Ginny woke with a start. She realised she was sobbing and immediately quieted, but a small knock on the door indicated that she wasn't quick enough.

"You alright, miss?" one of the house elves squeaked from the other side of the door. The house elves were always checking up on her; it was their job, of course, but she sometimes thought they might feel bad for her, the only thing in Malfoy Manor treated worse than they were.

"Yes," Ginny replied, biting her bottom lip, still sore from Malfoy. She flinched as it started to bleed again, but she stayed silent. She didn't want the house elves to call for Malfoy, as they were obligated to do if she made too much noise; he liked to see her suffering.

The dream that woke her rose up before her eyes then, Ron jumping in front of Harry and crumpling as green light hit him square in the chest. Ginny let the dream linger, anxious for the sight of her brother, even if it was in regurgitated memories of his death on the battlefield.

Malfoy had told her that they had all died, not just Ron but her entire family, and Hermione and Harry, too. He was lying, abut Hermione, at least. Ginny had seen her in Hogsmeade the one time Malfoy had taken her there, to witness the Dark Lord's celebration while she was paraded about like the spoils of war she was. Hermione had been disguised, standing next to the gallows filled with Muggles, but Ginny knew her brother's best friend instantly, and knew that Hermione had seen her. That helped keep her going even now, when she could hear heavy footfalls on the stone hallway, and knew what--who--was coming.

The door opened and Draco Malfoy entered, dressed in his black traveling cloak. Ginny eyed his robes enviously; she was never allowed to wear robes, only Narcissa's old nightgowns. They were more beautiful than anything she'd ever owned at the Burrow, and a constant reminder that she was his prisoner. Malfoy liked his petty tortures as much as he enjoyed causing physical pain.

He sat on the edge of her bed and wiped the blood from her lip tenderly, sucking it off his thumb. He looked at her the way one might look at their child, his eyes gone soft and gentle. Ginny's stomach curled up in dread; tenderness from Malfoy was not a good sign.

Sure enough, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I'm off to see Lord Voldemort, to give him the good news." He paused as though expecting her to ask what good news that might be, but she wouldn't give him the pleasure; he got enough pleasure from her pain.

He leaned even closer and kissed her cheek, running his hand down her front to rub her stomach gently. "You're finally pregnant," he said, and Ginny threw up on his robes.

Malfoy only laughed, and with a flick of his wand was clean again. Ginny watched as he returned his wand to his pocket, imagining the damage she could do with it, to him, to herself, to her unborn baby. Obviously she could not let Malfoy at her child, and just as obviously there was nothing she could do about it.

"We'll celebrate when I get back." He would celebrate, he meant, peeling his mother's nightclothes off her and making her call him 'Harry'. She almost threw up again for spite, but her stomach was painfully empty. As though he could read her mind, he told her he'd have the house elves bring her some food; she would be well-fed while carrying his child.

After he left, one of the house elves did indeed bring her fresh bread and cheese, fruits and pumpkin juice; nothing requiring utensils, lest she off herself with them. Malfoy wasn't stupid. She ate despite herself, somehow even hungrier with food inside her.

Ginny thought about Hermione, about how she had to be planning to rescue her from this hell. It had been many months, though, since that quick glimpse in Hogmeade; surely clever Hermione should have gotten to her by now. Maybe she had been killed, or maybe she was kept now, like Ginny; owning Harry Potter's best friend, the widely acknowledged smartest of the trio, would be a powerful status symbol for any Death Eater. Provided she didn't get pregnant, of course; only purebloods were allowed to bear children, now.

But that line of thought did Ginny no good; she couldn't afford to sink into depression. She had to stay positive, and keep her wits about her in case the opportunity for escape presented itself. In case Hermione really did show up, or even Harry; no one knew for certain that Harry was dead, after all. She told herself there was still hope, and tried with all her might to believe it.

Ginny wondered if Malfoy would kill her once the baby was born. She hoped so; she'd rather not watch her child grow up a Death Eater.