extended the invitation to supporters of the Ministry as well. Lucius Malfoy had not wanted to attend, but his wife Narcissa had insisted, arguing that it would give her an opportunity to see the new ‘crop’ of pureblood females and assess potential brides for their son.

They’d arrived at the appointed time and Lucius and Narcissa had decided to mingle, shooing Draco away to amuse himself with the lavishly decorated tree in the middle of the hall. He had walked towards it, trying not to be impressed; he was a Malfoy after all and their tree was naturally better. As he got closer he saw her, a small figure in white robes, red hair cascading down her back, brown eyes wide and sparkling, her mouth open with amazement. She looked like an angel put on earth just for him.

He glanced sideways at her, and she turned to look at him, smiling as she took in the solemn, pale haired, pale-faced boy. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she whispered, turning back to the tree with its many decorations and dancing fairies. “Our tree at home is pretty, but this is so wonderful!”

He said nothing, just nodded, and the two children had stood there in silence, the girl staring at the tree and the boy staring at the girl. After a few minutes, a plump red-haired woman had come up to her and taken her away, but not before she had smiled one last time at the silent boy. He’d simply nodded and tried not to turn to watch her retreating figure.

He and his parents had left shortly afterwards and later, alone in his room, he had lain on his bed, thinking of the red-haired girl, his own earth-bound angel. As time went on, she slipped less and less into his thoughts until he’d almost forgotten her.

He didn’t see her again until he was eleven and on the train to Hogwarts for his first year of schooling. As he’d looked out of the window of the compartment he was sharing with the two boys he’d been paired with since he was in short pants, he saw her – running along the platform, red hair streaming behind her, both laughing and crying as she waved at the train. The memory of his angel came racing back, and for a moment, he pretended that it was him she was waving to, him that she was missing so desperately that she was crying. But he knew it wasn’t, and so after that one moment, he pushed her out of his mind; he had other things to think about after all.

He hadn’t known her name, hadn’t known anything about her, not until that encounter at the bookstore when he saw her with his two worst enemies, Potter and Weasley, and realized with a pang that she wasn’t an angel but simply a little girl who belonged to the family both he and his father hated. When she’d snarled at him, obviously not remembering him at all but seeing him only as an enemy, he’d snarled back; stung and hurt … mourning something he’d never had.

That year at Hogwarts, her first and his second, he watched her, careful not to let anyone see. When she gave Potter a valentine, he mocked her so that no one could guess that he wished she’d given him one. He watched her go paler, silent, tormented, and wondered that no one else saw the change in her. Later he learned that she’d been taken to the Chamber and saved by the Boy Who Lived to Vex Him. When he discovered that it had been his father who had caused her such pain, he realized that wanting her was dangerous, so he hid his obsession, like a precious but fragile toy.

During the next few years, he would torment Potter, Granger, and of course her brother, but never her. He watched from afar as she became prettier and more popular, burning with secret jealously as a dark-haired Ravenclaw paraded her around like a trophy. His repressed jealousy finally burst forth during the confrontation in Umbridge’s office and he taunted her viciously until she cursed him, leaving him writhing in pain on the floor. Pansy Parkinson swiped at her in retribution, leaving four scratches on her face, before she too was immobilized. Afterwards, Pansy looked at him suspiciously and so he once again hid his obsession, packing it away forcefully in one of the many dark compartments of his mind.

But the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts, something happened which overshadowed everything else, even his hidden obsession; he was summoned before the Dark Lord.

At first he was flattered by the attention, by the whispers surrounding him of being the youngest ever called. He was eager to wreak vengeance on those who had imprisoned his father, had mocked and cursed him … eager to prove himself worthy of the name Malfoy. He dismissed his mother’s fears and railed at her for turning to Snape for assistance … he had a plan, a clever plan, and he would show everyone what he was made of.

It didn’t take long though for him to realize why his mother had been terrified at his mission, why she’d entered into the Unbreakable Vow with Severus Snape. His clever plan was stymied again and again and he soon knew without a shadow of a doubt that the task placed upon him was impossible, punishment for the failings of his father. As the year went on and Dumbledore lived, Voldemort grew angrier and the threats became deadlier. He grew thinner, paler, obsessed with solving the puzzle of the Vanishing Cabinet, the key to the success of his clever plan, the key to him and his family staying alive. When he finally solved it, he couldn’t restrain the whoops of triumph, the sense of accomplishment … he had done it.

But … he hadn’t done it, not the ‘it’ that really mattered. In the end he couldn’t kill Dumbledore, could only watch as Snape killed him, could only wonder if his only chance at salvation had died along with the Headmaster.

Voldemort’s fury at Draco’s failure and Narcissa’s temerity was fearsome. By the time he was finished with them, they were battered, broken, and dying on a cold stone floor. Avery was told to dispose of the bodies but Snape intercepted him, modifying his memory before taking Draco and Narcissa to safety. It was easier for Snape to rescue Lucius; he had been left cursed and left to die in his Azkaban when Death Eaters freed their other comrades. Voldemort believed the Malfoys dead and Snape used that belief to save them. He hid them in secret quarters built deep within Malfoy Manor decades ago.

When McGonagall discovered three vials hidden amongst Dumbledore’s things, three vials marked clearly ‘To be viewed upon my death’, Snape was able to return to the Order of the Phoenix as a spy. Dumbledore had had the foresight to put three critical memories into the vials; his knowledge of Voldemort’s plan for Draco, his fatal poisoning by the ring that served as one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes and Snape’s fruitless attempt to stem the poisoning permanently, and then his holding Snape to a horrific vow … to kill him if Draco Malfoy could not. Although allowed to return to the Order, Snape was viewed with hatred and mistrust. Only Arthur Weasley, who had managed to keep the Order together and functioning after Dumbledore’s death, was able to put aside his feelings enough to deal with Snape.

It took a long time for the Malfoys to heal. It was two months before Lucius was able to even sit in a chair for longer than a few minutes, three months before Narcissa was able to walk without a limp. Their internal healing was much slower; his father could not fathom how Voldemort had used his wife and son so terribly and uttered dark but empty threats of vengeance. His mother mourned the destruction of what little family she had left, the memory of her sister turning aside while she was being tortured still sharp and painful. As for Draco, he kept reliving the moment when salvation was so near at hand but he had lost it by hesitating a moment too long.

Resigned to hiding for the rest of their lives, the Malfoys were shocked when Snape told them that he had concocted a plan. Everyone believed they were dead so he would take Lucius and Narcissa to a remote villa where they could have at least some semblance of a life until it was safe to come out of hiding, when Voldemort had been defeated. Draco however would have to return miraculously from the dead … someone was needed to secure the Malfoy holdings, to keep them safe until the family could be reunited.

Although the plan was dangerous for Draco, he readily agreed. With the bitter fatality of the young, he felt that he had nothing left to live for and that his life would have at least served some purpose if he were to sacrifice himself for his parents. They were reluctant to abandon their son but he convinced them anything was better than the pathetic excuse for a life they were living. And so he watched stoically as his parents left, not knowing when or if he would ever be reunited with them.

Snape took him to the Headquarters of the Order, protecting him against the many wands immediately drawn to curse him. He spun a story of a vulnerable teenage boy, forced into a foul plan through threats against his family, forced to watch his mother and then his father tortured to death for his failure, and then being tortured himself and left to die. Arthur Weasley, remembering Harry’s story of the terrified Malfoy, his wand dropping just before the Death Eaters burst in, argued on behalf of Draco to everyone’s shock. And so grudgingly and with grave misgivings, the rest of the Order agreed to plead his case with a select group of Ministry officials.

He had missed his final year at Hogwarts, missed the chance to take his NEWTs. After much discussion, most of it without him present, it was decided that he should reenter Wizarding society by working at his family’s business. He would be used by the Ministry as a symbol of the ruthlessness and cruelty of the Death Eaters, portrayed for public relations purposes as a mere boy forced into horrific acts, tortured and left for dead, finally realizing the enormity of his mistakes.

He agreed because he knew it was necessary to reclaim the Malfoy estate, and because he knew that his escape from death could never be traced to Snape, thanks to the expert modification of Avery’s memory. Even under torture, Avery could not remember Snape’s intervention. He wasn’t fooled by the promises of protection by either the Order or the Ministry, they were empty promises and he knew it. The only thing that saved him from extermination by Voldemort was the fact that he had been discounted as worthless and no threat to the Death Eaters.

He threw himself into restoring the Malfoy business interests, trying to restore the ravages of his father’s neglect over the past few years. He kept a low profile, seldom venturing out into the wizarding world, conscious that the only ones who tolerated him were those few who saw profit in dealing with him. He had no friends; his former housemates shunned him for fear of being associated with a Death Eater or with a failure, and those outside his House despised him. He filled the hours during the day with business matters and staved off his loneliness at night with willing and ignorant women picked up at Muggle bars.

It was not surprising then that his obsession with her crept out of hiding, not surprising that the emptiness of his life began to be filled with thoughts of a bright haired, bright eyed girl who seemed to embody all that he had lost. As he tried to lose himself in the fleeting charms of faceless Muggle women, he could only think of her, and more than one encounter had been ruined by his murmuring her name at an inappropriate time.

As the so-called ‘Second War’ dragged on, it became less of a war and more of a series of seemingly unending skirmishes. He read the Daily Prophet faithfully but most of it was fluff to reassure a frightened populace. His real news came from Snape, the consummate spy, balancing on a knife’s edge between the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix.

It was Snape who told him that Potter and his sidekicks had found and destroyed all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes save Nagini, that the Order had urged the Ministry to establish a special division of Aurors to support Potter in the final quest to find Voldemort, and that many Death Eaters had deserted the Dark Lord and turned themselves into the Ministry, preferring to risk trial than to face the wrath of Voldemort as he saw defeat staring at him with green eyes. It was also Snape who told him that Ginny Weasley had joined Potter in the special Auror division.

He wondered what would happen when and if Potter defeated Voldemort, wondered if his parents would be able to risk revealing that they still lived. It seemed unlikely there would be any clemency for them. Arthur Weasley was the Deputy Minister of Magic as well as the nominal head of the Order of the Phoenix and his hatred of Lucius Malfoy had not abated one whit with the man’s ‘death’.


But Severus Snape had concocted yet another plan, a devious plan to bring the elder Malfoys back into the Wizarding world, and one dark night he arrived at Malfoy Manor to share his plan with Draco.

As Snape sat in an armchair near a roaring fire, he looked at Draco with piercing and knowing eyes. “You know that the Daily Prophet is predicting a victory shortly. For once that pathetic rag is printing something near to the truth.” He snorted disdainfully. “The Order has managed to keep the knowledge of Voldemort’s Horcruxes to a select few and so Voldemort himself is unaware that anyone outside his circle knew of their existence. With five of them have been destroyed, the Order believes that Voldemort is as vulnerable as he’ll ever be.”

He turned from Draco to look thoughtfully into the flames. “Even though Voldemort is vulnerable, Potter alone doesn’t have the power to defeat him. His power needs to be linked with someone he loves, someone he’s prepared to die for.” He turned and fixed dark, burning eyes on the young man seated across from him. “As you well know, that someone is Ginevra Weasley, the woman he put aside in a misguided attempt to keep her safe. Fortunately for the fate of wizardkind, Miss Weasley refused to be kept safe and joined the Phoenix Division of the Aurors to fulfill her role. Potter objected of course but again fortunately, wiser heads refused to bow to his arrogance.”

“Miss Weasley is the only daughter of an old and respected pureblood family, a family that has both political power and prestige. If she were to be by your side as your wife, it would mean your and your parents’ reacceptance into wizarding society. When Voldemort has been defeated, I will take Miss Weasley and bring her here. The two of you will be bound together in marriage using a magical ceremony that cannot be undone. With her by your side, you and your parents will be able to take back your rightful places.”

Draco could only stare at Snape as if he had sprouted two heads; surely he realized the plan was impossible. Even if Snape were able to ‘take’ Ginny Weasley, he would never be able to convince her to marry a Malfoy; she hated him, hated his family. He pushed down the feelings that rushed from the place where he had hidden them for so long, the sudden, unbridled hope that somehow he could have what he wanted, desired, craved … Snape’s plan simply could not work.

When Snape continued to look at him, waiting for his reaction, he finally blurted out in an incredulous voice, “You’re mad. It can’t possibly work! You can’t just grab someone like her and disappear. And how do you possibly think she could be convinced to marry me? She hates the Malfoys, hates me, and so does her family. She’d never accept it nor would they!”

Snape just stared at him, and then finally answered Draco, his expression carefully blank. “You know full well there are ways of ‘convincing’ people, Draco, ways of persuading people that affections exist, however false.”

“But why this?” Draco said desperately. “With the Dark Lord dead, my parents can return.”

“Return to what? You’re tolerated at best. How will they be treated?” He sneered at Draco. “Oh, yes, you’ve managed to secure the Malfoy interests, increase them even. But you’re alone, a pariah. I know you’re forced to go into the Muggle world for female companionship, no witch of good family will associate with you. I also know that you’ve had … feelings … for Miss Weasley for quite some time. Don’t pretend to me that you’re not intrigued by this proposal.”

As Draco stared, stunned, at Snape, the old Potions Master dropped his sneering attitude. “It’s not just bringing you and your parents back to their rightful place, Draco. The Malfoy and the Black bloodlines have grown weak but they cannot be allowed to end. The Weasleys and Prewitts are two of the oldest pureblood families in our world and their bloodline is strong. Your children with Miss Weasley would restore the Malfoy and Black bloodlines to their former glory.”

Draco sank back against the cushions of his chair, the coldness of Snape’s observations warring with the heat rushing through his body. Finally, ‘mine,’ was all he could think and barely knowing what he did, he nodded once in agreement. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice Snape leaving.


Author's Note: Thank you to Mynuet, Rainpuddle and Violetjersey who read my revised prologue and deemed it worth continuing. This is a darker and more conflicted story than the original due to the new information we received on Draco and Ginny through HBP. As for the original, it has been deleted to avoid confusion. Thank you to everyone who previously reviewed. I hope that you find the new story worthy of reading.

Standard disclaimer applies; only the plot is mine.

Please note: This story has been revised to take into account HBP so be forewarned, spoilers ahead.


Ginny Weasley hated the cramped Auror quarters on the second level of the Ministry of Magic, and she especially hated the cubicles shoved tightly together; they made her feel like a rat in a trap. She’d asked her father about it one time, and he’d laughed a bit bitterly, telling her that the Ministry felt that since Aurors were usually in the field, comfortable office space would be wasted on them. Ginny decided that the Ministry wanted to make sure that the Aurors preferred the field by making the accommodations as miserable as possible.

Her cubicle was at least near one of the enchanted windows, although the bloody Maintenance workers were once again demanding a pay raise and so the view was wet and windy. It was also beside the cubicle of Tonks, the other female Auror in the Phoenix Division and one of only seven in the entire Auror Department. That wasn’t surprising; being an Auror was demanding and most witches preferred less demanding careers so that they could balance family and a job.

Ginny had no illusions about her acceptance as an Auror. The trainee Auror program had been scrapped with the partial closure of Hogwarts after Dumbledore’s death. The only new Aurors taken on in the last few years had been those in the special Phoenix Division, formed solely to assist Harry Potter in the final defeat of Voldemort. She had fought bitterly to join, first with Harry and then with her parents. She knew her admittance was solely due to the insistence of the rest of the Order.

The Phoenix Division was unlike any other division of the Aurors. Two of the six members, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, had not taken official NEWTs and neither they nor Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley had gone through the usual Auror training. Instead they had taken equivalency examinations to qualify and then trained ‘on the job’, dangerous but necessary considering the task before them. The sole purpose of the Phoenix Division, so named in honor of Albus Dumbledore, founder of the Order of the Phoenix, was to defeat Voldemort once and for all. The four youngest Aurors had seen more action in their short lives than many Aurors had seen in their entire careers.

Plopping down in her rickety chair, Ginny stared at the walls of her cubicle; unlike most of the Aurors, they were almost bare. There were only two photographs; one of her parents standing beside her in her Auror’s robes, their faces lined with worry for their youngest daughter, and one of Lucius Malfoy, taken just before he was led away to Azkaban.

That picture was a constant reminder to Ginny of why she was fighting, why Voldemort and his Death Eaters needed to be destroyed. Lucius Malfoy was a symbol of the foulness of the Dark Lord; he was the man who had destroyed her first year and left her with nightmares for two more. It was only the combined efforts of a Healer at St. Mungo’s and Dumbledore himself that had enabled her to overcome her night terrors. She had rejoiced over his death, sorry only that she’d not had a hand in it. It was only fitting in her mind that he had been killed by the same evil he had personified.

She was reading over some reports on recent Death Eater activities when Ron and Harry came in, both in standard issue scarlet robes. Ginny hated the scarlet robes she was forced to wear in the office … they made her stand out far too much for her liking. One of her minor victories had been her successful argument with the head of the Phoenix Division, Kingsley Shacklebolt, that they should wear darker robes that would be less conspicuous in the field. Shacklebolt had finally agreed but insisted that the scarlet robes be worn at all other times. She took a petty pleasure in the fact that Ron looked far worse in the robes than she did – his hair was more orange than hers, and the colors clashed horribly.

“Oi, Gin, Tonks,” Ron called. “Meeting in briefing room three. Shacklebolt says something important just came up.”

Ginny got up, and followed Ron and Harry, Tonks falling in behind her. Neville and Kingsley were already in the room, both staring at a large map that had been pinned to the wall. The map was enchanted and showed the location of Aurors and other Ministry agents in the field, along with glowing pins that marked the places of Death Eater activity; red if recent, blue if past. Ginny felt a surge of grim satisfaction that the red pins were much fewer in number than the blue.

“Wotcher, Nev, Kingsley,” Tonks said, trying but not succeeding to avoid a wastebasket as she walked around the table.

Harry gave a rare grin as the woman tripped and then caught herself, flopping into a chair. He and other had often wondered aloud if Tonk’s apparent clumsiness was an act to lull opponents into a false sense of security; she was poised and assured when in actual combat. In that regard, she differed from Ginny … Ginny went into combat with a fierceness and fury simmering just barely under control. She was often underestimated due to her petite size, until the unlucky Dark Wizard realized the full power of her hexes and curses, usually then running for cover. Both had been subject to mean-spirited teasing from some of the older male Aurors who were still uncomfortable with the idea of women in battle, but the men in the Phoenix Division trusted them absolutely; both had saved their male counterparts’ bums too many times not to.

Kingsley waited until everyone had seated themselves at the table, and then handed out copies of a report marked ‘Phoenix Division – Eyes Only’, motioning them to start reading. The report was only three pages long, but contained startling information on Voldemort’s plans. Ron was the first to react, whistling softly, and then saying with an awed tone, “Blimey, if this is true … the war could be over in a few weeks.” He leafed through the pages again then looked up, “Who’s the source? Are they reliable?”

“It’s Snape,” Kingsley replied, ignoring the twitches of his team. “And don’t bother saying anything … I know and I don’t need to hear it again. Arthur trusts him even if we don’t. We can’t ignore this, we have to act on this information.”

Harry looked up from the report and stared at Kingsley. “Arthur’s that certain? Voldemort might have discovered that we knew about his Horcruxes, that we’ve destroyed all but one. We could be walking into a trap … he could be planning to create more.”

Neville shook his head. “I don’t like this any more than you do, Harry. But you know Hermione’s theory. If she’s right, Voldemort can’t make any more. He’s so far from human now that there’s not enough soul to split.”

The group fell silent at Neville’s comment. Hermione Granger had postulated that each time Voldemort created a Horcrux he split his remaining soul, thus his first Horcrux contained one-half his soul, his second one-fourth, and so on. Based on that theory, Voldemort himself had only a very small portion of his original soul. The fact that the Horcruxes created later had been easier to destroy seemed to bear out her theory.

Ron stared at Harry and then said challengingly to Kingsley, “Harry’s right though. It could be a trap. Yes, we’ve used Snape’s information on minor raids, but this? Dad must be mad to even consider it.”

“Then we’ll just have to be doubly careful, won’t we,” Kingsley snarled, catching both Harry and Ron in his glare.

Ginny slammed both hands on the table and stood up to shout at Shacklebolt, “Careful? That’s your advice? Isn’t there any other corroboration? Or are we just going to go on Snape’s information alone?”

Ron stood up beside her; his fists were clenched and he growled, “There’s got to be other sources. What about that ferret Malfoy? He was a Death Eater and he’s still close to Snape … he probably knows more than he lets on!”

Neville recognized the signs of an imminent explosion and quickly stood up to put a restraining hand on Ron’s forearm while Tonks did the same to Ginny. With their volatile temper, the two Weasleys were easily pushed over the edge, and even after so many years, any mention of either Snape or a Malfoy could prompt them into an ear-splitting rant.

“Enough!” Shacklebolt bellowed. “Is this an Aurors’ meeting or a bunch of snotty-nosed brats scrapping in the playground? You will both shut up and pay attention or by every deity in the heavens, I’ll have your robes!”

Ginny and Ron both flung themselves back into their chairs, Ginny muttering under her breath that Kingsley was welcome to those atrocious colored robes in any event.

Sensing that the storm was over, Neville sat back down and cleared his throat. “So, Kingsley, what’s next? It’s obviously not just Arthur Weasley who feels this information is accurate. The Order and the MLE must believe it as well.”

Kingsley looked gratefully at Neville; the man was often quiet, preferring to speak only when he had something to contribute. Clearing his throat, he began talking. “We know that Voldemort’s support has declined over the past three years. Our biggest concern though is not the number of his human followers but of the non-humans, particularly the werewolves.”

The other five were silent, thinking of Bellatrix Lestrange, dead now after taking a curse Harry had intended for Voldemort. He hadn’t even blinked, simply looked down at the body of his most fervent follower, and then Disapparated. Her husband, Rodolphus, had been driven mad by the loss of his wife and found babbling in an abandoned shack, left behind by Voldemort. Peter Pettigrew had been captured and was now in Azkaban, rumored to be insane with the guilt of his many betrayals. The Goyles and Crabbes, fathers and sons, had been killed in an attack on Hogsmeade.

While the number of known Death Eaters had been diminished, Fenrir Grayback had been exhorting his fellow werewolves to join Voldemort’s side, and far worse, infecting humans to create new werewolf recruits. Werewolves were not only vicious but also more likely to attack unpredictably during a battle. Their presence, along with the unknown participation of vampires and Inferi, could make the final battle a bloodbath.

“With the likelihood that Voldemort will use non-humans, it’s critical that he be taken out as soon as possible after the battle starts,” Kingsley said bluntly. “We’re fairly certain that the vampires will desert at that point, and of course, his death will disable the Inferi. We’ll need all our forces to contain the werewolves if they decide to continue the attack.” He looked pointedly at Harry and then Ginny. “You two have to be front and center right from the start. The sooner you can finish Voldemort, the sooner we can finish all of this.”

Harry and Ginny looked back at Kingsley, their faces set as they nodded in mute acknowledgement of his statement. Nodding back, Kingsley continued, “Ron, Neville and Tonks, you’ll be right behind them with me. Once they’ve done it, they’ll be weak and we’ll need to get them out of there to safety. We’ll rejoin the others to mop up.” He smiled grimly. “Let’s hope that we can finally put an end to Voldemort’s madness.”

The six went over the information several times and then worked out an initial plan. They went over the plan again and again for hours, picking holes in it, changing it, refining it, until they felt it was workable. It was late in the afternoon when Kingsley dismissed them with the command to get some rest and report back the next day for further strategizing and consultation with other Auror Divisions.

Back in the general office, Ginny shrugged off her Auror’s robes and grabbed the street robes she kept handy. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m for the Leaky Cauldron and some Firewhiskey. I’m too wired to go straight home.”

“I’m coming with you,” Ron said, picking up his own street robes, and following his sister out of the room. “Maybe I’ll forget how much I still want to find Draco Malfoy and choke that sniveling ferret.” He suddenly smirked at his sister, “Plus I need to protect you from lecherous wizards who might take advantage of a snookered female.”

Tonks and Neville looked at one another and hid their grins … as if Ginny needed protection. There were a few too many males who still had nightmares after pressing their attentions on the youngest Weasley – she’d learned that a knee to the groin was much more effective than her famed Bat-Bogey Hex.

Neville called after the pair, “We’ll join you in a bit”, and then whispered to Harry, “I think we better get Hermione. They seem to be in a mood and she’s the only one that can calm them down when they get that way.” Preoccupied with his own thoughts, it took a moment before Harry nodded in agreement. With a quick good-bye to Tonks, the two men went to retrieve Hermione from the International Magical Office of Law where she was an intern.

By the time they met Ron and Ginny in the Leaky Cauldron, Ron had several empty glasses in front of him and was muttering about greasy gits and annoying ferrets. Ginny was hunched in her chair, cradling her glass, scowling and trying to ignore her brother to no avail … it was difficult to ignore six feet six of muscled Auror with flaming hair.

“Bloody hell, shut him up before I Stupefy him,” Ginny growled. “He’s been like that for the last fifteen minutes and he’s getting on my nerves.”

Neville and Harry both grabbed an arm and marched Ron into the men’s lav, hoping that a dunk in the sink would shut him up. Hermione sank into the seat next to Ginny, and smiled at her best female friend. “Come on, Gin,” she said, hugging the smaller girl around the shoulders, “what’s got you so upset? Can’t be just Ron … although I have to admit, he can be dead annoying.”

“Nah, it’s nothing to do with Ron. I’m just really tense over the meeting we had … something doesn’t feel right.” Ginny rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand, feeling a headache coming on. “We got some new information but it’s odd, or at least I think so, and so does Ron. But when we said something to Kingsley, he discounted it, basically accused us of overreacting.”

“Well, did you?” Hermione asked. “Ron isn’t the calmest individual nor are you at times.”

Ginny took a sip of her drink, and sighed. “I know, Hermione. I do pride myself on being calmer than Ron but I lost it there for a moment.” She gave Hermione a sideways glance, and then suddenly confessed, “David and I broke up two days ago.”

“Oh, Ginny, no. What happened?” Hermione asked, thinking about the handsome young wizard Ginny had been dating for the past two months. She hadn’t liked him, but then she didn’t like anyone Ginny dated that wasn’t Harry Potter.

“Well, according to David, things weren’t progressing as well as he’d hoped. That was his way of saying I wasn’t putting out fast enough,” Ginny said bitterly. “He accused me of being a tease, and then said I was a frigid bitch too wrapped up in her career to be a real woman.” She grimaced, and added in an undertone, “And I don’t think there’s much chance of us getting back together … not after I broke his jaw for him saying that to me.”

Hermione looked at Ginny in shock, then said in a matter-of-fact voice, “He deserved it. The bloody nerve of him – calling you a frigid bitch; you should have given him the famous Ginny Groin Crusher as well, the ruddy toad.”

Ginny stared at her in shock, then burst out laughing. The two women were clinging to one another, laughing hysterically, when the men joined them, Ron looking wet and quite put out with his two mates. “Hell,” he muttered, “call off your dogs, Ginny. All you had to do was ask nicely.”

“Right, Ron. Like you ever listen to me. Hermione’s the only one that’s ever managed to control you outside of work. And Harry and Nev acted in self-defense – they don’t want to hear your rambling any more than I do,” Ginny snapped.

Harry had the presence of mind not to say anything to that statement – he’d only done it to save Ron from Ginny, she never hesitated to hex him if he got her mad enough. Neville smiled slightly but also held his tongue; he knew better than to disagree with Ginny when she was a hair’s breadth from losing her temper.

“Listen you guys. I think it’s time for a girls’ night out. Ginny and I are going to go out for dinner, and we’ll catch up with you later at our flat,” Hermione said. “Ron, there’s food in the fridge if you want to have the boys over for dinner. We won’t be late.” She pulled Ginny to her feet and said, “Come on, Ginny. There’s a new Muggle restaurant just down the way that I’ve been dying to try.”

As they watched Hermione and Ginny leave, Neville leaned over to Ron and asked, “What was that all about?”

Ron shrugged and said, “Hell if I know, mate. The two of them go off in their own world at times, and I know better than to put my nose in it.” He grabbed the remainder of Ginny’s drink and slammed it down. “Okay, now that they’re gone, let’s have a few more before we get some food ourselves.”


Ginny and Hermione settled into a comfortable booth and ordered wine from the waiter who appeared instantly at their table. As he walked away, Ginny watched his rear with interest; surrounded by men in robes all day, she found tight trousers an intriguing novelty.

Hermione reached over and swatted her friend’s hand in mock disapproval, chiding her, “Really, Ginny, you’ve just gotten over a break-up. Don’t fall for the first thing in pants that comes your way.”

Ginny frowned and propped her chin in her hands, staring mournfully at Hermione, “Right, like the pants ever come off. Bloody Mum has screwed up my sex life, or at least, what passes for it.”

She looked at Hermione and scowled, “David was right … I am a bloody tease. Do you realize I’m a twenty-year old virgin? Any time I get close to giving it up, Mum’s voice pops into my head.”

She gave an uncanny impression of Molly Weasley at her most strident, “Ginny Weasley, men don’t buy the cow when the milk’s free, you know.” Ginny shook her head, and muttered, “Talk about a mood killer. All I want to do then is get out of there with my knickers intact. Mind you, at least she’s given up on the ‘why are you even going out with anyone who isn’t Harry Potter?’ rant.”

Hermione bit her lip and didn’t respond for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. A pretty teenager, Ginny had grown into a beautiful woman and had caught the eye of more than a few wizards. She’d tried dating several times but each of the relationships had been short and ended disastrously; her two months with David was the longest so far.

Finally, Hermione said briskly, “So you’re a virgin. Big deal. There are worst things to be, you know. Ron and I didn’t take the big step until a year ago, and not for lack of trying on his part, or willingness on mine.” She gave Ginny a sly smile, adding, “I thought he’d appreciate it more if he had to work for it. I didn’t want just to be his first; I wanted to be his only.”

“Well, at least you won’t die a virgin, Hermione, and at this rate, I likely will,” Ginny said with a hint of bitterness. “There’s a rather large chance that I won’t come out of this alive, you know.”

Hermione pursed her lips and looked down at the menu, the words blurring together. She was one of the few people outside the Phoenix Division and the inner circle of the Order that knew why Ginny was so important, why she had to be with Harry at the final battle. They didn’t talk about it much, knowing the necessity for secrecy, but the knowledge hovered like a dark specter over all of them. For what seemed the thousandth time, Hermione wished desperately that Harry had thought of himself for once so many years ago. Lost in her own thoughts, Hermione was startled by Ginny’s next words and wondered for an instant if Ginny had been reading her mind.

“Who am I kidding?” Ginny said, her voice thin and bitter. “I’ll never have a relationship with anyone until Harry and I resolve this … thing … we have, and we won’t resolve it until sodding Voldemort’s dead. Bloody noble Potter, always the bloody hero, even when he doesn’t need to be.” Tears began to puddle in her eyes and she dashed them away with the back of her hand as she leaned back in her seat. Hermione remained silent, both witches engrossed with their own thoughts.

Ginny’s acceptance of Harry’s decision to end their burgeoning relationship in his misguided attempt to keep her safe hadn’t lasted long. When she’d learned that Ron and Hermione were joining him on his quest to find Voldemort’s Horcruxes, the walls of the Burrow had almost shaken with the force of her anger. She’d confronted Harry as soon as he’d arrived at the Burrow for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, arguing fiercely that she was as capable of defending herself as Ron and Hermione. Miserable and already regretting his decision, Harry made the mistake that still haunted him … he’d walked away, leaving Ginny to stare silently after him, tears running down her cheeks.

Hurt and bitter, Ginny had all but hidden herself away, only coming out when absolutely necessary until the Trio had left. She’d been one of the few who had returned to Hogwarts and had thrown herself into learning everything she could about Potions, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, vowing to herself that she would prove to everyone that she could keep herself safe. No one knew that she practiced defensive and offensive spells with Luna and Neville every evening or that she cried herself to sleep most nights.

Both Ron and Hermione had remonstrated with Harry about his decision, Ron overcoming his protectiveness of Ginny to point out that she was in danger simply by virtue of being a Weasley. Harry could not be swayed, however, and refused to even correspond with Ginny, fearing the letters could be intercepted. Hermione warned him that Ginny would consider his action the final blow to their relationship and she was right. When they returned the summer after Ginny’s final year at Hogwarts, having destroyed all but one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, Ginny had looked at Harry and then walked away. She later told Hermione that Harry had made his decision and she was simply respecting it.

Rejected and knowing he had only himself to blame, Harry threw himself into the formation of the Phoenix Division. When Ginny applied, he argued fiercely against her joining, desperate to keep her safe after all he had given up. He had yielded reluctantly when Hermione had taken him aside and told him that he needed Ginny, that she was his touchstone to access the love deep within him to finally destroy Voldemort. With her acceptance into the Phoenix Division, Ginny and Harry established a sort of détente, both knowing that any resolution of their issues would have to wait.

“I shouldn’t even be dating,” said Ginny, breaking the silence. “It’s just my feeble attempt to have some semblance of a normal love life. But I don’t, and I never will. I’ve got the bloody hero who won’t let himself love me or let me love him. How long can I cling to the fact that I’m supposed to get the hero when this is all over?”

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat on hearing Ginny’s frustration. “Look, let’s not talk about this anymore. It’s too depressing and there’s no resolution at hand. Why don’t you tell me what a prick David was, and I’ll make all of the appropriate sounds at the right times.” Hermione picked up her menu, and gestured to Ginny to do the same. “And I’m not leaving here until I’ve been fed properly. Your brother didn’t pick up any cooking ability from your mother and I’m starving.”

Against her will, Ginny laughed. With a nod, she agreed to pretend that they were just two ordinary witches having a hens’ night out and picked up her own menu. She was more than prepared to take her mind off what she would be facing all too soon.



Neither woman noticed the man hidden in the shadows in a booth at the back of the restaurant. His meeting had run late, and he’d decided to have a quick bite in a crowded Muggle restaurant rather than eat a lonely meal in the austere silence of the Manor. He’d noticed immediately when she walked into the restaurant with the Mudblood Granger and took a booth near the front. He watched them, curious when they fell silent for a while, wishing he could hear what they said when they resumed talking.

After they left, he threw some money on the table and walked out. Soon, he thought, soon she’ll be mine.


Author's note: While I did have six chapters already written of the original story, revising to incorporate HBP while having a cohesive story does take time. To all those who reviewed my original story, thank you and I hope you find the revised story worthy of reading as well.

Standard disclaimer applies, only the plot is mine. Warning - this story incorporated HBP canon so spoilers ahead.


When Draco Malfoy had been released by the Ministry and told to run his family’s business, he had been at a loss as to what that meant. As with most rich pampered youth, he knew that his family had money but had no idea where it was and how it was managed. It had always been understood that once he reached of age, his father would instruct him in the ways of managing the family fortune and estate but his father’s imprisonment before his sixteenth birthday had prevented that. His mother couldn’t help; as was the case with most society wives, she managed the household and its accounts and the family’s social calendar, nothing else. They’d had enough money at hand to continue living in the style they were accustomed to and so they’d simply gone on, assuming that his father would ultimately return and once again take over the reins.

Instead he’d found himself not yet eighteen and now solely responsible for managing his family’s business affairs. He ransacked his father’s study, hoping to find records, account books, anything to guide him but to no avail. Having no one to turn to, he did the only thing he could … he’d gone to Gringotts.

The Goblins did business with anyone, even convicted Death Eaters, as long as they paid their fees. The Ministry had often rued the Goblins’ monopoly on the Wizarding banking system, trying in vain to seize Death Eater assets to stem the flow of money financing Voldemort’s war. The Goblins would simply stare stoically at the Ministry officials before ushering them none too gently from the building.

He’d been almost pathetically relieved when a stern looking Goblin had looked at the key to his personal vault and then beckoned him into a private office. He’d blurted out his dilemma, too desperate to worry about any loss of face. The Goblin, Grapnook, had told him that he would act as his personal banking representative and then taken him down to the Malfoy main vault. Two hours later, they had emerged, Draco with ledgers and a large moneybag of Galleons; he had made his first step towards taking control.

It hadn’t been easy. The Malfoy finances were complicated and the fortune much larger than he had ever thought. He hadn’t known that the Malfoys had a solicitor on retainer or that there were several other properties besides the Manor and the London townhouse. After six months of Grapnook’s tutelage though, he had enough of a grasp of the basics to start actively managing the family affairs.

But looking over ledgers and reading reports didn’t take much time, once he knew how to do it, and time was something that he had far too much of. Gragnook suggested that he consider investing in more property and so as a first step, he bought a small building, taking one of the offices for himself and renting out the rest. It was much more convenient to use the office in London as his business base than Malfoy Manor or the townhouse, and the daily visits to his office gave him the illusion of a normal life.

At Grapnook’s suggestion, he set up a separate holding company with a nondescript name for his property ventures. He discovered a knack for picking the right properties and within two years, owned a substantial amount of both Wizarding and Muggle properties. Once again at Grapnook’s suggestion, he started investing in businesses that Grapnook brought to him for consideration, usually newer enterprises that were looking at funds for expansion. The transactions were done through Gringotts and the holding company was shown as the owner of the stock. Draco knew that there were a number of wizards who would have been quite shocked to find that one of their major stockholders was actually Draco Malfoy.

The day after seeing Ginny Weasley in the restaurant, Draco was in his office, reviewing his schedule for the day with his secretary, a young witch who was quite prepared to ignore her employer’s dubious history in return for the generous salary he paid. When his secretary had finished and gone back to her own desk in the small reception area, he turned and stared out of the window that overlooked a section of Muggle London near Diagon Alley.

Scowling at the view, he got up and strode over to the door of his office. “Martha, do I have a luncheon engagement?” he asked.

Martha looked at him, managing to restrain an incredulous look. Most of his business was done through the holding company and Gringotts and few business deals were actually conducted in person. She knew of no business associate that had ever shared a meal with Draco Malfoy. Most days Martha ordered lunch in for both of them, another plus in her employment – it saved her the cost of buying her own. With admirable poise, she replied in a calm tone, “No, Mr. Malfoy. Not today. Would you like me to order something in for you?”

“No,” he replied somewhat sharply, “not today. I think I’ll go out and eat at a restaurant today. I’m rather tired of take-away food.” Trying not to take offense at the raised eyebrow he saw before his secretary turned back to her desk, he returned to his own desk to try and immerse himself in paperwork until lunchtime.

As he walked down the street towards a restaurant he had eaten at before once or twice, he was thankful that his office was in a Muggle part of London. He still cringed at the memory of his first few visits to Diagon Alley, people pointing and whispering as he tried vainly to ignore them. Eventually he got better at ignoring them and eventually people no longer found him quite as notorious, but he still returned to Diagon Alley only when absolutely necessary. Here in Muggle London, no one knew him as anything except a young and very reserved businessman who had a successful holding company, and no one stared at him as he made his way along the street.

The restaurant wasn’t busy and he was seated immediately by the hostess. As he perused the menu, he suddenly caught a glimpse of very familiar red hair out of the corner of his eye. Carefully looking up, he saw her, Ginny Weasley, at the hostess station talking animatedly to a blonde witch he vaguely remembered from Hogwarts. Keeping his head down but his gaze upwards, he watched as the hostess started to lead them to their table, their path taking them right beside his own.

Deliberately he raised his head and looked directly at Ginny, willing her to meet his gaze. As she caught sight of him, her eyes widened slightly, her pace slowing. He nodded and then, as she was almost next to him, said clearly, “Miss Weasley.” Her gaze was steady as she returned his nod, saying just as clearly, “Mr. Malfoy,” before continuing to follow her companion. He turned just enough to see the hostess seat the two women in a booth behind him and to the right.

Refusing to give into the urge to turn around and stare at her, he ordered and then waited calmly for his lunch, amusing himself by watching his fellow lunch patrons. Periodically he could hear laughter from their table; the two women were obviously fast friends and he racked his brain to think of who her companion was. He’d almost finished his lunch when it came to him; Luna Lovegood, the rather odd Ravenclaw whose father owned some bizarre rag of a newspaper.

He lingered over coffee, not wanting to leave until they did. The restaurant was half-empty so his waitress was quite content to let him sit there, ambling over several times to offer him a refill. As he finished his third cup, he heard her voice just to his right.

“Well, this was a treat, Luna. We really do need to do this more often. And you were right about this restaurant, the food was excellent.”

He expected them to walk past, but to his surprise, Lovegood stopped at his table. “Hullo, Draco. Bit of a surprise to see you here,” she said calmly. “I never imagined you to be one to patronize this type of restaurant.” Ginny stood beside Luna, her face carefully blank as she stared at a spot on the table.

Wresting his eyes from Ginny, he gave Lovegood a half-smile and replied, “I have an office nearby. I could say the same for you two, though.”

“Ah, well, I’m rather fond of their quiche, and I convinced Ginny to try it. So here we are.” Luna gazed at him serenely. “And here you are. Odd, really, when you think about it.”

Ginny suddenly sprang to life, reaching for Luna’s arm and giving it a not so gentle tug. “And here we go. I’m late and I really do need to get back.” She nodded at him, saying in a clipped tone, “Malfoy,” and gave Luna’s arm another tug.

To Draco’s shock, Lovegood slid into the chair opposite him, resting her chin on the heel of one hand. “You know, there’s been nothing about you in the newspaper lately. It might be interesting to do a small piece on you, tell people how you’ve been faring. Would you be agreeable to that?”

He knew Ginny saw him flinch; her face gave it away. With a calm he didn’t feel, he said, “Sorry, I wouldn’t. I had more than my fill of publicity a few years ago. Please, don’t let me keep you any longer.”

This time, Ginny didn’t just tug at Luna’s arm … she literally hoisted her out of the seat by her elbow. “Luna, I really have to go,” she hissed. “I’m sure Mr. Malfoy needs to leave as well.”

Luna looked at Ginny and then turned to smile at Draco. “Oh, my apologies. Goodbye then. Perhaps we’ll run into one another again,” she said airily, before walking away, leaving a flummoxed Ginny behind.

“Um … sorry about that,” Ginny said, biting her lip, obviously at a loss as to what to do next.

Draco stared at her. He felt as if he were in some sort of bizarre dream with her so close, close enough that he could reach out and touch her arm. He couldn’t respond … he had no idea what to say, so instead he simply rose from his seat, put a handful of Pound notes on the table and walked past her, past Lovegood, and out of the restaurant.

When he got back to his office, his secretary opened her mouth to say something, took one look at his face, and then closed her mouth with a snap. He didn’t come out of his office for the rest of the day.


He Apparated into the main hallway of Malfoy Manor, and then walked down the corridor to his study, the clicking of his heels on the marble tiles the only sound he could hear. Usually the silence lay on him like a too heavy blanket and he hated it, but tonight … tonight, his thoughts were too jumbled to even notice the silence.

He walked to the study and sat down in an armchair near the fire, the warmth slowly permeating his body. Almost immediately he got up to pour himself a snifter of Muggle brandy, a rare indulgence but one he felt warranted tonight. He seldom drank, enjoying the taste but disliking the effects he could feel after only one drink, but there was no one to see him or judge if he lost control.

As he sipped the brandy, he thought of what had happened the previous evening and then earlier that day. After so long, he’d seen her … seen her twice. It was almost as if the fates were giving him a sign that Snape’s plan would be successful, that everything would work out.

Snape had told him little about his plan; although he’d been so shocked at the time, he likely wouldn’t have comprehended even the simplest outline. He remembered that Snape had told him that Ginny Weasley would be ‘convinced’, and had alluded to ways of persuasion to do so. But he knew that she was an exceptionally strong witch, she’d been skilled at Hogwarts and she would be more formidable now, and strong witches and wizards could throw off strong spells, even Imperius.

So he would be prepared for an unwilling bride at first … there were ways to make her biddable, and he had no compunctions whatsoever about doing whatever he needed to do. She would be his, his compensation for everything he had given up, all of the loneliness he had endured.

He had little knowledge of romantic love. His parents loved one another, he knew that, but they had always kept any demonstrations of love to their own private times. There had been no swift kisses, no gentle caresses; in fact the only time he had seen any tender gesture had been when Snape had brought his father back to the Manor from Azkaban and his mother had fallen to her knees, cradling his father in her arms.

He’d had a brief relationship with Pansy Parkinson while at Hogwarts but that had been more his wanting the attention she was only to willing to bestow than any real affection for her. As for his brief liaisons with Muggle women, they were for sexual satisfaction only, no feelings or emotion there. But Ginny, Ginny would be different … she would be his wife, the mother of his children. As he stared into the snifter, the color of the liquor so like the color of her eyes, he vowed he would not only make her want him, he would make her love him.

He was startled from his thoughts by a tap on the door of the study and he looked up to see one of the house-elves ushering in Severus Snape. Draco had changed the wards on the Manor to allow Snape to Apparate into the front hallway; the man was his only connection to both his parents and Ginny Weasley and he wanted him to have access at all times.

Snape sat down and then looked over at Draco and said, “I know it’s late but I needed to talk to you. I wasn’t able to explain much before but yesterday I was told that the Phoenix Division would be acting on the report I prepared. They’re preparing to confront the Dark Lord in two weeks, on October 31st to be exact.

Two weeks, Draco thought, two weeks and she would be here. He tapped a long forefinger on his chin. “I wonder what they would think of your report if they knew of your plan to capture Ginny Weasley and force her to marry me.”

“I never said anything about force,” Snape said coldly. “At the time of the actual ceremony, Miss Weasley will be quite content to be married to you. It’s afterward that you need to be worried about … I fear she might be a bit upset once her … err, contentment wears off.”

“And just how do you plan to make her so content?” Draco asked. “You’re not planning on using Imperius, are you?”

“Of course not … the magical spell binding you would not work if she was under Imperius,” Snape retorted. “There are other methods, you know, methods that don’t fall under the category of Unforgivable. Love Potions have been used quite successfully to convince a reluctant bride or bridegroom.”

Snape gave a small laugh, the laugh sounding rusty from little use, and went on, “Of course, if you don’t want to keep dosing her, you’ll need to convince her to love you on your own. You’ll have quite a task ahead of you considering your history with her.” He gave Draco a quick glance. “ A task I’m sure you’ll undertake with enthusiasm. I’m well aware of your feelings for the girl.”

Draco stared at Snape and then said coolly, “How serendipitous then that Ginny Weasley has all of the connections you think important for my wife.”

“Don’t be snarky, Draco,” Snape said just as coolly. “It didn’t become you when you were a boy and it certainly doesn’t become you as a man.” He rose from his chair and pinned Draco with his gaze. “You have two weeks to prepare for Miss Weasley’s arrival. I will take care of certain arrangements that might seem odd if traced to you. And Draco, just remember that Love Potions can be tricky things. You’ll need to make your first public appearance soon after the ceremony to avoid too many questions. It would be most detrimental to the plan if Miss Weasley, or should I say Mrs. Malfoy, seems to be lacking in marital bliss when you do so.”

“I am well aware of that, Sir,” Draco replied, meeting Snape’s gaze with purpose.

Snape rose to leave and was almost to the door when Draco stopped him with a question. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “It can’t just be because of my parents and their so-called rightful place. You don’t give a toss for Wizarding society, you never have, and you could care less about blood-lines.”

Snape stopped dead in his tracks, then turned, his face inscrutable as he stared at Draco. With a barely perceptible sigh, he came back and sat in the chair he had just vacated.

“I do have my reasons, Draco,” he said. “Is it that important to you to know why, when you’re getting what you wanted for so long?”

“Yes, it is. In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you do anything that didn’t have a purpose behind it. You’re like a spider, spinning your webs in darkness. I’d rather not walk blindly into one of them … I’ve had more than my share of being ensnared in someone else’s plans of revenge or worse,” Draco replied.

There was a long silence before Snape spoke, his tone somber. “Your father and I became Death Eaters for very different reasons. Lucius always believed in the superiority of purebloods and joined because he saw the Dark Lord as a means to purge the wizarding world of the influence of Muggle-borns. Whatever he became later, whatever he did later, he still joined for what some would view as a noble reason, the preservation of what he felt important. I did not.”

“No, I joined for a rather ignoble reason, revenge. I wanted revenge on those I felt had wronged me, and so I sold my soul to the Dark Lord and the price for that transaction was much higher than I ever imagined. I don’t want you to pay that same price, Draco. You became a Death Eater for the same reasons I did, and you’re living in the same shadow world I was forced to inhabit. If I can change that, I will.”

“You’re right. It is fortunate that the woman you want is the woman that can change that for you. In a way, I’m almost sorry to use Miss Weasley in this manner; I’ve always found her less objectionable than her brothers, and although it might not be evident, I do have respect for her parents. But if the alternative is leaving you to become as I have, then I will use her and will have no regrets in doing so.”

Snape stared at Draco. “Miss Weasley is an extraordinary witch. Potter doesn’t deserve her, but then again, neither do you. But you will have her, Draco, because without her, you’ll become me, and that’s a fate I would wish upon no one.” He rose from his chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must leave now. I won’t see you again until I bring her here in two weeks. I’ll expect you to be prepared.”

Draco rose as well. “I will be, Sir.” Snape was almost through the door when Draco stopped him with, “And Sir … thank you.” Snape looked back and nodded before he walked through the door, leaving Draco alone with nothing but his thoughts on what Snape had said.

Standard disclaimer applies, only the plot is mine.


Ginny heaved herself to her feet, her breath coming in shallow gasps, blood pouring from the gash on her arm … the curse had caught her on her upper arm, slicing through the material of her robes and then her skin like a hot knife through butter. She swayed, feeling her strength ebbing, when familiar arms kept her from falling – Ron, his face white with fear, his mouth tight with fury.

“Bloody buggering hell,” Ron muttered, sweeping his sister into his arms and striding over to the tent at the edge of the field. “Shacklebolt had better get him out of my sight or I’ll kill him.”

He lowered her onto the cot, and then grabbed a towel to try to staunch the bleeding until Madame Pomfrey could arrive. Ginny closed her eyes, trying desperately to retain consciousness, the tent spinning around her. She could hear Harry’s voice demanding to know if she was badly hurt, and then Neville’s voice responding. She finally succumbed to the darkness, grateful for the respite it provided.

When she awoke, it was to see Madam Pomfrey’s face above her, slowly wiping her face, trying to remove the sweat and dirt. Ginny’s throat was parched, and she tried to speak, but only a croak emerged. “What happened?” she got out finally, her mouth feeling as though someone had stuffed cotton into it. “Is Harry okay?”

Madame Pomfrey sniffed, and then lifted Ginny’s head so she could drink from a flask. “Mr. Potter is just fine. It’s you that we need to worry about. Drink this up and then your brother wants to see you.”

After managing to swallow a few drops, Ginny’s head lolled back, and Madame Pomfrey lowered her so that she could rest against the pillows. She watched as Ginny’s eyes slowly closed, and then left to alert her brother that Ginny had regained consciousness.


Snape’s report had contained the information that Voldemort was planning to mobilize his forces and lure Harry Potter into battle on October 31st at Godric’s Hollow. Apparently the Dark Lord felt confident about his victory and wanted it to occur on the date and at the location of his first defeat by Harry Potter. Only the Phoenix Division, the Order, and the uppermost ranks of the Ministry knew of the pending attack and Kingsley Shacklebolt had sequestered his team at Hogwarts for further secrecy. The terrain near the Forbidden Forest was similar to that around Godric’s Hollow and provided an opportunity for field training in the interval. Hogwarts was in session but the Phoenix Division was bivouacked out of sight of the school and protected by Disillusionment charms.

No one assumed that their knowledge of Voldemort’s plans gave them any advantage other than the ability to mobilize and get to Godric’s Hollow faster. Their only advantage was that Voldemort seemed to be unaware of the destruction of the rest of his Horcruxes save for Nagini. Harry and Ginny would confront him immediately, hopefully defeating him before he could sense his vulnerability. It was thought that the suddenness of it would throw Voldemort’s forces into turmoil, allowing the back-up Auror Divisions to swoop in and contain them without too much bloodshed.

The weak point in their strategy was the moment when Harry and Ginny would focus on their emotions for one another, in effect going into a trance as they drew their love into a single powerful force. It took only a moment but during that moment, both Harry and Ginny were open to attack, unable to defend themselves. The placement of the rest of the Phoenix Division was critical and Kingsley had brought in several Aurors to test out weaknesses in their defense.

Ginny’s injury had occurred when one of the Aurors had caught her unaware when she was focused inward. By the time she’d snapped back to full consciousness, she’d only had only enough time to deflect it from hitting her straight on. To everyone’s horror, the Auror had used the Sectumsempra curse, a Dark Arts curse that sliced the skin deep to the bone, producing massive blood loss. Had Ginny not been able to deflect it somewhat at the last moment, she would have been killed.

Shacklebolt was beyond rage as he stared at the Auror, who was standing with a defiant scowl on his face. “What the hell were you thinking?” he roared. “Why would you use such a curse? Are you mad or just incredibly stupid?”

The Auror drew himself up and spat out, “You said to simulate actual battle conditions, and that’s what I did. I assumed she’d be competent enough to block it.” He sneered as he added, “She should know the Death Eaters won’t hesitate to use any dirty curse they can.”

Before Shacklebolt could respond, Harry Potter had swung, hard, and the Auror crumpled into a heap, his mouth bleeding from the punch. “You piece of shit,” Harry muttered, flexing his hand. “You knew damn well what you were doing. You’ve had it in for her from the start.”

He turned to Shacklebolt and said fiercely, “I want him gone, now, and if I see him back in the field, so help me, I’ll kill him. He did that on purpose … he’s been bad-mouthing Ginny and Tonks for weeks. He could have killed her just to make a fucking example of her.” He stalked off to go back to the tent where Ginny was recovering, desperate to see if she’d come round.

Shacklebolt gave the man on the ground a nudge with his foot, and when he groaned, yelled, “Take this worthless piece of trash back to Headquarters and suspend him immediately. I don’t want to see him anywhere near Ginny Weasley until she’s old and gray.” If what Potter had said was true, and Shacklebolt had no reason to doubt it, the Auror had allowed personal feelings to prevail, unacceptable behavior at any time and inexcusable at this critical juncture.

Harry stopped before entering the tent, trying to calm himself down before he went in to see Ginny. They’d been standing side by side, both just coming back to awareness, when he felt the impact of the curse hit her and she’d fallen, shuddering with pain, to the ground. In a blind rush of fury, he’d gone after the Auror who’d flung the curse, grabbing him by the neck and crashing him against a tree – it had taken three men to pull him off.

He knew that he had realized too late that pushing Ginny Weasley away was futile; she was in danger just for being her, not for being loved by Harry Potter. He’d fought against her being a part of the Phoenix Division, only capitulating when Hermione had forced him to do so, telling him in no uncertain terms that there would be no end to the war, no hope for either of them, unless he used the power of that love against Voldemort. The irony of it overwhelmed him at times.


“This is sick, you know, Potter,” Ginny said dully. They were at the Burrow for a family dinner shortly after she’d joined the Phoenix Division. He’d noticed her missing and had gone outside to find her sitting underneath one of the trees, watching the gnomes crept back into the garden. “You won’t even talk about it and yet the entire future of the wizarding world seems to depend on what we feel for one another. Somehow the love you won’t acknowledge is what will save you, me and everyone else.” She took a long pull from the bottle of Butterbeer in her hand. “What a crock of shit.”

Harry lowered himself to sit beside her. “Ginny,” he said hesitantly, “it’s …”

“Oh, shut it,” Ginny snarled, flinging the bottle from her at an approaching gnome. “It’s what? Don’t tell me it’s difficult. Difficult doesn’t begin to fecking describe it. I never gave up on you, Potter, but you gave up on me almost right from the start.” She stood up and stared straight ahead, not looking at him. “I only hope Hermione and the others are right and you do care for me enough to finally defeat that bastard. God knows I don’t believe it.”

When he reached up to try and touch her, to pull her down so he could explain, she brushed his hand off brusquely. “I’ll do what I need to, Harry. I could never do less, not for you or anyone else. But don’t try to make me understand. You didn’t want to bother before and it’s too late now.”

He watched helplessly as she strode back into the Burrow, gnomes scattering before her. “Ginny, please …” He flinched as the door slammed behind her.

Shaking his head to clear the memories, he pushed aside the flap of the tent and walked in to see Ginny sitting up, Ron next to her holding her hand. Her hair was unbound, and she was in a sleeveless t-shirt, a bandage swathed around her upper arm, glowing slightly from the spell Madam Pomfrey had placed on it to keep it saturated with murtlap essence. She was smiling, trying to rescue her hand from Ron’s grip, assuring him that she was feeling much better.

“All right there, Ginny?” Harry asked, his voice thick. “You had us worried.”

It was if a light had been flicked off. The smile fled Ginny’s face as she turned to Harry. “Okay now, thanks to Pommy,” she replied in a monotone. “No lasting damage it seems.”

“That bastard did it deliberately, Harry. He knew damn well what he was doing and I’m going to make sure Shacklebolt gets rid of him,” Ron muttered, his hand still gripping Ginny’s tightly.

“Done, mate. Shacklebolt’s sent him back to Headquarters under suspension. I managed to deck him good before that though,” Harry said, rubbing his knuckles. He fell silent as Ginny looked down, refusing to meet his gaze.

Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the tent, and took in Ginny’s appearance, visibly relaxing when he saw her sitting up. “Madam Pomfrey did her usual magic, then? You seem none the worst for wear.”

“Almost as good as new. The cut’s been healed, I’ve gallons of blood replenishing potion in me, and I shouldn’t have a scar once the dittany and the murtlap essence have done their work,” Ginny replied coolly. “I should be good to go by the end of the day.”

Shacklebolt pulled over a chair and sat down, motioning for Harry to do the same. “Look, this has shown me that the both of you are still too exposed and vulnerable to attack. We need to cover you better. That piece of garbage was right, the Death Eaters won’t play fair and we can’t afford to risk one of you falling.”

Ron finally released Ginny’s hand and stood up, clenching his fists. “The formation we planned on won’t provide enough cover for both of them. The rest of us need to be either in front or alongside – it’s the only way we can deflect any curses aimed at them.”

Shacklebolt shook his head, and pointed out, “You can’t be in front … you can’t block Harry when he casts the curse. And alongside won’t work either, you’ll be too strung out – easy pickings for Death Eater scum. I’ve got something else in mind. We’ll work on it tomorrow as soon as Ginny’s able. We don’t have much time until October 31st.”

All four turned as the tent flap opened and Madame Pomfrey walked in, holding a flask in one hand. “I’ve brought a restorative potion that will aid her recovery. The blood replenishing potion alone won’t be sufficient to restore her energy to full strength.” She walked over to Ginny and handed her the flask, saying, “Drink it all now, Miss Weasley. It should complete its work in a few hours.”

Ron and Harry waited until Pomfrey had left the tent before Ron kissed his sister’s cheek and ruffled her hair. “I’ll come by later to check on you and bring you some decent food … not that pap Pomfrey thinks is edible.” He left the tent, Shacklebolt right behind him. Harry lingered for a moment, his mouth opening as if to say something, and then shrugged and left as well.

Ginny sank back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering closed. She’d put on a brave front for them but the incident had frightened her. It’d made her realize just how vulnerable both Harry and she would be. Their whole offensive strategy was based on Harry loving her, something she doubted more and more as time went on. Surely if he loved her, he wouldn’t keep denying them whatever slim chance they had for happiness. She kept thinking of his parents, her parents, Bill and Fleur, Remus and Tonks … they’d all grabbed the opportunity to be together, no matter what the risk, realizing that even a few moments of shared love was better than no love at all. What made her and Harry so different? A tear crept out from her closed eyes as she forced her mind to shut down, clearing it of everything but the need for sleep.


Ginny felt much better the next day, physically at least, and worked with the others on the new formation Shacklebolt had devised. It was basically just a shift in the original formation so that Ron was slightly to the side and front of his sister while Tonks was slightly to the side and rear of Harry. It wasn’t perfect but Ron was able to deflect the majority of curses flung at Ginny while Harry still had a clear shot at Voldemort. By the end of the day, all of them were hot, dirty and tired, and Ron’s stomach was grumbling so loudly Ginny swore it was thunder.

McGonagall had invited them to spend their last two nights in the castle, making available private quarters where they would not be seen by any of the students. Ginny and Tonks in particular were glad to have the luxury of real showers … and real beds. As they trooped up to the castle, Severus Snape watched them from his hiding place, frowning as he contemplated what he had seen.

He’d had a rough idea of how they would group themselves in preparation for the battle, knowing that they’d need to protect both Potter and Ginny Weasley for the moment or so when they focused their emotions. He’d expected that once they’d done so, Potter would move forward to confront the Dark Lord and the others would move forward with him, leaving Ginny relatively unprotected. But instead Ron Weasley kept by his sister’s side, effectively blocking any attempt at her.

Snape sighed, thinking that his only option would be to cast a mild Confundus spell on the male Weasley … the momentary confusion would give him just enough time to reach Ginny Weasley and spirit her away. The girl would be weakened for only a few moments and he would have only a brief window to accomplish his objective. Snape knew that if he waited too long, Ginny Weasley would put up a struggle and he didn’t want to risk hurting her or others. With one final look at the group now approaching the front door of Hogwarts, he Disapparated.


October 31st was a sunny and clear day, at odds with what the Phoenix Division knew would happen that night. Tense and on edge, they tried to divert themselves; Harry and Ron played chess while Ginny and Tonks read trashy novels out loud trying to embarrass Neville with descriptions of torrid love. Finally at seven o’clock that evening, the alert came … the Dark Mark had been sighted over Godric’s Hollow. Within seconds, the Phoenix Division had Apparated to the site, two other carefully selected Divisions close behind them.

They moved towards the Dark Mark, Harry and Ginny at the forefront, the others falling into position as planned. As they moved closer, Voldemort suddenly came into sight, looking even less human than before. He seemed to be alone but they could see movement in the trees behind him, likely Death Eaters and the non-humans who had rallied for the final battle.

Voldemort watched them approach and when they were within twenty feet of him, sneered, “So, Harry Potter and the famous Phoenix Division … come to meet your end then?” A dark shape at his side uncoiled and raised itself, hissing as it swayed. “Ah, you recognize my pet then,” Voldemort said, reaching to pat the snake. “I couldn’t not have her witness my final triumph over the Boy Who Lived Too Long.”

Suddenly the shadows in the trees became Death Eaters, circling to surround the six Aurors. Ignoring them, Harry and Ginny appeared to go into a trance, their faces blank as their attention focused inward. Voldemort seemed taken aback by their not attacking at once, faltering for a moment as he felt a shift in the air around him. A visible field of energy began to radiate from Harry and Ginny, humming in its intensity. Harry raised his wand and the field of energy condensed into a single beam of light that vanished into his wand as if sucked into a black hole.

Voldemort clutched his chest, long skeletal fingers scrabbling as if to try and find something that was missing. A look of horror flashed over his face as he realized that he no longer had enough soul still tied to the earth to survive. Before he could say a word or move, Harry’s wand seemed to explode, a gold flash bursting out of the end. It hit Voldemort straight on and he screamed, falling lifeless to the ground.

The suddenness of it stunned everyone for a moment; there was silence as everyone stared on the crumpled figure lying next to a scorched snakeskin … Nagini had perished as well. As the Death Eaters realized their Dark Lord was gone, pandemonium broke out as they started to flee, desperate to avoid capture. Many of them died when they ran directly into the werewolves who, furious at the abrupt collapse of their plans, were out for blood, any blood.

The six Aurors paid little attention to the chaos around them, trusting to the other divisions and the rest of the Ministry defense force to handle it. Harry was on his hands and knees, barely conscious, while Ron was holding Ginny up as she swayed, trying to keep her on her feet.

Suddenly Ron felt a movement beside him and as he looked around, a cloud descended over his mind and his vision blurred. He let go of Ginny as he shook his head, trying to clear it. Everything went dark and for a moment, he blacked out.

When he came to his senses, he looked wildly around. Tonks was kneeling beside Harry, guarding him until he regained his strength, her head down next to his. Neville and Kingsley were putting a protective shield around Voldemort’s body until it could be taken away. Ginny was nowhere in sight, only a faint shimmer in the air where she’d been standing a few moments before.

“Ginny’s gone!” Ron bellowed frantically. “She’s vanished!”

Harry’s head snapped up, and he stared at Ron, not understanding for a moment. “What do you mean she’s gone? How can she be gone? She was right here.” He struggled to his feet, Tonks supporting him. “You were supposed to protect her!” he screamed.

Neville and Shacklebolt raced up to the three of them and then stood there, staring at the place where Ginny should have been.

“What the hell happened?” Neville shouted. “Where’s Ginny?”

Ron could only stand there, face rigid with fear and anguish, “I don’t know.”


Severus Snape Apparated to Malfoy Manor, Ginny Weasley unconscious in his arms. He’d cast the Confundus spell on Ron Weasley and then grabbed Ginny Weasley. She’d started to struggle when he’d grabbed her, not knowing who he was and trying to free herself. He’d Stunned her slightly, not wishing to use too strong a spell in her weakened condition, and then swept her into his arms, Disapparating immediately.

Draco had been waiting near the Apparation Point in the front hall of Malfoy Manor, pacing nervously, fearful that something might have gone wrong. When Snape appeared, Ginny in his arms, he felt immense relief wash over him and he moved quickly to Snape to take Ginny from him.

“Is she all right?” he asked, clasping her tightly, reveling in the feel of her.

“Yes, but I had to Stun her. She should be out for several hours, enough time to get the ceremony ready,” Snape said, as he moved to sit down in a chair … the abduction had taken a lot of him.

“Did anyone see you take her?” Draco was already moving to the staircase to take Ginny to the room he’d had prepared.

“No one,” Snape answered. “I had a Disillusionment Charm on me.”

Draco turned for a moment, Ginny in his arms, and said with a catch in his voice, “Thank you, for everything. I’ve had a room made ready for you so you can rest for a few hours as well. I’ll call you when things are ready.” He mounted the stairs, holding his precious burden carefully.

Snape watched him, pushing away any doubts about his actions of that night … he refused to think about the Weasleys and Potter or their reactions on learning Ginny was gone. With a sigh, he got up and went to catch some sleep.


Author's Note: For those who thought the battle should be more prolonged and intense in that it's the final battle, I apologize. I changed the original title of this chapter from 'The Final Battle' to 'The Abduction' since for the purposes of this story, the abduction is more important. Hopefully what I wrote of the battle did make sense.

Standard disclaimer applies, only the plot is mine.

Draco laid Ginny carefully on the bed, and then called for a female house-elf to bathe her and dress her in one of the nightgowns he’d purchased. She was deathly pale with smudges of dirt on her face, tendrils of her bright red hair coming out of the braid she’d fastened at the nape of her neck. He repressed a shudder; he had been worried that something might go wrong, but she was here now and he could relax somewhat.

He stood off to one side, watching as Deeby, one of the older female house-elves, gently tended to Ginny. After a few moments, he went down to his study and fetched a flask containing a mild sleep potion. He’d decided that he would Enervate her from the Stunning Spell and give her the potion instead; he feared she was still weak from the battle and the potion would be less stressful on her body.

He returned to the bedroom, and then gently lifted Ginny’s head and shoulders up, and with a small wave of his wand, whispered “Enervate.” Ginny stirred, her eyes opening but her gaze unfocused. Before she could rouse any further, he put the flask to her lips and said softly, “Drink. You’ll feel better.” She swallowed obediently like a child obeying her mother, and then fell back against his arms as the potion did its work. He stroked her forehead softly and then laid her back down and made sure she was well covered with a duvet.

Draco glanced at the clock – it was almost midnight and they had planned the marriage ceremony for ten in the morning. The potion would keep Ginny asleep for eight hours, leaving enough time for to prepare her. He instructed Deeby to stay with Ginny throughout the night and to call him immediately should she wake before the morning. He decided to try to get some sleep himself and left to go to his own bedroom.

Amongst the older pure-blood families, it was expected that the married heir would live in the ancestral family home with his bride, usually in a wing separate from the Lord of the Manor and his wife. It was a rite of passage that even unmarried sons would move into the separate wing on their eighteenth birthdays. He had not; with both his father and mother gone, he had continued to stay in his childhood bedroom, unwilling to leave a familiar place, a place that reminded him of a time when he was simply the pampered Malfoy heir.

When Snape had confided his plan, he had instructed the house elves to move him into the wing of the manor reserved for married sons. It was not common for husbands to sleep with their wives, and his bedroom was part of a suite consisting of two adjoining bedrooms with a shared sitting room. However, Draco had no intention of sleeping apart from Ginny once they were married, just as his father had not slept apart from his mother. But for the time being, Ginny was in the adjoining bedroom … they were not wed yet.

After giving instructions that he was to be awoken at precisely six am, Draco got into his bed and lay there for a few minutes, trying to calm his mind. He’d been surprised when Snape had appeared with Ginny just after eleven pm; the final battle had ended much sooner than he’d expected. But although the battle must have been fierce judging from her appearance, she was only exhausted, not hurt.

Draco could imagine the panic that had ensued once the other members of the Phoenix Division realized that Ginny had vanished. It was likely that they were still combing the area, looking for clues to her disappearance. While they might be able to detect the traces of Apparation, they would not be able to trace the destination, thanks to Snape’s foresight and the many wards guarding Malfoy Manor. He couldn’t restrain his smirk at the thought of the Ministry in chaos with one of the two heroes responsible for the defeat of Voldemort missing in action – after their treatment of him, he was glad for any trouble they suffered.

The smirk grew broader when he thought of the uproar that would occur when he and Ginny appeared as husband and wife. It disappeared when he thought of the need to concoct a plausible story … questions would be asked and they needed to have answers. Well, he thought, they would cross that bridge when they came to it … they had other things to attend to before then, such as the marriage ceremony tomorrow morning. Willing his mind to empty, Draco finally fell asleep, the smirk still on his lips.


Draco was already awake when the house-elf came in at 6 am, and he showered and dressed quickly, wanting to check on Ginny before he went down for breakfast. Deeby was sitting in a chair next to the bed, her gaze fixed on Ginny, alert for any change in her condition.

“The Miss has been sleeping soundly, Master Draco,” she said, eyes not leaving her charge, “She has barely stirred.”

He walked over to the bed and gently stroked her face, well aware that her current peaceful state would not last long, not once she realized what had happened. He turned to Deeby and said, “The Miss should wake in several hours. Notify me immediately as we’ll need to prepare for the marriage ceremony.” The house-elf nodded obediently and with a final look at Ginny, Draco left the room.

When Draco walked into the morning room to have breakfast, Snape was already seated, drinking coffee and reading the early morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

“Well, as expected, the story is how Potter saved the world once again from Voldemort, although they do have the courtesy to say he was assisted by the Phoenix Division,” Snape said, a sneer underlying his voice. “No mention of Miss Weasley though. I would assume the Ministry is keeping her disappearance under wraps.”

Draco sat down, accepting a cup of coffee from a house-elf, and took the paper from Snape. “They don’t mention anyone by name except for Potter … one would think they’d at least give some credit to the others.”

“I assume you checked on Miss Weasley before coming down? How is she?” Snape asked.

“Still sleeping. I did lift the Stunning Spell and gave her a sleeping draught instead. I thought it would be less stressful on her body after what she went through last night. She should wake in an hour or so, enough time for preparations.”

Snape nodded, and said, “A wise decision. Stunning Spells, even mild, can leave residual effects, especially when the person Stunned is in a weakened state. And the sleeping draught will have worn off enough not to interfere with the other potion.” He took a sip of coffee and then asked, “Has Mr. Fletcher arrived yet?”

Snape had arranged for Filbert Fletcher to perform the marriage ceremony; he was a long retired Ministry official who was quite happy to keep his silence in return for a large payment to supplement his meager income. There were several types of magical marriage ceremonies, depending on how traditional the couple and their parents were, or on the type of bonding that was desired. The ceremony that would be used to marry Draco and Ginny was an ancient one, used only by the oldest pure-blood families and seldom used in modern times.

This particular marriage ceremony was used to irrevocably bind the couple, securing the family and property ties until death, an important consideration for wealthy pure-blood families who considered marriage a means of preserving bloodline and assets. Of course, the fact that both parties had to agree to the marriage meant that sometimes a reluctant bride or groom had to be persuaded to go through with such a binding ceremony.

Some parents used a version of the Confundus spell, which was similar to Muggle hypnosis, making the victim susceptible to certain suggestions, casting it shortly before the wedding, and lifting it after the consummation. Its effectiveness varied with the strength of the witch or wizard though and so most parents opted to use a Love Potion, finding its results more predictable. Aware of Ginny’s abilities to throw off spells, Snape planned to use Amortentia, a powerful love potion made even more powerful by a few changes he had made to its brewing.

“No, he’s scheduled to arrive just before 10 am,” replied Draco, still immersed in the paper. “He sent an owl yesterday confirming his arrival.”

“Good.” Snape cleared his throat before asking, “You do realize that the marriage must be consummated in order for it to be complete and truly binding? Until then, it can be annulled.” Two pink spots appeared on his otherwise pale cheeks.

Draco froze for a moment, and then, still looking down at the paper, said in a carefully blank voice, “Yes, I do realize that, and it will be.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were aware of that fact.” Snape cleared his throat again. “After the marriage ceremony is over, I’ll go and see what I can find out from my sources at the Order. I’ll return tomorrow morning so that we can discuss the next steps.” He turned and left the room, obviously anxious to avoid any further uncomfortable discussion.

After Snape had left, Draco lifted his head and stared blankly at the wall. He knew that the marriage had to be consummated immediately and what was left of his conscience pricked him just a bit at the thought. Oh, he knew she would be willing, the love potion would make her willing … but without it, he knew full well she would fight him tooth and nail.

He didn’t know if she was still a virgin although he thought she might; she had been quite young when she and Potter had been together and they hadn’t stayed together for very long. Snape had told him that Ginny had dated a few wizards but that none of the relationships had been serious. Even though her upbringing had probably been more liberal than most pure-blood girls, what with her constant exposure to Muggleborns, he imagined that she wouldn’t give her heart or her body easily, particularly if she still hoped to get back with Potter.

A sudden memory flashed through his mind, the potions classroom in his sixth year and Professor Slughorn telling them about Amortentia and its ability to cause a powerful obsession, warning them about the power of obsessive love. Theodore Nott had smirked at that and he had joined in half-heartedly; he knew the dangers of obsession, be it for love or for power itself. A dangerous and powerful potion, Slughorn had said about Amortentia, and that’s what Snape would be giving to Ginny.

But perhaps he was looking at this the wrong way, he thought. After all, sex was powerful itself; the act of physically yielding oneself could awaken emotions, stir feelings towards the person one was joined with. He could form a connection with Ginny by ensnaring her with physical pleasure, make her want his body even if she didn’t want him otherwise. He could gradually replace the drugging effects of the potion with the drugging effects of sexual satisfaction.

Draco’s mouth tightened with determination. He had her now, after so long, and he would do anything to keep her, anything. He rose from the table … time to put the morning’s events in motion.


Twenty minutes later, he was sitting at his desk in his study, looking over the marriage contract, his gaze occasionally shifting to the small box sitting on the desk. The box contained the two simple platinum bands that they would exchange during the ceremony. “The contract seems in order,” Draco said to Snape who was sitting across from him. “I noticed that you’ve provided a monetary allowance for Ginny as part of the marriage settlement.”

“Yes. It’s better that she be provided with her own source of income, and not be dependent on you for every last Knut. She’s using to working, after all, and having her own money,” Snape responded. His honor required that he protect Ginny Weasley’s interests, contradictory though that might have seemed with his role in the marriage.

Draco shrugged, and said, “Of course. I wouldn’t expect otherwise.” He finished reading the contract, and then carefully rolled it back up. “Mr. Fletcher will be here in just over an hour. Shall we go see Ginny and get her ready?”



When Ginny had awoken, she was disoriented and dizzy. The last thing she remembered was the battle, facing Voldemort with Harry, the trance and then the wave of exhaustion that had swept over her. Someone had grabbed her then, someone she knew but didn’t know, and then all she could remember was darkness.

She looked over to see a small creature, a house-elf, staring at her solemnly with large, liquid eyes. “Miss is awake? Shall Deeby draw Miss a bath so that she can get dressed?” The creature moved to the side of the bed, ready to assist Ginny in rising.

“Who are you? And just where am I?” Ginny asked, eyes a bit wild as she took in her surroundings. The bedroom was large and opulent, the colors soft gray with forest green accents – Slytherin colors, she thought. She pushed back the duvet and stared at her body … she was clad in a green satin nightgown, a far cry from the t-shirt and knickers that she usually wore to bed.

She pushed herself off the bed and to her feet, swaying for a moment, vertigo threatening to overwhelm her. Once the room had stopped spinning, she walked on unsteady legs to the door she saw across the room, the house-elf almost bouncing beside her, desperate to stop her. “No, Miss, no. Take a bath you must, then get dressed.”

“I’m not doing anything until I find out where I am and what I’m doing here,” Ginny muttered. “I’m not supposed to be here, wherever it is. I need to get to the Ministry and find out what’s happened.”

She had almost reached the door when it swung open to reveal Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy, and she stumbled back in shock. Draco moved forward quickly to try to support her, and she slapped his hands away, the action causing her to lose her balance and crumple onto the floor. “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, trying to get to her feet. “Where am I? What do you want with me?”

Snape stood motionless, watching as Draco tried to assist Ginny to a standing position, earning only slaps and curses for his efforts … he bit back a snicker, it was like watching a small kitten fight a panther.

“Enough, Miss Weasley, enough!” Snape finally said, his tone harsh. “Let Malfoy help you up and then I’ll explain.”

Ginny stopped struggling, and still sprawled on the floor, looked at Snape and sneered, “You’ll explain? Right, like I’d believe either of you.”

Draco extended a hand, and Ginny stared at it as if it was a snake ready to strike, then finally reached for it and allowed him to pull her to her feet, flinging his hand away once she was standing. She wobbled a bit, and when Draco reached to steady her, snarled, “Touch me again, ferret, and you’ll lose that hand.”

The house-elf rushed to her side, and unwillingly, Ginny allowed her to slowly guide her back to the bed where her legs gave way and she sat down with an ungraceful thump. “I want explanations, and I want them now! Just what the bloody hell is going on? Why am I here?”

Snape drew in a harsh breath, he really didn’t want to do this but it was the only way. He walked over to Ginny and then stared into her eyes, capturing her attention. His wand was suddenly in his hand, and before Ginny could react, he whispered an incantation. Ginny’s eyes glazed over immediately and her face went blank. Snape took a small flask from within his robes and then knelt, lifting the flask to Ginny’s lips.

“Drink this, Miss Weasley,” he said in a steady tone. She obediently swallowed. He turned to Draco. “We’ll wait a few moments for the potion to take effect before I lift the spell.”

After several minutes, Snape whispered another incantation and Ginny’s eyelids fluttered before she opened her eyes fully. She took a breath that was more like a sigh and then her gaze fell on Draco, just behind Snape.

“Draco,” she whispered. Then she almost leapt from the bed to throw herself at him, clutching at him, all the time, murmuring, “Draco, oh, Draco.”

Draco embraced her tightly, his eyes closing at the feel of her in his arms, at the sensations racing through him as she pushed herself even closer into his embrace. “I’m here, love,” he managed to say, before she pulled his face down for a deep and passionate kiss. It was with an effort he disengaged himself. Cupping her face in his hands, he said, “Come, Ginny. You need to get ready. Don’t you remember? We’re getting married this morning.”

She blinked her eyes. “Really? Oh, my. Yes, yes, I must get ready.” She rose from the bed and beckoned eagerly to Deeby. “Will you help me please?”

The two men watched Deeby take Ginny’s hand and lead her into the bathroom, Ginny looking back at Draco over her shoulder and smiling widely. Then Snape turned to Draco and said wryly, “The potion seems to have worked. I suggest that we leave Miss Weasley with Deeby for now. Come back to collect her in thirty minutes and bring her down to the small salon.”

Draco stared in amazement at the door that Ginny had retreated behind, and then looked at Snape with almost a stunned expression. “I’m floored that the potion worked so well. She didn’t even hesitate when I said we were to be married.”

Snape merely shrugged. “Amortentia is the most powerful Love Potion known, and I’ve enhanced it even further. It creates obsessive love, Draco, and you of all people should know the power of obsession. Miss Weasley will believe anything that will enable her to be with the object of her obsession. In her mind, marriage is not only entirely plausible, it’s eminently desirable.”

Snape’s lips twisted into the semblance of a smirk. “The Weasleys are known for the intensity of their feelings, and the more one has the capacity to feel, the more one is affected by something like a love potion. Actually I would have worried about my brewing of the potion had Miss Weasley not been as ardent as she was.”

“Now I’ve added enhancements to the potion so that it should be undetectable and very difficult to brew an antidote. As long as you keep giving her a dose every day, Miss Weasley will be madly in love with you. No one will be able to convince her otherwise.” He then looked at Draco grimly. “But you must understand that her love is dependant on the potion. Should you ever decide not to continue giving it to her, that love will cease.”

Bowing his head, Draco nodded once … he did understand. He followed Snape out of the room, giving one last look back. But love created by a potion could be replaced by real love, he thought, and then she would truly be his. ‘I will make her love me for real,’ he vowed, ‘I will.’


At ten minutes to ten, Draco stood outside of the door to Ginny’s bedroom, his hand on the doorknob, his heart beating rapidly. He forced himself to open the door, and then stood, openmouthed, as a vision came towards him … Ginny, in white dress robes that clung to her every curve, her bright red hair cascading down her back, white daisies bound into a coronet on her head. “Draco,” she said sweetly, coming up to him and holding out her hand, “I’m ready.”

He swallowed, overcome for a moment, before he answered, “Yes, and you look beautiful. Come with me, love.” He knew it was the effects of the potion, but her emotions seemed so real … she was a loving Ginny, eager to be with him. He held out his arm, and suppressed the tremor that threatened as she slipped her arm under his. As they walked down the corridor to the main staircase, Ginny chattered brightly about the wedding, how she loved him, the wonderful flower arrangements in the main hall, how she adored him, and the concerns she had had about the coronet of daisies staying in her hair. By the time they walked into the main salon, Draco was thoroughly bemused.

Ginny quieted as they approached Fletcher standing near one of the French doors with Snape. Her eyes were fixed on the elderly wizard who was holding their two wands, along with a short length of gold ribbon. “Excellent,” Fletcher wheezed. “Shall we begin?” He gave them both their wands, and Draco held his breath, he’d forgotten that Ginny would need her wand. To his relief, she simply held it in one hand while the other was clutching Draco’s almost convulsively.

The ceremony itself was mercifully brief, Fletcher stating first that the intent was to bind the two of them in marriage, that both would be obliged to honor one another, respect their families and heritage, and to produce children to continue the bloodline, and that the marriage was a magical contract that could not be broken. After asking if they both understood their obligations and the finality of the contract, he asked them to each agree to the marriage and vow to uphold their obligations. Ginny went first, her agreement and her vow spoken in a soft but clear voice, and then Draco, his voice louder and firm in tone.

After the vows to bind themselves to one another for the rest of their lives had been spoken, Fletcher had them hold their wands, tip to tip, and with a wave of his own wand, gold sparks emitted from their wands, showering them in a shimmering haze. Snape handed Draco the box holding the rings and once they had placed them on each other’s hand, Fletcher touched his wand to each, causing them to glow for several moments. He then bound their left hands together with the gold ribbon and smiled, “Now for the signing of the contract.”

Draco and Ginny moved over to a small desk, Ginny sitting to sign the contract, Draco bending over her shoulder. Once their two signatures were affixed, Snape signed as the witness and then Fletcher as the officiating wizard. All four watched as Fletcher touched his wand to the contract and it shimmered, indicating the end of the marriage ceremony.

Draco grasped Ginny tightly, capturing her lips in a soft kiss, his blood almost singing with the knowledge that she was now his. He bent his head so that his forehead touched hers and whispered, “I promise to make you happy that you married me. You won’t regret this, ever.”

Ginny looked at him, her gaze slightly confused, “Why would I regret this? I love you, Draco, and nothing could make me happier than to be your wife.”

Snape gave a slight cough, and as the two looked at him, said dryly, “Time for a toast to your marriage,” and motioned to the tray a house-elf was holding with four glasses of champagne. “To you both … may you both be happy in your marriage.”

Draco touched his glass to Ginny’s and as he watched her sip the bubbly liquid, sent up a silent prayer that Snape’s words would be true.

The standard disclaimer applies, only the plot is mine.


Ron Weasley got up from his chair and slammed the door of the conference room shut with a loud crash, growling, “Bloody hell, can’t they belt up? I’m about ready to go out and Stupefy the lot!”

Tonks looked at him wearily and said, “Look, Ron. You can’t blame them. Voldemort’s been defeated for good … they’re bound to want to celebrate.” She rubbed her eyes; none of them had slept at all that night and she was exhausted. “They haven’t had time to consider the losses, all they know is that he’s gone.”

“Do you think they fucking care about the losses?” Ron shouted, his face red with anger and his eyes wild. “They don’t care about the losses, just as long as their own little world is now alright.” He sank back into his chair and dropped his head into his hands. “They don’t fucking care …”, he muttered, “they don’t.”

There was silence in the room, the five remaining members of the Phoenix Division struggling to control their feelings; anger, pain, disbelief – Ginny had disappeared and no one could explain how or where. They should have been celebrating with everyone else … instead they were cloistered in a room, waiting for Arthur Weasley to arrive, agonizingly aware that one of their number was missing.

Tonks looked over at Harry, and her heart almost broke. He was sitting rigidly in his chair, his face frighteningly blank, and his hands clenched into fists. She knew how Harry felt about Ginny, after all, it was supposed be his love for Ginny Weasley that would finally defeat the Dark Lord. But then she also knew that Harry had convinced himself not to claim his love until Voldemort was dead, and had done so at a terrible cost to both he and Ginny.

She sighed; Voldemort was dead and Harry had won, yet he had lost … his prize for victory had been snatched away from him in the blink of an eye. Ron’s grief at losing a sister was terrible, but Harry’s grief was like a black hole, sucking him into its depths. Tonks shuddered – the intensity was enough to make her almost physically ill.

Neville’s voice cut across the silence, startling them with its vehemence, “She’s disappeared, not dead … there is a difference, you know. Don’t hold the funeral without a body.” As one, they turned to stare at Neville who was ramrod stiff, his body posture reflecting the powerful control he had on his emotions.

“What did you say?” Ron asked, staring at Neville as if he had never seen him before. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I said she’s disappeared. We don’t know that she’s dead and you know damn well that there was no body, no sign of blood, nothing. If we think she’s dead, we’ve given up too soon,” Neville ground out, pinning Ron with his fierce look. “Just because we don’t see an explanation doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

Ron was motionless for a moment, staring fixedly at Neville, and then he lunged at him, hands going for the throat. “You asshole! Don’t tell me how I should feel. She was my sister, not yours!”

It took the combined efforts of Tonks and Kingsley to pull Ron off Neville and push the redhead into a chair, Kingsley holding him down to prevent further movement. “Weasley!” Kingsley bellowed. “Don’t even move an inch or so help me, I’ll Stun you until you come to your senses!”

Harry turned to stare at Neville, his blank gaze slowing giving way to one of mild interest. “He’s right, you know,” he said in a detached voice. “There was no body, just that odd shimmer.”

Tonks slumped into her chair and said, “Look, we’re all exhausted and not thinking straight. Let’s wait until Arthur gets here.”

“I’m here,” said Arthur Weasley walking into the room, followed by Cyrus Pritchard, Head of the Department of Mysteries. The other Deputy Minister of Magic, Amos Diggory, and the Head of St. Mungo’s, Hippocrates Smethwyck, were close on their heels.

Arthur Weasley looked as if he had aged thirty years overnight. Like the rest of them, he had not slept that night. He had just returned from the Burrow where he had been forced to break the news to his wife that their youngest child and only daughter was missing. Molly’s grief had been terrible and he had left her in the care of Hermione who had Floo’d over as soon as she’d heard the news.

“Are we ready?” Amos Diggory asked as he adjusted a Steno-Quill to record the proceedings. “Each of you will take the oath before giving your statement, and you will give your statement alone. Once you’ve done so, you may remain in the room. Auror Shacklebolt will start as the one most senior.”

The five Aurors looked at the older witch with surprise and then as one, turned to Arthur Weasley. Kingsley asked the question they were all thinking, “Arthur, what’s this all about?”

Arthur said simply, “Voldemort was defeated last night and we need to have a record of just exactly what transpired.” He took a shallow breath, and an expression of pain crossed his face.

He stood silent for a moment and then continued, “And we need to have details of how Ginny disappeared. We have no hope of finding out what happened to her without those. You were the ones there … your statements are critical.”

Kingsley nodded, and then said, “Deputy Minister Diggory, I’m ready to take the oath and make my statement.”

The other four left the room reluctantly, Harry stopping in the doorway briefly to look at Arthur Weasley, then following the rest out.

Amos Diggory held his wand in his right hand and motioned to Kingsley to do the same. He touched his wand to Kingsley’s and then said, “Repeat after me please … I, Kingsley Shacklebolt, do solemnly swear that the statement I am about to give is the whole truth of the events that took place on October 31st, 2002 in Godric’s Hollow.”

Kingsley repeated, “I, Kingsley Shacklebolt, do solemnly swear that the statement I am about to give is the whole truth of the events that took place on October 31st, 2002 in Godric’s Hollow,” and then gave a start as a shower of golden sparks emitted from both wands.

Amos Diggory nodded and turned to Arthur Weasley and Devon Dilbert, “Gentlemen, you have observed the successful swearing of the oath. Auror Shacklebolt, please tell us about the events of last night, those leading up to Voldemort’s defeat and immediately after.”

“We were notified at seven pm that the Dark Mark had been sighted over Godric’s Hollow. As planned, the Phoenix Division immediately Apparated to the site. Our objective was to get Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley to Voldemort as soon as possible so that Harry could cast his spell. When we arrived, we encountered Voldemort almost immediately.” The room was almost completely silent; the loudest sound that of the scratching of the Steno-Quill on parchment.

“There was almost no confrontation with Voldemort …” His voice trailed off as he remembered the scene. “The Death Eaters that were there circled the perimeter, but they didn’t attack – they were waiting, it seemed. Harry and Ginny went into a trance in preparation for Harry casting the spell. Ron was in front of Ginny the whole time, protecting her.”

Kingsley stopped for a moment, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall the exact details of the final moments. “And then Harry cast the spell and it hit Voldemort – there was a flash of gold light, and then Voldemort fell dead to the ground. Harry stumbled to his knees, weak from casting the spell and Ron was helping Ginny stay up - she was weak as well. Then Ron looked … off, somehow, as if he wasn’t all there. That’s when Ginny disappeared, just vanished, just a shimmer where she used to be.”

Kingsley shook his head, “But there was something else … a shape, someone or something … I thought before it was merely a shadow but now I think it might have been someone, someone that wasn’t there before.”

Arthur Weasley was staring fixedly at Kingsley Shacklebolt and missed the look that Amos Diggory exchanged with Cyrus Pritchard. Both had the same thought – someone had used the confusion of the battle to take Ginny Weasley, and they could only guess for what purpose.

“Thank you, Auror Shacklebolt,” Amos Diggory said. “You may leave or remain in the room while the others give their statements. It’s your choice.”

“I’ll stay, Sir,” Kingsley replied, “Perhaps hearing their statements will help me remember something of importance.” He moved off to the edge of the room, folding his large frame into one of the chairs.

At a nod from Amos Diggory, Cyrus Pritchard went to the door and called for Tonks to come in. Tonks took the oath and then gave her statement, which was almost word for word the same as Kingsley’s. As had Kingsley, Tonks stayed in the room to hear the others’ statements.

By the time Ron had been sworn in and was ready to start his statement, Arthur and the rest of the Ministry officials were beginning to despair of finding any new information from the five Aurors. Kingsley, Tonks, Neville and Harry had all given similar statements, all indicating that they thought they saw a shadow or shape, but weren’t sure … all they were sure about was that Ginny had disappeared almost immediately after Voldemort had fallen. The sole difference seemed to be that only Kingsley had mentioned anything about Ron Weasley’s behavior.

“Auror Weasley, please tell us about the events of last night, those leading up to Voldemort’s defeat and immediately after,” Amos Diggory asked. He gave a slight nod to Healer Smethwyck, indicating that he should stand ready to assist Ron Weasley … the man was near collapse with exhaustion and grief.

Ron kept his head lowered, as if raising it was too much effort, his hands gripping his knees, the knuckles white. His voice was rough, and he took a moment to clear his throat, reaching for the glass of water nearby and drinking thirstily. His first few sentences were similar to those of the others, outlining how they had gotten Harry and Ginny to Voldemort and then how Harry had cast the spell that finally killed the Dark Lord. The other Aurors listened carefully, trying to pick up any differences that could help them remember anything of value.

“Ginny was swaying, trying to keep her balance, and I was helping her. Then I felt strange … I couldn’t really see or think straight for a few moments … but then suddenly I was clear again and …” his voice trailed off, and then Ron sobbed out, “Ginny was gone! She was just gone!” He buried his head in his hands and started weeping, horrible, wrenching sobs emerging from his throat.

Arthur went over to his son, and dropping to his knees, gathered him into his arms, the two men both shaking with emotion. Kingsley, Tonks and Neville averted their eyes, not wanting to intrude on their grief. The other Ministry officials, along with Healer Smethwyck, had moved to a corner of the room and were conferring in low tones. Harry was sitting in a chair, staring at Arthur and Ron with tears in his eyes, his body rigid, and his hands clenching into fists.

After a few moments, Amos Diggory came back and sat down at the table, motioning the others to join him. Once everyone had been seated, he started to speak, the Steno-Quill once again recording every word. “All of your statements are similar and as such, deemed to be an accurate representation of what transpired last night. The only difference appears to be Ron Weasley’s contention of a presence appearing immediately before the disappearance of Ginny Weasley. It would seem that a person or persons unknown cast some type of confusion spell on her brother and took the opportunity presented to abduct Ms. Weasley.”

“But why? Why Ginny?” asked Tonks. “If it was revenge for the defeat of the Dark Lord, why not Harry? He was just as weak and vulnerable as Ginny, and he would have been a more understandable target for revenge.”

Amos Diggory looked at Tonks and said, “Is there any other reason that Ms. Weasley might have been abducted? Was there someone who wished her harm that could have known about this?”

Everyone started in surprise when Harry suddenly smashed his fist on the table and growled, “Perkins! That fucking asshole knew about the battle.”

“My god, you’re right,” breathed Tonks. “And he was on suspension, so he wasn’t called into action.”

Kingsley stared at Harry and Tonks, feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach. He remembered the look of hatred that had crossed Matt Perkins’ face when he had confronted him about using the curse on Ginny during training. Perkins had been transported back to Headquarters and then suspended without pay until further notice. No one had kept track of his movements since, everyone much too busy with the upcoming battle with Voldemort to worry about a suspended Auror.

Arthur Weasley was looking at Kingsley with suspicion, and then demanded, “Shacklebolt, please explain. Who is Perkins and what could he have to do with Ginny’s disappearance?”

Kingsley rubbed his face and said in a bitter voice, “During training at Hogwarts, we were simulating battle conditions. Matt Perkins was one of the Aurors acting as Death Eaters. He used a Dark Arts curse on Ginny and was suspended for inappropriate action. According to Harry, Perkins had been giving Ginny and Tonks a rough time for weeks and used the mock battle to take out his frustrations on Ginny. He could have killed her with that curse and we removed him from duty immediately.”

He sighed and then went on, “It’s reasonable to think that he’s got a grudge against her and likely blames her for his suspension … he could have taken her as retaliation.” He looked at Arthur and then said slowly, “It sounds like it’s the only lead we have at this point. We need to find him and bring him in for questioning.”

Harry stood up, fury radiating from every pore, “I want to be in on the team that gets him. I want to be there when he’s questioned to make sure the scum tells the truth.”

“And I want to be there as well,” Ron spat. “Dad, we need to go as soon as possible. He’s mad, and who knows what he’s done to Ginny.”

Arthur roared, “Sit down, both of you. You’re both exhausted. The MLE will take care of this, not you.” He glared at both men until they sat down, and then said in a calmer voice, “I want to get her back as desperately as you do, but we need to handle this properly. If the two of you go rushing in, and he does have her, heaven only knows what he’ll do.”

He turned to Kingsley and said, “I want all of you to go and get some rest and then report back here later this afternoon. Amos, Cyrus, we need to discuss how to track this Perkins down and get him to come in without arousing his suspicions.”

Kingsley turned to the other four Aurors and growled, “You heard the Deputy Minister. Come on you lot, we’re off.”

The five left the room, Harry and Ron muttering under their breath while Tonks and Neville watched them carefully for signs they might bolt.



Shortly after the meeting at the Ministry, Severus Snape appeared at Order Headquarters where Remus Lupin was sitting alone in the kitchen, a glass of Firewhiskey in his hand.

“I guess you haven’t heard,” Lupin said dully, looking up from his contemplation of the liquid in his glass. “Voldemort’s gone, but so is Ginny Weasley.”

Snape gave a credible impression of being surprised. “No, I hadn’t. I read the Daily Prophet this morning but I don’t trust anything it says anymore … that’s why I’m here. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Actually, the Prophet wasn’t that far off. But there was one item that it didn’t report as it’s not public knowledge yet nor will it be. Ginny Weasley disappeared last night and no one knows how or where.” Remus took a long pull of his Firewhiskey and sighed. “I just heard from Tonks. They’ve got a lead but she thinks it’s a weak one. They think she may have been taken for some type of revenge by an Auror who was suspended a week ago.”

“Why an Auror?” Snape said, watching Remus Lupin carefully.

“Apparently he used a Dark Arts curse on Ginny when they were training at Hogwarts. He nearly killed her and he was suspended, hauled back to the Ministry and told to get out. He would have known about the battle and might have seen an opportunity to either strike back at Ginny or use her as a hostage for some sort of demand. We won’t know until they find him … if they find him.” Remus half-shrugged, downing the remainder of his glass.

“So, what does the Ministry plan to do?”

Remus huffed a bit at the question. “Well, at this point, I would assume try to find him without alerting him as to their suspicions. Arthur Weasley’s dealing with that right now. Ron and Harry are just about round the bend with Ginny’s disappearance, and Arthur’s afraid that they might jeopardize any action against Perkins.”

Snape gave Remus Lupin an appraising look, and then said, “Do you believe that Ginny Weasley was taken by Perkins, or do you have another theory?”

Remus rubbed his forehead, trying to clear away some of the effects of the Firewhiskey, and thought for a few moments before responding. “I don’t know what to believe, frankly, but at this point, the Perkins theory is the only one that seems plausible. Why else Ginny, and not Harry? Regardless of Harry’s paranoia, she’s never been a target before, plus if it was revenge for Voldemort’s death, Harry would have the logical target, not her.”

The two men stood in silence for a moment, and then Remus shook his head and gave Snape a weary look. “I’m going to the Burrow. Hermione Floo’d about twenty minutes ago and said that Neville and Tonks were going to take Ron and Harry there. Apparently the two of them are barely managing to stand and they’re going to try and force them to get some rest before they join the search effort later."

Snape watched Remus leave through the fireplace and then sat down at the table, considering the implications of the Ministry’s theory regarding Ginny Weasley’s disappearance on the story he and Draco would ultimately concoct. He wondered who had come up with the possibility of Perkins and revenge; it seemed farfetched but then, stranger things had happened. Oh yes, he thought, strange indeed. Like my taking Ginny Weasley so that Draco Malfoy could marry her.

Author's note: Well, the original six chapters have now been revised. This story will be darker than I originally imagined, simply because of the possibilities of Love Potions, obsessive love, and a Draco convinced he is owed something for what he has given up. I have a feeling that my usual happy ending may be somewhat torturous in this story.

Standard disclaimer applies, only the plot is mine.

Author's Note: This chapter contains NC-17 material so be forewarned. Also, I have not included a warning for non-consensual sex as in this context, Ginny does consent, albeit while under the effects of the potion.


Snape and Fletcher left immediately after the ceremony and Draco escorted Ginny into the small dining room next to the salon where a light brunch was waiting to be served. Ginny was almost giddy, exclaiming with delight at the table set for two with a bottle of champagne nestled in a silver bucket. He assisted her to her seat and then opened the bottle and carefully poured some into two crystal flutes, handing one to her. “To us,” he said softly, raising his in a toast.

Ginny looked at the liquid in the flute, the bubbles rising slowly to the surface, and laughed, her eyes flashing. “I can’t remember the last time I had champagne,” she said with a lilt in her voice as she took a sip. “But then it’s only for special occasions, isn’t it? And there haven’t been many special occasions in my life.” A frown crossed her face as she spoke and she stared unseeingly at the table for a moment. As quickly as it came, the frown went, and she smiled. “And what a special occasion this is. We’re married … oh, I’m so happy, Draco. This seems like a dream.”

“I’m very happy too, Ginny,” Draco said, sitting down and then reaching across the table to clasp her hand. “I’ve waited for this moment a very long time.” He looked at Ginny, smiling at him, and his heart twisted just a bit … her emotions seemed so real, it was hard to remember that they were concocted just like a potion, in fact from a potion. He forced his thoughts away and smiled back at her.

Ginny took another sip of champagne and then giggled, wrinkling her nose. “It tickles,” she said, lowering the glass to the table. The frown returned, and she shook her head, the coronet of daisies wobbling slightly with the movement, and closed her eyes. “I feel a bit odd,” she murmured. “Things seem to be fuzzy somehow.”

Draco felt a frisson of unease; he wondered if the enhancements Snape had made to the potion were too strong. “You need to eat something, Ginny, that’s all,” he said soothingly. “You’ve been terribly busy the last few days and haven’t eaten much. You’re likely just feeling the champagne a bit because of that.” He nodded to the house-elf that was hovering nearby who then came over to lift up the cover of a serving dish to reveal lightly poached eggs. Draco carefully spooned two of the eggs onto Ginny’s plate and then drizzled some Hollandaise sauce over them. He added a small slice of ham to her plate along with some toasted biscuits, and then served himself the same.

Ginny put one hand to her forehead and rubbed it slightly, scrunching her eyes shut as she did so. After a moment, she seemed to revert back to the giddy woman she had been just before they sat down. She gave a tinkling laugh. “You must be right,” she said. “The last few days seem to be a blur … I can’t seem to recall anything about them.” To his relief, Ginny picked up her knife and fork and started to eat.

The two ate in silence, Ginny applying herself to finishing her meal and the champagne in relatively short order. Once done, she leaned back in her chair and stared at Draco, her expression turning from a slight smile to a bewildered frown. “There’s something not right here,” she said slowly. “I’m not sure what it is but there’s something definitely not right.” She looked around her, her frown deepening, and then started to rise. Before she could get fully to her feet, her eyelids suddenly fluttered and she crumpled into a heap on the floor.

Draco was up in an instant, kneeling beside her and lifting her into his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder as he carried her back upstairs, calling for Deeby as he neared his chambers. The house-elf appeared just as he entered the room he had set aside for Ginny, trailing him as he moved towards the bed.

“Deeby, the Mistress needs to rest. Change her into something more comfortable and darken the room so that she can sleep for a while.” He laid Ginny carefully on the bed and then turned away as the house-elf removed Ginny’s robes and slipped a silk dressing gown over her undergarments.

Once Deeby had unpinned the coronet from Ginny’s hair and covered her with a blanket, Draco indicated for her to leave. He wasn’t sure just what had happened, but decided that the best thing to do would be to let Ginny sleep for a while. He warded the windows and door to prevent her leaving the room and then, with a final look at the sleeping woman, went back downstairs.

Draco was in his study, trying to take his mind off what had happened during their brunch by attending to some paperwork, when Snape was ushered into the room by a house-elf.

“I’m surprised to find you here,” Snape said, one eyebrow quirked. “I would have thought you’d be with the new Mrs. Malfoy. But it’s just as well; I need to talk to you and obviously our discussion should be private.”

“I need to talk to you as well,” Draco replied sharply. “Something strange happened while we were eating and I’m concerned it might be the effects of the potion.”

Snape frowned, and then said, “Let me tell you first what I found out at the Order. We’ll talk about Miss Weasley’s condition afterward. I’m sure it can easily remedied.”

Seating himself in a chair opposite Draco, Snape quickly related his conversion with Remus Lupin. “Our best action would be for you to appear with Miss Weasley as soon as possible. It would be extremely unlike her to cause her family worry, and as there will be enough questions as to how and why the two of you are married, it would be unwise to add more. In fact, I think it would be prudent to send an untraceable owl to her parents with a message that she’s fine and that she’ll return tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Draco said. “Isn’t it risky to go public so soon? We haven’t even got a story ready yet. Are you sure about how Ginny will react?”

Snape made a sound of dismissal. “You’re forgetting the potion. She’ll believe anything as long as it’s consistent with her obsession with you and she’ll act in keeping with it. Now tell me what happened. Her actions might be a result of her exhaustion and some lingering aftereffect of the sleeping draught you gave her.”

“Well, we sat down to eat and she seemed to go a bit off, almost in a daze. She came out of it, whatever it was, and ate. Oh, and she had quite a bit more champagne as well. When she was done, she suddenly started to frown and say something wasn’t right, and then, well, then she collapsed. I took her up to her room and left her sleeping.” Draco stared worriedly at Snape. “She wasn’t hurt, was she? We didn’t check that well. Could she have been hit by something that we didn’t detect?”

“No, I was at the site almost the entire time. She wasn’t hit by anything,” Snape said firmly. “Perhaps I should check on her though. She might have something else in her blood that’s affecting how the potion works. I might have to adjust it …” Snape stopped abruptly.

“What?” Draco asked, startled by the almost angry look on Snape’s face. “What’s the matter?”

“Dittany,” Snape muttered, “Madame Pomfrey must have given her dittany when she was injured at Hogwarts; it prevents scarring as you well know. It’s very potent and stays in the blood stream for at least a week, helps prevent the skin from puckering. But dittany’s also used as an ingredient in antidotes to love potions.”

“Well, what does that mean?” Draco asked impatiently. “That the love potion didn’t work? She certainly acted as if it had.”

Snape sneered. “Of course it worked. How could you think that it hadn’t? But the dittany in her system will mean that she’ll have to be dosed more often in the next few days. Otherwise it will have enough of a counter-effect on the Amortentia to weaken it significantly.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “It shouldn’t have caused her to collapse though. I think that’s more likely exhaustion. She would have been training hard the last week and I would imagine that the battle sapped much of her reserves.”

“Can’t you just make the potion stronger? Or put something in it to counteract the dittany?” Draco asked.

“No. It’s one of the most powerful potions there is, and I’ve already made several changes to it, I don’t feel it prudent to make any more. Unfortunately, even though it would be difficult to make an antidote to the changed potion, dittany would be one of the ingredients used,” Snape said. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Draco. “So the only way to deal with this is to dose her twice a day for at least the next week. It won’t harm her and the only effect should be that she’s a bit more … ardent right after the second dose.” To his credit, he managed not to blush at the last statement.

“Now, as Miss Weasley, or more correctly, Mrs. Malfoy, is currently sleeping, we’d be best served by discussing the story you’ll use to explain your sudden marriage.” Snape handed him a sheaf of parchment. “I’ve managed to find out quite a bit about Miss Weasley. While she’s very close to her family, she live alone and, according to my informant, does spend quite a bit of time on her own. Likely she relishes private time, having grown up in such a large family.”

Draco looked over the parchment; the information was surprisingly comprehensive, even to the point of her favorite color and foods. “I knew she dated a few blokes,” he said, “but it seems her family didn’t really know any of them except the last one.”

“True,” Snape replied. “Apparently Molly Weasley was fairly vocal in her opinion that Miss Weasley should simply wait for Potter, and when she did date, which wasn’t often, it was usually without the knowledge of her family. The only person likely to have known who she was dating was Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw schoolmate she’s kept close to since leaving Hogwarts.”

“I saw her with Lovegood about a week ago,” Draco said. “I was having lunch at a Muggle restaurant and they came in. Lovegood actually sat down at my table when they were leaving and asked if I wanted to do an interview for her newspaper.”

Snape’s eyebrows lifted, and then surprisingly, grinned wolfishly. “Ah, well, there’s the makings of your story then,” he said. “You and Miss Weasley were meeting secretly, due to your families’ history and the Weasleys’ automatic dislike of any beau other than Potter. Miss Lovegood knew about it and can confirm it when questioned.”

Draco gave Snape an incredulous look. “And just how will she confirm something that didn’t happen?”

“As I’ve already said, Miss Weasley will believe any story you tell her. As for Miss Lovegood, I need only visit her at the Quibbler and perform a slight memory modification. Her memory of your encounter in the restaurant will be of Miss Weasley and yourself confessing your love for one another and your intent to be wed as soon as possible.” Snape glanced at his pocket watch and frowned. “It’s already 2:30 pm. I’ll leave immediately so I can catch Miss Lovegood before she leaves. I’ll also go back to Order Headquarters before I return and see if there’s any new information.”

“Wait!” Draco cried, a tinge of desperation in his voice. “A few loose ends here and there, don’t you think? Won’t they wonder how you didn’t know? And just how did Ginny and I first meet?”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Honestly, do you not have any imagination? She’s fond of Muggle restaurants apparently and you’ve had an appalling habit of frequenting Muggle bars. You ran into one another, started to chat, realized that there was an attraction there, and started to see one another on the sly. She obviously needed to hide it, considering the situation with her family and Potter, but you both decided that once the Dark Lord was gone, you could be with one another. You decided to confide in Miss Lovegood that you’d be married immediately and swore her to secrecy. You didn’t confide in me as you knew I wouldn’t approve. Miss Lovegood’s memory will be consistent with your story and that will be that.”

Draco stared at Snape, his mouth open. “Are you sure you don’t write novels on the side?” he muttered sarcastically. “You seem to have quite the talent for insane plots.”

“No matter what the story, the fact is that Miss Weasley will be blatantly in love with you and will corroborate whatever you say,” Snape said impatiently. “When your parents return, they’ll also confirm the story. And before you ask, I’ve already told them everything. While your father is understandably chagrined that the solution to your family’s situation is for his heir to marry a Weasley, your mother is quite taken with the idea. She’s distantly related to both sides, you know, and has never understood just why Lucius is so vehement about Arthur Weasley.”

He looked at his pocket watch again and said firmly, “Now time is of the essence, Draco.” He handed over a small flask. “You need to dose Miss Weasley again. Remember that it has to be done at least twice a day for the next week and then daily after that.” Snape huffed and colored slightly. “You also need to deal with the … matter we discussed before. I’ll come back tomorrow morning and we’ll go to the Order together to break the news of your marriage.” With that, he strode imperiously out of the study.

Draco sank back into his chair, feeling a bit like he had fallen off a broomstick and scrambled his brains. He barely started in surprise when Deeby suddenly appeared, twisting her hands together in obvious distress. “The Mistress has awoken, Master, and upset she is … very upset.” He glanced at the ornate clock on his desk, noting that it was nearly 3 o’clock. If Snape’s theory was right about the dittany, that morning’s dose of Amortentia was likely wearing off.

“That’s fine, Deeby. I’ll go up to see the Mistress. I’ll call you if I need you,” Draco said. The house elf opened her mouth as if to say something, and then with a grimace, disappeared with a soft pop. He strode quickly to Ginny’s room, steeling himself against what he would find. He had come too far and risked too much to back down or to show any weakness.

As he approached the room, he could hear the sounds of breaking glass within, as if bottles had been swept onto the floor. He muttered an incantation and with a push to the door, he was inside, facing a less than happy bride.

“What’s going on? Somebody answer me! Why am I here, wherever this is, and why can’t I leave the room?” Ginny was standing in the middle of the room, swaying as she stood, one hand gripping the edge of a vanity, broken glass glittering around her feet. Her eyes swung to the door, and the frightened expression on her face flickered for a moment as she spotted Draco.

She staggered towards him, hands uplifted as she cried, “Draco, why did you lock me in here. What have I done to upset you? Why are you doing this to me?” She clutched desperately at his shoulders, tears beginning to stream down her face. Suddenly she reared back, eyes wild. “Draco? Draco Malfoy? What are you doing here? What am I doing here?” She dropped to her knees, her hands covering her face. “I don’t understand any of this,” she wailed.

Draco gently lifted her up, and moved her over to sit on the bed. He pulled out the flask from an inner pocket of his robes. “Take some of this, Ginny. It will make you feel better, I promise, and then I’ll explain, I’ll explain everything.”

She looked at him, tears still streaming down her face, and whispered, “I’m so confused. This isn’t right, I know it, it isn’t right.”

“No, it’s right, love. Just take a sip of this, please, and it will all be right again.” Draco tilted the flask to her lips and she swallowed obediently, her eyes fixed on his, as if to lose that contact would be catastrophic. After a moment, she quieted, and leaned against him as if in utter exhaustion.

“I feel so odd,” she murmured, “so odd. Draco, what’s wrong with me? Didn’t we get married? Shouldn’t I be happy?”

Draco cursed under his breath but held Ginny tightly against him, praying that the potion would act quickly. To his relief, Ginny roused somewhat and looked around at her surroundings.

“Oh,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “How odd … I must be overexcited … I felt quite faint there for a moment.” She turned to him and smiled. “I am feeling much better now though.”

“Yes, but we have to take better care of you,” Draco replied, hugging her tightly. “You’ve been through a lot the past few days. But it’s all right now, it’s over and now we’re together.”

Ginny nodded, and leaned back against him. “I think I might go back to bed and lie down for a while. Do you mind terribly?”

Draco smiled. “Not at all. I want you feeling your best. Let’s just tuck you in, shall we?”

He got her into the bed and covered her with the duvet before laying down next to her. As her eyelids closed, he gently brushed the hair off her forehead. “Now, love, let me tell you a story about two lovers who should never have been but defied all odds. The young man watched the young girl all through Hogwarts, being very careful not to let anyone know. He never thought he could have her love, never thought that they could be together, but then he was given the chance to have what he wanted for oh so long. So he took it, and he and she were married, they were husband and wife.” He kissed her gently on her forehead. “You’re mine, Ginny, you’re my wife … and I’ll never let you go.” His voice was almost harsh with his fierce promise.

Ginny’s eyelids fluttered open at the touch of his lips on her forehead and with a small sigh, she pulled Draco down for a passionate kiss. “I’m yours, Draco, all yours, and I’ll never leave you.”

As she pressed herself to him, Draco could barely withstand the onslaught of emotions that surged through him. The woman he had craved for so long, that he had thought could never be his, was kissing him wildly, crooning softly in the back of her throat as she ran her fingers through her hair.

With a groan, he kissed her back just as wildly, his arms snaking under her shoulders to lift her even closer to him. “God, Ginny,” he muttered, burying his face into the crook of her neck, “I want you so much.”

Ginny threw her head back under the onslaught of his lips. Suddenly she pushed herself away, looking at him frantically. “I don’t know what to do,” she moaned, “I’ve never done this … I don’t know what to do.” The frightened look in her eyes shifted and an almost glazed, mindless expression came over her. “Draco,” she murmured, “Draco, please, hold me, love me.” Her eyes closed and she lifted her arms to clasp him around his neck.

Draco’s mind shut down as he felt her press her body against him. Her mouth sought his and her tongue pushed at his lips, demanding entrance. He opened his mouth to her and a wave of physical pleasure washed over him as she nipped at his lower lip. With a groan, he pushed her back against the pillows, covering her body with his own. His mouth moved from hers to the soft spot below her jaw, nibbling and caressing, licking and sucking, and he groaned, almost undone by the passion he could feel flaring between them.

He started touching her face, stroking her arms, all the while moving his mouth feverishly from her lips to her neck. His hands pushed the duvet down, pushed the silk dressing gown from her shoulders, exposing the flimsy garments underneath. His caresses became more heated and he quickly removed her bra and knickers, touching and stroking, until she was naked and moaning, her head twisting from side to side. He quickly shed his own clothing and buried his head between her breasts, his arousal hot and hard against her inner thigh.

His mouth moved to her right breast, his tongue laving the nipple, while one hand cupped her left breast, fingers flexing and stroking the soft globe. The other hand trailed down her body, over her hip, then to the bright red curls below. Ginny made an incoherent sound when his hand cupped her, and he almost wept with relief to feel wetness between her legs. When he slipped one long finger inside her warmth, she jerked slightly at the intrusion, and he murmured, “There, there, love” against her breast. Her hands moved restlessly over his back, small hands with sharp nails clutching wildly, and his breath begin to quicken.

It was as if they were both maddened with passion, unable to restrain themselves from almost devouring each other. He shifted her slightly so that he was cradled within her hips, his cock nudging at her entrance. She moaned and pushed herself further into his embrace so that he slid partially within her, his way eased by her moisture. He paused for a moment to let her get accustomed to the intrusion and then started pushing his way inside her, slow and relentlessly, until he could feel the barrier within.

Her eyes were closed and she seemed almost dazed, mindlessly clutching at his shoulders, her hips moving in an age-old rhythm, trying to ease the pressure within. Knowing that she would feel pain otherwise and trying to make it easier for her, he moved down her body, feeling her lurch up as he pulled her hips towards him. He licked at her folds, inserting two fingers inside, stretching and curling as his tongue teased her clit, and then held her tightly as she convulsed, muttering incoherently.

In one swift movement, Draco moved over her and thrust inside. He could feel her innocence tear as he seated himself to the hilt. After a few moments, he started to stroke slowly and gently, whispering softly into her ear. She arched up, the angle of her hips shifting, and he could no longer restrain himself, spilling into her and groaning her name as he came.

As he panted above her, he felt the unmistakable tingle of magic wash over him. He rolled to one side, pulling her close, listening to her gasp as she struggled to bring her breathing under control.

The marriage was consummated now; no one could pull them apart. As he felt her breathing hitch into sleep, he smiled triumphantly … she was his and no one, no one could take her from him. His eyes closed and in moments, he followed her into sleep.