Ginny woke with a start. Something was not right.

The small redhead sat up slowly, pulling the worn quilts up around her shoulders. Her tiny bedroom in The Burrow was eerie in the moonlight, and Ginny wished that she'd taken the time to clean it better. The heaps of clothes and schoolbooks left over from her final days at Hogwarts a few weeks ago looked like shadowy creatures, and the Weird Sisters posters on the wall looked strangely evil.

Moonlight filtered through the gently blowing curtains, and Ginny caught her breath. She had closed that window because the night air made her throat scratchy. Slowly, Ginny edged a hand out to grab her wand from her nightstand.

It wasn't there.

Slightly panicked, she checked the floor. Nothing. Had she left it on her bureau? A quick glance around the room did not reveal it, and Ginny began to feel slightly frantic. With a calming breath, she reasoned that perhaps it had rolled onto the floor. It was silly to be so frightened about her wand being gone when she was safe in her bed. She maneuvered out from under the sheets, but as her bare foot touched the floor, she heard a loud crash from downstairs, followed by screaming.

For a moment, she was frozen to her bed. It took every ounce of her Gryffindor courage to breathe, much less put both feet back on the floor and look under the bed. A random assortment of socks, books, balled up parchment and an Ireland hat from the Quidditch cup in her third year all made dim outlines in the darkness, but her wand was nowhere in sight.

A loud bang from downstairs made her jump, and she grabbed the quilt from her bed, threw it around her shoulders, and slowly crept toward her bedroom door. Quietly turning the handle, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway, and crept down two flights of stairs until she was above the kitchen.

From her vantage point at the top of the staircase, she couldn't see the pandemonium below, but she could easily view the shadows of everyone in the main room. Judging from the shapes of the shadows and rate at which Unforgivables were being thrown about, the Death Eaters had found The Burrow at last. Ginny wanted to run down the stairs, but without her wand, she'd only get in the way. She might be courageous, but she wasn't stupid.

"Crucio!" screamed a male voice, and one of the twins—Fred—was flung back against the wall. Ginny covered her mouth to stifle the scream as Fred looked up at her. His eye was blackened and a large gash on his arm was bleeding heavily, and he was writhing in pain. Angry, scared tears began to form in Ginny's eyes. This was not the plan! Her family was supposed to survive this bloody war and live happily ever after. She tasted blood and realized that she'd bit down on her lip hard enough to break the skin.

Another torture curse hit Fred in the gut and Ginny made to run down the stairs, but Fred grimaced and shook his head. "Run," he mouthed.

A sudden flash of green blinded Ginny for a moment, and when she glanced down at her brother, he was gone. Lifeless eyes gazed up the stairs, and her heart went into her throat as she began to follow his instructions as well as she could.

There was a fireplace in her parents' bedroom. Maybe if she Flooed to Hermione, or to Harry, she could get away and warn the rest of the Order. She hastened back up the staircase and half ran, half tiptoed down the short hall to their room. She wrenched open the door, stepped inside, and remembered to breathe.

Without a wand she couldn't secure the door, so she jammed a chair against it and turned to face the darkened room. Her parents' room was jammed with odds and ends that didn't belong in the rest of the house, and Ginny tripped over an array of cookbooks and Muggle mobile phone bits as she hunted for the Floo powder, wincing every time there was a crash below.

She paused at the mantle, which was full of random picture frames. Smiling Weasleys at all stages of childhood grinning at her, shaking Christmas gifts and proudly displaying lost teeth. Ginny grabbed a family portrait that was taken long ago at the end of her fourth year. Bill and Charlie had been around that summer here and there on Order business, and Mum had managed to get them together long enough to get a snapshot. Of course, Percy was missing, but that couldn't be helped. Ginny clutched the frame and continued her hunt for the powder.

The fire flickered gently, barely more than embers, but it lit the room well enough, and Ginny spotted a flower pot of Floo powder on her Mum's bedside table. Ruefully shoving aside an old Lockhart monstrosity, Ginny grabbed the powder and turned toward the fireplace.

As she stepped up to the dying flames, she realized that the house had gone eerily silent, and she wondered for a moment if, perhaps, it was safe to come out. Perhaps she should peek downstairs, just to be sure—then she heard rough voices as heavy footfalls thumped on the stairs.

She felt her heartbeat in her mouth. Scrambling to the fireplace, Ginny threw in a pinch of Floo powder. As the flames began to glow green, someone began to wrench the door open.

"Harry's!" she cried, as loudly as she dared, and stepped into the fireplace just as a figure slammed the door wide open. She glimpsed two Death Eater masks, and then everything swirled away.

She tumbled out of the fireplace at Harry's. The small living room was dark, but she could see a prone figure on the floor.

It was Harry, and he wasn't breathing.

Ginny screamed as she ran to the body of her hero. He was cold and rigid, and clearly had been killed hours ago. He'd been slain by a killing curse, Ginny realized, swallowing a stone-sized lump in her throat. They'd been so certain that Voldemort would want to take him alive. With a shuddering sob, she closed his eyes and stood.

A quick glance around the room showed signs of a horrific battle, but Ginny didn't feel like staying around to find clues about how they'd found him or what they'd been after. If the two Death Eaters back home had heard her, they'd be certain to follow her here. Her mind raced, and she remembered that it was Hermione's turn to keep watch at the safe house in Scotland. There was no way they could have found that. Ignoring the little voice telling her that they'd believed the same about the Burrow, she stepped into the fireplace once more.

The safe house was cold and dark as well, and Ginny cautiously began to explore it.

"Hermione?" she called into the silence. "It's Ginny. There's … there's been an awful attack. Hermione? Are you here?" The grief was barely beginning to sink in, but a few tears found their way to her eyes. Her family … gone. Harry, their last hope, dead. Ginny felt an overwhelming feeling of despair rising in her chest. Was there any good in this magical world that couldn't be tarred?

Rounding a corner, Ginny's worst nightmare grew even more awful, for Hermione's door was ajar, hanging from one broken hinge, and burned into the door was the skull and snake that had put fear into the hearts of wizards for over twenty years.

The pale red head crumpled in the hall.

"I'm not going in there. I'm not!" she began to sob. Shivering in her nightgown, her tousled hair glowing in the breaking dawn of the next day, Ginny cried harder and louder and longer than she ever had, and her heart broke ten times over.

---

The sun's rise eventually startled her into action. If the Death Eaters had gone this far and killed so many in one coordinated attack, it certainly wasn't safe to remain here. With no wand, her only means of escape was via Floo. Her mind, numbed from her tears, began to speed up. She could borrow clothes from Hermione and Floo to Diagon Alley. It was a public place, which meant it would be easier to hide in a crowd and potentially easier to create a long term plan. She could also procure a wand from Ollivander—she realized with a sinking heart that she had no money, but surely he'd give her credit after hearing her story.

Since she refused to enter Hermione's room, she searched the rest of the house. Thankfully, Hermione had a neatly packed tub of off-season clothes in the closet, and while the cloaks were warm for the summer, she found one that wasn't terribly heavy and some Muggle clothes to wear underneath. Muggle London might be the safest place to be, she reasoned.

In a hidden drawer she found money, just a few Galleons and a handful of Sickles, and she pocketed the lot. Stepping to the fireplace, Ginny called, "Diagon Alley!" and stepped into the green flames for the third time.

This early in the morning, The Leaky Cauldron was completely empty. Ginny imagined that the same was true for the alley, and so she slid into a booth out of sight of the bar and the door, and began to make a plan. However, as she attempted to piece together the events of the night, her adrenaline began to wear off, and she fell into a quiet stupor. A barkeeper entered the room and began to polish the bar without noticing Ginny. She was so tired; so exhausted. She wondered when Ollivander's opened. If she was going to get through this, she needed a wand.

She started. A wand! The window! Ginny gasped and bit her lip. The door to her room had been closed, but her wand was missing. Someone had entered her room and taken it, and left the window ajar. At least one Death Eater had seen her, asleep in her bed, and left her there. Perhaps they had all entered that way; it could have been warded incorrectly. But why hadn't they killed her? Judging from Harry's home and Hermione's safe house, both had been attacked prior to The Burrow, so it wasn't as if they had begun killing after they invaded her home. They must have left her alive on purpose. The thought chilled her. The idea that Voldemort wanted her to live was perhaps scarier than if he wanted her dead.

A church bell began to peal faintly, and she stood suddenly, startling the barkeeper. She flew to the courtyard and hurriedly tapped the bricks. Even if Ollivander wasn't open for business at seven in the morning, there was a chance he was already in his shop. She practically flew down the street and pounded on his door. The little man opened cautiously.

"Ginny Weasley? Merlin's beard, girl! Come inside, come inside." Ginny stepped into the musty shop, panting for air.

"Mr. Ollivander … there's … the Death Eaters … I need … a wand."

"Good gracious! Let's see, ashwood and unicorn hair? Slightly springy?" Ginny nodded gratefully.

He turned to his shelves of dusty little boxes. "What happened, dear girl?"

"There was an attack on The Burrow. My entire family, minus Percy … gone. Hermione too … and … and Harry."

Ollivander dropped the box he was holding. "Harry Potter? Dead? You are certain?"

Ginny nodded. Ollivander knelt to pick up the box, and when he stood up, Ginny could see the tears in his eyes. He handed her the wand.

"It might not take as well as your first, but the unicorn hair is from the brother of your first, and it should serve you well. What do you plan to do?"

Ginny took hold of the wand and the tip lit up with golden sparks. It felt familiar, yet eerily different.

"Thank you, sir. I had considered living in Muggle London, but I'm afraid I don't know where to begin. I never did well in Muggle Studies. I never even visited Hermione over summer hols like she asked." She gulped down a sob.

"What about Hogwarts, dear? Minerva has given me the password for the Floo there for such unorthodox, dangerous situations as this. Of course, it's summer term and as I understand it, you just finished your seventh year so you can't be a student, but it is still the only place You-Know-Who can't reach."

Ginny felt relief wash over her. "Really? Right now? That would be … that would be perfect."

"Yes, yes, of course. The sooner the better. Here, now, my fireplace is toward the back." He handed her the Floo powder and she took a pinch. "The password is Albus," he whispered.

Ginny threw the powder into the flames. "Albus," she called loudly, "Hogwarts!" She stepped into the flames and into the Floo network. The grates rushed by, and before she knew it, Ginny stepped out of a large fireplace into a beautifully furnished room. The oriental rug under her feet was plush and she was certain that the deep green curtains were velvet.

Ginny felt her heart stop for the millionth time that day. This was not Hogwarts Castle.

"Why, if it isn't the littlest blood traitor," drawled a voice. "I was wondering when you'd drop in."

"Why, if it isn't the littlest blood traitor," drawled a voice, "I was wondering when you'd drop in."

Ginny froze.

"Malfoy?" she whispered and slowly turned. To her right, on a gorgeous black leather couch, sat Draco Malfoy, looking the picture of aristocratic power. He slouched back lazily in the seat, arms reaching across the back on either side. His perfect hair and chiseled features were almost statuesque, but his arrogant smirk reminded Ginny that she was facing a Malfoy.

"Yes, little Weasley? You look a little surprised to see me." He arched a perfect eyebrow.

"I ... I ..." Ginny was still trying to reconcile it all in her mind. She was utterly exhausted. All she had wanted was to arrive at Hogwarts and collapse in a puddle of tears and exhaustion, and now by some strange magic, she was staring down the enemy.

"Perhaps you were not clear when you called out the name of your destination," drawled Malfoy, leaning toward her, "or perhaps you bumped into the wrong grate?" His voice dripped with saccharine politeness, and Ginny's confusion kept her feet firmly planted on the ground as he stood and continued, "Maybe your Floo powder was bad. I've heard that can happen." He circled her slowly, like an animal on the prowl, and met her eyes.

"No ... I ..." She tried again, but his look caused her to lose her words again.

"Or maybe, traitor, I've been tracing you all the way from your pathetic house." She felt her blood freeze as his cold grey eyes met hers, his words full of controlled venom. "Perhaps I have gained complete control of the Floo network in and out of Diagon Alley."

Ginny, startled into action, whirled toward the fireplace and glanced at an ornate container that had to hold Floo powder. Using the Accio charm, she threw a fistful into the fireplace. The flames sparkled green, but Malfoy ignored them. His gaze penetrated her skull. It was terrifying.

"Hogsmeade!" Ginny shouted, and stepped into the fireplace. Of course he could follow her, but since he couldn't exactly run her down in the middle of the Three Broomsticks without arousing attention, she hoped she could Apparate from there. She stepped into the flames and whirled away. The last thing she saw was Draco's fierce grey glare.

Ginny fell onto a plush oriental rug, face to face with expensive dragon hide boots. Draco towered over her.

"Perhaps, my darling little traitor, I have you here and you can't escape."

Ginny was on her feet in a flash. The original shock of landing in what she assumed was Malfoy Manor was replaced by adrenaline the second time. She bolted for the door, throwing a hastily aimed hex at Malfoy and another to lock the door behind her. Thankfully this room opened into a great hall, and what was clearly the front door was only a short distance across a magnificent parquet floor. Ginny flung the door open and felt a strong arm grip her around her waist.

Draco pulled her close to his body and she could feel how solid his chest was through her robes. He shut the front door and half carried, half dragged her back to the fireplace room. Ginny, used to her brothers dragging her about in a similar manner, kicked and clawed, but he ignored her. Angry tears began to well up in the fiery redhead's chestnut eyes, and when Draco let go, she kicked him as hard as she could. With a low growl of pain, Draco grabbed her arm and pushed her face first into the wall. He held her there with the weight of his body and hissed in her ear.

"You are a feisty little wench, blood traitor. You really ought to learn your place. Shall I teach it to you, or will you behave on your own?"

Ginny struggled against him, but he was too strong.

"You are truly evil, Malfoy," she managed, "and I don't intend on learning anything you have to teach me." He pressed her into the wall, his whole body pressed against hers.

"Fine then. But let me warn you, witch, that I think you are worthless. I do not like being disrespected by worthless creatures. I want you to do as I say, Weasley, and I always get what I want." He reached into her robes and Ginny's world froze. Surely Draco Malfoy wouldn't do that. He felt her stiffen and laughed softly. "Don't like being this close, do you? Don't worry. I'm just making sure you don't send any more bat bogeys my way." He slipped out her newly acquired wand and snapped it on the wall. It cracked with a definite finality and he tossed it to the side.

"Now," he whispered in her ear, "about this running away business." Ginny shivered. His words fell like heavy stones into her heart. She could sense that this Draco was much different from the boy he had been during her fifth year. He was powerful, and deadly so. He spun her so that she faced him, the wall at her back. He grabbed her right wrist and pointed his wand at it. His hands felt cool against her racing pulse. "Invenio Necto," he whispered, drawing the tip of his wand in a circle around the blue veins that stood out from her pale wrist. Ginny gasped as the circle glowed with a bright white light and then revealed the Malfoy crest. The light sank into her skin, leaving no mark, but Ginny could feel the magic burning. It spread up her arm, growing more painful as it reached her neck and spread through her whole body. Her vision swam, and when Draco released her she sank to the floor.

Draco looked down at the unconscious young woman at his feet. Her red hair spread out like a halo on the wooden floor, and her freckles stood out on her pale skin. Draco smirked; the last two years had been good to the fiery Weasley. Her awkwardness had been replaced by real beauty, and Draco Malfoy was never one to ignore a beautiful woman. He picked her up and carried her to a room upstairs. The room was shuttered and the wallpaper was peeling, and other than a rickety wooden chair and a pile of blankets, it was void of furnishings. It was on his mother's list of rooms to redecorate, but in a mansion with over a hundred rooms, Narcissa had higher priorities. Draco deposited Ginny on top of the blankets and left the room, making sure that he locked and warded the door three times over. Then he went back to his study to wait for his father to return.

---

Lucius Malfoy was a patient man. He had realized over two decades ago that Voldemort would certainly be able to gain power, but would never be able to maintain it. Voldemort liked to rule with fear, and as a result, the Death Eaters were a brutal bunch. Even as Lucius shuddered when his sister-in-law recounted her vile adventures, he realized that their addiction to violence would lead to a chaotic world, not a world worthy of his control. Lucius was after control.

"Draco!" he called, opening the door to his son's study. "Ah, good. Did you find the Weasley girl?"

"Of course, Father. I had to make some minor adjustments to the Floo network, but it’s all back to normal. They’ll have no idea she’s here.” Draco's boots graced the top of his desk, and he had the Daily Prophet in his lap. “She's no threat. Stupid little thing. I almost don't understand why you were so upset when she got away last night."

"She is a threat because we don't know what she knows. Perhaps she knows where the other members of that foolish group are. Sources tell me that her other brother—the dragon tamer—and the werewolf are out of the country. If I could get to them, I'd feel more comfortable about launching the next stage in our plan."

With a smirk rather like his son's, he changed the subject. "You should have heard them celebrating. They are growing wilder. The violence tonight was entirely unnecessary, but they act like it is a matter of pride to shed the blood, regardless of the Dark Lord's orders. His control will surely slip."

"I don't see why I had to remain here during the celebration. I should have liked to witness that. I'm sure Aunt Bella was as ridiculous as usual."

"I wanted that girl. After those idiots like your aunt killed her family, I need her to find her brother and whomever else I can. If you hadn't lost her through the Floo, you could have come as well."

"It wasn't my fault. Goyle should have stunned her when he entered her room, instead of deciding to 'take her wand.' Bloody fool. If I hadn't noticed she wasn't downstairs, we would never have been able to locate her so quickly. I should have taken Zabini."

Draco pulled his feet off his desk and threw the paper on top of it. An image of the burning Burrow glared from the front page. "When are we going to have control over this?" he asked, gesturing at the headline: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Strikes Known Friends of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Lucius glanced at the paper. "In time, Draco." He read the headline again and smiled. "It appears that they have yet to discover that the Boy-Who-Lived is now the boy who died."

He heard a cry from above. "Did you remember to ward that room?” Lucius asked sharply.

Draco looked at the ceiling. “Yes, but I suppose I forgot a silencing charm,” he said, moving to stand, but Lucius raised a hand.

“I’ll go,” he said. “I’d like to meet our guest.”

---

Ginny awoke with a dull ache all over her body. She was completely disoriented and freezing, despite the summer heat. Shivering, she curled up next to the wall and pulled the blankets around her. The memories of the last day came flooding back, and she remembered her brother's empty eyes, Harry's cold body, and the mark on Hermione's door. She wondered if the bartender in the Leaky Cauldron was a spy, and if Ollivander had set her up for this.

She realized that she was crying. Could she trust anyone?

She certainly could not trust Malfoy. She recalled his cruel words and the helpless feeling of being completely pressed against the wall, and the strange spell he had performed on her. Her helpless tears turned bitter, and then angry. Who gave Malfoy the right to treat her like a house elf? To patronize her and then belittle her, and then perform dark magic on her?

Filled with fresh rage, Ginny went to the door and began to pound on it with both fists. Her hair was completely unkempt by now, and it streamed around her face so that wisps of red clouded her teary vision. She beat on the door until her fists were bruised purple and she collapsed, crying out, in a heap in front of the door. When the door swung open a few moments later, it caught her shoulder and she cried out again.

"You!" she yelled angrily, but was instantly quiet when she was faced with the calm power of the father and not the smirk of the son.

"Hello, Miss Weasley,” he said softly. She was silent as he looked her over slowly, finally crossing her arms and mentally daring him to try anything. He smiled cruelly. “No need to fret. I won’t hurt you,” he said, and she suddenly felt the tickle of Legilimency.

“Stop!” she cried out. “That’s—stop!”

His smile did not fade, but the tickling feeling subsided. “You really need to take better care of your appearance, my dear. Why don't you get some rest? Tomorrow is a big day. You don't want to look like you've been crying all night." He shut the door and Ginny screamed after him, a long, wordless cry of anger and despair all rolled into one. He opened the door forcefully, and this time it caught her hard in the shoulder.

"Miss Weasley, I forgot to mention that you are permitted to scream all you wish, but not only is this room warded and locked better than anything you might imagine, I am also placing silencing charms all around it. Sleep well."

His polite words were underscored by a wicked glare, and after the door shut, Ginny sank to the floor. Gathering the blankets around her, she fell victim to the exhaustion of her prolonged nightmare and dropped into a fitful sleep.