He was supposed to be their hero. He was supposed to bring about the new era of harmony and peace in their world. All the old quarrels, all the old prejudices, they were supposed to evaporate in the glory of his victory - a victory for all of them.
He was supposed to be their hero. But when the revolution came, and the tenuous peace he’d worked hard to earn - for all of them - dissipated like smoke.
He was supposed to be their hero. But he was only a man. A man who betrayed them all. A man who ripped apart the world.
* * *
The city had been under siege for days. The Muggles, always so unobservant, believed it was a part of their very own war. They didn’t see the wizards skulking around, destroying everything in their path as they searched for whatever it was that they were after. The Wizard’s Alliance was clever in its tactics - they hide their advances under cover of the riots as the Muggles continued to destroy each other.
Ginny stepped out into the abandoned street, carefully avoiding the rubble that lay in clusters all around. Diagon Alley, long since abandoned, was still a favorite target of the Alliance. She had been trapped for three days, and it finally seemed as if the siege was over - or, at least, had paused for a few moments. She decided to take her chances to get away while she could. They would undoubtedly miss her back at the refuge camp.
She held out her wand - her scarred and worn wand. She’d hoped to find a spare by foraging through the abandoned stores. Ginny knew that it was a remote possibility. Wands had all been raided as soon as the wandmakers had been killed, but it would be worth the risk coming here, if only she happened to find a new wand. She wasn’t sure how much longer hers would continue to work. And if that happened, she was dead.
Smoke - or fog - obscured her vision and dampened the scant amount of light she dared to allow her wand to emit. Her legs were shaky, aching from the hours she’d spent crouched in the corner of the bookshop, hiding among the empty shelves. Her stomach ached with hunger and her head swam, making her feel faint. She needed to find what she’d come for and make her way back to the Ministry rendezvous point.
She stumbled, her foot catching on a giant chunk of brick, and she had to catch herself. The sound echoed through the empty area, and she felt her heart start to pound. Ginny took a shaky breath, while she stood perfectly still, tense and ready to run if she were to find that she was no longer alone.
The pouch of her over-sized jacket - she’d rummaged through a cottage one night when the weather had turned foul and it was all she could find to protect herself from the torrential downpour - was stuffed with dusty packets of herbs she’d found while scavenging. Medical supplies were always in short supply these days, and she carried a fortune’s worth of potion ingredients.
“Little Ginny Weasley... aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” a voice called out from the fog in front of her. Her heart leapt into her throat as panic overtook her. She knew that voice.
“Michael. It’s been quite awhile,” she said, steeling herself to ensure her voice held steady.
“You’re looking rather worse than the last time we met,” he said, taking a step forward, emerging from the shadow. He was wearing the dark robes he’d worn since the day he’d defected to the Alliance.
Ginny held her ground, even as she desperately wanted to run as far away as she could. But he’d only follow, as she knew from experience.
“Well, the last time, you blew up the bridge I was I standing on and I fell ten feet into a freezing cold river,” she said, crossing her arms and tossing her head. Attitude. Michael Corner always responded when she gave him a bit of attitude, distracted him just enough so she could slip away.
“If you would just come to your senses, I could stop trying to kill you,” he said, his words slow and seductive.
“You’re the one who has lost his senses, Michael. How can you stand there and say that to me? We fought together. We were on the same side. And now, you’re standing there, trying to entice me to betray everything we sacrificed to join in the collective madness you’ve participated in,” she spat, holding her want out defensively. “We were on the same side!”
“We’re remaking our society, Ginny. We’re crushing out the sickness and making it whole again. Healing it.”
“It’s madness! Look around you, Michael. Do you call this healing? We were supposed to rebuild. And you, and the rest of the Alliance lunatics, have ripped apart what was left.”
“We were promised one thing, but then they turned around and forgave all the criminals and werewolves and giants who tried to wipe us all out. You embraced them when they should have been punished.”
“We are never going to agree, Michael. We’re at an impasse. You’re just going to have to keep trying to kill me,” she said.
“I’ll have you eventually, Ginny. Willingly or not.”
“So you’ve said,” she said wearily. He waved his wand and the fog cleared, revealing three figures standing behind him. She was outnumbered.
“And so it will be,” he said, with a dangerous spark in his eyes. She tensed, preparing to react to whatever curse they threw at her. Ginny knew that she had no way to Disapparate out of the situation - even if she weren’t too weak for it, the Alliance had warded the entire city against it at the outset of the revolution, and the Ministry hadn’t found a way to restore it yet.
It was the full-body binding curse that got her. She’d dodged the Stunning hexes deftly, shooting wildly as she ran for cover, but just before she ducked behind a building wall, it hit her and she flew forward as her entire body froze, immobilizing her. She landed face down, unable to throw her hands out to soften the fall, her forehead bouncing painfully off the concrete.
Footsteps crunched from behind, as he came upon her slowly. His hands were on her shoulder - turning her over. He peered down at her and reached a hand out to stroke her face.
“You are a sight for sore eyes, Ginny,” he drawled. She felt a wave of revulsion overwhelm her as she recalled the last time he’d come this close to capturing her, the same words he’d used then. She tasted blood in her mouth, and she stared at him, channeling as much rage as she could into her eyes. She was helpless to defend herself - it was her only weapon.
“Just make it quick, Corner,” one of the others called out impatiently. “Tom thinks the Ministry is heading this way.”
Michael bent over her, his face very close to Ginny’s. She could see her own reflection in his eyes.
“I told you I would have you, one way or the other,” he whispered, as his hand trailed down her face. He stroked her cheekbone, and ran his finger down across her lip to her neck. “You keep slipping out of my reach.”
She struggled against the curse, emitting a grunt of frustration as she failed. She was completely unable to move, to defend herself, as he hands began to wander lower.
“But now, I have you,” he whispered, and her heart nearly stopped beating in panic. His hand closed over her breast - she could feel it through the worn fabric of her dingy jacket.
A bright flash blinded her just then, the light filling her line of sight. Michael’s face slackened into a strange expression, and he collapsed on top of her, his elbow jabbing her painfully in the midsection.
There were a few more flashes of light, but Corner was obscuring her vision completely, and she couldn’t see what was happening. Accompanying thuds sounded, and she could only assume that Corner’s accomplices had been take out. But the question was by whom? Friend or foe?
There was a pause, a moment of deafening, breathless silence as Ginny continued her struggle against the spell. She couldn’t feel her arms and had no idea if she’d managed to hold on to her wand when she’d fell. And then heavy footsteps sounded, walking towards her.
She debated her options. She could hope for the best and that the person heading towards her would turn out to be friendly - best case, Ministry (although technically, she was absent from the camp without permission, so it wasn’t a perfect option). She could close her eyes and play dead, and hopefully the person would leave. But then she’d be trapped in an abandoned alley in an abandoned section of the city where no one knew to look for her. Neither of these options really suited her, and so she continued to struggle, fighting the curse.
Her efforts were rewarded slightly as she was able to move her fingers - just enough to know that her wand was still in her hand.
The footsteps stopped just beside her head. Arms reached down and dragged Michael’s motionless body off of her. She could see the soft glow of a spell and then feeling began rushing back into her limbs. She felt them unfreeze, and sighed with relief as she gripped her wand tightly in her hand. She tensed, ready to jump to her feet and blast her way out of the alley.
But as the curse dissipated, she began to feel the full effect of the fall she’d taken. She was badly injured - she was certain that her right leg was broken, and that perhaps one of her ribs were cracked.
A hand reached down, brushing her forehead lightly. She tried to move, to shift away, but she hurt too much. She was starting to feel dizzy, and added a concussion to her list of potential injuries. She squinted, trying to focus her swimming vision, as her - Rescuer? Captor? Friend? - leaned over.
“Well, well. Looks like I’ve found myself a weasel,” a cold voice drawled, and she felt her pulse quicken. “The last one I needed to complete the full set.”
Her blood ran cold and a hundred equally intense emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
Draco Malfoy. Instigator and leader of the Wizard’s Alliance, the one who had started it all. The man who had ripped apart the world. Who had killed her entire family. He had hunted them all down, one by one, until she was the last one.
And now he had her.
He was supposed to be their hero. But when the revolution came, and the tenuous peace he’d worked hard to earn - for all of them - dissipated like smoke.
He was supposed to be their hero. But he was only a man. A man who betrayed them all. A man who ripped apart the world.
* * *
The city had been under siege for days. The Muggles, always so unobservant, believed it was a part of their very own war. They didn’t see the wizards skulking around, destroying everything in their path as they searched for whatever it was that they were after. The Wizard’s Alliance was clever in its tactics - they hide their advances under cover of the riots as the Muggles continued to destroy each other.
Ginny stepped out into the abandoned street, carefully avoiding the rubble that lay in clusters all around. Diagon Alley, long since abandoned, was still a favorite target of the Alliance. She had been trapped for three days, and it finally seemed as if the siege was over - or, at least, had paused for a few moments. She decided to take her chances to get away while she could. They would undoubtedly miss her back at the refuge camp.
She held out her wand - her scarred and worn wand. She’d hoped to find a spare by foraging through the abandoned stores. Ginny knew that it was a remote possibility. Wands had all been raided as soon as the wandmakers had been killed, but it would be worth the risk coming here, if only she happened to find a new wand. She wasn’t sure how much longer hers would continue to work. And if that happened, she was dead.
Smoke - or fog - obscured her vision and dampened the scant amount of light she dared to allow her wand to emit. Her legs were shaky, aching from the hours she’d spent crouched in the corner of the bookshop, hiding among the empty shelves. Her stomach ached with hunger and her head swam, making her feel faint. She needed to find what she’d come for and make her way back to the Ministry rendezvous point.
She stumbled, her foot catching on a giant chunk of brick, and she had to catch herself. The sound echoed through the empty area, and she felt her heart start to pound. Ginny took a shaky breath, while she stood perfectly still, tense and ready to run if she were to find that she was no longer alone.
The pouch of her over-sized jacket - she’d rummaged through a cottage one night when the weather had turned foul and it was all she could find to protect herself from the torrential downpour - was stuffed with dusty packets of herbs she’d found while scavenging. Medical supplies were always in short supply these days, and she carried a fortune’s worth of potion ingredients.
“Little Ginny Weasley... aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” a voice called out from the fog in front of her. Her heart leapt into her throat as panic overtook her. She knew that voice.
“Michael. It’s been quite awhile,” she said, steeling herself to ensure her voice held steady.
“You’re looking rather worse than the last time we met,” he said, taking a step forward, emerging from the shadow. He was wearing the dark robes he’d worn since the day he’d defected to the Alliance.
Ginny held her ground, even as she desperately wanted to run as far away as she could. But he’d only follow, as she knew from experience.
“Well, the last time, you blew up the bridge I was I standing on and I fell ten feet into a freezing cold river,” she said, crossing her arms and tossing her head. Attitude. Michael Corner always responded when she gave him a bit of attitude, distracted him just enough so she could slip away.
“If you would just come to your senses, I could stop trying to kill you,” he said, his words slow and seductive.
“You’re the one who has lost his senses, Michael. How can you stand there and say that to me? We fought together. We were on the same side. And now, you’re standing there, trying to entice me to betray everything we sacrificed to join in the collective madness you’ve participated in,” she spat, holding her want out defensively. “We were on the same side!”
“We’re remaking our society, Ginny. We’re crushing out the sickness and making it whole again. Healing it.”
“It’s madness! Look around you, Michael. Do you call this healing? We were supposed to rebuild. And you, and the rest of the Alliance lunatics, have ripped apart what was left.”
“We were promised one thing, but then they turned around and forgave all the criminals and werewolves and giants who tried to wipe us all out. You embraced them when they should have been punished.”
“We are never going to agree, Michael. We’re at an impasse. You’re just going to have to keep trying to kill me,” she said.
“I’ll have you eventually, Ginny. Willingly or not.”
“So you’ve said,” she said wearily. He waved his wand and the fog cleared, revealing three figures standing behind him. She was outnumbered.
“And so it will be,” he said, with a dangerous spark in his eyes. She tensed, preparing to react to whatever curse they threw at her. Ginny knew that she had no way to Disapparate out of the situation - even if she weren’t too weak for it, the Alliance had warded the entire city against it at the outset of the revolution, and the Ministry hadn’t found a way to restore it yet.
It was the full-body binding curse that got her. She’d dodged the Stunning hexes deftly, shooting wildly as she ran for cover, but just before she ducked behind a building wall, it hit her and she flew forward as her entire body froze, immobilizing her. She landed face down, unable to throw her hands out to soften the fall, her forehead bouncing painfully off the concrete.
Footsteps crunched from behind, as he came upon her slowly. His hands were on her shoulder - turning her over. He peered down at her and reached a hand out to stroke her face.
“You are a sight for sore eyes, Ginny,” he drawled. She felt a wave of revulsion overwhelm her as she recalled the last time he’d come this close to capturing her, the same words he’d used then. She tasted blood in her mouth, and she stared at him, channeling as much rage as she could into her eyes. She was helpless to defend herself - it was her only weapon.
“Just make it quick, Corner,” one of the others called out impatiently. “Tom thinks the Ministry is heading this way.”
Michael bent over her, his face very close to Ginny’s. She could see her own reflection in his eyes.
“I told you I would have you, one way or the other,” he whispered, as his hand trailed down her face. He stroked her cheekbone, and ran his finger down across her lip to her neck. “You keep slipping out of my reach.”
She struggled against the curse, emitting a grunt of frustration as she failed. She was completely unable to move, to defend herself, as he hands began to wander lower.
“But now, I have you,” he whispered, and her heart nearly stopped beating in panic. His hand closed over her breast - she could feel it through the worn fabric of her dingy jacket.
A bright flash blinded her just then, the light filling her line of sight. Michael’s face slackened into a strange expression, and he collapsed on top of her, his elbow jabbing her painfully in the midsection.
There were a few more flashes of light, but Corner was obscuring her vision completely, and she couldn’t see what was happening. Accompanying thuds sounded, and she could only assume that Corner’s accomplices had been take out. But the question was by whom? Friend or foe?
There was a pause, a moment of deafening, breathless silence as Ginny continued her struggle against the spell. She couldn’t feel her arms and had no idea if she’d managed to hold on to her wand when she’d fell. And then heavy footsteps sounded, walking towards her.
She debated her options. She could hope for the best and that the person heading towards her would turn out to be friendly - best case, Ministry (although technically, she was absent from the camp without permission, so it wasn’t a perfect option). She could close her eyes and play dead, and hopefully the person would leave. But then she’d be trapped in an abandoned alley in an abandoned section of the city where no one knew to look for her. Neither of these options really suited her, and so she continued to struggle, fighting the curse.
Her efforts were rewarded slightly as she was able to move her fingers - just enough to know that her wand was still in her hand.
The footsteps stopped just beside her head. Arms reached down and dragged Michael’s motionless body off of her. She could see the soft glow of a spell and then feeling began rushing back into her limbs. She felt them unfreeze, and sighed with relief as she gripped her wand tightly in her hand. She tensed, ready to jump to her feet and blast her way out of the alley.
But as the curse dissipated, she began to feel the full effect of the fall she’d taken. She was badly injured - she was certain that her right leg was broken, and that perhaps one of her ribs were cracked.
A hand reached down, brushing her forehead lightly. She tried to move, to shift away, but she hurt too much. She was starting to feel dizzy, and added a concussion to her list of potential injuries. She squinted, trying to focus her swimming vision, as her - Rescuer? Captor? Friend? - leaned over.
“Well, well. Looks like I’ve found myself a weasel,” a cold voice drawled, and she felt her pulse quicken. “The last one I needed to complete the full set.”
Her blood ran cold and a hundred equally intense emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
Draco Malfoy. Instigator and leader of the Wizard’s Alliance, the one who had started it all. The man who had ripped apart the world. Who had killed her entire family. He had hunted them all down, one by one, until she was the last one.
And now he had her.
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