All the non-canon names of characters come from the book The Classic Fairy Tales edited by Maria Tatar, as do all the stories except the for one Draco tells, which comes from The Sandman: Endless Nights by Neil Gaiman.

Thank you to my betas, moltobene1925 (I love you forever even though I wanted to faint on to the floor at your suggestions, but who did tell me “this makes everything else have more muchness”.), persephone33 (Seriously, you have the most amazing grammar skills. Thanks SO much.), violetjersey (I always love your suggestions, even when I'm thinking OMG MORE WORK!) and javastix (You made me believe that I really was doing a good job).

Also, thank you to Paper Route and their tremendous song Dance on our Graves for helping me write the ending!

Chapter 1

Ginny was certain they'd been in captivity for nearly a month when he arrived. She was outside the cottage in their small yard asking their Death Eater guard, Zipes, to give them a small fire with which to cook and keep warm in exchange for dinner, when several more black-hooded guards apparated, shoving a bound prisoner into the yard. The prisoner lay motionless where he fell, not trying to get up.

She watched in silence as the Death Eaters left the run down cottage in the woods in which she had lived for the past few weeks. “Aren't they going to unbind him?” Ginny asked Zipes as the hooded men disappeared into the thick woods.

He shrugged and lit his fat cigar. “Musta gave 'em trouble.”

Ginny sighed loudly. “Come on. I know you're hungry. I know we feed you better than they do. Please just light the fire and you can have the first bowl.”

“The biggest bowl,” he countered.

“Fine,” she agreed, knowing there was no way around it. Zipes was the only guard who would light fires for them. Luckily, Zipes was on guard almost every day and night. Occasionally, a woman named Queens would come, and Ginny hated it when she did. It meant they weren't getting a warm meal and they weren't getting a fire in the fireplace to keep them warm. Zipes would always keep a fire going for them, even though he and Ginny bantered back and forth about it. Zipes was the one Ginny would have placed her money on, if she had any, for Most-Likely-To-Keep-Them-Alive. Queens didn't even let them leave the cottage, despite the fact that the wards around the grounds were solid.

“Can you re-mobilize him?” Ginny nodded towards the new prisoner, who was still lying face first in the dirt and dead grass. “Tell Victorine to tend the stew until I come in,” she asked, referring to the blonder of the two twins she'd been captured with.

“What do ya do when Queens is here?” Zipes asked suspiciously, puffing on his cigar. “I know she don't have much to do with ya.”

She shrugged. Zipes had even put a wind protection charm around the perimeter of their cottage so that the cold weather didn't bother them as much, but Queens either ignored them or tried to terrify the children. “Why do you do it?”

“Aye,” he rolled his shoulders in a slow shrug. “I 'ad a daughter once. She looked a bit like you.”

“You did?” Ginny couldn't imagine any of the Death Eaters being married – at least, not any of the ones she had come into contact with. But of course, maybe he hadn't been married. “What happened to her?”

“I suppose I still 'ave a daughter. A son too. I jus don't see 'em. Her mum took off a few years ago. Ain't seen 'em since.”

“I'm sorry.” Ginny scuffed the toe of her dirty trainer against the ground.

Zipes pulled out his wand and pointed it at the prisoner on the ground. “I'll tell Vic'trine.”

Ginny watched to see if the prisoner would spring to his feet – sometimes they were still fighting when they arrived – but he didn't. In the time she'd been there, they'd had four new prisoners – five including this one. Three had already left, although Zipes refused to tell her where they'd gone. “Jus been transported,” he'd tell her, but Ginny knew that really meant they'd been tortured for information, or maybe just for fun, and were probably dead.

Every day since they'd arrived, Ginny had done what she could for the five young children who'd been captured along with her, the prisoners who'd been there before them, and the one who still remained. She'd heard of prison camps from the Order and from rumours at school, but she hadn't imagined they'd be like this. They had a two-room cottage, tucked deep in the woods, although which woods they happened to be, she had no idea. The cottage had a large garden area and yard surrounding it that they were allowed to tend. It only took Ginny a few days to realize that they were allowed to tend the yard because otherwise, they wouldn't be fed. Voldemort might have no issues draining his supporters Gringott's funds to support himself, but he certainly wasn't going to do something as trivial as feed his prisoners.

Even though her winter cloak no longer felt as useful as it once had (probably a month's worth of sleeping in it, she thought dryly), she pulled it tightly around her and carefully made her way to where their newest prisoner was waiting. Once she'd figured out that Zipes would give them a roaring fire in exchange for a meal, she hadn't really needed to sleep in her cloak, but she did, nonetheless. The familiar material comforted her.

“Hello,” she said quietly, kneeling on the cold, hard ground near the figure in dark clothes. She could hear him breathing heavily, and she hoped he wasn't too badly hurt. They had no medicinal supplies except for the runny soap she'd managed to make out of some of the herbs and plants she'd found outside. “Are you alright?”

There was no answer, so Ginny reached over and gently pushed his shoulder up in an attempt to roll him over. Her breath caught in her throat and threatened to choke her as the pale hair and even paler face of Draco Malfoy came into view. “Malfoy?” she choked out. “What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” She wondered if she should run and get Zipes, because there would certainly be hell to pay when the higher ups realized that Malfoy had been taken in to custody.

“Don't touch me,” he hissed, and even though she tried not to, Ginny couldn't help but gape at him.

His always perfect blond hair was mussed; one eye was a nasty shade of purple and swollen while the other was red and bloodshot. There was dried blood on his lip, as if someone had punched him, and the breast pocket of his shirt had been ripped. “Well, you can't lie on the ground forever,” she said, hoping she sounded reasonable as she tried to pull herself together. “It's not too windy here, but it's still winter.”

“No shite,” he growled, spitting blood to the ground. “It's Christmas Eve.”

Ginny swallowed hard, thinking she would have been better off not knowing that. Her family. Merlin, what was her family doing? She had refused to think about any of them since her arrival, knowing that it would only drive her mad. Every night before she fell asleep she sent up a prayer to God and Merlin and any other deity, who might be in the mood to transport a message, asking them to tell her family that she loved them. “Why are you here?”

He pushed himself off the ground and glared at her. “Same reason you are, Weasley.” He spat more blood and saliva to the dirt. “I got caught.”

She had a million questions for him, but she didn't imagine he'd be answering any of them. “Come on,” she said firmly, hearing his stomach growl. “Get up.” She held out her hand, but he ignored it as he pushed himself up. It was strange to see his normally perfectly put together clothes so rumpled and out of place. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“You cook?” he asked disdainfully, spitting more blood to the ground, barely missing her feet. “What are you, a house elf?”

“You don't have to eat,” she told him, keeping her exterior calm, even though she would have liked to punch him. She had grown quite excellent at keeping her feelings hidden. The other prisoners counted on it, especially her little family – they were so young. “You can starve. But no one else here is going to feed you. I want to eat, so I cook.” Ginny was tempted to turn on her heel and leave him in the fading dusk, but she didn't trust him to follow. “Besides, when was the last time you ate?”

He just scowled at her, confirming her suspicions that he hadn't eaten recently, at least not since breakfast.

Malfoy took a reluctant step forward and Ginny's mind ran with a thousand possibilities of why he was here. Was it mistaken identity? She doubted it. With his white hair and white skin, that pointy nose and the perpetual sneer, it was easy to recognize him. Was he being held for ransom? Did the Death Eaters need money that badly? Or had Draco Malfoy come over to the Order and been captured? Maybe it was punishment because his father had screwed up again.

“Are we going?” he snapped, breaking her from her thoughts.

She walked quickly towards the cottage door, relieved to see smoke curling from the chimney. “There are several empty beds,” she told him, her hand resting on the door knob. “You can pick one and I'll clean it for you.” She'd done it for the rest of the new prisoners, she reminded herself. So why not him?

Ginny yanked the door open without looking at his expression, because she knew it would be cruel. The tiny cottage consisted of two rooms. There was the main room, which had a fireplace for cooking and a wash bin, but no running water. There were twelve cots lined up haphazardly against the wall opposite the fireplace, a few shelves and cabinets next to the fireplace mantel and a window on either side of the front door. There was another door alongside the fireplace, which led to a tiny room where Zipes stayed. That was it. Their makeshift loo and wash house were in the back, under the awning of the cottage.

Victorine was stirring the stew while her twin, Jeanne-Marie, looked on. Even though she was only twelve, and a tiny, scared twelve-year-old at that, Victorine was the one Ginny could count on to get things done when she wasn't there to do it herself.

The only male, a third year, in their group that had arrived from Hogwarts, Wilhelm, was talking to Zipes about the things they might want to plant when the weather grew warmer. Ginny knew that Zipes liked Wilhelm too, and for a moment she wondered if the boy reminded Zipes of the son he had spoke of. She had mentioned to Wilhelm that he should hint about seeds to Zipes. Perhaps he could get them some.

Goldflower and Marylynn, two first years, were weaving the long grasses that grew at the edge of the property into baskets. They had been taught to do so by Jacob and Gretel, a couple who had been dragged from the cottage just days ago. Ginny smiled at them, pleased that the two young girls were being entertained while doing something useful that would help them all. The more baskets they had, the more vegetables, leaves and fruits they could gather.

It was Tyger, the prisoner who had arrived only a week ago, who noticed Ginny wasn't alone. “Who's that?” she demanded.

Suddenly all eyes in the room were fastened on Malfoy, and Ginny noticed a start of surprise run through Zipes' expression. “This is Malfoy,” she said. “He, uh, just got here.”

The smell of the hot stew made her too hungry to care much about Malfoy. “Jeanne-Marie, will you tell him what beds are empty?” Ginny asked, smiling at the twins. She took the ladle from Victorine and sipped the stew. They never had any meat to add to their meals, but that was alright. Every day they gathered fresh ingredients for the meal, and Ginny did her best to make a stew that wasn't bland and boring, although it was a challenge. She had to use her potions knowledge to figure out which leaves and plants were edible, and which would add the best flavors to their meals. Every dinner, unless Queens was there, they would have a hot meal of sorts, and then the cold leftovers for a late breakfast and usually whatever raw things they picked for lunch.

“I think it's ready,” Ginny announced. “Tyger, will you get the bowls? Give Zipes the largest one.”

Tyger scowled, but did as she was told.

All Ginny knew about Tyger was that her family was fairly wealthy and they had been involved in the 1970s anti-establishment movement in Ireland. The girl was a few years older than Ginny but she seemed okay with her leadership around the cottage.

“Let me fill up your bowl,” Ginny told Zipes, motioning him to the cauldron that hung over their roaring fire.

“That's 'nough,” he muttered quietly, as Ginny filled his bowl once and then dipped the ladle back in for another scoop.

“You're sure?”

He nodded sharply. “We gotta 'notha mouth to feed.”

After she had served everyone, she noticed Malfoy, still standing blankly in the middle of the room, holding his bowl in his fist as if he hoped to crush it. “Malfoy,” she said quietly. “Can I get you dinner?”

From the expression on his face Ginny knew he would have said, or maybe screamed, No! at her if he hadn't been so hungry.

As he reluctantly stepped forward, Ginny noticed a slight limp. She wondered if he'd let her check it later on. Maybe not, but that didn't mean she wouldn't treat him exactly the same as any of the other prisoners. She filled his bowl, and then nodded her head towards the others, gathered around the fire. Instead, Malfoy slunk back to the bed he had chosen to eat by himself. With disdain, she noticed that the bed he had chosen was the closest bed to hers. No one else wanted it because it was tucked away in a dark corner, and yet, Malfoy seemed to fit into it with no issues.

Trying not to sigh, Ginny dished half a ladle into her own bowl and joined the others by the fireside.

*~*

“I'm sleeping by you?” Malfoy asked with a sneer as Ginny dropped into her bed that night.

They had all pitched in, all except Malfoy of course, to wash the dishes and tidy up the room. Even Zipes had stayed with them, listening to Ginny tell the story of The Frog Princess as she dusted off the bed Malfoy had chosen, before their guard secured the wards so that no one could slip out and retiring to his little room on the backside of the hearth for the night.

“You can move,” she told him, too tired to argue. “But those other beds are empty because they are farthest away from the fire.”

“They're not beds!”

“So they're cots. Better than sleeping on the floor. The heat from the fire keeps them warm.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That Death Eater isn't supposed to do this for you,” he told her hatefully. “He's only supposed to be here to make sure no one escapes.”

“No one can escape,” she said, pulling her thin blanket up over her shoulders. “We've tried. The borders of the yard are impenetrable.”

“Ginny?” Goldflower's high pitched voice floated from her bed.

“Yes love?”

“Can you tell us another story?”

Ginny racked her brain, wishing she knew a few more cheerful stories, but all that ever came to mind were the dark fairy tales she had learned as a child. “Okay.”

“We want to hear one about our cottage,” Marylynn called out.

From the corner of her eye, Ginny could see Malfoy roll over and turn his back to her. “Okay. A Snow White story.” She thought for a moment, trying to remember a version she hadn't already told them. “Once upon a time, in the middle of winter, when snowflakes were falling from the sky like feathers, a queen was sitting and sewing by a window with a black ebony frame...”

She told the entire story, despite its gruesome ending. “The queen was so terrified that she just stood there and couldn't budge and inch. Iron slippers had already been heated up over a fire of coals. They were brought in with tongs and set right in front of her. She had to put on the rod hot irons shoes and dance in them until she dropped to the ground dead.”

As Ginny finished her story, all the breathing in the room sounded steady and even. She had no idea how everyone managed to sleep at night. Sleep didn't come easily to her, and when it did come, it was filled with dark terrors that disturbed her slumber. When everyone else was asleep, she allowed herself a few tears. It was only at night, when she was all alone, that she allowed herself to remember her family and her friends, and to dwell on the fact that she would most likely not make it out of here alive. As a hot tear rolled down her cheek, a low hiss came from her left.

“Weasley!”

She rolled over, wiping at her tears, to face Malfoy. In the dancing firelight, she could see that he was watching her. “What?”

“Why are you here?”

“I don't know.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I think a month. I'm not sure.”

“You know what happens to prisoners, right?” Even without seeing his face, Ginny knew Malfoy was sneering.

She didn't answer him.

“They're held for ransom or for information. And when they're done being useful they're executed.”

“Don't ever say that in front of the children,” Ginny told him, surprised at how hard her voice was. “Ever.”

“If you're so worried about them, why would you tell them a story with such a disgusting ending?”

She shrugged, even though she knew he couldn't see her. “They like it. I think it makes them reassured that bad things will come to bad people, and good things to good people.”

“It's a bunch of shite.”

Ginny didn't answer him. She decided she preferred him better when they were at school and they could just ignore each other.

*~*

“So this is what you do every day?” Malfoy asked her disdainfully.

Ginny bit her tongue and sucked in a slow breath before answering him. She and Jeanne-Marie were working twice as hard to gather what wild vegetables they could because the dark snow clouds were gathering quickly overhead. Wilhelm had gone off hunting with Zipes. Ginny had no idea how much good the prisoner would do Zipes, considering he had no weapon, but she suspected even their guard didn't want to be out in the woods alone. The day before he had told her that the Death Eaters weren't even able to feed any of the guards in the main prison. The ones who had money were starting to hide it from the Dark Lord. Ginny wondered if Malfoy's father had done that and perhaps that was why he too was in prison.

Tyger was washing the dirty linens with the soap potion Ginny had mixed up more of the day before. It wasn't as cleansing as she would have liked, but with no proper mortar and pestle to grind the plants into a fine dust, fragments of the plants clung to the sheets. But it was better than nothing.

Victorine was running back and forth between helping Tyger and tending to Goldflower and Marylynn, who'd both woken in the night with screaming nightmares, then fevers and chills. The nightmares were nothing new, but the fever and chills concerned Ginny. All her potions knowledge did her no good when she didn't have the ingredients for a proper medicine.

“Yes,” she told Draco calmly. “This is what we do.”

“Why? Why not try to escape?” In the six long days since he'd been there, his clothes had quickly become dirty and used looking. It didn't suit him.

As she looked up at him, fat flakes of snow began to fall. “Damn it!” She began to work faster, ignoring the painful stiffness in her cold fingers. “We do it because we want to eat. And since we're feeding you, it would be great if you'd pitch in occasionally. Besides, you know what trying to escape does.”

“Why hasn't Saint Scarhead rescued you yet?”

“Why should he?” she countered. She was certain that even he knew Harry had dumped her at Dumbledore's funeral.

She turned away from him, tired of his holier-than-thou sneer, tired of his snide remarks about the toothpaste, soaps and other things she'd made out of the plants and herbs in their little yard, and tired of his sullen attitude. She wanted to remind him that it sucked for all of them, not just him. They had all been ripped from their friends and families, left in a cottage deep in a strange woods for reasons they couldn't even begin to fathom, and worst of all, they knew they would probably all die. Malfoy wasn't the only one, although he was the least likely to be there.

He'd spent the past few days testing the wards around the cottage yard, despite Ginny's warnings that they were solid. She too had tested them once. The end result was that Draco's black eye and busted lip hadn't even begun to heal. In fact, he had gotten a multitude of bruises, a bloody nose and skinned palms because of his attempts at freedom.

“It could have been much worse,” she had told him crossly, when she had cleaned his palms with the medicated salve she'd made.

“What is this?” he'd asked rudely, grimacing as she'd spread the salve on his hands.

“It's as close as we've got to medicine. I made it.”

“You made it?”

Ginny ignored the disgusted look on his face. “It's just a simple matter of potions. Take it or leave it.”

“Ginny!” Jeanne-Marie called from behind her, breaking the older girl from her thoughts. “Here's what we've got.” She emptied her apron full of vegetables, roots and plants into the basket. “Are we going to run out of food?”

“No.” Ginny shook her head. “That's why Zipes went hunting. So we can have meat while we grow things. Zipes is going to try to get some seeds.”

“What's this?” Victorine asked, joining her sister and plucking a squished deep green leaf from her pocket. “Can we eat it? I saw a lot back against the side of the cottage.”

Ginny took the round leaf. “No,” she shook her head. “See the six points on it?”

The twins nodded.

“It's a Venohex plant. They're extremely poisonous if ingested. Your heart would stop in about five seconds.”

“Is it poisonous to touch?” Jeanne-Marie looked nervous.

“No,” Ginny answered, grinning. “Just to eat. But why don't you wash your hands and then help Tyger get the rest of the linens hung under the awning behind the house. When they're a little dryer we can move them in by the fire.”

The twins dashed off, eager to be done with their chores.

Ginny resumed her careful lifting of each individual leaf, hoping there would be something useful.

“Why'd you lie to them?”

Ginny glanced behind her, only to see Malfoy again. “I didn't.”

“We are running out of food,” he said shortly. “There's enough for a week, tops.” Then he emptied his shirt tails into Ginny's basket.

“Where'd you get this?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up at the amount of wild okra and turnips that tumbled out.

“Back there.” He motioned to the woods behind her.

“You can go there? I thought the boundaries were set up where the woods started.”

“Apparently not.”

“I think this will be enough for at least two days,” she said thoughtfully. “Which is good, because I don't know if this snow will let up any time soon.”

Malfoy grunted in reply, before snatching up the basket and stalking back to the cottage.

When Zipes returned, the sun had nearly set for the day, although it was hard to tell, since the snow clouds had covered it all afternoon. But he was carrying three large rabbits, and Ginny's heart leapt. She had never been so happy to see dead bunnies in her entire life.

*~*

After dinner, Ginny sat on the floor of the cottage, feeling fuller and happier than she had in a long time. Jacob and Malfoy had skinned and prepared the rabbits, which was gross but necessary, and the pelts would be useful. She would never admit it to him, but she was completely shocked to see Malfoy do something with his hands, especially something so distasteful.

Victorine had fried the meat while Ginny had prepared the vegetables, and Tyger forced Marylynn and Goldflower to take a potion Ginny had made for them. Finally, they'd had the heartier stew any of them had eaten in a long time.

“I see you finally took a full bowl,” Malfoy hissed into her ear.

It was true; for the first time ever, she'd helped herself to a full bowl of food. She ate only a tiny scoop for breakfast, nothing at lunchtime and a half ladle for dinner. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Yes you do.”

“Please don't talk to me. You give me a headache.” Ginny pushed herself to her feet and crossed the room to where Marylynn lay in her cot. After taking the medicine, Goldflower had felt well enough to eat a bit, but Marylynn had just tossed and turned. “How are you feeling?” Ginny asked her softly, running her hand over her cheek.

The girl just moaned, and Ginny was distraught to see that she was shivering, despite the blankets and the fire.

“What's wrong with her?”

Ginny would have loved to give him a bat bogey hex, but the lack of a wand prevented her. She pressed her hand to the girl's forehead, but quickly yanked it away, surprised at the heat.

“Are you going to save her too?”

Ginny grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him towards the door. “We're going to get more firewood,” she told the startled group. “Before it gets too wet. Is that okay, Zipes?”

“Take the lantern,” he nodded, barely glancing at them.

Malfoy, who had been too surprised to speak, broke free from her grasp as she shut the door behind them. “Are you nutters?” he hissed. “It's a blizzard out here!”

Although it had been snowing steadily, it was hardly a blizzard.

“I don't know why you're here,” she told him, trying to keep her voice calm as snowflakes swirled around them, “but it doesn't matter. I don't know why any of us are here.”

Malfoy made a small, disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

“But thank you for helping with dinner.” She decided to see if she could catch him off guard with a bit of pleasantness.

“I didn't do it for you,” he hissed. “I wanted to eat too!”

Apparently pleasantness didn't work with Malfoy. “The point is that we're here and there's no way of getting out, not unless they take you. It's bad enough, so please don't make it worse. It's already hard to take care of all the children without you being a total arse.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, snowflakes caught in his pale lashes. “You don't have to take care of them. No one is forcing you to play mum.”

“No one else is going to do it. Sometimes you do things that you don't want to do because it's the right thing to do.” She was suddenly overwhelmed by how tired she felt. “I know you like to think the world revolves around you, but it really doesn't.”

“How long have you been here?”

She stared at him. “I don't know. We came here November 6, so almost two months, I guess.”

“Where'd they get you?”

“From Hogwarts. I was walking the new kids down to Hagrid's hut and they got us.”

He nodded knowingly, and for a moment Ginny thought she saw a flash of something humane in his eyes. “They were new?”

She nodded miserably. “They had been home schooled before.” Under Voldemort, home schooling was illegal.

“Do you think that girl is going to die?”

Before she could control herself, hot tears swelled up behind her eyelids. “We need to go get the wood,” she said flatly.

“You mean no one has died since you've been here?” he asked cruelly, and when Ginny looked up, his eyes were hard again.

“Yes,” she hissed. “People have died. They dragged four people out of here and they took Lasair out into the yard right over there and beat her until she quit breathing.” Her body shook with rage and sorrow as she pointed to the spot in the yard they all avoided. “And then they left her there. That was while Zipes was gone and Queens was here. She's awful. Be glad you haven't met her. Wilhelm and I dug a hole with our hands to bury her in. When Zipes came back he covered it properly with his wand. That's why I take care of those kids. It happened on the third day we were here and they were terrified.” She realized that she was panting, her mind recoiling as those memories of digging came back to her.

Malfoy leaned close to her. “I'll go get the wood now.”

Ginny remained rooted to the spot, the hot tears that had sprung up finally spilling on to her cheeks and freezing before they had even reached her chin. She tried her hardest not to think about it. Thinking did her no good.

“Ahh, Merlin!” Malfoy groaned when he returned with a load of snow-covered wood. “Are you crying?”

“Piss off,” she hissed at him, not bothering to wipe her cheeks as she stomped off into the dark night to gather wood.

“Weasley,” he called, dashing through the snow to catch up with her. “Wait.”

“I have nothing more to say to you!” she shouted, since they were far enough away from the cottage none of the others could hear her. “I don't need you to make things any more miserable for us, okay? Why don't we just agree not to speak to each other?”

His eyes narrowed to thin slits and he set his mouth firm. “Fine.”

*~*

One week later, Ginny didn't think she could keep holding on to the spider web thin grasp she had on her sanity, despite the fact that Zipes had somehow managed to bring them several different types of seeds to plant. She wondered who or what he had to rob to get those. Tyger had taught him a few charms to cast that would keep the area where the seeds were planted in ideal growing conditions, but that didn't change the fact that Marylynn was growing sicker every day. Zipes had told her, in his usual rough manner, there was nothing he could do. And she knew he wasn't lying and that he had already done so much for them that he shouldn't have done, but it didn't make her feel any better.

Marylynn had stayed in her bed the entire week, her breathing growing slower and more shallow, and the length of time that she slept far surpassed the few minutes a day that she was awake. Ginny didn't know if she would wake up at all if Ginny didn't try to force food down her throat every day.

Goldflower had recovered quickly, but she too seemed to know that Marylynn wasn't going to. She followed Ginny around, clinging close as Ginny scoured the yard for things to eat, all while trying to keep things running as normally as possible.

The afternoon everything began to fall apart, Ginny was looking for an Athelas plant, or White Hallows herbs alongside the small stream that ran through the cottage yard, or even an Aum plant. She was desperate to find any plant she could use to make a healing medicine for Marylynn and anyone else who might fall sick, but she was losing hope.

“We aren't going to find any here,” Malfoy told her crossly, standing up and dusting off his knees, although his trousers were just as filthy as any of the clothes any of them had, so his motions were pointless.

“You don't have to help me look,” she responded.

“We have about two metres of water here,” he continued, ignoring her. “So even if there are White Hallows, they aren't here. And Aum plants don't grow in the woods. You know that.”

Ginny bit her lower lip, and tried not to look frantic. “I was so sure I could find an Athelas...”

“Ginny!”

She glanced up to see Tyger striding towards her. The expression on Tyger's face told her exactly what had happened. “Oh Merlin, please no,” Ginny whispered.

Tyger nodded, as if she could hear the whispered words. “She just quit breathing. I even did that Muggle thing, with our mouths, but it didn't work.” The dark haired woman blinked back tears. “Zipes sent me out here. He's going to... you know. He said to keep the kids occupied.”

Her breath had stopped in her throat, but Ginny managed to nod.

Goldflower and Wilhelm were across the yard, grinding herbs between two stones and the twins were washing the dishes. They were all in the cold and snow, but sometimes it was just better than being inside.

Ginny remembered when Zipes found out they had buried Lasair, he was upset because he was supposed to transfigure the body into something else. That's what he would do to Marylynn, so that if things went bad for the Death Eaters, there would be as few bodies as possible to be found. Her stomach rolled at the thought of what she might be transfigured into. Ginny sat down heavily, her back to everyone else, and threw up.

When she finally looked up again, Malfoy was looking at with a twisted expression of disgust on her face. “Stop it,” he hissed at her. “Those kids are watching you!”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and pushed herself to her feet, unsteady.

Malfoy grabbed her by the arm and kept her upright. “Smile at them,” he growled under his breath.

Just as he said, the twins, Goldflower and Wilhelm were staring. Ginny forced a shaky smile on her face. “Are the dishes done?” she called out.

“Almost,” Victorine told her.

The normal question seemed to soothe them, as they turned back to their chores.

“Don't do that again,” he snapped at her, his silver eyes flashing angrily. “You're skinny enough. You need to retain what you eat.”

Ginny stared at him, thinking that was possibly the stupidest thing he'd said to her, when Zipes came out of the cottage, carrying what looked suspiciously like one of the magazines he always had his nose in – except it was much, much thicker.

She felt her knees threatening to give out again, but Malfoy's grip her on arm tightened to the point of painful.

“Don't do it.”

Zipes walked past them, past the wards at the edge of the yard and Ginny watched him until he disappeared into the thick trees.

Their lunch was a horribly silent affair, as all the children realized what had occurred the instant they entered the cottage. Ginny mustered all the strength she could as she attempted to fry some vegetables up for their meal. But just as she had finished filling the plates, the door to the cottage blew open with a force that could only mean one thing. “Queens,” Ginny whispered under her breath, momentarily forgetting Marylynn's empty bed.

Her destitute black eyes scanned the room and her dark, snow flake filled hair billowed around her, as if a breeze was blowing. She said nothing until she pointed her wand at Goldflower and hissed “Petrificus Totalus”. A band of hooded Death Eaters moved in behind her, causing Jeanne-Marie to scream as they quickly snatched up Goldflower's stiff body.

Queens' gaze quit scanning the room, stopping on the food Ginny had just dished out. “Give that to me.”

Ginny just stared at the hateful woman, frozen to her spot with dread.

Aiming her wand at Ginny's face, Queens stepped forward. “I can't kill you, but I can hurt you. I can make you wish you were dead.”

Malfoy reached in front of Ginny and dumped all their food on to one large plate. “Take it.”

She reached for it, her broken-nailed fingers closing around the plate, but she paused as she focused on him. “You really are here.” And she began to laugh.

This time it was Ginny who grabbed Malfoy, gripping him tighter as she felt him tense up.

“I didn't believe it! They said they had taken the Malfoy boy prisoner because his mummy was making plans to escape with him!” Queens laughed harder, and her voice was so rough and scarred, it sounded as if she had been smoking since the day she was born. She stepped closer to Malfoy, and while he didn't flinch, Ginny felt her body screaming to move out of the demented woman's way. “Do you know what they did to your father, boy? Do you know what they're going to do to you?”

Her blemished skin was all that filled Ginny's vision, even though she knew she should just let go of Malfoy and move the children to the other side of the room, she couldn't. But even without glancing at them, she knew the children were doing just that.

“I really don't give a shite,” Malfoy told her, in a tone of voice so bored and detached, Ginny believed him.

“Know what I think the best part of all this is?” She circled them closely; Ginny could feel the woman's rancid breath on her skin. “You're standing here holding hands with the Weasley bint. I'm sure your mum will rejoice in her prison cell when I report that to her.”

“Ey!”

The momentary fear Queens' presence held over Ginny was broken as Zipes came back through the door.

Queens turned around, reluctantly taking her inhuman eyes off Malfoy. “Where'd they get all this food?”

“All that food?” he snorted, brushing the snow out of his beard. “It's jus' a crumb! Scraps they found in the yard.”

“Why do you give them a fire?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.

“Cause I want to eat,” he told her calmly. “And you're takin my food.”

The expression on Queens' face as she glanced at the plate in her hand clearly said she knew he was right. “Give me the other plate,” she hissed at Ginny.

Malfoy dropped her hand, so swallowing hard and trying to refocus her courage, Ginny did as she was told. She watched with a heavy heart as Queens divided the food between her and Zipes before storming out of the cottage and slamming the door behind her.

“Take this,” Zipes muttered, shoving his plate at Ginny. “Give it to the kids.”

It didn't escape her that he couldn't meet her gaze.

Ginny stood perfectly still, staring at the plate, and then she began trembling so bad the food nearly fell to the ground.

Snatching the plate from her hand, Malfoy scowled at her before dividing up what was left for the remaining children and Tyger.

She knew she should comfort the children, they were crying into their pitiful lunches, but Ginny couldn't function properly. Marylynn had just died. No funeral, no goodbyes, just dead and gone and they might as well forget her. And now Goldflower, she was gone too. Maybe she wasn't dead yet, but she was as good as dead and everyone knew it.

“You should have eaten something,” she said quietly as Malfoy sat down on the bed across from hers.

“I'm fine,” he muttered. “I'll eat dinner.”

She nodded, unsure of what to do. While she had known all along that her captivity would end badly, it wasn't until Queens arrived and took Goldflower away, just moments after Marylynn had left them, that it really hit her. She was going to die. She was probably going to be tortured first. Maybe raped. Maybe passed around among the Death Eaters and raped multiple times. Or maybe just murdered; a quick and simple Avada Kedavra. Or not. It could be something long and drawn out and cruel. Before she'd been captured, she'd heard dark rumors of prisoners being skinned alive.

When the sun set and it was time for dinner, Ginny still hadn't risen from her bed, and she had no intentions of doing so. She couldn't. Instead, she just rolled over and looked the other way when the children stared at her with their big, wet eyes.

When Malfoy tried to make her eat, she closed her eyes and whispered “Please go away.”

“I'm not leaving. You're going to eat.”

“You didn't.”

“I just ate dinner.”

“We're going to die.”

“Everyone is, eventually.”

“I'm just not ready yet. I didn't get to say goodbye to anyone.”

“Yeah? Most people don't,” he said harshly. “Eat. You aren't going to starve to death.”

“Why would you even care?” she snapped back, tired of him, tired of the cottage, tired of being needed. She wanted her mum. She wanted someone else to take care of her.

“Because there are four little kids staring at me like I'm their saviour! I can't do this! You're the one who is doing this, not me!”

She opened her eyes and tried to focus on his spoiled, bratty face. “Malfoy, find your balls, please.” She sat up in her bed and looked around. Just as he said, the children were staring at them, while Tyger was tucked in her bed already, facing away from them. Zipes had already disappeared into his little room. “Let's just go to bed,” she told them. “I'll get the dishes in the morning.”

“Can we push our beds together?” Jeanne-Marie asked quietly. “I don't wanna sleep alone.”

“Sure,” Ginny said tiredly. “That's fine.”

She thought they would push their own beds together, but instead, Wilhelm helped them pushed his bed against Draco's and even Tyger shoved hers against Ginny's, so all their feet were lined up facing the fire place.

“Ginny?” Victorine asked quietly.

“Hmm?” she said absently, trying to hold herself together.

“Can we put our bed between yours and Draco's? I don't want to sleep on the end.”

She blinked at the pretty girl who was holding hands with her twin, wishing they didn't look so pale. They got enough sleep, but a lack of nutrition left dark circles under their eyes, and with the winter sun constantly hiding behind the clouds, their skin was quickly becoming as pale as Malfoy's.

“That's fine,” Malfoy said roughly before Ginny could come up with a tactful reply. He stood up quickly and dragged the bed until it was positioned between theirs, then shoved his bed against hers. “Is this okay?”

Ginny was tempted to ask him if Queens had accidentally given him a personality makeover, but she didn't have it in her. Instead she gave Victorine a wobbly smile, and lay back down, trying not to think of the horrible day they'd had.

“Thank you Draco,” she heard Victorine whisper as she made room for her sister in the small bed and pulled the thin blankets around them.

“Ginny?” This time it was Wilhelm, sitting up from his spot on the other side of Malfoy.

“Yes?” She tried to keep her voice steady.

“Can you tell us a story? I know you don't want to, but it always makes everyone feel better.”

“Of course,” she told him, even though her voice caught in her throat. “How about Cinderella?” She took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. “The wife of a rich man fell ill. When she realized that the end was near, she called her only daughter to her bedside...”

Halfway through her fairy tale, Ginny could hear the peaceful, even breathing of the children, so she quit talking. She wished she could find sleep so easily.

“Hey.”

Her entire body tensed up at Malfoy's voice.

“Aren't you going to finish?”

So Ginny continued the story, talking without thinking until the end. “On the day of the wedding to the prince, the two false sisters came and tried to integrate themselves and share in Cinderella's good fortune. When the couple went to church, the elder sister was on the right, the younger on the left side: the doves pecked one eye from each one. Later, when they left the church, the elder sister was on the left, the younger on the right. The doves pecked the other eye from each one. And so they were punished for their wickedness and malice with blindness for the rest of their lives.”

“Those stories have terrible endings,” Malfoy said after a long pause, his voice breaking through the flickering darkness.

“I know.”

“Why do you tell them those kinds of stories?” For once his voice didn't sound harsh or angry or even judgmental.

“They're they only ones I know,” she told him, keeping her voice low. “And I think they like them.”

“They do.”

There was a long silence and Ginny concentrated on the firelight and shadows dancing across the walls.

“It's like you said, they want to know that terrible things are going to happen to the people who hurt them.”

Ginny gave a short, bitter laugh. “Isn't that how the world is supposed to be?”

“It's supposed to.”

Ginny rolled to one side, facing the twins. She could make out Malfoy's form on the other side of the girls. “Is what Queens said true?”

“Yes.”

His answer was simple, and she had expected everything except simple. It caught her off guard. “I'm sorry,” she told him finally, her stomach clenching uncomfortably.

“Don't be. You'll think I'm mad, but it's almost been better here than it was at home.”

Something that would have been laughter in any other situation caught in her throat. “You are mad. I heard you live in a mansion. Look around you!”

“The Dark Lord has been staying at the Manor.”

“At your house?” Ginny asked, horrified.

“That's what I said,” he confirmed. “It's less stressful here, except for the issue of dying. But with him at my home, that was always a possibility.” His bed creaked as he moved.

“I don't want to die.” She felt the tears on her cheeks before she even realized she was crying.

“None of us want to.”

“I tell the children not to be afraid and they believe me, but I don't believe myself.”

There was a long silence. “You should get some sleep.”

Ginny stared at him, but it was impossible to see what he was doing with the twins between them. “Good night.”

“Good night Ginny.”

For the next few weeks, Ginny threw herself into inventing chores to keep everyone busy around the small cottage. It was easier to keep busy with newly invented things to do than to have to think about what had happened and what was going to happen. While she was sure Tyger and Malfoy knew exactly what she was doing, they played along. She made brooms out of leaves and twigs so the twins could sweep and dust the cottage. She showed Tyger how to make simple cleaning and medicinal potions, even though she wasn't as good at potions as Ginny was. She had Malfoy and Wilhelm hand grinding certain leaves and roots to fertilize the seeds they had just planted. Zipes tried to avoid her, because when she managed to corner him, she couldn't stop herself from asking him why and where and when and how, and he didn't want to answer any of them.

“I tole' ya,” he said, stuffing his pipe with cheap tobacco. “I don't know 'xactly what happens to 'em.”

“Where do they go, though?” she pressed, peeling tava beans to add to their stew. “You have to know something.”

“I know,” he finally said wearily. “But you don't wanna know. It ain't good.”

She finally looked up, staring him in the eye. “I know I'm going to die. I know that. I don't want to die, but I know that I will, unless a miracle happens. But I don't believe in miracles.”

Zipes suddenly looked years older. “It's not a pretty death. There's no set way of killin' but most people just give up in the end. They can't handle it anymore.”

“Handle what?”

“The pain. The torture. The... anythin'. Their bodies can't take it.”

All this time she'd thought she wanted answers, but as they came to her, she realized she'd been better off not knowing. “I'm scared.”

“What about those things ya tell the children? Ya don't seem scared then,” he told her, taking out his pocket knife and slicing the tava roots for their dinner.

“They're just stories,” she said heavily, nibbling on the tava bean pods and deciding they were edible. “They don't mean anything.”

“Everyone counts on those stories, ya know.”

“I know.”

“Even Malfoy.”

Ginny glanced up at him. “Queens said that Malfoy was here because his mum wanted to escape with him. And he told me it was true.”

Zipes nodded. “Doesn't surprise me. His mum doesn't care 'bout the Dark Lord, jus' 'bout her son.”

“Queens said they were doing terrible things to his father.”

“Why would ya care?” Zipes looked at her suspiciously. “Everyone knows what his father did to ya with that diary.”

She shuddered. “I still don't like people being tortured.”

“I didn't think you 'n Malfoy would get along.”

“We don't. He's a total arse.”

“Uh-huh. That's why he does all those things you ask him?”

Ginny shrugged causally. “He just does what everyone else does.”

“Right.”

“He does.”

“If ya say so.”

“I do.”

There was a long silence before Zipes spoke again. “I can't get ya anymore seeds. Anymore anythin', really.”

“What do you mean?” Her head shot up from the Katterpod root she was smashing.

“Queens accused me of favorin' you all.”

Ginny's brow creased. “She did? To whom?”

“Recently, at a meetin'.”

Ginny was torn between laughing over the fact that the Death Eaters held meetings like they were some sort of incorporated business or telling him to man up and ignore the bitch. “I don't think trying to feed yourself is favoring anyone,” she told him, trying to sound reasonable. “You're just using us for the labor, right? Any self-respecting Death Eater would do it.”

“You always make light of things, don't ya?” he asked, looking at her sadly.

She bit her lower lip, hesitating for a split second. “Get us out of here.”

“What?”

“All of us can leave. I can give you the exact coordinates of my parents' house and the Order will take us all in. It'll be days before anyone even notices that we're gone.”

“Are ya serious?”

She nodded. “Why are you even doing this? Being Pureblood doesn't really make one person better than another. Witches are witches and wizards are wizards.” She drummed her fingers along the scuffed counter top. “Have you ever been to Germany?”

“No.” Zipes looked confused.

“My parents took us there once when Bill was doing this temporary stint in Germany. We went on a tour of the concentration camps that are left from the Muggle's second Great War. This group called the Nazi's decided that this other group, the Jews, were basically the root of all evil. They killed over six million Jews, a lot of them in these horrible camps. I think I cried for three days straight. We saw these pictures of Nazi military men and women smiling and just hanging out like everything was fine, even though they were murdering people every day. There were piles and piles of bodies, but I guess they believed it was okay, because they honestly thought they were better than them.”

“I've heard of it,” Zipes told him, his voice stiff.

“Just think about it. The Order will hide all of us. You know they will.”

“Why would they wanna help me?” Zipes scoffed. “I cast my lot with the Death Eaters.”

Ginny locked eyes with him. “Is that still how you feel?”

Later that week, Zipes told Ginny to make sure the others were constantly prepared. She assumed he meant for travel, and that was easy – there was nothing to pack, nothing to consider taking. They wore everything they owned.

“I'll be back,” Zipes told Ginny after a late dinner. “Make sure things are in order.”

As he disappeared out the front door, Ginny's heart soared. He was going to take them to the Burrow. They would be free. She'd have her family back. She debated on telling Malfoy, but decided to keep the news to herself, just in case.

The day wore on and Ginny's stomach ached with anticipation. That night she would be sitting at her dining room table eating dinner and surrounded by her family.

But Zipes didn't return. The following afternoon Queens appeared, and all Ginny's hopes disappeared.

“What do you think you're doing?” she asked Ginny in her cold, cruel voice.

“Gathering things to make dinner,” Ginny told her evenly, suppressing her disappointment and fear. “I assume you want to eat.”

“I'll eat anyway,” she hissed, leaning close to Ginny.

“I know the Death Eaters can't feed you,” Ginny said calmly. “But I can. So it'd be in your best interest to let us finish what we're doing.”

Queens' black eyes narrowed. “You shouldn't be outside.”

“There are wards,” Ginny said, hoping she sounded reasonable, even though she was afraid for the fate of Zipes. “We can't leave.”

For several days, Queens just watched them under a silent eye. But then she began trying to slip into their daily routines, telling Jeanne-Marie to get back in the cottage when she slipped on a patch of ice in the yard.

“She's fine,” Ginny told Queens calmly. “We need her. She's good at gathering the tava beans.”

“I said get inside,” Queens screamed, pointing her wand at Jeanne-Marie and using Crucio on her.

“Stop it!” Victorine screamed, throwing herself at Queens. “Stop!”

“No,” Ginny shouted, running towards them, ignoring Malfoy's warnings.

Everything after that happened so quickly, Ginny wasn't sure what happened. There was a scream of Avada Kedavra, and more screams from Jeanne-Marie, and then there was more pain than Ginny could imagine or even bear. As the skin on her back split open, Ginny fell to her knees, unsure of what was going on. The pain doubled, tripled, multiplied, pain on top of pain, but it still wasn't registering with her. She toppled over, landing on Victorine, hoping that she could shield her from any further harm. Somewhere, someone was screaming. Their screams made Ginny's ears and throat hurt. Somewhere else, something pale tried to rush her, but as quickly as it came, it was flung out of her sight.

Ginny's mind faded into nothingness.

“Ginny.” There was a whisper and a low thud as her mind tried to center itself on reality again. “Ginny, please be okay.”

I'm going to die now. Despite her shallow and panicked breathing, her body refused to comply with her mind. For some reason her body was insisting that she fight to live. She could feel the tears leaving tracks through the dirt on her face as the blinding-white pain that was too great to comprehend washed through her body.

“I'm gonna pick you up, okay? It's going to hurt, but I have to get you inside so we can get you better, okay?”

Ginny tried to open her eyes, but all she saw was Victorine's form, still as stone, sprawled where she had fallen.

“I want you to put your arms around my neck so you don't fall, Ginny. Can you do that for me?”

It was Malfoy. Why was he talking to her, she wondered. Shouldn't he be in the cottage, pouting because she wasn't fixing his dinner? The only noise she could make in response was a small gurgle.

“I'm going to take that as a yes,” he told her, and she thought she could detect panic in his voice.

He pushed his arms underneath her body and rolled her to her side, and Ginny's vision went dark again, although she was certain her eyes were still open. He was pressing against her back and once more she could feel hot tears falling down her face. No! she wanted to tell him. Just leave me here and let me die.

“I know it hurts. I need you to put your arms around my neck.” It was getting harder to concentrate on his voice; he sounded so far away.

Draco pressed on, placing one arm under her legs and apologizing profusely as his other arm secured itself underneath her back. He was ignoring her silent pleas for death that grew more desperate with each step he took across the yard. Despite the pain, she felt weightless in his arms, and again hoped she would die sooner rather than later.

He carefully placed her on her stomach and she could feel him staring at the wounds on her back. The pain was so consuming that her body did the only thing it could to survive – she was going into a state of false numbness and her mind refused to focus on anything for more than a short moment, which almost tricked her into forgetting about it.

As her vision came back, she could make out clean rags, his week's worth of drinking water and the soap she had made all laying beside his bed. He had laid her on his bed.

“I have to get your shirt off, okay?” he whispered to her.

He carefully lifted the shirt from the wounds on her back, and she felt him cringe when she let out a choking sob. “Lift up just a little and we can get it off,” he told her.

She did as he asked and he lifted it over her head, tossing it to the floor. He let out an audible groan and she knew that they were as bad as they felt. She was going to have horribly thick, ropey scars crisscrossing the skin of her back and arms.

“Gin, I'm gonna start cleaning them, okay? It might hurt a little, but it's gonna be okay.”

“Hold my hand,” she croaked.

“I,” he started to say. “Okay.” He allowed her to grip one hand tightly as he used his free hand to pour a small measure of water over her back. She could feel the water stinging its way into her open wounds. She felt his one handed movements, gently rubbing soap into the lash marks.

Pain ripped through her again and a loud cry exploded from her throat.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I know it hurts and I'm so, so sorry.”

Silent tears slipped from Ginny's eyes, but she managed to look up long enough to focus on him. “Please don't. Just let me die.”

“No,” he hissed and Ginny saw a tear fall from his own eye, mixing with the soap on her back.

A high-pitched wail filled all the empty spaces in the small room, momentarily distracting Ginny from her own pain. “I have to go out there! Please let me go to my sister,” Jeanne-Marie cried. “I have to see if she's okay!”

Suddenly Tyger was kneeling before Ginny, her eyes carefully averted from Ginny's back. “Ginny baby,” she crooned, holding up a sludgy yellow liquid. “Is that what I should give her?”

It took all her will to focus on the bottle before her and nod, as Draco's fingers worked the exposed lesions on her back.

“I'm going to move you closer to the fire,” he told her as he rinsed the soap from her skin, his voice low and rough, “so you can dry. I'm sorry if it hurts you.”

“I can walk,” she tried to tell him, her voice brittle as if she hadn't used it in years.

But she couldn't even push herself out of the bed.

Draco lifted her, and despite everything, Ginny wondered if she should be humiliated she had no top on. Maybe if it had been months ago, back when she'd thought nothing of the three meals a day she was served and she actually had something to fill out her bra with, then she would have been more humiliated. She felt as flat chested as Draco, so she let him half carry, half drag her to the fireplace.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered in her ear so that only she could hear as he eased both of them to the floor. “I don't mean to hurt you.”

“Tyger,” she heard him say, “can you get a clean blanket?”

She felt something gently being draped over her back, and she motioned for Tyger. “Give me the rest of that potion,” she managed to choke out.

She gagged as the slippery yellow liquid went down her throat, but sleep took over too quickly to think about it.

*~*

For three days, Draco insisted that Ginny lay in her cot still and unmoving while he tended to things. “Draco,” she said crossly, “I think I can get up and help you with dinner.” Her back still hurt terribly, but the boredom of laying face down in her cot all day overshadowed that.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “I've got it.”

“Where's Tyger? She should be helping you.”

“She is helping. She's got the kids outside. It's a nice day.”

“As in not snowing?”

“Exactly.”

“What day is it?”

Draco looked up from the cauldron where he was attempting to cook dinner for everyone. “Um, February 23rd.”

“How do you know?”

“I've just kept track of the days.”

“Hmmmm.” Ginny wondered how he managed to do it when she could barely tell one day from the next.

“I'm glad you're speaking to me,” he told her, avoiding her gaze.

“I've spoke to you since you arrived.”

“But you always called me Malfoy,” he pointed out. “And now you remembered that I have a first name.”

If Ginny didn't know any better, she would have thought the curve in Draco's lips meant he was smiling. “Don't be ridiculous,” she told him. “I've always known your first name.”

*~*

Queens didn't spend all day and night there like Zipes did, which gave Ginny a small measure of pleasure, in spite of everything that was going on around them. She showed up on occasion, terrorizing them with her anger and harsh words, but mostly she was gone. In the month that had passed since her back had been ripped to shreds, Ginny had slowly recovered enough to resume her place as mother of the cottage. Her back hurt, no doubt. The scars that were forming were tender and tight, making it hard to stand up straight, but she did, knowing she needed to stretch her new skin so that she wouldn't end up crooked.

She still hadn't found the proper words to tell Draco thank you for everything he'd done. He'd taken care of her, taken care of the children... It was far more than she'd ever expected from him. But thanking him was hard. Every time it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him how much she appreciated it, he would make some sarcastic comment and she changed her mind.

He would be doing something useful, like searching for edible plants or creating rabbit traps, and she would start to speak, ready to let him know that she was grateful for all his help, but he didn't want to hear it.

“Draco?”

“What?” he demanded, his tone always carrying a sharp edge.

“I just wanted to let you know that I-”

“Weasley. Do you mind? I'm trying to work here.”

Ginny finally decided that he didn't want to be thanked. He wouldn't know how to accept it.

That night at dinner, Jeanne-Marie was more subdued than normal. Not that Ginny could blame her – her twin was gone. Draco and Wilhelm had dug a hole at the very edge of their boundaries to bury Victorine in. Jeanne-Marie spent every day there, crying as she stretched her small body across the fresh grave.

Ginny knew something was wrong, but she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. Even with Queens gone that day, it had still felt wrong.

And then Jeanne-Marie fainted away while eating.

“No,” Wilhelm gasped, dropping his bowl and scooting to where Jeanne-Marie now lay. “She was touching those leaves.”

“What leaves?” Draco asked sharply.

“That Venohex.” Wilhelm said, grimacing. “She said you told her not to touch them.”

Ginny forgot about her own dinner as she crawled to where Jeanne-Marie lay. There were torn bits of a Venohex leaf floating in her stew. She picked up her wrist, and then pressed her ear to her chest. “She's gone.” She bit her lip and looked blankly at the room. “Merlin, she's gone.”

Draco was the one who finally moved Jeanne-Marie's body outside that night, burying her next to her twin. Ginny helped him wash the dirt from his hands as best she could when he returned, hours later.

When they woke the next morning, Tyger was gone, as if she had never been at the cottage to begin with.

“Leave me alone,” Ginny whispered, when Draco tried to talk to her.

“Stop this,” he hissed. “What about Wilhelm?”

Ginny glanced across the room at the boy who was sleeping. “What about him?”

“Aren't you supposed to be the one taking care of us?” he snapped.

Before Ginny could think up a reply, he shook his head.

“I didn't mean that,” he said quickly.

She wondered if his body ran on auto-pilot sometimes, saying hateful things when he didn't mean them.

“Be strong, please,” he begged. “Even if it's just for him.”

“What about you?” she shot back.

“I'm trying,” he told her, “but I don't know if I can be strong enough for the two of us.”

But when Queens came for Wilhelm, Ginny could stand it no more.

“Let him go,” she screamed, rushing the woman. Ginny didn't slow down, even as Queens aimed her wand at her.

And when she awoke, she was alone, inside a small room. There was a cot and a fire, but that was all.

“Ginny?”

She bit her lip, glancing around the small room. There was a tiny window at the top of her room, too small to be of any use, except for letting a small, gray stream of sunlight in. Her head hurt.

“Ginny? Please.”

The walls were the same faded yellow colour of the cottage walls. There was a cot, similar to what she was used to sleeping on, but far more blankets than she'd seen in a while.

“Damn it, answer me. Ginny!”

She climbed onto the cot, her head pounding, and slept.

“Ginny?”

When she woke her head still hurt, but she could focus enough to see a heavy wooden door. Her head spinning as if she'd drank several bottles of wine, she let herself fall out of the cot and crawled to the door.

“Who is it?” she croaked, pressing her hand into the door.

“Ginny! Merlin, is that you?”

“Draco?” Her head was still spinning.

“It's me. Are you alright?” She recognized Draco's voice, but the compassion and concern she heard felt foreign.

“I'm tired,” she whispered. “And everyone is gone.”

“I'm still here. Listen to me, Ginny. Do you have any food in there?”

“I don't know.” Why, she wondered, was Draco Malfoy still talking to her? She wanted to sleep. That was all. Not live, not fight, not survive, she just wanted to sleep.

“Ginny, talk to me!”

When she woke again, her face was pressed into a cold hearth, and she was shivering so hard her teeth rattled.

“Draco.” Her voice came out such a low squeak she doubted that even the mice had heard her. She pushed herself to her feet and pulled the blankets from the bed, wrapping them around her body and then stumbled back to the closed door. “Draco?” Silence met her and panic began coursing through her veins. What if he was gone? She had no idea how long she'd been sleeping or even been in the small room. What if Queens had taken him and she was the only one left? Merlin no! She'd go mad. She lifted her hand and let it fall against the door. “Draco?”

Instantly there was shuffling noises from the other side of the door, and she saw a shadow pass beneath it.

She held her breath, a fresh wave of terror passing over her, threatening to drown her as it occurred to her that it might not be Draco on the other side.

“Ginny?” Draco's voice was muffled, but it was there.

She swiped at the hot tears that sprang to her eyes before remembering that no one could see her. “How long have I been in here?”

“A while,” came his reply. “The sun's been up a while now.”

“Did she take Wilhelm?”

Draco's silence said it all. “I need you to search that room,” he told her, “and see if there's food or anything. I've been working this door but it's not budging. I'm pretty sure I've seen Zipes with food.”

“Okay,” Ginny called to him. “Give me a few minutes.” She pushed herself away from her spot on the floor and tugged back the heavy curtains, letting muted sunlight come through the round, dirty window. There weren't very many places to look in the room, but she searched under the bed, along the hearth and all through the tiny nightstand. “I don't see anything,” she started to call to him, but then noticed that one of the floorboards was curved more than the others. “Oh wait.” She knelt down to the ground and tugged at the board. When it gave way, it flew from her grasp, knocking Ginny to her bum and leaving splinters in her fingers.

“Are you alright?” His muffled voice caused a funny twinge in her chest.

“I'm fine. I found some things.” Reaching into the narrow hiding space, she pulled out several small bags of crisps, a few sweets, three tea bags and a box of Muggle matches. She couldn't believe her good luck. If her dad hadn't been such a Muggle fanatic, she probably would have never known what they were for or how to use them.

“What did you find?”

“Some crisps and sweets.” She scooted back to the heavy door.

“Good.” His relief traveled clearly through the door. “That'll work until I get you out of there.”

“I found matches too. And I'm pretty sure the fireplace is enchanted to be double sided. I just need some papers. Or maybe you should get some wood and I'll slip them under the door to you.”

“Some what?” he asked.

“It's what Muggles use to start fires.”

There was hesitation when he spoke again. “Okay. I'm gonna go get wood and then you can tell me how to use them.”

A short time later, the fire was magically warming the small room she was locked in to the point of it being too hot, but Ginny didn't mind. She hadn't been warm enough in ages.

“I thought about breaking the window,” he called to her, “but it's too small and high. I don't think you could get out of it.”

Ginny glanced up at the tiny window. “No, I don't think so.”

Time began to blend into grotesque entanglements of talking and sleeping followed by talking and eating. The door refused to budge, but they didn't stop prying at it. When she slept, it was with her body pressed against the door, the way he said his was. When she could hear him slurping on his stew, she would feel a moment of jealousy – something she never thought would happen over their pathetic stew – because the salt and oil of the crisps made her stomach burn with painful nausea, but she didn't want to tell him. No point in making him worry even more.

“What are you afraid of?” Ginny asked him.

“You mean besides being here?”

Ginny never thought she would enjoy hearing his dry, sarcastic words. “Yeah. Besides that.”

There was a long silence before he answered. “Of not getting you out of that room. Or being taken before you and leaving you here alone.” There was a small thud and Ginny imagined him leaning against the door. “Mostly of just not being able to save you.”

Ginny stared at the open bag of crisps that she couldn't bring herself to eat, wondering if the foreign feelings in her belly weren't just from the food. “I don't want you to go before me,” she said slowly. “But I don't want to leave you here either.”

“I've been thinking about that,” he told her, his voice hard and serious. There was a rustling and something slid under the door. “Keep these, just in case.”

She looked down at the Venohex leaves he had pushed under the door. “Draco,” she choked out. “Don't do it.”

“I won't,” he said quickly. “It's only for emergencies. I just don't want anything... terrible to happen to you.”

Her small room was quite warm, but a chill rolled down her spine. The pause in his words told her clearly that the rumors of tortures and rapes she'd heard were true. She imagined that 'emergencies' could range from Queens coming to get them to no one ever showing up again, causing them to choose between starving to death or taking their own lives.

“We're not going to commit suicide,” she told him. “We're going to get out of here. We're going to live and be happy.”

“I know,” he told her, his voice strong and certain. “I just want to make sure that in case anything goes wrong with our perfect plan, I'm not going to be stuck living without you.”

“What plan?”

“Exactly my point.”

“But I don't want you to kill yourself if something happens to me,” she told him honestly. “What about your family?”

“Don't change the subject.”

Ginny could easily imagine him rolling his eyes on the other side of the door.

“Here's how it is,” he told her dryly. “I would die for you. If Tyger hadn't forced me inside that day Queens was lashing you, I certainly would have tried. I'm not going to live without you.”

While it was strange to hear him say it, and she certainly didn't want to admit it, she felt the same way. There would be no moving on without him.

Sometimes when Ginny woke from her restless slumbers, she would find paper hearts shoved under the door. Draco had found an old stack of paper someone had discarded in the back of the cupboard. Although he wouldn't tell her, Ginny could see that he cut them into the shape of a heart either using a sharp stone or maybe even his fingernails. As more time passed, the paper hearts grew more elaborate, with drawings on them made from the ashes of their fires.

The days began to blur together and Ginny's food ran low. She could easily count the ribs beneath her skin. Her elbows and knees seemed abnormally large in comparison to her grossly skinny legs. If her now flat chest was any indication of how the rest of her looked, she was better off not knowing. More than anything, she was relieved there was no mirror, so that she couldn't see her face or her awful scars. The dim light that pushed its way through the dirt on the small window hurt her eyes so she had to resort to keeping the thick draperies closed, resulting in her having no concept of night or day.

“How long have I been in here?” she asked him, wiggling her fingers as far as she could under the door, and waiting as he did the same so that their fingertips could touch, cherishing the smallest bit of contact.

“Just over two weeks,” he told her, his skin stroking hers ever so lightly.

The drying Venohex leaves lay on the nightstand, taunting her.

Sometimes she was glad Draco couldn't see how ugly she was.

She was completely aware of when her sanity started fading away, obliterating itself into the dust particles and ashes.

It was the dreams. She dreamed about Draco, but sometimes about Tom too. They would usually blend into one person. Dark hair with silver eyes, pale hair with red eyes. Tom's low, sinister voice or Draco's shiver-worthy, occasionally arrogant one. In her dreams, she often found herself writhing in bed with him, and she didn't mind it – in fact, she enjoyed it – when it was Draco. When it was more Tom, she woke up screaming. That's how she knew she was going mad. She hadn't dreamed of Tom Riddle since the summer after her first year, and it had never been about sex.

“Another nightmare,” Draco whispered through the closed door.

It wasn't the first time the volume of her own screams had woken her. “I'm okay,” she panted, rubbing her throat.

“Why won't you tell me what you dream about?”

“I don't remember.”

“Sometimes you say my name.”

Ginny pressed her dry hands to her cheeks and stared in the darkness at the ceiling. “I have to get out of here,” she told him finally.

“I'm going to get you out,” he said, his voice strong and confident. “Soon. Don't worry.”

But she did worry, even though it was pointless.

When she ran out of the bitter crisps and sweets, she just slept. Eventually she stopped feeling so hungry all the time, but it was getting hard to keep her eyes open. She preferred to sleep, even though Draco insisted on talking to her.

“What's the first thing you're going to do when we get out of here?” he would ask.

“Take a bath,” she told him. “A really long and hot one. What about you?”

“That sounds good,” he told her. “But I think I'd like to properly brush my teeth first.”

She managed to laugh. “You mean my toothpaste isn't good enough?”

“It's great,” he assured her. “But I'd like a proper toothbrush too.”

Ginny slept and woke, but most slept. Even Draco's attempts at talking to her didn't work once her body realized that it would no longer get food. So she slept.

She could hear him calling to her sometimes, interrupting her sleep and her dreams. “Ginny, are you okay? Talk to me, Ginny. I need you, Gin.”

When she finally did wake, it was from loud noises coming from the other side of her door.

She pressed her ear to the heavy wood, even though that simple act took most her strength, just in time to hear Draco yell for her to get away from the door.

The door blew open before she'd had a chance to scramble very far away, and she curled into herself ball to protect her skin from the shards of wood that flew everywhere.

“Ginny!”

Squinting her eyes into the bright light, she wondered if she dreams had managed to creep into her waking hours.

But Draco was putting his arms around her and she was weightless as he gently placed her on his bed. “Look at me, Ginny. Look at me!”

His hands were on her face but she was terrified of waking up. Yes, dreams about shagging him were nice, but she didn't think she could wake up from a dream about being rescued. It was just to awful to think about, because she had come to the realization that she wasn't ever going to leave the room, not unless she was taken to be killed by a Death Eater or someone was carrying out her lifeless body.

“Ginny!”

“Just lay with me,” she whispered to him, struggling to open her eyes against the brightness. “I don't want to wake up.”

“It's not a dream, damn it!” he shouted at her, shaking her by her shoulders. “Look at me.”

Grabbing his wrists, she squinted up at him. “Then what happened?” As her eyes slowly grew accustomed to the light, she let them roam his body. He was skinny, just like her. Too skinny, and it made his eyes look darker, as if they were sinking back into his skull. But he was beautiful. She had never realized how perfect his features were, and she had never wanted to see anyone more in her whole life. Then she noticed his hands, right there in front of her. He tried to pull them away when he saw she was staring, but she kept her grip on his wrists. “Oh Merlin, Draco. What happened to your hands?” Some of the skin looked freshly blistered, but it was on top of round pink scars and scabs and dried skin.

He stared at her. “Queens is lying over there on the floor and you want to know about my hands?”

It took several moments for Ginny to realize that maybe it wasn't a dream after all; maybe she was out of the room. Keeping her grip on his wrists, she forced her eyes away from him and sucked in a deep breath as she took in the form of Queens, sprawled face first on the floor. It looked as if she'd fallen off the edge of the bed and there was some sort of pale liquid seeping out from under her. “Is she... dead?”

Draco nodded. “Dead.”

“Tell me everything that happened. Even about your hands.” The moment was too surreal, and she was afraid of losing her grip on reality. It was like riding a carousel that had begun to spin too fast, out of control; there were colours and noises but things began to blur together, one long line of movement.

Somehow, clinging to Draco's wrists kept her grounded.

“I knew she would return, eventually,” he said, the words spilling out of him, “or that someone would, so every day I rubbed the insides of all the bowls except one with the Venohex leaves. I knew who ever came would want to eat. And she did.”

“That's it?” Ginny asked, afraid to believe it had been that simple.

He nodded. “She told me to fix her a bowl of stew and then she said she'd fix it herself. One bite and she was gone, so I grabbed her wand.” He motioned his elbow in the direction of his dirty, too big trousers. “We have to get out of here. But I think you should eat first. You can use my bowl.”

“I don't want to eat,” she told him automatically. “I'm not hungry.”

“I don't give a shite if you're not hungry,” he snapped. “You can barely hold your head up or keep your eyes open.”

“What about your hands?”

Guilt passed over his face, looking out of place despite his haggard appearance. “Those Muggle fire starters you slipped under the door, well, I didn't realize they had to be kept dry. I didn't really think about it. They fell in the snow one day and I couldn't use them.”

“How did you keep the fire going?” she asked. There had been a fire almost every moment.

“When you told us that one fairy tale, back when everyone was here, about how the man rubbed the two sticks together...”

Horrified, Ginny stared at his hands. “You rubbed sticks together? And it worked?”

He nodded. “It took a long time.”

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered.

“Listen to me,” he hissed at her, ignoring the looks she was giving his damaged hands. “I'm sure she was here to take one of us and someone is going to notice when she doesn't return. I'm going to get you some food and then we're leaving.”

“What about her?”

“You have to let go of my arms.”

Slowly Ginny convinced herself that it was all real. “Okay.”

Draco rushed to grab a bowl that already had food in it, bringing it to her. “Eat it, Gin. You're going to need it.”

Ginny held the hot bowl between her hands, smelling the stew, which could have been amazing if it didn't make her stomach roll. “What about you?”

“I've been eating. Obviously you haven't.”

He scowled at her so she tentatively lifted the spoon to her lips. Ginny's eyes darted back to Queens' body. She expected her to jump to her feet at any moment. “And her?”

“We can just leave her.” Draco was gripping Queens' wand tightly.

“I don't think we should,” she grimaced, slurping down the first swallow of stew and letting it burn its way down to her stomach. “If they come, it'll be clear we killed her. I'd rather them not know.”

“So what should I do?” For just a moment, Draco looked as weary as she felt, and she wondered if he too had started to believe that she would never leave that room.

“Can you transfigure her? Like Zipes used to do?” The stew wasn't sitting well in her stomach, but she kept lifting the spoon to her mouth.

“The only thing I am good at is transfiguring things into a cigar box.” His shirt swung baggily on him. He was right; they had to leave.

She nodded, placing one hand on her churning stomach. “That will be good. Then we can throw her in the fireplace.” She watched as Draco did just that, and instead of feeling relief that Queens' body was no longer on the floor – it was becoming ashes and the smoke was curling up the chimney – she leaned over, retching up all her stew. “Let's go,” she gagged, wiping her mouth. “I can make it. We can Apparate, right?”

Draco stood frozen to his spot on the floor momentarily. “We should go to your parents' house. You said they'll take us in, right? Plus, it's well protected. It was a constant source of annoyance that none of the Death Eaters could ever find it.”

She appreciated the fact that he was rambling away, pretending like there wasn't something seriously wrong with her. Ginny set the bowl aside and pushed herself to her feet. She stood still, trying to gain her balance before stepping towards him. “I need something out of that room.”

“What?” he demanded, grabbing linens off the bed and wrapping them around her shoulders.

“I want my hearts.”

“Hearts?”

“The ones you made me.”

He looked surprised, and then pleased. “I'll get them for you.”

When the paper hearts were securely in her pocket and Draco was satisfied with the number of linens he'd draped over her shoulders, they left the cottage. Ginny didn't look back.

The sun was setting – or maybe it was rising, she didn't know – as they made their way to the edge of the property. Draco gripped the wand tightly in one hand, holding her with the other.

“Ready?” he asked. “I'm going to use all the ward deactivating spells that we use at home, just to be safe.”

She nodded. Home wasn't far away.

“When the wards are down we'll Apparate to your place.”

She'd never seen him look so unsure of himself, but then again, she never imagined that she would be clinging to him as if he were her saviour.

But an hour later, they were back in the cottage. Draco paced the floor until Ginny finally grabbed him. “Please,” she begged. “Just stop.”

“I'll think of it!” he hissed. “There's got to be a spell that undoes this ward.”

“I'm sure there is,” she told him, trying to sound reasonable, despite the fact that she was ready to fall apart. “The Death Eaters get in and out. But we don't know what it is.”

“I'm going to figure it out,” he told her, pressing his fingertips into his forehead.

“Draco,” she said wearily. “Just come to bed. We can't get out tonight.” She was as disappointed as he was, but exhaustion was taking over her body. “I'm so tired.”

He stared at her for a moment, his dark silver eyes shining as the firelight bounced off them. “They're going to come for us.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But us standing outside in the cold isn't going to change that fact.” She leaned back into her bed, amazed at how good it felt. When she'd first arrived at the cottage, she hadn't been able to sleep because she missed her bed. Now, the cot felt wonderful compared to sleeping on the floor.

“Fine.” Draco dropped down in his bed and held out his hand.

She fell asleep with her fingers touching his.

The days passed and Draco couldn't break through the wards. They tried every spell, jinx, hex and charm they knew, but nothing changed. Ginny tried to eat, tried to keep food in their stew cauldron, but it was growing scarce. She tried to feed Draco, but he noticed and insisted that she feed herself, resulting in neither of them eating much. Even having a wand didn't help keep food on their plates. As Draco grew angrier and more frustrated, Ginny became quieter, not bothering to leave her bed unless Draco was going outside. Panic exploded in her chest if she couldn't see him, leaving her crying and useless.

“Do you think you'll ever want kids?” Draco asked her as they carefully rationed out their dinner.

“Kids?” Ginny thought for a moment. “If the war ends, I think I'd like one or two.”

“Isn't your family required to have a dozen?” He winked as he asked his question.

“Very funny.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Didn't you just ask me something?”

“How do you feel about me?”

Her heart jumped erratically and she wondered if that was bad for her, considering the state she was in. “You mean besides the fact that you are obnoxious and a snob? Oh, and mean?”

“Besides that.” She didn't miss the hurt than ran through his silver eyes.

“Sorry,” she apologized quickly. “You're not really like that any more.”

Draco pushed his bowl aside and picked up her hand, holding it in his. “What am I like?”

“Would you be angry if I said you were nice?”

“I am not nice,” he insisted. “Anything but nice.”

She laughed, a noise she hadn't heard in a long time. “Fine. Let's just say I might fancy you a small bit.”

“Just a small bit?”

“I refuse to elaborate on that any more. Except that maybe I could tell you how much I need you.”

Draco drew her hand up to his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles. “What if I told you I fancied you a great deal?”

Ginny looked up at him, wishing he still looked as perfect as he did when they were in school. The dark circles under his eyes and the bones that protruded through his skin were all reflections of how she looked. “I would believe you.”

At night, he pushed his bed against hers and slept with one arm around her to keep the nightmares away.

“We're going to die in here,” she whispered to him one night, her thoughts a drowsy mixture of hunger and pain.

“Ginny...”

“We are. You can kill every Death Eater who comes through that door, but we will in the end. We're already dying now.” It wasn't just her own ribs she could count; Draco's shown through his skin also and she would use her finger to count each one and trace his collar bones before falling asleep. The shirt she had been wearing since her lashings – Draco's undershirt – had become so thin and worn, it was useless to her, so Draco insisted that they trade. He wore the holey undershirt, less concerned for his own modesty, and she wore his button down dress shirt. Still, she thought they looked like poster children for those Adopt a Starving Orphan signs that sometimes hung around Diagon Alley.

“I think I'm okay with dying,” he told her finally. “Because I have you.”

“Me?” She tried to laugh, but it stuck in her throat. “You must be joking. You had everything before you came here. What would you need me for?”

“Because I never had anything worth giving up everything for. Now I do.”

He leaned over to gently kissed her temple, and Ginny was struck by how soft his dry lips managed to feel.

“Do you believe in Heaven?” he asked.

“I'm not sure,” she told him. “There's got to be something out there, don't you think? But I can't imagine that if there is, they would allow humans to suffer so much. So maybe there isn't.”

“I don't think death can possibly be the end,” he told her. “If it is, what's the point?”

“I think there's something,” she said finally, recalling the Department of Mysteries and the strange curtained archway Sirius had fallen through. “I'm just not sure what.”

“Where ever I go, I just want to be with you.”

Ginny thought about his words, letting them expand within her until she felt safe and content for the first time since she had been taken to the cottage. “Me too.”

“I'll tell you a story tonight.”

“You know fairy tales?”

“Sure. Doesn't everyone?”

Her laugh was real this time. “I suppose.”

“It's about death,” he told her, “or maybe the lack thereof. It's about people on an island who are frozen in time so that they can never die, but they come up with these ways to pretend to kill themselves.”

“It's fine,” she told him. “I'm not scared anymore.”

“Here,” he began, speaking into the darkness of the room, “where the darkness closes over me, like canal water or the grave, I tell this story. They used up their future as they used up their past, taking everything in one long day, over and over. The Count, to whom the palazzo belonged, had decided that it was his desire to be crushed to death by a bull elephant, between two beautiful virgins, at the moment of orgasm.”

Ginny let out a giggle. “Draco, please tell me your mum didn't tell you this story when you were a little kid.”

“Nope.” The fading firelight allowed her to make out his lopsided grin. “My aunt did. She never believed in holding back.”

“I wouldn't imagine she did,” Ginny told him seriously, not wanting to think about his horrid aunt.

“It was an immediate joke,” he continued the story, “made by all on the island that the virgins were harder and more expensive to procure than the elephant, although, in fact, the reverse was the truth.” He continued the story, telling of the count 'dying' while his guests watched and commented on what wonderful art it was; the story told of a little boy, who once explored the island and tried to open the gates to the palazzo, not knowing it was enchanted. He ran into a beautiful, black haired lady who told him she was waiting for the day the gate opened.

Back in the palazzo, the Count and his guests all continued on, living, loving, fighting, gambling, yet always untouched by time and tomorrow and death.

The boy who had visited the island grew up, became a soldier and fought in his country's wars, and finally believed that his time on the island with the dark haired beauty was only a dream. But she haunted his dreams to the point that it ruined his relationships, so one day he journeyed back to the island. He immediately saw the woman, who looked exactly the same and remembered him. She asked him if he wanted to try opening the gate and this time it opened. She told him the year was 1751 in the palazzo and that she had business inside.

As they walked through the palazzo, the woman began pointing to people. “She died in childbirth,” she said, pointing to a little girl. “As an old man he choked on a bone in a bowl of fish soup,” she said about another.

When the woman finally reached the Count, he pulled a sword on her and her companion, demanding to know how they got in and threatening them with death. He asked who she was and she responded to him, “Don't you know me?”

The Count told her that he had missed her so badly, but then the young soldier was being shaken awake and the palazzo and beautiful lady were no more. He returned to his post, knowing that he would see her again one day, one last time.

“So she was death,” Ginny whispered to him, enchanted by the story.

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured, rolling to his side.

“That doesn't seem so scary,” she told him. “He thought she was beautiful. I think he was in love with her.”

“Maybe everyone who has to fight in wars is in love with her,” he countered.

“That would make sense,” she agreed. She could feel his warm breath against her neck and she tucked herself into his body, ready to sleep, knowing that his skin against hers would keep the nightmares away.

As Ginny curled her body into Draco's, she felt his fingers trace the lines of her scars through her shirt. “Don't,” she whispered, as sleep pressed down on her. “They're ugly.”

“I think you're beautiful,” he whispered back. His fingers moved to the collar of the shirt that she was wearing, his shirt, slowly tracing the lines that led up her neck until he was cupping her jaw in the palm of his hand.

“I never really thanked you for cleaning my back, did I?”

“You did,” he said gruffly.

“Not really.”

“I had to. Any decent person would have done it.”

“No they wouldn't,” she argued. “It was hideous. No one would have wanted to do that.”

“It hurt me because I knew it was hurting you,” he told her slowly. “But I knew it was the thing that would save you. And I couldn't be here without you. You were the only one who kept things orderly and sane around here. You told me to let you die, but I'm selfish. And I'm an arse and all those other things you called me. But I had to save you.” Draco took a deep breath, letting his fingertips trace a path up her arm. “Remember after I arrived and you told me you thought there was more to everyone than what they displayed on the surface, but I had proved you wrong?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“I know I'm a flawed person, mostly a failure at general decent human nature, but you made things different for me. I wasn't going to let you go, not that day or any day.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” His voice was as rough as sand.

“I want to go swimming,” she told him finally. “I want to lay on the beach and feel the sun.”

“It'll be summer soon,” he reminded her. “And then we'll be able to feel the sun at least.”

“Do you think it'll reach between the trees?”

“If not we can use a severing spell to get rid of a few of them.”

“When we get out of here, I think I want to move to a place where it's always warm. I never want to be cold again.”

“We're going to get out of here Gin. I swear.”

“I know,” she told him. For reasons she could explain, she believed him. Strange currents were pulsing through her body, assuring her that things were about to change for the better. While it was an unfamiliar feeling, it wasn't unpleasant.

“What about Fiji?” he asked. “Or Tahiti? Or the Galapagos Islands? We could live there.”

“That sounds good,” she agreed. “I think I'd like any of those places.”

Very carefully, he nudged her head up, so that she could see the dark shadows of his face in the dying fire light. Slowly, because time had no meaning where they were, he brought his lips to hers. They were surprisingly warm and sweet, as if he had just eaten candied fruit. His fingers traveled up her jaw line until they were wrapped loosely in her thin, messy hair.

His lips pressed gently into hers once, twice and then three times before he drew back. “I wish this could have happened differently,” he told her. “I would have liked to spend time with you in a normal place.”

“It's okay,” Ginny tried to assure him. She wasn't sure how to tell him that despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, she didn't think she would love him any more or less if they were somewhere else. “Even if we were somewhere else, I think I would still feel the same way about you.”

She could see him swallow hard as he nodded. “If we weren't brought here, I don't think I would have ever realized that I could love someone more than I loved myself.”

“Yes you would,” she protested. “You would have -”

“No,” he interrupted her with a hiss. “The only person I have ever loved was my mum and that wasn't the way I love you. I didn't know I could care about someone more than I cared about myself. I didn't know that I would wake each day determined to do whatever I could to keep you safe. I had no idea, until you, just how lonely it is to go through life only caring about yourself. I thought that kept me safe but I was just selfish. No one else could have ever done what you've done.” He took a deep breath. “I love you.”

She had known at least for a little while that she loved him, but she didn't think she would ever have the chance to tell him. “I love you too.”

As much as she wanted to kiss him again, somehow Ginny knew there would be plenty of time for that, so she tucked herself under his arm and let sleep take her away.

That morning, or maybe it was ages and ages later, Ginny wasn't sure, she awoke feeling different. She sat up slowly, momentarily unsure of what had changed. But as she stood to her feet, she realized she wasn't in the cottage anymore. The room she was in was very white, but there was a doorway at the opposite end, and she knew without a doubt that once she walked though it, she would find colors beyond anything she could imagine and all the warmth that came with eternal summer. Even as she stared at it, she was almost certain she could smell the salty air that only meant one thing – the ocean. But before she would walk through that doorway, she was going to wait for Draco.

For a moment, she wondered if she was dreaming again but it occurred to her that she was not, although she had no idea why she was so certain of that fact.

She could see Draco, still asleep in his cot, one arm curled around her body, and her stomach lurched for him. Soon enough he would wake and find that she had left him. She wondered how long she would have to wait. An hour? Or would it be a hundred years until he came to join her? Maybe he would get out of the cottage alive and move on with his life, leaving her just a distant, painful memory. She bit her lower lip and decided to wait.

Ginny sat down on the white floor, tucking the folds of her billowy pink dress around her. Pink, she thought, slightly annoyed. I look terrible in pink. But even as she tried to straighten the dress around her, she realized that her legs weren't as skinny as they had been when she'd gone to bed that evening. She let her hand fall across her chest, as it occurred to her that it was back – she had boobs again. Extending her limbs in front of her, she knew somehow that she was beautiful, more beautiful than she'd ever been on earth.

Leaning forward, she looked at her former self, the Ginny Weasley who looked like she was sleeping in a miserable cot in a miserable cottage. Her cheeks were sunken in so far she was surprised she didn't see the outline of her teeth. The dark circles beneath her eyes looked like stains. And the scars... Merlin, the scars on her back were revolting. Draco lied when he told her he thought she was beautiful. Anyone with eyes could see how disfigured and grotesque she was. Instead of the smooth freckled skin she was used to seeing on her body, her flesh was a lumpy, puckered mess of shiny pink scars. She had to look away.

Ginny waited. She watched Draco, unable to do anything else, until he woke up. She was glad, at least, to see him sleeping. She knew that sometimes he didn't sleep; he stayed awake and watched her, waiting.

His eyes slowly opened, and stared at Ginny's not-sleeping form momentarily before leaning over to kiss her. That was when he realized, she could tell. He pressed one hand against her forehead, held his fingers under her nose to check for breath and then placed a hand on her chest. When he was satisfied that she was truly dead, he sat up and looked around.

It pained Ginny to see the blank, hurt look on his face, but from where she sat, there was nothing she could do.

So she waited.

Draco lay back down, holding her for a long time, and she was surprised to see him cry. She hadn't known that he was capable of so many tears. Finally, much to her relief, he pushed himself from the cot and crossed the small room. Draco reached into a cabinet they didn't use and his hand closed on something in there.

He made his way back to the cot and curled his body around hers, even though she knew that her own body must not have been warm and comforting anymore.

As Ginny watched, Draco tucked himself into her before lifting his hand to his mouth.

She knew it was the Venohex leaves.

“They are fast, aren't they?”

Ginny turned her head slightly to see Draco sitting next to her. She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “You look wonderful.”

His eyes traveled her body. “So do you. I would have never guessed that pink could look so amazing on you.”

Like her, his body had filled out again. They were both perfect and healthy. There was no evidence on them of the months in captivity; it was suddenly easy to believe that the war, the cottage and the murders had all been a nightmare. She looked gorgeous, she knew it, and so did he. He looked like he had before, like when they had been in school together, but better. She liked the simple black slacks he wore and the dark green button up; it suited him well. “Look. Your hands are fixed again,” she told him.

He nodded, uninterested in himself as he didn't take his eyes off her.

“Look.” She reached into the pocket of her dress, suddenly knowing what would be there. She pulled out the thin stack of paper hearts he had made her.

Draco glanced over at the spot in the cottage where she kept them above her bed. The hearts were gone.

“They came with me.” She met his eyes. “Last night you told me I was beautiful.”

“You are. You were.” His mouth was full and pink again, and tempting her to kiss him.

“I look so destroyed,” she said, pointing down at herself. “Couldn't you see me?”

He placed his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Yes. I could see you.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn't lie,” he told her stubbornly. “I never lie.”

“I wasn't beautiful,” she protested.

“You were alive and you were with me. Therefore, you were beautiful.”

Ginny considered his words for a moment before deciding to accept them. She had no idea what was about to happen to them, but it occurred to her that whatever it was, she was going to be with him for a very long time.

“What's through the door?” he asked, motioning to the opening behind them.

“I don't know,” she told him. “I wanted to wait for you before I looked. I think once we go through we can't come back.”

“It seems warm there,” he said, craning his neck to see though the doorway. “Like summer.”

Ginny nodded. “That's what I thought.”

Draco stood to his feet, casting one final glance at their bodies, tangled together on the beds. “I don't ever want to see that again.”

“Me neither.” She turned away from the scene in the cottage. “I don't think we will.”

“Why did you wait for me?”

“I didn't want to go through there alone,” she told him simply.

He cocked his pale blond head and studied her. “I was awful to you for most the time I knew you. I don't think I could have forgiven me as easily as you did.”

“You were mean,” she agreed. “I wished you had never been brought to the cottage. In the beginning I hoped someone would take you away. But no one ever did.”

“No one ever taught me how to be any different,” he shrugged, squeezing his fingers around hers. “It was always just easier to hate things then to try caring about other people. But if you can be patient, I'm sure I'll figure it out.”

“I'm patient,” she told him, motioning to the room they stood in, which was fading away even as they spoke. “I think we have time.”

“Good,” he told her, twirling his fingers through her once again thick and shiny hair. “Because I would hate it if you decided you'd rather sit here, watching the cottage until someone comes along and discovers us down there.”

Ginny leaned around him, taking one last look at her former self. “We look so pathetic. I can't believe we made it so long.” She glanced over her shoulder at the doorway that seemed to beckon them.

“We wouldn't have made it much longer.”

She looked at him questioningly. Wasn't that obvious? They were already here, where ever here was.

“There was a tree outside with a few apples starting to grow on it.”

“Really? Why didn't you tell me?”

“There were only three. It wouldn't have been enough for us. Plus the Venohex plant was growing up the base of the tree, so I thought it might be poisoned,” he told her, nervously brushing his blond hair out of his eyes. “So I ground up some of the Venohex leaves and every day I spread them on the apples. When they were ready to eat I was going to bring them inside.”

“You were going to kill me?” Ginny asked him slowly.

“Both of us,” he snapped.

“You actually had a plan to kill me,” she said, entertaining the thought of eating a poisoned apple.

“You couldn't even get out of the bed anymore,” he told her desperately. “You were already dying. I couldn't stand it anymore, Gin.”

He looked like he might cry, but she was just about certain that they couldn't cry anymore. There was no need.

“I know,” she smiled widely. “That's in those fairy tales I told. Remember? Snow White's stepmother gave her a poisoned apple.”

He nodded miserably.

“I understand,” she promised him, drawing him into a tight hug, pleased that she could no longer feel his bones beneath his clothing. “It's kind of sweet really.”

“Killing you isn't sweet!” he growled at her.

“Not the death part,” she assured him quickly, “but the fact that you cared enough is what's sweet. Although if I'd known death would be like this, I might have wanted to come sooner.”

“I just didn't want you to suffer anymore.” He cupped his hands under her chin.

“I wasn't suffering,” she said, smiling up at him. “I had you.”

“What if we don't like what's through there?” he asked, his eyes fastening on the doorway.

“It has to be better than what we left,” she said quietly.

He nodded and she loved the way his hair looked, freshly washed and falling into place. “Right. Because we're together.”

“Exactly.” Ginny stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. It was long and perfectly sweet; he fisted her hair tightly, not worried about hurting her anymore and using his fingers to trace lazy circles on her skin. Ginny wrapped her arms around his solid middle, savoring the honeyed taste of his mouth as his free hand pulled her close to him, until there was no space left between them. She knew, although she hadn't exactly doubted it before, that it was love that had brought them together in this place, where ever they were. Her body felt more alive than she'd ever known possible, and for the first time in ages, she could feel the heat radiating from both of them.

For a fleeting moment, she wished their was a way to let her family know that things were fine now.

But her thoughts vanished as he gently nipped at her lower lip, before slowly pulling away.

Draco tugged her towards the open doorway. “I want to know our story.”



*Athelas plant – JRR Tolkien
*Aum plant – Terry Goodkind
*White Hallows & Peya – Ursula K LeGuin
*Tava beans – Stargate Atlantis
*Katterpod – Star Trek: Deep Space Nine