Heavenly Creatures

This would have been out earlier, except that the completed chapter was on the laptop that DIED, and it had to be all rewritten. Um, JotH 20 was on there, too. I really wanted to get that up, but I'm afraid it's going to take a tad bit longer now...

Again--and this is the last time I'll have to say it--I'm really, REALLY sorry about the Lucius/Ginny in this chapter. It's barely PG-13 in content but there's definitely squickiness. But it all has to be. Nothing here is gratuitous; it's all there for a reason. (Although Lucius exerts a sort of creepy fascination as a character, to tell you the truth, this is the way I see him. And God knows, I've certainly known enough real people like him. Okay, they were NOT as hot as Jason Isaacs. ;) ) Just to add to the classiness of it all, hop on over and check out Lucius Malfoy's Good Girl if you haven't already.

http://www.astronomytower.org/authors/anise/LMGG.html

The R version's at the Astronomy Tower, and it tells the story of exactly what Lucius was doing with Pansy earlier that day. Squickness abounds, but at least it's consensual in that fic. This is... not. You have been warned.

August 4, 1995

They seem to float up through the very stones of the house, as slowly and languidly as a fever dream. Ginny has only a confused impression of drifting past rooms and corridors and thick walls. She tries to struggle, but it's like dragging her arms and legs through molasses, and anyway Kreacher has one of her hands clamped tightly in his, and Draco grabs onto the other as if his life depends on keeping hold of it. They move through the tower room, where she went once before, with Sirius. She had expected to see Remus there, and Dumbledore, but she does not. Ginny realizes where they are headed. She makes a frantic effort to dig her heels into the floor, but she, Kreacher, and Draco keep drifting towards the intricate red web of spells at the very centre of the room as if drawn by an irresistible force. And they are, Ginny realizes. Kreacher has somehow triggered a spell that tied them into whatever had been used to bring back the Aurors. And that means that they are going wherever the Aurors had been. Draco Malfoy had been there, too. So it has to be where she'd seen him, as she now knew she actually had.

Malfoy Manor!

Something pounds on the door leading up from the winding spiral staircase in the tower, straining at the lock. Kreacher gives the door a scared glance, and lets go Ginny's hand. "Kreacher mustn't be found here, mustn't be seen here. You will find the way yourself now, young master, oh yes, no trouble at all. He awaits you. Go to him... go with the Weasley girl, the one he has been waiting for."

He? But before Ginny even really has time to wonder what that might mean, several things happen at once. Kreacher vanishes with a pop. The door is flung open with such force that it bangs against the wall. Sirius and Snape charge into the room. Snape's eyes widen in horror, and Ginny knows that he must see her--and Draco. They haven't been pulled into the spell web yet. It's not too late--

"Ginny," Sirius gasps, stretching his arms out towards her. Snape shoots him a filthy look and snarls something, yanking out his own wand and shouting the words of a spell she cannot quite hear. But Ginny has no more than a moment to think about all of these things, because the red network of spells hovering in the centre of the tower room suddenly expands, reaches out, and swallows her up. The last sound she hears is the tower door slamming shut.

A great wind roars around them, tearing at Ginny with such force that it nearly pulls her away from Draco. Losing hold of him in this unimaginable vortex would be even worse than whatever could possibly await her, so Ginny grits her teeth and grips onto his hand tightly, squeezing her eyes shut. He wraps his other arm round her. The howling winds rip at her hair and scour her skin. She hides her face in his cloak. There is no time to think about who he is, or what he is doing to her, or where is taking her, or why; whatever he might be, she is the one solid thing she can cling to in this magical storm. And then they are pulled through the nexus, cast back into the physical world as casually as a cat tossing away a couple of unwanted mice. Ginny struggles to get her hands free when she starts to fall through space, but Draco still has her fast. She flails and shrieks and lands solidly on something very hard with Draco on top of her, the breath knocked out of her lungs. They lie gasping on the stone floor for a few moments.

He shakes his head and sits up unsteadily, letting go her hand for just an instant. She wrenches her arm away and scrambles to her feet, trying to run. They are in a dark, narrow space, and she stumbles over an uneven stone in the floor, unable to clearly see where she is going. Draco seizes both her upper arms in an iron grip. Still, Ginny tries to escape, although she has a sinking feeling that it won't do any good at this point. That second when Draco was off his guard was her one chance, and she had missed it. She squirms, struggles, and kicks, setting her teeth, trying to dig her heels into the floor but always failing; he drags her stumbling self forward with more strength that she ever could have imagined was within his lean, spare frame, and somehow they reach the entryway at the end of the little corridor. It is like an open mouth, gaping into darkness. A cool, steady breeze blows from it, and as Ginny's eyes adjust, she can see that it leads to a large, dark, circular room. Ginny staggers back as Malfoy tries to pull her into the room, seizing the edge of the stone doorway with her other hand. He plucks it away. His hands are incredibly strong, and his skin is hot, dry, and feverish. Her own hands feel scorched by the heat of his. The air in the larger room shimmers with waves of magical power, as if the fabric of ordinary reality has worn so thin there that at any moment it will implode. "Don't,"" she gasps, hardly aware of what she is saying. "It's--we can't go in there, can't you see, something awful will--let go of me--" One frantic burst of terror lends her strength, and she wrenches her wrist so hard that it actually slips from his grasp. Ginny stumbles backwards. But then she gives a low cry of fear and pain, sinking to the floor of the corridor as her ankle catches on an irregularity in the stone floor and twists under her. The tendons in her foot grate against each other in shrieking protest. Sharp agony shoots up the back of her leg. She clutches onto it, biting her lip to keep from crying. He hesitates, and then turns away from the doorway, towards her.

Ginny has always thought Draco Malfoy incapable of any emotions that are not vicious, or spiteful, or downright violent. She has certainly never seen him show any other side of himself to her brothers, or Harry, or Hermione, or any of her friends. But his face is utterly transparent now, when he bends down to her, and it is filled with something softer, although Ginny can't be sure what. His hand reaches out to her, almost tentatively.

"Weasley--" he begins. She looks up at him involuntarily, her eyes very wide. His face hardens. "If this is some sort of act--" he begins.

She scrambles backwards with her hands, away from him. Her ankle is already puffing up beneath her summer robes, and when his eyes go down to her feet, she knows that he sees it, even in the dim light. Suddenly, his eyes are looking into hers, filling her field of vision entirely, and a wave of dizziness goes through her. All she can see are intricately faceted grey depths, like granite squeezed through some unimaginable pressure to emerge as diamonds.

"Reparo," he mutters, and she feels the lightest possible touch of a wand moving across her injured ankle, as if she has been grazed by the feather of a bird. Nothing happens. Her ankle keeps hurting. Her throat goes tight. Don't cry, she tells herself fiercely. Don't you dare!

"You can't fool me," says Draco coldly, impatiently. "I certainly know how to cast a simple healing charm. Get up." He glances down at her ankle. It is beginning to turn purple. His brows knit together, and he frowns. "It didn't work. Why didn't..." Then his face clears, and an expression crosses it that makes Ginny shiver. "I know why," he says softly, as if to himself. "I know why magic won't work here... not that common sort, anyway... I know where we are."

Ginny closes her eyes. A wave of dark dizziness rolls over her. She thinks she hears footsteps approaching.

"You're here. You've returned--I tried to find you, and the magical signature made it clear where you'd gone. I couldn't go there, though; the spell had terminated, and I couldn't send anyone else, either. I don't know what I would have done, but then I received the message from Kreacher." The voice is filled with suppressed excitement, still deep-pitched, and still elongates the ends of the words. But the words don't make any sense. Why would Draco be saying these things? There is an indrawn, brief breath. The footsteps come towards Ginny. "And you've brought her."

And then...

"Well done, Draco. Well done, my son."

She forces her heavy eyelids open, just for a moment. Draco is still by her side, scrambling to his feet, his face alight. And standing before him, gripping his hand, is his father. Lucius Malfoy. It was his voice she heard. In that brief flash of sight before Ginny's eyelids fall closed again, their two faces are so alike that she cannot tell them apart.

"Father, I tried to do the right thing." Draco's voice is quick and breathless. "I thought you'd want me to bring her back with me. I thought you'd want me to go with Kreacher; I remember Mother talking about him, so I thought he could be trusted--"

"And you did exactly right, Draco. Come with me now. "

"But--what about Weasley?" A hand touches her shoulder and pushes her back and forth, almost gently. "I don't think she can walk. Is she all right? I-- I only mean, if you want her here, we must need her for something. Don't we? And she doesn't look very--"

"Follow me," says Lucius.

Ginny feels herself being lifted from the ground and held securely in the cradle of someone's arms.

"Where are we going?" Draco's voice comes from her left. So it can't be him. Lucius Malfoy is carrying me, she thinks. How strong he must be. He holds her so close to his chest that she can smell some scent of soap or cologne, dark and sophisticated and musky. Every thought in her head seems to be taking a great deal of time to be squeezed through a very small space. Darkness rolls over her again, and she vaguely knows that she has been deposited on a soft bed.

"We could not talk there," says Lucius. "The magic is too strong in the room beneath the standing stone for us to stay very long, and growing stronger. And we must talk, Draco. But first..." He leans down to her. "This should work. It's a bit weaker here. Reparo." The tip of his wand flicks over her skin, and her ankle stops hurting.

The darkness that covers her moves in and out, like a great soft tide. With the pain gone, Ginny struggles to the surface.

"You were in the hypocaust earlier, weren't you?" Lucius is asking.

Ginny forces her eyelids open the tiniest bit. Draco looks sulky and slightly afraid. "Yes," he finally admits.

"You heard some very interesting things, didn't you?"

Draco is clearly trying to decide whether or not it can possibly be safe to lie. "Uh--"

"Never mind," Lucius says impatiently. "Shall we cut to the dragon chase? I know very well that you were there when I was speaking to Thomas Nott."

Draco gulps and looks down at the floor. Yet he also looks just the tiniest bit relieved. Ginny wonders why. "Yes," he whispers. "I was. I didn't mean to be. I only wanted to walk in the hypocaust for a bit, and I came in upon the beginning of it."

Lucius nods. "I heard you halfway through. But you were there no earlier?"

"No." Draco shrugs.

He's lying. Ginny has no idea how she can possibly be so sure of that fact. Lucius seems to believe his son, or at least to believe that the little lie wasn't important. But she is positive that, for whatever reason, Draco had seen or heard whatever had happened before the conversation with Thomas Nott. Her mind is clear for the moment, and it races. Thomas Nott. Theodore Nott's father... that stringy-looking Slytherin boy. I heard about how he was the only Slytherin to see the thestrals in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's class last term. And his father's a Death Eater--I'm sure I've heard that, too.

"Did you hear it all?" asks Lucius.

"I heard it all," replies Draco, his voice very low.

"Then there are things that you must know." Lucius lays his hand on his son's shoulder, a brief caress. Draco's face lights up suddenly, and it is full of hope and a sort of yearning that Ginny never could have even imagined on it before.

"I didn't want you to be involved, Draco. I admit it," Lucius continues. "But it could never have been avoided. What must be, must be. The first time that Kreacher came to this house, I knew it. And when he sent the message that you'd come to Twelve Grimmauld Place, I knew that all my plans would come to fruition... because of you."

Draco doesn't exactly smile, but a sort of light seems to dawn on his face. " Still, I don't understand," he says tentatively. "How on earth did Kreacher know I was going to end up there?"

"Kreacher has been passing on information. There's only so much he can say, and he can't tell me anything directly, as I'm not his master. But none of this could have happened without him... so you knew where you were, Draco?" Lucius's eyes have a gleam of admiration in them.

"I recognized the house from Mother's descriptions of it. Kreacher too. But how did I get there, and why? And--oh! I almost forgot! Father, Professor Snape's a traitor! At least, I think he must be. He was with a lot of other witches and wizards who were taken from here by some sort of spell--it was that large room at the end of that corridor down here, wasn't it? They're all in the Order, aren't they? And then he ended up at Twelve Grimmauld Place--that's how I got there, you know, I held onto him, I thought I could learn some important things that we might need to know. And those blood-traitors the Weasleys were there, and Sirius Black, and--" Draco's words trip over each other in his excitement. Lucius holds up a hand.

"I know, Draco."

"You--know?" Draco repeats. "You already knew some of this?"

"I already knew all of it."

"Oh," says Draco in a small voice. "I don't understand."

Lucius sits in a chair at the end of the little room, and motions for Draco to take a seat in the other one. "I've known for well over a year now that Severus Snape is a double agent. But he doesn't know that I know. At least, I don't think he does. One can never be sure, with Snape."

"But--" Draco sits and looks at his father blankly. "Why on earth don't you tell the Dark Lord that he's a traitor, then?"

"Because it suits me very well that he should be what--and where--he is."

"But..."

"Draco, there is a great deal that must be made clear to you in very little time," Lucius says, a hint of ice entering his voice.

Draco seems a wilt a little at his father's tone. He nods and begins to listen intently, picking at the roughened skin around the nails of his long, slender fingers.

"To begin with, I was expecting the two of you because Kreacher sent me a message. He was only able to send it once he actually saw that you'd arrived at Twelve Grimmauld Place. Can you guess why?"

"Because..." Draco taps his chin. "Because house-elves can only pass on that sort of information if their masters are directly involved. You're not one of the family he's bound to, the Blacks. But I am. That's it, isn't it?"

"Very good." Lucius smiles. "I knew that I could place my trust in you, Draco." "But what I still don't understand is that--well, it seems as if you knew that Snape and the rest of those Order scum were being called back."

"Oh, yes. I knew."

"So you knew they were here?" Draco asks, clearly surprised.

"Of course. Nothing happens in this house that I do not know. It didn't matter; they weren't going to learn information of any importance. And that led Snape to underestimate me. It lulled him into a false sense of security, and I couldn't risk his suspecting anything yet. He's my link to Dumbledore, and to Hogwarts."

Draco's brows knit together. "But you say he doesn't know. Can you be sure, Father?"

"Yes. He is a good Legillimens, your Potions Master... but not quite so good as he believes himself to be. He tells me more than he knows. And I decided long ago that I could accomplish a great deal more by not letting him know the truth. I found out years ago that he's a double agent, Snape. And that's a secret that you must keep to yourself, Draco."

"Of course I will. I can be trusted, Father, I swear I can. But why did you want the Order to leave now, if you didn't mind if they stopped here earlier?" asks Draco.

"That's the key to the entire plan," replies Lucius. "And it all had to be planned, very carefully planned. I dropped a word at the Ministry to Dolores Umbridge, the one who's so close to Fudge these days... a stupid woman, really, but she does have her uses. It was easy to make her believe that my idea was her own. I've... affected everyone's thinking about Potter there, shall we say? They all believe he's mentally unstable... dangerous, perhaps."

"He is," mutters Draco.

"Yes, well, that's as may be, but the point here is that they've been brought around to a very useful point of view regarding that boy, for the most part. None of them would actually take any steps to remove the threat they're becoming convinced he represents, though. Nobody except Umbridge. Two days ago, she arranged for several Dementors to put in an appearance at that foul little village where Potter's relatives live. Little Whinging, I think it is."

Draco draws in his breath, sharply. "Dementors! But--did that even have any effect on Potter? He can produce a corporeal Patronus, you know. I've heard it from loads of people at school."

"Unfortunately," says Lucius, "that was indeed the case. They didn't succeed in harming a hair on his scarred little head. More's the pity. It certainly would have been a nice bonus if they had. The Wizengamot is set to try him after the fact for illegal use of magic, since he did use the Patronus, but I honestly doubt anything would come of that."

Draco's lips curls. "I'm sure it won't, no matter what he does. Potter gets away with everything. But then I don't understand. What's the point of setting Dementors on him in the first place? And what do you mean, nothing would have come of that? Won't he be tried?"

"It will never come to that now," Lucius says. "The Order reacted exactly as I thought they would, exactly as I wanted them to. As soon as Potter sent a sniveling letter to his friends about being attacked by Dementors, they decided that he certainly couldn't be left at his Muggle uncle and aunt's house. All of the available Aurors must be dispatched to fetch him. And in order to do that, they had to be brought back from Malfoy Manor... where they have been trying, with a notable lack of success, to spy on me. And so it did happen. But...alas... they will never reach Potter now. Or by the time they had planned to, at least, it will be far too late. Because Ginny Weasley is here now, with us. The Aurors might have interfered, if they were here, but they are not. The power will be taken from her... through her. Within a few hours. And after that event, there will be no need to use the Wizengamot anymore, nor the Ministry."

"Will be... taken? What do you mean?" Draco's face lights up with sudden intensity. Ginny struggles to stay conscious. This is the key!

But their voices are starting to flicker in and out like a Wizarding Wireless Network signal randomly fading and growing in strength. "Lughnasa..." says Lucius. And then again, "Lughnasa?" That's Draco. When their voices steady and become clear again, Ginny knows that she has missed crucial information.

"But it's not only a ritual, Draco. It's a sacrifice," says Lucius. "And I don't want you involved in what must happen on this Lughnasa."

Ginny forces her eyelids open once again. She sees that Draco Malfoy is standing as immobile as if his father's words had turned him to stone. His lips are pressed together so hard that the edges are turning white. He does not say a word.

"Well, what is it?" asks Lucius impatiently.

"You..." Draco stops speaking, and then starts again. His voice sounds very far away. "You want to sacrifice her?"

"It's central to the plan, yes."

"But--" Draco does not seem able to finish the sentence. "But," he repeats, and gets no further.

"You mean that you think..." Lucius studies his son's face. "Pull yourself together, Draco," he finally says. "I'm not talking about that sort of sacrifice. Ginny Weasley is far more valuable to me living than she could ever be dead. No." He gives an odd, formal little laugh. "I don't plan to take the Weasley girl's life."

Ginny wonders if she has only imagined the very slight emphasis he gives to the last word.

"But, then..." Draco still seems to be stuck on the same thought as before, and cannot get past it.

"You have not been exposed to this sort of ritual as of yet," says Lucius. "But the time will come soon when you must be familiar with it. For Merlin's sake," he adds impatiently when he sees that Draco has not yet moved a muscle, "what sort of thing do you suppose is involved in these rituals? We get power any way we can, and we cannot always choose the most savory way."

Understanding, or at least some level of it, dawns on Draco's face. It is as if he and his father have been speaking in code, and their words are signals that Ginny does not understand. But she knows that something dark and terrible has to be lurking just outside her comprehension. She listens as intently as she can.

"I've heard stories, Father," says Draco, his voice guarded, oddly neutral. "Rumours. Of course I have. But--but the Weasley girl isn't a Muggle, or a mudblood, or even a half-blood. How can we possibly--"

"It's from purebloods that the greatest power comes. And you heard what Nott said; she is the seventh child of a third son, and the first girl in that family for three hundred years. What sort of power could the same sacrifice from a mudblood like the Granger girl give us, compared to this?"

"But--she can't possibly be willing," Draco says. "I mean, a willing sacrifice carries the most power, doesn't it?" he adds hurriedly.

"Exactly so. And that is unfortunate. If her family were involved... if they were, shall we say, one of our own..." Lucius sighs. "They would understand how desperately important this is, and so would she. This sacrifice would be made willingly, with a full understanding of its... regrettable... necessity."

Draco bites his lip, and looks down at the stone floor. Ginny cannot see the expression on his face, whatever it is. "But, will she..." he begins, and then shuts his mouth tight.

"What is it, Draco?" Lucius asks.

"Will she be all right?"

"The Weasley girl will not be harmed in any way," says Lucius. "Draco, we're not barbarians. We don't hurt people for the sake of hurting them, especially purebloods. And whatever else the Weasleys might be, they're still purebloods."

"But, the way the Death Eaters were behaving at the Quidditch Cup last year... I mean..."

"Yes, well, some of the Death Eaters are all too likely to indulge in those sorts of acts. I'm sorry you saw that. I'd much rather it didn't happen at all, even against Muggles. That sort of thing only cheapens our true purpose... "

Draco turns to face Lucius. "And what is our true purpose, Father?" His voice is casual, but Ginny can see that his hands are trembling.
"I should like to tell you. But you have not been initiated far enough to understand."

"Try me."

"If I could, I would. But not yet. Not yet." Lucius has a strangely far-away look on his face. "This much I can tell you. We fight for the wizarding world that once was, Draco, a world of purity and power that neither you nor I have ever seen. And in the meantime, we do what we must. In this struggle, the wise man knows that there are no petty questions of means justifying ends. There is only power, and the will to wield it. But all of this is a mystery, Draco, and I do not expect you to understand it."

Draco's face is oddly blank, but Ginny can almost see the wheels turning behind it. He opens his mouth. She holds her breath. "I can understand enough of it, for now anyway," he says. "And I do."

"Then you do see what I'm talking about, don't you, Draco?" asks Lucius, looking intently at his son. "There are certain things that must be understood, without being spelled out..."

"Yes. I see," says Draco, his voice steadier now. And incredibly, there is suppressed excitement in it.

And Ginny begins to see, as well. The knowledge blooms in her head like an enormous deadly flower, its petals dripping poison. She looks at Draco's eager face, and her heart sinks all the way to her shoes. Maybe I misunderstood. Lucius Malfoy never came right out and said what was going to happen to me in the ritual, after all. Maybe Draco didn't understand. Maybe my father and Sirius and Snape are going to rescue me any minute and this will all be only a nightmare and...

"Good." Lucius turns, as if to leave.

"Wait." Draco extends a hand to touch his father's sleeve.

"Yes?"

"Well, I was only wondering. What must I do to prepare myself, Father?" he asks breathlessly.

"Prepare yourself?" Lucius repeats.

"For the... well, for the ritual. And Gin--I mean, Weasley, could I talk to her beforehand? I mean--well, I mean, if I had the chance to do that a bit before the ceremony, I'm sure I could--"

"None of it is any of your concern, Draco."

"None of--but of course it is! If I'm going to be the one who--"

"You will not be directly involved."

"What?"

"I already told you," Lucius says dismissively, "that I don't want you involved with this sacrifice. I meant what I said. You're not ready, and it would dangerous to expose you to it now. "

"But--- but--I'm the one who brought her here!" Draco's voice is agitated.

"And you've done well, Draco," says Lucius. "But your part is over, for now."

"It can't be! It--" Draco cuts off his words and turns away, his cloak swirling about him in a river of darkness. "Nobody else could have accomplished what I did, by bringing her here," he finally says. "I've proven myself. I've proven that I'm ready for this. And I did it all on my own, Father! You admitted it yourself."

Lucius sighed. "No, Draco, you didn't do it all on your own."

"I didn't--what do you mean? I thought you said--"

"I told you that I knew you were beneath the library, in the hypocaust. And I certainly knew where you went afterwards. I told you, Draco... I know everything that happens in this house."

"You... knew?" Draco echoed, his voice faint.

"I couldn't be sure that you would try to follow Snape when you saw him leaving last, although I knew he would. I took a calculated risk, Draco. Only you could go where the Order members went, to Twelve Grimmauld Place; only your mother's blood allowed you to go. All the plan hinged on your going."

"But... but why didn't you tell me?" Draco turns, staring at the older man whose face is the pattern for his own. Ginny can see that Draco's face has gone very white.

"If I had, you could not have hidden what you knew from Snape. And he would not have taken you through if he knew the truth."

"He damn near didn't as it was!" Draco's face isn't white with fear, Ginny realizes, but with fury. She wonders if his father knows.

"But Snape feels an affection for you, Draco; he always has done. I knew you'd be safe with him."

Draco clenches his teeth together so hard that the little muscle in his jaw jumps. "You could have told me."

"I didn't feel it was wise."

"You could have trusted me, Father! How did you know I'd even do the right thing without having been told any information at all? We need the Weasley girl; how could you have been sure I'd bring her back with me?"

"I told Kreacher to make sure that she returned with you."

"So you trusted a house-elf, but you didn't trust me! Oh, that's rich." Draco snorts.

Lucius looks at his son, his eyes hooded. They are a darker grey than Draco's. "Telling Kreacher what I did was not necessary. It only provided an extra measure of safety. I knew that you would bring her back with you, no matter what," he says softly. "Pansy has been keeping me informed."

Draco goes very stiff. "Of what?" he asks, in a carefully measured voice.

"You've been watching the Weasley girl. Spying on her movements. Following her, at times. You didn't think anyone knew?" Lucius asks, when Draco doesn't react. "There's nothing that can be kept hidden from me, if I wish to know it. And it was important to know this."

"I don't know what Pansy thinks she saw," Draco says, his voice low. "She's mad. It's not important. I don't want to talk about it. What does it matter, anyway? All that matters is that you sent me on this thing without even telling me. Anything could have happened to me. I mean," he adds hastily, "I'm not afraid. I'm not. I'll take any risk. But--"

Lucius lays a hand on Draco's shoulder again, as if there is no other gesture he knows how to use with his son. It is a bit stiff, and very formal, but almost a caress. "Don't you understand? You cannot know how little I wished to involve you in this way, but there was no choice. This plan could only be carried out through you. And now I've exposed you to enough danger, Draco. You're not yet of age; you're not a qualified wizard. I won't put you through the ordeal of this ritual on top of everything else."

Draco's face is cold and set. "You say that you knew I was there beneath the library, listening to you. You told Thomas Nott you didn't want me involved because you knew that would push me to do what I did. That's the truth. Isn't it?"

"I see that you do not understand these things as well as I had hoped you would," says Lucius. "Perhaps I have overestimated you, Draco."

"No matter how carefully you planned everything ahead of time-- without telling me-- I did what no-one else could have done," says Draco. "You've just told me that, Father."

"Yes, well, thank your mother for that," says Lucius. "Without her blood, you never could have gotten into Twelve Grimmauld Place."

"It took more than that to do what I did."

"I don't deny it. But you have a great deal to learn, Draco," Lucius says softly. "And the first lesson is obedience."

"Haven't I done what you wanted?" asks Draco, his voice just as low as his father's.

"Yes, you have. And in this matter of the Weasley girl, you must continue to do so. Trust me, Draco, Believe that I only want what is best for you."

Draco does not reply. His face is like carved marble. Lucius studies it for a long moment, as if waiting for a sign. He receives none, and sighs.

"There is no more time to waste now, Draco. Go upstairs to your room, and wait until I call you later tonight. Much later."

Draco's footsteps recede down the stone hall and die away. Ginny stares up at the irregular stone ceiling.

The bed creaks as Lucius Malfoy sits on the end of it. The sound is oddly loud, and a chill breeze blows over her arms. She shivers. It is as if she has only been listening to the words exchanged by Lucius and Draco Malfoy, as if they were actors in a play. Nothing to do with her. But now... now... she begins to think. Ginny thinks that this is the first time she has been nearly so close to Draco's father since that long-ago day at Flourish and Blotts, when he put Tom Riddle's diary into her cauldron. She didn't know then, of course; no-one knew then. But she found out later, which nobody knew, either. I will, I must stay calm. Perfectly calm... I'm so desperately thirsty, I'd give anything for a drink of--Ooh!

She feels something touching her ankle, and gives a little jump. Out of her corner of her eye, she can see that it is his hand.

"Is your ankle healed?" he asks.

She nods, not quite looking at him.

He continues to explore her bare foot with his fingers. She wonders where her shoes and socks have gone. It's something to think about, at least, as his fingers move across her skin.

"Yes, I think it is," he says. "But you'll need to be careful; you may always have a certain weakness in it." He does not take his hand away, and he keeps looking at her. Finally, she turns her head to look at him.

"What is it, Mr. Malfoy?" she asks, as steadily as she can.

He doesn't answer for several moments. "It's strange, isn't it?" he asks her at last. Ginny does not reply, but he keeps looking at her, clearly expecting an answer of some kind.

"What's strange, Mr. Malfoy?" she asks.

She feels the bed shift under his weight again as he moves a bit closer. He smiles at her. "Oh, you don't need to call me that. I'm Lucius to you."

Ginny turns her eyes to stare at the ceiling again.

"I don't allow very many people to call me by my first name, you know," he says. "But I'd like you to do that. I'd like to hear you say it. Say, 'Yes, Lucius.'"

"Yes, Lucius," she says. I can't make any sort of move too soon, Ginny thinks. I've got to save my strength. I must be careful now, very careful, very crafty and clever.

"Very good," he says. His voice is low and smooth, like dark honey poured from a jar. "I'll answer your question now, Ginny. Destiny is strange. Fate is strange. We all like to believe that we're controlling our own lives, but that's not really true, is it?"

Slowly, she shakes her head.

"You're a very clever girl, Ginny. You understand these things, I think. It seems that our destinies are tied together, doesn't it? It always has done. It was sealed when I placed the diary in your cauldron at the start of your first year..."

Ginny cannot stop the involuntarily shiver that rippled through her, even though she knows that Lucius Malfoy must see it.

"I've always wanted to explain about that," he says. "I've always wished that I could. I never meant for the affair of the diary to play out in the way that it did. I wanted you told, Ginny; I wanted you brought in as a willing participant. I've always regretted that it wasn't possible. If it had been, I believe that I would have succeeded in harnessing the power of the Chamber. I should have trusted you; I can see that now. But you weren't hurt, Ginny; I knew that you wouldn't be."

Memories of that year rise in Ginny's mind, threatening to break the dam that trapped them in a dark corner of her mind, and the bile comes up in her throat. She clenches her teeth together as tightly as she can.

He sighs regretfully. "But you wouldn't understand why all of that was necessary, I suppose."

"Perhaps you ought to explain it to me," she says. Should I try getting him to trust me, at least a bit? Could I even bring myself to try, though?

"One day, perhaps I will. There's no time to explain anything properly now. Anyway it was only a part of the destiny that lies between us," Lucius said. "And now it will be finished. Or continued, I should say. Does anything that begins, ever really end?"

He doesn't seem to expect an answer to the question, so Ginny does not provide one. His fingers begin to skate up the curve of her instep.

"You're such a lovely girl, Ginny," he says musingly.

Now they are on her ankle.

"Oh, girls of your age always have a certain freshness and charm, a glow... "

Now they are creeping along her calf.

"But you have even more than that..." His hand stops just behind her knee, and his fingers caress the sensitive skin.

"Have you had boyfriends, Ginny?"

She shakes her head, unable to speak.

"Good," he purrs. "Good." Then his hand moves even higher, to the inner part of her thigh. Despite all her resolutions to stay still, she gasps so hoarsely that the sound feels torn from her throat. "Don't," she whispers. "Please don't..."

Lucius blinks, and seems to really see her for the first time. He sits back and

removes his hand from her leg. "Exactly how old are you, Ginny?" he asks.

She tells him.

He rubs his chin with one hand, but his face does not change.

"There are things that must be done--things that cannot be avoided," Lucius says. Ginny realizes that he is no longer speaking to her. "They are part of the destiny of those who are born to rule," he continues. "We must not shrink from what has been appointed to us. I cannot hold my hand from this, and it would be cowardly to try. But I will spare my son from it." Then he turns back towards her.

"Sit up," he says. She does, wiping at her nose. All her muscles are trembling. He studies her closely.

"In a way, this is a real shame," he says. "There isn't time to bring you to a correct understanding of the reasons why the events of tonight must take place. And I am sorry for that."

No, you're not, thinks Ginny.

"If your family followed the old ways, it would be easier, so much easier. You would be able to open yourself to the power of this ritual, give yourself over to it as girls once did on the high holy days." Lucius moves back towards her, and his voice is very low. "But can't you let yourself feel it, even a bit?" he asks earnestly. "The power is there, and it can prepare you if you let it."

She grinds her teeth together so loudly that even she can hear it, and gives him a quick glance.

"It's natural for you to be afraid," he says, in a voice that is undoubtedly meant to be soothing. "But you don't need to be. Ginny, what will happen tonight does not have to be an ordeal. You may not believe this now, but I can make it a very pleasant experience for you. I believe that you'll come to an understanding in time, and the memory of pleasure will make it... easier to accept."

She spits in his face. She is so thirsty by now, however, that it is mostly a symbolic gesture.

"Ah," he says quietly. "I see that you are choosing not to cooperate. How unfortunate."

That was a mistake, she thinks. But I couldn't do otherwise.

He pulls his wand from the holster at his waist, beneath his robes, and points it at her in one swift movement. It all happens too quickly for her to react.

"Petrificatus Totalus," she hears him murmur, and then she cannot move a muscle.

I can't believe I ever made fun of Neville for being so scared of this spell. I can't even blink... it's about the worst feeling I've ever... no, this is.

He pulls down her light summer robe and carefully unbuttons her blouse, pushing it aside to reveal her neck and upper chest. Her terrified eyes watch him. The screams in her throat cannot get out.

"Reveal yourself," he says, moving his wand over her. "Reveal your secret."

Is he talking to me? wonders Ginny. I can't answer him. I would say something if only I could. His hands, his hands on me, like giant pale spiders walking over my skin...

"Where is it?" he mutters, running his fingers over her collarbone. "It's here. I know it!" Then he looks directly at Ginny. "Where is it?" he asks in a voice that is almost a snarl. He does not seem to remember that she can hear him, but not answer.

"The locket," he says in a low whisper. "I know that you have the locket, Ginny."

Even though she is Petrified and her expression cannot change, she is sure that Lucius Malfoy can see the sudden knowledge in her eyes. At that moment, she is actually glad to be under this spell. He can't know what I'm thinking. I must hold onto that fact.

"I think you know what I'm talking about. Do you wonder how I'm so sure? I don't mind telling you. It can't matter now. I know that you travelled to London to see your brother today. I know that you were not, shall we say, precisely in corporeal form when you did so. But my spies at St. Mungo's see more than any Auror can do."

Dark magic, Ginny thinks. But how? It must have been those orderlies...

"And they saw that you received the Locket of Rhiannon," he went on. "One of them, anyway; the one that your oldest brother had. Once I have this I can get the other one, and then the power will be complete..." He begins to pace around the small room. Ginny is glad to get him away from her, even if only for a moment, but since she can't turn her head, he is out of her field of vision for minutes at a time, and that fact frightens her even more. It is like losing sight of a poisonous snake creeping somewhere on the floor.

"Do you wonder that I didn't tell Draco any of this?" he asks in a low voice. He's not really speaking to me anymore, Ginny realizes. "There are many things that it is not wise for my son to know," Lucius goes on. "Too much learning is a dangerous thing..."

But that's not the quote, Ginny thinks crazily. Not the quote at all. It's that a little learning is a dangerous thing. I should think it's more dangerous to tell Draco only a bit about things, because he'll always want to know more. Even I could see that quite easily... I wonder if he knows his son at all, really...

"Yes, it's best to keep Draco in ignorance, just now," he says. "Until this is a fait accompli. And it will be. It doesn't matter that I can't see the locket now, or find it now. I know it's there. I know. And when you lie on the altar on this Lughnasa night, Ginny, it will come forth into this world." He thrusts his face very close to hers, and it looks oddly twisted, nothing like the urbane expression that is the only one she has ever seen on the face of Lucius Malfoy. His eyes gleam like dark little moons. Suddenly, distantly, Ginny wonders if he has gone mad.

But even a madman can tell the truth. This is the key. This is the reason for the ritual, the way for him to get power. But power to do what? If I knew, if I only knew--oh God! What is he doing?

Lucius's hand is on her chest again, and his fingers smooth themselves over her upper ribs. One of them strays to the soft, full swell of her right breast, peeking over the top of her white cotton brassiere. A wave of such revulsion washes over Ginny that she is sure he must be able to sense it somehow, spell or no spell. And he does seem to refocus his attention on her then.

Slowly, deliberately, never taking his eyes off hers for an instant, Lucius reaches around and unhooks her last garment in back. It slips free and falls to the floor. From the waist up, she is now completely naked.

Ginny's heart hammers so loudly that she is sure he can hear it. She can't help that. But. But. I will not feel fear. I won't. Will. Not.

His hands crawl up her torso and cup her breasts, and the soft, firm white flesh overflows his palms.

"Such lovely breasts you have, Ginny," he says. "So well developed, for a girl so very young."

His first and middle fingers on both hands creep up and around, and deliberately close around her nipples, and roll the pink buds between them. "My, my," he whispers, "what have we here?"

The nipples stiffen under his touch like cherry gumdrops.

Ginny can feel it happening to her, but it also seems to be outside her, taking place on some distant planet a million miles away. Dimly, she understands that this is the only way she will be able to survive the experience, and that her mind is protecting her as best it can. And what if they don't reach me in time? The thought comes to her coldly, devoid of emotional content. This is nothing, not even worth mentioning, compared to all the other things that Lucius Malfoy will do to me.

When you lie on the altar on this Lughnasa night...

You may not believe me now, but I can make this a very pleasant experience for you...

The memory of pleasure will make everything easier to accept... and you will accept it, in time...

Unripe fruit, my little Gwenhyfar. But all things ripen in time...

The memory of Lucius Malfoy's voice, the memory of Tom Riddle's voice; the two have melded into one, and she can no longer separate them. Once again, she is in a Chamber, and it scarcely matters that it is beneath Malfoy Manor and not Hogwarts. Once again, she is at the mercy of someone who only waits for the right time to destroy her. Once again, she waits for a rescue that she is sure will not come.

"Look at me," he says.

Ginny can scarcely do anything else, but she realizes that her eyes have gone blank and unfocussed. She struggles to bring herself back to the present time and place.

There is a faint smile upon his handsome face. He looks a bit more self-possessed now. "You'd spit in my face again if you could, wouldn't you?" he asks. "Oh, I know you can't respond. You don't need to. I know it's true. Don't think I'm going to make you suffer for it, or anything so melodramatic as that. Quite the contrary, in fact. You see..." and he presses even closer to her, until his expensive woolen trousers are against her legs, until she can feel his arousal, the weight of the thing lurking between his thighs. "I find that I don't want to make you suffer in that way, Ginny. Instead, I'm going to make sure that you enjoy this night as much as I will. " His face comes closer to hers than ever, and for one moment, Ginny is sure that he is about to kiss her. "You can deny it all you like, Ginny," he whispers. "But there is more than power here, more than ritual." She smells his dark, musky scent, the smell of locked rooms with secrets behind their doors.

"We both know that you're ready for what I'm going to do to you tonight. And we both know that you want it. You've lain in your virgin's bed and dreamed of being taken by some faceless lover, Ginny, haven't you? All virgins do. But you didn't know that your lover wore my face. Now you do."

And then he draws back.

He picks up her robe from the floor, and her blouse, and her brassiere. He dresses her skillfully, and combs her hair, tying it with her blue ribbon. He straightens his own robes, and makes as if to leave. Just before reaching the door, he turns.

"The Petrification spell will wear off within fifteen minutes, Ginny. I'll be back in a few hours. I'd spend the intervening time resting if I were you. Don't wear yourself out in trying to escape. You can't, you see." Then he is gone. She hears him whistling as he walks down the corridor.

Two years before, during part of the summer before her second year at Hogwarts, Ginny had gone to St. Mungo's. It was a secret so carefully guarded that she frequently thought her own family had forgotten about it entirely. She wasn't at all sure that Ron, for example, had ever even known. But she had gone. Although she had not been on the same ward as Gilderoy Lockhart and Alice and Frank Longbottom, she had seen them sometimes, and had been afraid. If I don't get well, I'll end up like them... they'll never leave. Never, she had frequently thought while she was there. She has succeeded in forgetting, by now, that she had ever seen them. But she has not forgotten the long nights when she would toss and turn in her narrow bed in one of the short-term wards, struggling with her memories of Tom Riddle, and of the Chamber of Secrets. There were nights when the pressure inside her head was too much, and the only way to relieve it was to hurt herself, secretly. Once, the orderlies had caught her scraping a piece of aluminium she had found during a walk on the grounds along her upper thigh, where the undead thing had touched her. "I can't get him off me," she had sobbed. There are times when she does it now, although not often. Ginny knows that if she was not Petrified at this moment, she would scratch herself to ribbons. Coldly, she knows that it's a good thing she can't.

I need all my strength for what lies ahead. I have to escape. I have to find a way. Not only for myself, but for everyone. The Order has to know about the locket, and Lucius Malfoy, and everything. So there has to be a way.

In the middle of her thoughts, she realizes that she can move again. The Petrification spell has worn off. She gets up and tries the doorknob. It turns easily enough, but there seems to be an invisible shield barring the doorway. She sits on the bed, being careful to choose the opposite end from the one where Lucius Malfoy sat. Her mind works coldly and quickly now.

I can't get out, and I don't have my wand. I doubt it would help if I did. I don't think this is the same sort of spell that was on my bedroom door earlier today. Lucius left without using his wand or saying any magic words, and so did Draco. There's only one explanation, then--it's got to be a spell Keyed only to Malfoys. So the only way I can get out is with one of them. When he comes to get me, maybe I could... but the magic in the main room might be too powerful by then. It feels like something that's building up to a climax. Could I get Malfoy back down here early? But how? He probably went all the way back upstairs. I wonder if...

Her thoughts run along these sorts of tracks for many minutes, and she is so absorbed in them that she does not hear the light, stealthy footsteps coming down the corridor. When the door opens, she is startled.

The light in the room is very dim. The one orange witchlight by the bedside table casts long shadows over the face and body of the person standing in the doorway. For an instant, she thinks that it's Draco Malfoy, but then he moves forward, into the room, and she sees that he's too tall to be Draco. It's Lucius.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts. "You said you wouldn't be back for hours."

Too late, she realizes that she probably should have kept her mouth shut. He doesn't reply right away. She watches him narrowly. There is something strange about his movements; they're restless and jerky, she thinks, and he doesn't move with the smooth grace she saw before. Something's wrong. But what? And could it possibly make any difference to me?

He still doesn't answer, but he walks towards her. He lifts one hand, and she now sees that in it he holds a tall glass of water. He extends the hand to her until the beads of moisture on the edge of the glass brush her hand. The sight and the feeling temporarily wipe all other thoughts from her mind. At that moment, she couldn't care less if he was Lord Voldemort himself. All the desperate thirst of the past several hours rises up to choke her.

"Please," she whispers in a cracked voice.

In answer, he lifts the glass to her lips. She drinks greedily, noisily slurping down the delicious cool wetness, not caring how she sounds or looks. He tips it up so that she can get the last drop. Then he puts the glass on the bedside table.

"The plans have been changed a little," Lucius finally says. "We're going into the main room early. Come on, Ginny." His dark grey eyes are glittering, and she can see the faint film of perspiration on his forehead.

A sickening dismay hits the pit of her stomach. His intention is written all over his face, and in the restless little movements of his hands, plucking at his own robes, and in the way his tongue keeps darting out to moisten his lips. She is not even going to have the few hours' grace she had counted on, in order to plan. He wants her now. Slowly, she stands, her mind racing. Could I try punching him in the face and running out into the hall, or something? If I had my wand, I could do a good Bat-Bogey, I bet--oh, but that wouldn't do any good! I can't get out of the room without him! Wait. Wait. He wants me early, before the ritual was supposed to happen, before the magic has had time to build up to its peak. This is my chance. The only one I'm going to get. I have to go with him, and I have to be calm. It's the only way to get into that room.

"All right," she says, as evenly as she can.

They walk out into the corridor together, and she has no trouble passing through the door after Lucius takes her hand in his. His skin burns feverishly hot, and she can feel his rapid, thready pulse. She steals quick looks at him as they walk down the shadowy stone hall. Even his walk is very awkward. He is well over a foot taller than she is, but a strange thought comes to her. He is moving as if he is not used to his own height, or to the length of his legs. Again, she wonders what is really going on. But I suppose it doesn't actually matter, as long as I can get into that room. The more distracted he is, the better.

He shoots her a sharp look. "You're awfully calm," he says.

She shrugs. "What good would it do me to be anything else?"

He stops a few metres outside the doorway to the large room and looks down at her. Then he raises his hand to stroke her cheek. His touch is like fire. "Does this mean that you're willing?" he asks. His voice is very low.

Ginny cannot help jerking back from his hand. She doesn't say a word, but she is fearfully aware that her face carries the answer to his question.

His own face falls. "I thought maybe you were."

"How--how can you think that?" she asks. "After what you did, after what happened--"

Lucius blinks. "After--- oh! Well, never mind about that." He bites his lip. She chews savagely on her own. There is a game to be played here, and she must play it. What do the words matter, without any honest feeling behind them?

"I won't fight you," she forces herself to say. "I promise I won't. I'll let you do as you like... Lucius."

"But that's not really the same, is it?" he mutters.

Ginny searches his face for clues in the seconds that tick by after that. Why this sudden change of attitude? What I said would've been enough for Lucius Malfoy before. I ought to say that I really am willing, if he wants to hear it that much. Come on, Ginny, just say it! But she cannot.

"Look, I can imagine that this won't be much fun for you," he finally says. "This first time has to happen now, quickly. But we'll have loads of other chances to take our time later on, Ginny..."

She shudders.

"You're still not willing, are you? What do you want in exchange?" Lucius asks, a hint of desperation beginning to enter his voice. "I'll give it to you, whatever it is. If I can. I promise I will. You'll be perfectly safe, Ginny; I'll keep you near me, afterwards, and no-one will ever harm you. Would you like money of your own? I can get you that, too. Anything you like... clothes, the sort your family could never afford... jewelry, maybe... I'd like to see you in emeralds..."

I should say something, Ginny realizes. But I can't. I can't.

"Listen," he says. "Listen to me. I know what I'll do. I know what'll make you happy. After the ritual, after I get the power, after we've won... I can save people for you. I could save almost anybody, I think. Not Potter of course, but just about anyone else. You see, it won't matter then. Like that Mudblood, Granger; I could keep her safe, and you could have her with you. How about that airhead, Lavender Brown? You like her, don't you? Or that nutter Luna Lovegood. I've seen you talking to her loads of times at school."

There's something odd about that sentence. But Ginny cannot quite think what, at the moment.

"Their lives could be spared as well," Lucius continues. "Or--I know, Ginny, I know! I'll save that older brother of yours, the one in m--in the year above you, I mean. Ron, I think his name is."

"You could do that?" she asks.

He smiles confidently. "Of course I could. I'll see to it that nobody lays a finger on him."

"And in return..."

He puts his lips to her ear, as if afraid to speak too loudly. "Just give yourself to me willingly, Ginny. That's all you have to do."

She shivers at the contact of his moist mouth on her skin. But somehow, she does not feel exactly the same as she did before, the last time Lucius Malfoy touched her less than an hour earlier. Revulsion is not quaking through her. She cannot understand it.

"Anyway, you'll like it. I promise you will. I'll be gentle... careful..." His hands moved up to caress her shoulder. "And all those people will be safe, Ginny. I swear it."

"All right," she says.

"Say the words, Ginny. Swear that I'll be your first lover, that you'll never take anyone else before me."

"I swear," she whispers, and the sound of her oath seems to ripple through the corridor and echo back at her.

This is the only way to get into the main chamber, she knows. And the Aurors can rescue her from there. But it is also what she would do if she knew they would never rescue her. It is the one argument she could never resist. She herself no longer knows how to sort through all the motivations in her mind. And now, I have sworn... I have sworn...

"Let's hurry, then," he says. He takes her hand again, and he pulls her through the stone doorway, into the main room.