Chapter 11: Bonds that Cannot be Severed
Slipping off her shoes, Ginny sighed in relief as the cool grass squished between her toes. Such a small degree of freedom – walking barefoot in the grass – but at the moment, the cool, tingling sensation it gave her was such a welcome relief – a small way to release the tension she felt all over her body.
Her mind was spinning, as if all the information she’d been given since opening her eyes to find herself in the Malfoy’s home in Bulgaria had tilted it, throwing it off balance, leaving it to spin constantly until it could finally find equilibrium. She smiled, briefly, a quick moment of reflection about the last time she’d been here, at this place, knowing that despite everything that had happened here, she always felt its magic – tempered by the magic of the very memories she had of this place – renew her, restoring her capacity to feel joy, warmth and hope.
They’d escaped an official function which had been carrying on for far too long. Ever since Ginny had been made a Minister, there’d been an endless parade of formal receptions, times when she’d seen an endless parade of formal receptions, times where she’d be sent in to work her charm and enchant stubborn old men into considering her proposals. Her ability to bluntly argue her position, balanced with conviction and respect, was well-known in the diplomatic circles and had become a subject of much gambling – one often wagered against their ability to withstand her persuasive powers. Very few ever did, to their own delight, and to the delight of her boss.
It had been a few weeks since they’d had a moment alone together – too many formal functions, too many other demands and expectations on their time. Chance had created an opening in her schedule and an entreaty from the Minister for Magic that she attend Vincent Malfoy’s cocktail party (in order to keep “the Bulgarians happy, my dear”) had found them both at the same place on that night.
He hadn’t known she was coming, and had been engaged in a truly dull conversation with the heiress to some broom-designing fortune when he caught sight of her, locking eyes with her across the room. She smiled – her genuine smile that was also reflected in the light of her eyes, not the one she usually had plastered on her face, that was useful in placating the egos of powerful men but that was also completely fake. He started to make his way towards her, but was interrupted by Durmstrang’s Headmaster, who wanted to discuss some boring detail he could have cared less about.
Ginny had sighed, and was about to head over to him, intent on rescuing him and rushing him out of the room so they could steal a few moments alone together, but her plans were spoiled when Vincent spotted her and called her over to meet the Bulgarian Minister for Magic. Inside, she screamed with frustration, wanting to damn them all so she could rush towards him and just throw her arms around him and wonder how she’d survived all those days without his touch.
Throughout the evening, every chance they had to try to reach one another had failed – as if there were a grand scheme in place conspiring to see how long they could last before their control broke.
Finally, near the end of the evening, Vincent had spotted the desperation in her eyes, and after slipping an unopened bottle of wine into her hands, he’d nodded towards the door.
“The judge has been planning to speak with you all night. Go now – out the back door – before he finds you,” he said, and Ginny felt her affection for the man swell exponentially.
He was watching for her, and as soon as she stepped into the hall, he grabbed her hand, dragging her down the corridor, away form the sounds of cordiality and networking that had kept them apart all night.
She laughingly protests his pace, claiming her heels were not made for running, but he didn’t slow down. They were almost at the door when the sound of voices stopped them in their tracks.
An elderly couple, the parents of the dull heiress Draco had been conversing with for the better part of the night, were heading in their direction, about to discover them sneaking off together. Thinking quickly, Draco grabbed her, and they ducked into an alcove which contained a full-sized suit of armour. Heady with the wine they’d both consumed throughout the evening, and excitement and the rush of anticipation, they had to contain their laughter as the doddery old couple bickered about which way the ballroom actually was.
When the couple had disappeared down another corridor, and they were safely outside, he’d wrapped an arm possessively around her waist, pulling her against his body so he could kiss her – speaking his longing for her and the pleasure he felt of being with her with this simple action. Gasping for breath, she recklessly kicked off her shoes, grabbed his hand (still clutching that bottle of wine in the other hand) and started to run towards the well-known trail that lead to the heart of the Malfoy’s forest, her laughter echoing through the cool air.
As soon as they breached the line of trees, reaching the magical clearing they’d fought together to protect, they had tumbled to the ground, heedless of their formal attire. Breathless and desperate for each other, the only thing that mattered was that they were finally alone and able to act on the instinctual need they both had for each other.
“Draco,” she gasped as his lips moved across her skin. “You don’t think they’re… you know, watching us, do you?”
He laughed, his face pressed against her stomach, sending a shiver up her spine. He shifted, looking up at the huddled group of silvery animals at the edge of the clearing.
“That’s never stopped up before,” he said, with at wicked grin, running a finger along the curve of her hip. She laughed, blushing prettily. He leaned down, nuzzling her neck. “They probably find us amusing, an interesting example of how primitive humans really are and how ruled we are by our passions. To them, we’re just simple creatures acting on instinct, but that instinct is fuelled by the most important thing in the world, so they tolerate us.”
Laying together, with the thick haze of afterglow making the world brighter and their sense heightened, the prickling of the cool grass beneath them and a huge expanse of the night sky above them, Ginny felt a deep ache – the moment was too beautiful, she was too happy that it hurt.
“I never want this to change, Ginny,” he whispered, as if afraid the sound of his voice would shatter the perfection of the moment. “I always want you to be mine, to belong to me, forever.”
“I think I’d like that,” she said, smiling against his skin as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I wish we could stay like this forever – just you and me forever.”
“Alright,” he said. She laughed, knowing it was impossible, that soon they’d have to pick up their clothing, try to straighten themselves up in order to appear presentable and walk back towards the realities of their lives. But in that second, she believe that he could make that moment last forever.
“Life is so complicated, Ginny, and you are probably the most complicated thing in mine. But you also make it so simple,” he said, shifting as he reached for his dress robes, shuffling through them.
“I make your life complicated? At least your family accepts me. Mine isn’t overly impressed with my choice,” Ginny said, slightly bitter.
“But you keep me around anyway,” he said, pulling his robe over them, settling back down so she could lay against his chest.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she whispered.
“Good,” he said and she felt him slip something cool over her finger. “Then you can have this.”
She sat up, startled, as she looked to the ring on her left hand. It was simple and beautiful and completely suited to her tastes.
“Draco,” she gasped, staring alternatively in disbelief at him and the ring on her finger.
“Ginny, I want to marry you. I want us to be together and happy forever. Even if silly things in our lives complicate our relationship and make things harder. I know we belong to each other,” he said, taking her hand in his. She was trembling.
“Are you sure? I can be so stubborn and difficult and emotional… are you sure?” she gasped, her eyes shinning as they filled with tears.
“You’re the only thing I’m ever really sure about. Marry me, will you Weasel?” he said, his voice teasing and playful.
“Well, alright then,” she said, and then yelped as he pulled her back down to the ground with him.
Their last moment in this spot together. And now, she was torn from a memory of a time when her life had been so simple, and brought back to the reality of her present situation, a reality where nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
* * * *
Cormac McLaggen was sitting in this new office, muttering over the large stack of files currently awaiting his attention. A flurry of owls had arrived a few hours ago, decimating his plans to make this an early night. Thinking bitterly about the promises of prestige and international travel, as well as the opportunity to network with the who’s who of the wizarding community, Cormac felt that he’d been deceived rather horribly by Fudge’s description of this appointment – Fudge had failed to mention the constant stress, the endless hours of work and the constant crises that seemed to crop up every single time he turned around, needing his immediate attention.
And there was also the constant comparisons and references to a certain Ginny Weasley. Every meeting he had, every important official he came across, the press – all questioned where she was, why she’d left or even flat-out complained at how differently he was handling things from his predecessor. Also, she’d managed to steal all the attention from his first major press conference. He was beginning to hate the woman’s name, he heard it so often, spoken always with the same reverential tone that spoke great respect, affection or sometimes, even fear.
Staring at the pile of papers needing his attention, he debated shoving it aside and just leaving. But he knew it wasn’t any good – his secretary, after the first time he’d ducked out of the office, leaving work uncompleted (which had created quite a kerfuffle with the German ambassador), had bewitched his ‘to do’ pile so that it would follow him around until fully completed. He was definitely stuck in the office for the night, bitter and quite bored.
He was just leafing through the plans for a banquet later on in the week (while crossly wondering how this fell to his responsibility – planning parties didn’t seem important enough for a Minister to be concerned about) when he heard a rather loud commotion out in the hall. Dropping the paper work, he stood up and made his way through the office, eager for some distraction form the tedium of his duties.
“McLaggen, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, man! Don’t you read your mail?” Fudge’s red face greeted him as soon as he opened his door. Floored, he tried to answer, but was distracted by the sight of people dashing down in the hall, all frantically hurrying about.
“What’s happening?” he asked, leaning out into the corridor to try to get a handle on what was happening.
“What’s happening? What’s happening?? Only a major international incident, my dear boy! That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. I need you to get to work, contacting Ministries and trying to calm everyone down!” Fudge cried, the poor man obviously overwhelmed with these events. McLaggen felt his stomach drop.
“Major incident?” he squeaked. Not another crisis, he thought plaintively.
“I’ve got as many Aurors as I can spare working on the case, but word is spreading fast and people are beginning to panic.”
”Well, spit it out, Fudge! You can’t expect me to help fix the situation unless you tell me what it is!” Cormac snapped. Fudge froze, his face slowly turning purple with rage, until suddenly, he smiled, relief evident in his facial features, and he sighed heavily.
“That’s exactly what Ginny Weasley would have said,” Fudge explained. Much clamer now, he began to explain what the issue was.
Ruggiero Ballan had been found in his flat – murdered.
* * * *
Ginny settled down in the grass, leaning against the large oak tree that was close to the pond. It was a favourite spot of hers, and often, a few of the elder unicorns would grow curious about her, and approach. After she, Draco, Harry, Hermione and Ron had helped to thwart Neville’s attack, Ginny had grown fairly trusted by the herd, and they often overlooked their shy nature to approach her.
Tonight, two had settled in the grass next to her as she sat, deep in thought. She smiled and understood this move to be one of comfort – an offering of the familiarity that had brought her here in the first place.
She had a lot to think about…
Earlier that day…
“Bonding? What do you mean by that?” she demanded, her mind reeling with the possibility that there might be even more to discuss, more that she didn’t know. The flurry of guarded looks passing between Vincent and the sisters was very telling that there was, indeed, more that she didn’t know.
“We weren’t going to say anything,” Morgan protested.
“The girl has a right to know. You know as well as I that it’s the only reason she’s still alive, and the reason she’s got an ounce of sanity left,” Faye exclaimed.
“She’s heard so much already. We should give her time to absorb it all before we lay anything else on her – especially something she might not want to hear.”
“Cat’s out of the bag now, so you should really fill me in,” Ginny said coldly. Too many people knew more about what was happening in her life than she did. She felt helpless, and as though there were other forces that were in control of her life, and that she couldn’t break their hold on her.
The two sisters exchanged a long look. Seconds ticked by, and Ginny felt her temper flare with each moment. She was about to open her mouth to release her frustration when Vincent spoke.
“Just tell her. She’ll have our heads if we don’t,” he said gruffly. Ginny’s head snapped up towards him, as a feeling of betrayal washed over her. He knew and hadn’t said anything?
“Let us see your scar, girl. If you want to know the truth, the explanation starts there,” Morgan said, her voice heavy.
Exasperated and impatient, Ginny complied. Pushing back the covers, she lifted her shirt to reveal the large, pink scar slashed across her skin. Faye and Morgan both leaned closer to examine it.
“The size and location of the laceration… and the blade was probably cursed…”
“Not to mention the sheer amount of magical power of the weapon itself!”
Their mutterings carried on for a few minutes and Ginny rolled her eyes. She’d heard it all before – the damage was severe and most people would have died from it with in minutes. Laying there as they poked and prodded at her, Ginny had to take a few deep breaths to maintain her control. She could feel a swell of emotion gathering strength, and if she wasn’t careful, it would be released – and she didn’t want to break any more windows accidentally.
“There! Do you see it? Faye, do you see it?” Morgan shrieked, obviously excited.
“Yes, the seal! I’ve never seen one that’s lasted so long – it’s been months, and the effects of the drugged potion should have undone it completely!” Faye exclaimed. “I’ve never encountered such a strong bond before!”
“What, pray tell, is a bond, why is there a seal on my stomach and what are you all talking about?” Ginny demanded coldly.
“You can pull your shirt down, dear. We’ve seen all we need to. Now… where to being to explain… Faye, perhaps you should start.”
“What we just saw, the seal, is evidence of a very strong life bonding that was probably placed on you the moments you lay dying from that wound,” Faye said. Ginny gasped – a dreadful sense that she knew what else they were going to say to her. A violent chill passed down her spine.
“A life bond is a desperate, last chance measure that very few wizards are able to do, because of the complexities of the spell and the power it requires. It’s very dangerous, so much can go wrong that both parties can end up dying. It’s really a last hope, done by someone who feels they have nothing to lose, in order to keep someone who is dying alive,” Morgan added.
“That’s very important, that last part. It can only work when the person is actually dying – not just seriously wounded, but when death is certain. It bonds the dying person with the living person who is enacting the bonding. If it works, it binds their… well, there’s no medical word for it, but it binds what I guess you can call their ‘life forces’ together, so that one can sustain the other and prevent death,” Faye interjected.
“It can seal a mortal wound, just enough to prevent death and keep the injured person alive until they can get medical attention and be treated.”
“But, there is a price to pay for this. Nothing in magic comes for free. The person who creates the bond, by tying their life to the one dying, takes on a degree of the wound. And depending on the seriousness, it can kill them both. And even by doing that, full recovery is not guaranteed. Because they assume the danger of the wound, they feel it’s pain, often long after it’s healed,” Faye added, her tone serious.
“And in really strong bonds, anything that endangers one can endanger the other – what one feels, the other does.”
“So, you’re saying that whoever created this bond,” Ginny started to question, but her voice faltered as the image of the only person who it could have possibly been crossed her mind. She swallowed and tried again. “Whoever did this has been sharing the pain of this injury, and the affects of the potion I’ve been drugged with?”
“Not only that. It’s like they’ve torn the essence of their life in half and given it to you in order to keep you alive, to tie your ‘life force’ to the living world as it tried to leave your body. It’s incredibly painful – it’s supposed to be like tearing off a piece of your soul, but it’s not really the same concept. Usually, the bond fades away, as the ‘life forces’ return to their proper places, lacking the power to sustain the bond, and they regain what they’ve given,” Morgan answered.
“But in your case, the bond is sustaining itself. Whoever created it has been living in agony for months, both from your injury and the cost of creating the bond. We’ve never seen anything like it!” Faye exclaimed.
“Not to mention, this bond is the reason you’ve resisted the negative effects of the potion – irreversible insanity – for as long as you have,” Morgan added.
As they spoke, Ginny had listened, frozen and numb. It was too much, too unbelievable. Impossible. But, although she tried to deny the feeling fervently, her heart was already radiating with hope – hope that they were right, and what she was thinking could possibly be true.
“Why would he do it?” she whispered, staring unseeingly in front of her, hardly aware she was speaking. “It doesn’t make any sense…”
“Why would someone try to kill you and the immediately go through so much in order to keep you alive?” Vincent asked, his eyes dark, serious and sad.
“Draco…” she said softly, closing her eyes and flinching at the sound of his name. “Do you think it was him?”
Vincent regarded the young lady in front of him, looking worn and weary. But there was a light in her eyes that he hadn’t seen earlier – the kind of light he imagined seeing in the eyes of a man who was wandering the desert, dying of thirst, when he suddenly comes across a few drops of water.
“You know the answer, my dear. Who else would be able to create such a strong bond with you? I’ve seen your power interacting with each other, so compatible and strong. I can’t think of any other possibility,” Vincent said, his voice low and gentle as he took her shaking hands in his.
“But…why?” she asked helplessly.
* * * *
Why indeed, she thought to herself as she tentatively stroked the neck of the unicorn nearest to her. It was difficult to reason, that someone would strive to save her, put himself through so much when he was the very reason she needed saving.
Hours had passed since she’d awoken, since all this information had been dumped on her. Faye and Morgan had brewed a potion that was supposed to counteract the effects of the drugs, and her head was much clearer, and she felt more in control of her emotions for the first time in months. After awhile, she’d felt as if she was suffocating in those walls, and had escaped, seeking the familiar safety of this forest, a calm and gentle space that would give her a change to try to sort through all that was clamouring through her mind.
But, why? Why would he do this? She kept questioning herself over and over again. It seemed completely impossible.
And yet… she’d felt for a long time that there was something off about the whole situation. Well, other than the fact that it had been Draco who had been the one to try to kill her. But she’d been saying it all along, that she’d missed something, that it didn’t fit. Ron had said that she was in denial, that she couldn’t accept that Draco had attacked her in order to keep the sword for himself, that it had all been a part of the Medraut’s plot.
But, the look in his eyes. Her memories from that night were so fragmented and fuzzy, but that much she could still recall. There’d been a sorrowful look in his eyes, he had seemed so… resigned… as if there was something about to occur that he couldn’t control.
And, recalling her conversation with Harry, about how she’d never felt as if it has really been a brush with death – that she never felt as if she’d come so close to dying.
Now, she knew why.
“All this time, I have been moping around, afraid of the world, afraid of my own memories, afraid of life because of what happened,” she said out loud. “Of course, it could be because of the drug, but I don’t think it is the only factor. I don’t want to get hurt again. I don’t want to face the past, because it hurts. And the future – well, the reality of a future with out him hurts too. So, I’ve been stuck in this moment, too afraid to fight my way out of it.”
The unicorn lifted its head, staring at her quizzically.
“It doesn’t matter that he almost killed me. It doesn’t matter what the reason are. And it doesn’t matter that my future is going to happen without him. What matters is that he fought to keep me alive, is still fighting and experiencing all that pain. And I’ve just sat here – hiding in the corner, afraid to live. It’s time for that to end,” she said decisively. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and gave herself over to the sobs that wracked her body and stole her breath; the last round of tears she was going to allow herself. “I’m still afraid. But I’m not going to hide anymore. I have to start fighting back – I have to start living again.”
**********************************************************
More to come soon! As always, thank you for reading, and for those of you kind enough to take a few seconds to leave a comment and tell me what you think, I really appreciate that.
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Later!
Slipping off her shoes, Ginny sighed in relief as the cool grass squished between her toes. Such a small degree of freedom – walking barefoot in the grass – but at the moment, the cool, tingling sensation it gave her was such a welcome relief – a small way to release the tension she felt all over her body.
Her mind was spinning, as if all the information she’d been given since opening her eyes to find herself in the Malfoy’s home in Bulgaria had tilted it, throwing it off balance, leaving it to spin constantly until it could finally find equilibrium. She smiled, briefly, a quick moment of reflection about the last time she’d been here, at this place, knowing that despite everything that had happened here, she always felt its magic – tempered by the magic of the very memories she had of this place – renew her, restoring her capacity to feel joy, warmth and hope.
They’d escaped an official function which had been carrying on for far too long. Ever since Ginny had been made a Minister, there’d been an endless parade of formal receptions, times when she’d seen an endless parade of formal receptions, times where she’d be sent in to work her charm and enchant stubborn old men into considering her proposals. Her ability to bluntly argue her position, balanced with conviction and respect, was well-known in the diplomatic circles and had become a subject of much gambling – one often wagered against their ability to withstand her persuasive powers. Very few ever did, to their own delight, and to the delight of her boss.
It had been a few weeks since they’d had a moment alone together – too many formal functions, too many other demands and expectations on their time. Chance had created an opening in her schedule and an entreaty from the Minister for Magic that she attend Vincent Malfoy’s cocktail party (in order to keep “the Bulgarians happy, my dear”) had found them both at the same place on that night.
He hadn’t known she was coming, and had been engaged in a truly dull conversation with the heiress to some broom-designing fortune when he caught sight of her, locking eyes with her across the room. She smiled – her genuine smile that was also reflected in the light of her eyes, not the one she usually had plastered on her face, that was useful in placating the egos of powerful men but that was also completely fake. He started to make his way towards her, but was interrupted by Durmstrang’s Headmaster, who wanted to discuss some boring detail he could have cared less about.
Ginny had sighed, and was about to head over to him, intent on rescuing him and rushing him out of the room so they could steal a few moments alone together, but her plans were spoiled when Vincent spotted her and called her over to meet the Bulgarian Minister for Magic. Inside, she screamed with frustration, wanting to damn them all so she could rush towards him and just throw her arms around him and wonder how she’d survived all those days without his touch.
Throughout the evening, every chance they had to try to reach one another had failed – as if there were a grand scheme in place conspiring to see how long they could last before their control broke.
Finally, near the end of the evening, Vincent had spotted the desperation in her eyes, and after slipping an unopened bottle of wine into her hands, he’d nodded towards the door.
“The judge has been planning to speak with you all night. Go now – out the back door – before he finds you,” he said, and Ginny felt her affection for the man swell exponentially.
He was watching for her, and as soon as she stepped into the hall, he grabbed her hand, dragging her down the corridor, away form the sounds of cordiality and networking that had kept them apart all night.
She laughingly protests his pace, claiming her heels were not made for running, but he didn’t slow down. They were almost at the door when the sound of voices stopped them in their tracks.
An elderly couple, the parents of the dull heiress Draco had been conversing with for the better part of the night, were heading in their direction, about to discover them sneaking off together. Thinking quickly, Draco grabbed her, and they ducked into an alcove which contained a full-sized suit of armour. Heady with the wine they’d both consumed throughout the evening, and excitement and the rush of anticipation, they had to contain their laughter as the doddery old couple bickered about which way the ballroom actually was.
When the couple had disappeared down another corridor, and they were safely outside, he’d wrapped an arm possessively around her waist, pulling her against his body so he could kiss her – speaking his longing for her and the pleasure he felt of being with her with this simple action. Gasping for breath, she recklessly kicked off her shoes, grabbed his hand (still clutching that bottle of wine in the other hand) and started to run towards the well-known trail that lead to the heart of the Malfoy’s forest, her laughter echoing through the cool air.
As soon as they breached the line of trees, reaching the magical clearing they’d fought together to protect, they had tumbled to the ground, heedless of their formal attire. Breathless and desperate for each other, the only thing that mattered was that they were finally alone and able to act on the instinctual need they both had for each other.
“Draco,” she gasped as his lips moved across her skin. “You don’t think they’re… you know, watching us, do you?”
He laughed, his face pressed against her stomach, sending a shiver up her spine. He shifted, looking up at the huddled group of silvery animals at the edge of the clearing.
“That’s never stopped up before,” he said, with at wicked grin, running a finger along the curve of her hip. She laughed, blushing prettily. He leaned down, nuzzling her neck. “They probably find us amusing, an interesting example of how primitive humans really are and how ruled we are by our passions. To them, we’re just simple creatures acting on instinct, but that instinct is fuelled by the most important thing in the world, so they tolerate us.”
Laying together, with the thick haze of afterglow making the world brighter and their sense heightened, the prickling of the cool grass beneath them and a huge expanse of the night sky above them, Ginny felt a deep ache – the moment was too beautiful, she was too happy that it hurt.
“I never want this to change, Ginny,” he whispered, as if afraid the sound of his voice would shatter the perfection of the moment. “I always want you to be mine, to belong to me, forever.”
“I think I’d like that,” she said, smiling against his skin as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I wish we could stay like this forever – just you and me forever.”
“Alright,” he said. She laughed, knowing it was impossible, that soon they’d have to pick up their clothing, try to straighten themselves up in order to appear presentable and walk back towards the realities of their lives. But in that second, she believe that he could make that moment last forever.
“Life is so complicated, Ginny, and you are probably the most complicated thing in mine. But you also make it so simple,” he said, shifting as he reached for his dress robes, shuffling through them.
“I make your life complicated? At least your family accepts me. Mine isn’t overly impressed with my choice,” Ginny said, slightly bitter.
“But you keep me around anyway,” he said, pulling his robe over them, settling back down so she could lay against his chest.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she whispered.
“Good,” he said and she felt him slip something cool over her finger. “Then you can have this.”
She sat up, startled, as she looked to the ring on her left hand. It was simple and beautiful and completely suited to her tastes.
“Draco,” she gasped, staring alternatively in disbelief at him and the ring on her finger.
“Ginny, I want to marry you. I want us to be together and happy forever. Even if silly things in our lives complicate our relationship and make things harder. I know we belong to each other,” he said, taking her hand in his. She was trembling.
“Are you sure? I can be so stubborn and difficult and emotional… are you sure?” she gasped, her eyes shinning as they filled with tears.
“You’re the only thing I’m ever really sure about. Marry me, will you Weasel?” he said, his voice teasing and playful.
“Well, alright then,” she said, and then yelped as he pulled her back down to the ground with him.
Their last moment in this spot together. And now, she was torn from a memory of a time when her life had been so simple, and brought back to the reality of her present situation, a reality where nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
* * * *
Cormac McLaggen was sitting in this new office, muttering over the large stack of files currently awaiting his attention. A flurry of owls had arrived a few hours ago, decimating his plans to make this an early night. Thinking bitterly about the promises of prestige and international travel, as well as the opportunity to network with the who’s who of the wizarding community, Cormac felt that he’d been deceived rather horribly by Fudge’s description of this appointment – Fudge had failed to mention the constant stress, the endless hours of work and the constant crises that seemed to crop up every single time he turned around, needing his immediate attention.
And there was also the constant comparisons and references to a certain Ginny Weasley. Every meeting he had, every important official he came across, the press – all questioned where she was, why she’d left or even flat-out complained at how differently he was handling things from his predecessor. Also, she’d managed to steal all the attention from his first major press conference. He was beginning to hate the woman’s name, he heard it so often, spoken always with the same reverential tone that spoke great respect, affection or sometimes, even fear.
Staring at the pile of papers needing his attention, he debated shoving it aside and just leaving. But he knew it wasn’t any good – his secretary, after the first time he’d ducked out of the office, leaving work uncompleted (which had created quite a kerfuffle with the German ambassador), had bewitched his ‘to do’ pile so that it would follow him around until fully completed. He was definitely stuck in the office for the night, bitter and quite bored.
He was just leafing through the plans for a banquet later on in the week (while crossly wondering how this fell to his responsibility – planning parties didn’t seem important enough for a Minister to be concerned about) when he heard a rather loud commotion out in the hall. Dropping the paper work, he stood up and made his way through the office, eager for some distraction form the tedium of his duties.
“McLaggen, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, man! Don’t you read your mail?” Fudge’s red face greeted him as soon as he opened his door. Floored, he tried to answer, but was distracted by the sight of people dashing down in the hall, all frantically hurrying about.
“What’s happening?” he asked, leaning out into the corridor to try to get a handle on what was happening.
“What’s happening? What’s happening?? Only a major international incident, my dear boy! That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. I need you to get to work, contacting Ministries and trying to calm everyone down!” Fudge cried, the poor man obviously overwhelmed with these events. McLaggen felt his stomach drop.
“Major incident?” he squeaked. Not another crisis, he thought plaintively.
“I’ve got as many Aurors as I can spare working on the case, but word is spreading fast and people are beginning to panic.”
”Well, spit it out, Fudge! You can’t expect me to help fix the situation unless you tell me what it is!” Cormac snapped. Fudge froze, his face slowly turning purple with rage, until suddenly, he smiled, relief evident in his facial features, and he sighed heavily.
“That’s exactly what Ginny Weasley would have said,” Fudge explained. Much clamer now, he began to explain what the issue was.
Ruggiero Ballan had been found in his flat – murdered.
* * * *
Ginny settled down in the grass, leaning against the large oak tree that was close to the pond. It was a favourite spot of hers, and often, a few of the elder unicorns would grow curious about her, and approach. After she, Draco, Harry, Hermione and Ron had helped to thwart Neville’s attack, Ginny had grown fairly trusted by the herd, and they often overlooked their shy nature to approach her.
Tonight, two had settled in the grass next to her as she sat, deep in thought. She smiled and understood this move to be one of comfort – an offering of the familiarity that had brought her here in the first place.
She had a lot to think about…
Earlier that day…
“Bonding? What do you mean by that?” she demanded, her mind reeling with the possibility that there might be even more to discuss, more that she didn’t know. The flurry of guarded looks passing between Vincent and the sisters was very telling that there was, indeed, more that she didn’t know.
“We weren’t going to say anything,” Morgan protested.
“The girl has a right to know. You know as well as I that it’s the only reason she’s still alive, and the reason she’s got an ounce of sanity left,” Faye exclaimed.
“She’s heard so much already. We should give her time to absorb it all before we lay anything else on her – especially something she might not want to hear.”
“Cat’s out of the bag now, so you should really fill me in,” Ginny said coldly. Too many people knew more about what was happening in her life than she did. She felt helpless, and as though there were other forces that were in control of her life, and that she couldn’t break their hold on her.
The two sisters exchanged a long look. Seconds ticked by, and Ginny felt her temper flare with each moment. She was about to open her mouth to release her frustration when Vincent spoke.
“Just tell her. She’ll have our heads if we don’t,” he said gruffly. Ginny’s head snapped up towards him, as a feeling of betrayal washed over her. He knew and hadn’t said anything?
“Let us see your scar, girl. If you want to know the truth, the explanation starts there,” Morgan said, her voice heavy.
Exasperated and impatient, Ginny complied. Pushing back the covers, she lifted her shirt to reveal the large, pink scar slashed across her skin. Faye and Morgan both leaned closer to examine it.
“The size and location of the laceration… and the blade was probably cursed…”
“Not to mention the sheer amount of magical power of the weapon itself!”
Their mutterings carried on for a few minutes and Ginny rolled her eyes. She’d heard it all before – the damage was severe and most people would have died from it with in minutes. Laying there as they poked and prodded at her, Ginny had to take a few deep breaths to maintain her control. She could feel a swell of emotion gathering strength, and if she wasn’t careful, it would be released – and she didn’t want to break any more windows accidentally.
“There! Do you see it? Faye, do you see it?” Morgan shrieked, obviously excited.
“Yes, the seal! I’ve never seen one that’s lasted so long – it’s been months, and the effects of the drugged potion should have undone it completely!” Faye exclaimed. “I’ve never encountered such a strong bond before!”
“What, pray tell, is a bond, why is there a seal on my stomach and what are you all talking about?” Ginny demanded coldly.
“You can pull your shirt down, dear. We’ve seen all we need to. Now… where to being to explain… Faye, perhaps you should start.”
“What we just saw, the seal, is evidence of a very strong life bonding that was probably placed on you the moments you lay dying from that wound,” Faye said. Ginny gasped – a dreadful sense that she knew what else they were going to say to her. A violent chill passed down her spine.
“A life bond is a desperate, last chance measure that very few wizards are able to do, because of the complexities of the spell and the power it requires. It’s very dangerous, so much can go wrong that both parties can end up dying. It’s really a last hope, done by someone who feels they have nothing to lose, in order to keep someone who is dying alive,” Morgan added.
“That’s very important, that last part. It can only work when the person is actually dying – not just seriously wounded, but when death is certain. It bonds the dying person with the living person who is enacting the bonding. If it works, it binds their… well, there’s no medical word for it, but it binds what I guess you can call their ‘life forces’ together, so that one can sustain the other and prevent death,” Faye interjected.
“It can seal a mortal wound, just enough to prevent death and keep the injured person alive until they can get medical attention and be treated.”
“But, there is a price to pay for this. Nothing in magic comes for free. The person who creates the bond, by tying their life to the one dying, takes on a degree of the wound. And depending on the seriousness, it can kill them both. And even by doing that, full recovery is not guaranteed. Because they assume the danger of the wound, they feel it’s pain, often long after it’s healed,” Faye added, her tone serious.
“And in really strong bonds, anything that endangers one can endanger the other – what one feels, the other does.”
“So, you’re saying that whoever created this bond,” Ginny started to question, but her voice faltered as the image of the only person who it could have possibly been crossed her mind. She swallowed and tried again. “Whoever did this has been sharing the pain of this injury, and the affects of the potion I’ve been drugged with?”
“Not only that. It’s like they’ve torn the essence of their life in half and given it to you in order to keep you alive, to tie your ‘life force’ to the living world as it tried to leave your body. It’s incredibly painful – it’s supposed to be like tearing off a piece of your soul, but it’s not really the same concept. Usually, the bond fades away, as the ‘life forces’ return to their proper places, lacking the power to sustain the bond, and they regain what they’ve given,” Morgan answered.
“But in your case, the bond is sustaining itself. Whoever created it has been living in agony for months, both from your injury and the cost of creating the bond. We’ve never seen anything like it!” Faye exclaimed.
“Not to mention, this bond is the reason you’ve resisted the negative effects of the potion – irreversible insanity – for as long as you have,” Morgan added.
As they spoke, Ginny had listened, frozen and numb. It was too much, too unbelievable. Impossible. But, although she tried to deny the feeling fervently, her heart was already radiating with hope – hope that they were right, and what she was thinking could possibly be true.
“Why would he do it?” she whispered, staring unseeingly in front of her, hardly aware she was speaking. “It doesn’t make any sense…”
“Why would someone try to kill you and the immediately go through so much in order to keep you alive?” Vincent asked, his eyes dark, serious and sad.
“Draco…” she said softly, closing her eyes and flinching at the sound of his name. “Do you think it was him?”
Vincent regarded the young lady in front of him, looking worn and weary. But there was a light in her eyes that he hadn’t seen earlier – the kind of light he imagined seeing in the eyes of a man who was wandering the desert, dying of thirst, when he suddenly comes across a few drops of water.
“You know the answer, my dear. Who else would be able to create such a strong bond with you? I’ve seen your power interacting with each other, so compatible and strong. I can’t think of any other possibility,” Vincent said, his voice low and gentle as he took her shaking hands in his.
“But…why?” she asked helplessly.
* * * *
Why indeed, she thought to herself as she tentatively stroked the neck of the unicorn nearest to her. It was difficult to reason, that someone would strive to save her, put himself through so much when he was the very reason she needed saving.
Hours had passed since she’d awoken, since all this information had been dumped on her. Faye and Morgan had brewed a potion that was supposed to counteract the effects of the drugs, and her head was much clearer, and she felt more in control of her emotions for the first time in months. After awhile, she’d felt as if she was suffocating in those walls, and had escaped, seeking the familiar safety of this forest, a calm and gentle space that would give her a change to try to sort through all that was clamouring through her mind.
But, why? Why would he do this? She kept questioning herself over and over again. It seemed completely impossible.
And yet… she’d felt for a long time that there was something off about the whole situation. Well, other than the fact that it had been Draco who had been the one to try to kill her. But she’d been saying it all along, that she’d missed something, that it didn’t fit. Ron had said that she was in denial, that she couldn’t accept that Draco had attacked her in order to keep the sword for himself, that it had all been a part of the Medraut’s plot.
But, the look in his eyes. Her memories from that night were so fragmented and fuzzy, but that much she could still recall. There’d been a sorrowful look in his eyes, he had seemed so… resigned… as if there was something about to occur that he couldn’t control.
And, recalling her conversation with Harry, about how she’d never felt as if it has really been a brush with death – that she never felt as if she’d come so close to dying.
Now, she knew why.
“All this time, I have been moping around, afraid of the world, afraid of my own memories, afraid of life because of what happened,” she said out loud. “Of course, it could be because of the drug, but I don’t think it is the only factor. I don’t want to get hurt again. I don’t want to face the past, because it hurts. And the future – well, the reality of a future with out him hurts too. So, I’ve been stuck in this moment, too afraid to fight my way out of it.”
The unicorn lifted its head, staring at her quizzically.
“It doesn’t matter that he almost killed me. It doesn’t matter what the reason are. And it doesn’t matter that my future is going to happen without him. What matters is that he fought to keep me alive, is still fighting and experiencing all that pain. And I’ve just sat here – hiding in the corner, afraid to live. It’s time for that to end,” she said decisively. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and gave herself over to the sobs that wracked her body and stole her breath; the last round of tears she was going to allow herself. “I’m still afraid. But I’m not going to hide anymore. I have to start fighting back – I have to start living again.”
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More to come soon! As always, thank you for reading, and for those of you kind enough to take a few seconds to leave a comment and tell me what you think, I really appreciate that.
As always, check out my live journal (link is on my author's page) for news about updates and cookies from future chapters.
Later!
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