Ginny stared up at Draco Malfoy, his steely grey eyes glinting malevolently down at her. No expression on his face, except for a half-grin that seemed more dangerous than amused.
“You’ve been quite the challenge to track down, slippery little weasel. But I’ve found you now,” he said.
“Took you long enough to catch me. No wonder you were such a terrible Seeker,” she said, her voice gasping and shaky, despite her attempt to fill it with bravado she didn’t feel. She hurt too much to be brave when the man who had literally ruined everything was crouching above her while she was stretched out on the ground, unable to move.
“Well, now that I have you, I’m not going to let you slip away from me again,” he said.
“Why do all the people who try to kill me keep saying that?” she sighed. “And you haven’t caught me before, Malfoy. When I slip away, it will be the first time you’ll have the pleasure of being bested by me.”
“We’ll see about that. It is, after all, what every single one of your brothers said when I caught them. Now try not to squirm, I don’t want to get your blood on my robes if I can help it,” he said, brushing off her promise to escape with a casual reference to the fact that he’d murdered her family. As she started violently thrashing around, he deftly plucked her wand out of her weakening grip, and gathered her in his arms, hauling her up off the ground.
She cried out as the pain in her leg and ribs overwhelmed her.
“Hold on tight, now,” Malfoy whispered, sending a wave of horror to the pit of her stomach. She continued trying to squirm free from his grip, fighting the pain as she grew more desperate. If she let him take her, it would certainly mean her death. He would have the full set. She felt him sigh, and then he readjusted his hold on her, tightening his grip, pulling her close to his chest.
Her head was spinning wildly, until the world faded to black.
* * *
Ginny was warm and deliciously comfortable, lying on something soft. She was completely surrounded by it. She sighed happily, turning over and curling up on her side, unwilling to let this lovely dream fade away before she was ready to wake up. It was the best she’d felt in months.
But then her memories of the alley surfaced, jolting her fully awake. Her eyes popped open and she jumped up, looking around her wildly, desperately hoping that by some miracle her wand was within reach.
Before her fear and desperation could entirely overwhelm her, she forced herself to pause. To take a deep breath, to focus. To take in her surroundings.
She was kneeling on the soft down mattress of a large bed, covered by a plush white duvet, with a pile of plump white pillows propped against the solid oak headboard. Unbidden, her fingers stroked the luxuriously soft fabric of the sheets. Everything was so white, so clean. Ginny had become so accustomed to dingy colours as the Ministry began conserving magic, mandating that magic could no longer be used for menial, every day tasks. As they struggled to keep Muggle machines powered - the war demolishing much of their electrical infrastructure - Ginny had been washing her clothes by hand for a year.
Sunlight was streaming in through sheet white curtains hung at the large window, illuminating the large room. It was filled with beautiful, shining oak furniture - an armoire, a dressing table and plush chair, a desk and a cozy-looking arm chair that sat next to a bookshelf filled with large dusty tomes. Wherever she was, it was entirely untouched by the ravages of the ongoing wars.
She stood up, stretching out her limbs. Her head was clear, her leg stronger than ever. She’d been healed - another luxury. The Ministry reserved healers’ powers and potions for only the most desperate emergencies, as they desperately tried to conserve magical ingredients.
She was wearing a clean pair of soft cotton pants and a t-shirt, Ginny noted as she walked around the room. She remembered pieces of the encounter in the alley - Michael Corner nearly capturing her, Draco Malfoy actually capturing her and taking her wand.
Ginny’s survival instinct jumped into overdrive as she realized with a panic that she didn’t have her wand. Without it, she’d be as good as dead, a fact she was desperately aware of.
The door clicked open just as she was struggling to wrench open the heavy window. Outside, an expanse of green manicured lawn stretched far, until it met a line of trees. She was probably three stories above ground - too high to jump - but she was convinced she could find a way to climb down if she could just get to the roof.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Malfoy said from behind her. She swung about, assuming a defensive stance. She felt so naked without her wand.
He was wearing dark trousers and crisp white shirt, all casual elegance. A woman stood behind him, carrying a tray.
“Opening the window will just trigger the security wards and then we’ll have quite the mess on our hands,” he said. The women walked towards her, placed the tray on the desk next to where Ginny was standing, and left the room quietly. “Besides, you haven’t had breakfast yet, and my kitchen elf makes possibly the best croissants this side of France.”
Ginny glanced down at the tray - a plate filled with pastry, a glass of juice, a steaming mug of tea, and a sight that nearly made her knees weak, a bowl of fruit. No one could get fresh fruit any more.
“Why am I still alive?” she demanded, ignoring the food despite the way her mouth was watering. She leaned against the desk and crossed her arms in front of her, hoping to project an aggressive stance and to keep her hands from itching for want of her wand.
“You indicated that you always seem to slip away from those who try to kill you. Since I have no intention of allowing that to happen, I thought this might be a more successful tactic,” he answered with an infuriating smirk.
“Are you trying to lure me to your cause?” she asked, as the idea dawned on her. Why else would he be keeping her alive? “Fatten me up with the kind of food no one can get any more, spoil me with your facade of luxury, until I betray everyone and join you?”
“That sounds rather devious. That must be my true purpose,” he said, completely deadpan.
“If only I were that foolish. I know very well, from the best of Ministry intelligence, that your side is faring even worse than ours. Starving, freezing, barely able to keep your people alive. Only those at the top appear to be carrying on as if nothing has changed. Charming, all this luxury, while those dying for your empty cause suffer and starve,” she spat, her rage bubbling up.
“Of course you can’t be fooled that easily,” he answered with a condescending shrug.
“Give me back my wand,” she demanded.
“I’m sure I’ll return it eventually. Although why you’ll want it, I don’t know. It’s so battered, I’m shocked it even still works,” he said.
She stared at him, trying to read his body language, to figure out his purpose.
“I could have someone make you a new one,” he said, and Ginny’s heart skipped a beat at the very thought of a brand new wand.
“There are no wandmakers left. Your followers destroyed them all,” she spat.
“I can see how you might believe that,” he said, again, with a casual shrug. “Think about it - it’s a fairly generous offer. Think of how much you could accomplish if only your wand worked properly.”
“Why would you try to help me? More importantly, what makes you think I would let you help me?” she cried out, her suspicions spiraling out of control.
“All interesting questions. I’ll let you ponder my nefarious motives while you have breakfast. Like so many of your Ministry accomplices, you’re looking terribly skinny,” he said, with a pointed look. “We’ve been fighting each other for two years, Weasley. Take a day off. Eat a proper meal, sleep in a proper bed. The war will still be going on tomorrow.”
And then he turned and left. She heard the lock click as he shut the door, locking her in.
“You’ve been quite the challenge to track down, slippery little weasel. But I’ve found you now,” he said.
“Took you long enough to catch me. No wonder you were such a terrible Seeker,” she said, her voice gasping and shaky, despite her attempt to fill it with bravado she didn’t feel. She hurt too much to be brave when the man who had literally ruined everything was crouching above her while she was stretched out on the ground, unable to move.
“Well, now that I have you, I’m not going to let you slip away from me again,” he said.
“Why do all the people who try to kill me keep saying that?” she sighed. “And you haven’t caught me before, Malfoy. When I slip away, it will be the first time you’ll have the pleasure of being bested by me.”
“We’ll see about that. It is, after all, what every single one of your brothers said when I caught them. Now try not to squirm, I don’t want to get your blood on my robes if I can help it,” he said, brushing off her promise to escape with a casual reference to the fact that he’d murdered her family. As she started violently thrashing around, he deftly plucked her wand out of her weakening grip, and gathered her in his arms, hauling her up off the ground.
She cried out as the pain in her leg and ribs overwhelmed her.
“Hold on tight, now,” Malfoy whispered, sending a wave of horror to the pit of her stomach. She continued trying to squirm free from his grip, fighting the pain as she grew more desperate. If she let him take her, it would certainly mean her death. He would have the full set. She felt him sigh, and then he readjusted his hold on her, tightening his grip, pulling her close to his chest.
Her head was spinning wildly, until the world faded to black.
* * *
Ginny was warm and deliciously comfortable, lying on something soft. She was completely surrounded by it. She sighed happily, turning over and curling up on her side, unwilling to let this lovely dream fade away before she was ready to wake up. It was the best she’d felt in months.
But then her memories of the alley surfaced, jolting her fully awake. Her eyes popped open and she jumped up, looking around her wildly, desperately hoping that by some miracle her wand was within reach.
Before her fear and desperation could entirely overwhelm her, she forced herself to pause. To take a deep breath, to focus. To take in her surroundings.
She was kneeling on the soft down mattress of a large bed, covered by a plush white duvet, with a pile of plump white pillows propped against the solid oak headboard. Unbidden, her fingers stroked the luxuriously soft fabric of the sheets. Everything was so white, so clean. Ginny had become so accustomed to dingy colours as the Ministry began conserving magic, mandating that magic could no longer be used for menial, every day tasks. As they struggled to keep Muggle machines powered - the war demolishing much of their electrical infrastructure - Ginny had been washing her clothes by hand for a year.
Sunlight was streaming in through sheet white curtains hung at the large window, illuminating the large room. It was filled with beautiful, shining oak furniture - an armoire, a dressing table and plush chair, a desk and a cozy-looking arm chair that sat next to a bookshelf filled with large dusty tomes. Wherever she was, it was entirely untouched by the ravages of the ongoing wars.
She stood up, stretching out her limbs. Her head was clear, her leg stronger than ever. She’d been healed - another luxury. The Ministry reserved healers’ powers and potions for only the most desperate emergencies, as they desperately tried to conserve magical ingredients.
She was wearing a clean pair of soft cotton pants and a t-shirt, Ginny noted as she walked around the room. She remembered pieces of the encounter in the alley - Michael Corner nearly capturing her, Draco Malfoy actually capturing her and taking her wand.
Ginny’s survival instinct jumped into overdrive as she realized with a panic that she didn’t have her wand. Without it, she’d be as good as dead, a fact she was desperately aware of.
The door clicked open just as she was struggling to wrench open the heavy window. Outside, an expanse of green manicured lawn stretched far, until it met a line of trees. She was probably three stories above ground - too high to jump - but she was convinced she could find a way to climb down if she could just get to the roof.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Malfoy said from behind her. She swung about, assuming a defensive stance. She felt so naked without her wand.
He was wearing dark trousers and crisp white shirt, all casual elegance. A woman stood behind him, carrying a tray.
“Opening the window will just trigger the security wards and then we’ll have quite the mess on our hands,” he said. The women walked towards her, placed the tray on the desk next to where Ginny was standing, and left the room quietly. “Besides, you haven’t had breakfast yet, and my kitchen elf makes possibly the best croissants this side of France.”
Ginny glanced down at the tray - a plate filled with pastry, a glass of juice, a steaming mug of tea, and a sight that nearly made her knees weak, a bowl of fruit. No one could get fresh fruit any more.
“Why am I still alive?” she demanded, ignoring the food despite the way her mouth was watering. She leaned against the desk and crossed her arms in front of her, hoping to project an aggressive stance and to keep her hands from itching for want of her wand.
“You indicated that you always seem to slip away from those who try to kill you. Since I have no intention of allowing that to happen, I thought this might be a more successful tactic,” he answered with an infuriating smirk.
“Are you trying to lure me to your cause?” she asked, as the idea dawned on her. Why else would he be keeping her alive? “Fatten me up with the kind of food no one can get any more, spoil me with your facade of luxury, until I betray everyone and join you?”
“That sounds rather devious. That must be my true purpose,” he said, completely deadpan.
“If only I were that foolish. I know very well, from the best of Ministry intelligence, that your side is faring even worse than ours. Starving, freezing, barely able to keep your people alive. Only those at the top appear to be carrying on as if nothing has changed. Charming, all this luxury, while those dying for your empty cause suffer and starve,” she spat, her rage bubbling up.
“Of course you can’t be fooled that easily,” he answered with a condescending shrug.
“Give me back my wand,” she demanded.
“I’m sure I’ll return it eventually. Although why you’ll want it, I don’t know. It’s so battered, I’m shocked it even still works,” he said.
She stared at him, trying to read his body language, to figure out his purpose.
“I could have someone make you a new one,” he said, and Ginny’s heart skipped a beat at the very thought of a brand new wand.
“There are no wandmakers left. Your followers destroyed them all,” she spat.
“I can see how you might believe that,” he said, again, with a casual shrug. “Think about it - it’s a fairly generous offer. Think of how much you could accomplish if only your wand worked properly.”
“Why would you try to help me? More importantly, what makes you think I would let you help me?” she cried out, her suspicions spiraling out of control.
“All interesting questions. I’ll let you ponder my nefarious motives while you have breakfast. Like so many of your Ministry accomplices, you’re looking terribly skinny,” he said, with a pointed look. “We’ve been fighting each other for two years, Weasley. Take a day off. Eat a proper meal, sleep in a proper bed. The war will still be going on tomorrow.”
And then he turned and left. She heard the lock click as he shut the door, locking her in.
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