Heavenly Creatures

Together, they walk into the room of ritual. He turns to smile at her just before they pass beneath the lintel. His face oozes eager confidence, from grey eyes to high cheekbones to pointed chin. Yes, thought Ginny. He's very handsome, Lucius is. I do have to say that for him. Draco will look exactly the same when he reaches that age, I suppose. I wonder why I'm thinking such mad things. He's smiling so pleasantly because he thinks I'm about to let him rape me. Could you call this rape if I've agreed to it, though? I suppose you couldn't, really. It was under duress, but I did agree. Not that he has a chance in hell of laying a finger on me. I'll bash his head in with a rock first! The thoughts swirl through her head like dark leaves. She takes a deep breath, readying herself for what lies ahead. Or rather, what doesn't lie ahead, she tells herself firmly. She will find a way out.

Lucius Malfoy's booted foot crosses the threshold. He is walking slightly ahead of her, so he enters the room before she does. The smirk falls from his face, leaving a terrified look. Ginny comes into the room of ritual, and then she sees what he sees.

The very air is shimmering and changing, zigzagging violently so that she can barely see the great stone altar in the centre of the circular room. And directly before them, between them and the altar, is a dark, swirling maelstrom. She knows at once that it can only be the spell cast to draw her back to Twelve Grimmauld Place. Relief floods her. They've been trying to get to me all along! I knew it, I knew it; how could I ever have doubted that they would? And Lucius Malfoy will never get her to the altar now, never perform the ritual. She's safe. But she feels fear in equal measure when she looks into the black abyss of spells. Ginny grits her teeth and tries to run forward, into the thing that is so like a giant maw filled with hungry teeth.

"Are you mad?" Lucius screeches. "We can't go in there!"

"We aren't doing anything!" she yells back at him, struggling to get away.

He plants his feet and seizes her wrist with both of his hands. "You swore you'd let me have you, Weasley, and now I'm not going to--"

Ginny hops up and down, desperately trying to shake him off her. "Let go of me--you foul, loathsome, evil thing, if you think I would have willingly done anything with you in a million years--"

"Bit late now!" he sneers. "You've sworn, and--" In the very middle of his sentence, he cuts his words short and looks down at his arms. They are shrinking rapidly, becoming shorter and thinner, and Ginny feels the hands grabbing her wrist shift shape as well. Lucius Malfoy's robes fall away from him in wrinkles and puddles as he shrinks several inches; his chest becomes thinner, his hips and thighs more slender, less solidly muscular, his legs a bit shorter. His face changes the least; it softens and rounds just the slightest bit, and the faint lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth disappear. His eyes turn a lighter grey, and his hair shimmers a paler shade of ashy blonde. He blinks at her. He is, unmistakably, Draco Malfoy.

"You!" she hisses.

"Oh shit, the spell didn't hold," he says dolefully, looking down at himself.

But whatever Ginny would have replied to that--and she is not even sure, herself, what she was going to say--she never says a word. The maelstrom widens and howls; she whirls to find herself staring into its screeching mouth. Draco is still trying to pull them both away, but the spell is much stronger than either him or her. She feels herself being swallowed up. But even in the midst of the swirling blackness that beats at her and threatens to tear her to pieces, she feels Draco Malfoy's hands grabbing onto her wrist, and knows that he comes with her.

She hates him with a passion. She hates him for every reason she always hated him, plus several new ones. Not the least of them, perhaps, is the way that he has made her feel a complete fool. How could I not have realized that he had to be Draco? There were loads of clues, she thinks furiously. And why, why was I thick enough to make that vow to him? Of course, as Ginny realizes rather uneasily, it's also true that if Draco hadn't impersonated his father and brought her into the room of ritual early, she never would have got out. On her own, she could not have escaped what Lucius Malfoy had planned for her. It doesn't make any difference. He certainly didn't do it for any good reasons, she tells herself. Still, the knowledge makes her hate him all the more. If he hadn't dragged me here to begin with, I wouldn't have had to get out!

But none of her hatred makes any difference now, now that they are together in the heart of darkness. Draco Malfoy might be a whiny, spoilt, scheming little bastard, and he certainly is the reason they are both in this mess to begin with. But he is human, and so she holds onto him as the unearthly storms howl about them both. His body is the one firm, solid thing in all the world. She buries her face in his neck, feeling the soft thick texture of his hair.

I can't believe I'm doing this. If--when I get back, I want to be Obliviated, so I can forget I ever put on my hands on Draco Malfoy willingly. But it doesn't matter what he is, or who he is. Not just now, Ginny thinks, with something like despair. I suppose I would do this even if he was as evil as his father. Though I don't think Draco is... not just yet. Give him a few years!

The darkness beats around them. Ginny sobs. Draco puts his lips to her ear.

"This is taking too long," he whispers.

He's right, thinks Ginny. She doesn't reply.

"Trust those Aurors to bollocks the thing up. I'll bet anything they got the spell wrong."

A furious retort springs to Ginny's lips, but the dark wind howls more loudly then, and a fierce gust nearly tears her cloak away. She gives a little shriek. Draco holds her more tightly.

"Shhh," he says, but nothing more. Ginny squeezes her eyes shut and presses her palms against his lower back, feeling the long, sinewy muscles in his thin frame. The wind dies down all at once, although in a way, thinks Ginny, that makes it even worse. The two of them seem to be floating in a dark grey void. Incredibly, he chuckles.

"I thought you didn't like me. Didn't you say something about a foul, loathsome, evil--"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Mmm. If you keep pressing your breasts against me like that, I'll be as quiet as you like."

"You're disgusting. I meant everything I said before. When we get out of this, I'm going to hex you into a cockroach and then all my brothers are going to take turns stepping on you." She looks at him suspiciously from the circle of his arms. "You're awfully calm all of a sudden, Malfoy. Why is that?"

He looks down at her confidently. "I think I'll let you find that out for yourself."

Ginny draws herself up as haughtily as she can, considering that both of his arms are around her waist and one of his legs has somehow got itself intertwined with hers beneath their cloaks. "If you don't tell me now, you'll only make things worse for yourself when we do get back."

"I suppose you ought to have some warning." Draco's strangely pale eyes glitter like freshly fallen snow in the moonlight as he smirks at her. No! They're not like that at all. They're the colour of drowned worms! "We're not going to get to Twelve Grimmauld Place," he says. "If we were, we'd already be there. The spell's going to fail; the aura cast by the Room of Ritual is too powerful now for any spell of that sort to succeed. Why do you suppose the Spell of Seeming that I cast failed so fast? That's dark magic, you know. Or I suppose you don't. But I do." Draco's voice takes on a preening sound. "It ought to have lasted as long as I wanted it to. And if it didn't, nothing that those Aurors cast will do. No, Weasley, you're coming back to Malfoy Manor with me."

"No!"

"Oh, yes. So while we have this time together, I'm going to... I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse. That's a nice phrase, isn't it? I can't remember where I heard it, but I rather like it. You see, Ginny--"

She jumps at the sound of her first name on his lips.

"Ginny," Draco continues. "I'd like to call you that now. You can keep calling me Malfoy, if you like. You'll change your tune soon enough, I think. Anyway, what you need to understand, Ginny, is that you've promised to give yourself to me. And you can't take back a vow like that."

"That's ridiculous!" Ginny exclaims. "And completely unfair. I didn't even know I was making it to you! And it was made under duress."

"None of that matters," Draco says smugly. "You've sworn a magical oath to let me be your first. And it doesn't make any difference that I was under a Spell of Seeming. That means you can't sleep with anyone else before me."

"I'd rather die!"

"I doubt it, Ginny, I really do. Think about all the benefits involved. You'll be on the winning side, for once. Wouldn't that be nice? And I meant what I said earlier; you can have anything you want, and I can save all of your friends for you, except Potter."

"I would rather shag the giant squid!"

"I doubt that even more." His hand goes up to stroke her cheek. "I'm good, Ginny," he breathes in her ear. "I'm very good. That's what all the girls say, or haven't you ever listened to school gossip?" His voice wavers. Ginny knows he is lying. She rolls her eyes.

"Gossip about who? You and your right hand?"

A faint pink blush stole up his pale cheeks. Strange how I can notice something like that, at a time like this, Ginny thought. ""Have you been listening to Zabini? He's a liar, you know."

She does not answer. The unnatural silence presses in upon them both. There is nothing to hear, nothing to see, nothing to feel... until she feels his hands on her, and looks down to watch his touch in the faint sourceless light.

Ginny watches his pale, thin, strong hand caress her collarbone with a feeling of utter unreality. She wonders if both and she and Malfoy are wrong. Maybe they will never get back to either the manor or Twelve Grimmauld Place. Maybe they will float in this grey void forever, where there is nothing real except for him and her. The memory of her vision of him earlier in the day comes back to her then, and she has no strength to resist it.

"Let me, Ginny," he whispers.

"No..." Her voice is only a thin thread.

"Stop fighting me..."

"I won't." She shivers violently. "Don't touch me there!" His hands have moved to brush the tops of her breasts; he holds her so tightly that they peep over the top of her light, low-cut summer robe.

She squeezes her eyes shut and feels sick. "He touched me there..." she whispers.

"You mean--"

"You know who I mean, Malfoy."

He doesn't say anything in reply. The grey mists around them begin to thin, as if layers are being peeled back from a veil. Draco's face goes suddenly, completely white. Ginny looks up.

The room of ritual that lies beneath Malfoy Manor drifts just above them, as if it were an air-castle suspended from a ceiling by strings. It is still separated from them by a swath of mist, but Ginny can see into it clearly.

Lucius Malfoy stands just before the altar, raising his hands in the ancient gesture of invocation that begins all dark spells. Streams of power flow from his fingers. Draco was wrong, Ginny thinks almost calmly. We aren't coming back to that room because the spell failed. It's because Lucius Malfoy was drawing us back all along. And I don't think that I've ever seen anything so filled with rage as his face is just now. I doubt I've ever seen anybody look half as terrified as his son does, either.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," says Draco in a high, plaintive voice. "He wasn't supposed to come back for hours. Hours and hours... I should've had enough time... I... oh gods..."

He continues to stare at the tableaux above them with an expression of fixed horror, mumbling something incoherent, and does not turn his head at Ginny's indrawn breath. She sees what he does not. On the right side, also above them, hovers another room. It is circular as well, but much smaller than the room of ritual. In it, Professor Snape and Sirius Black circle each other like two snarling dogs, each shouting something she cannot hear. She guesses that no sound can reach her from either of the rooms. Someone is sitting up on the little cot bed she briefly saw before, when Kreacher dragged her and Draco through the tower room. I wonder, were they there all along? If whoever it is was lying down, I wouldn't have seen them. Then she sees that is Remus Lupin, looking so frail and ill that her heart turns over. His chestnut-brown hair is threaded with new strands of grey since she saw him last, as recently as that was. He seems to be trying to argue with the other two, raising a hand to make some point and then flopping back down onto the bed again, too weak to even hold himself upright for long.

The rooms are precisely opposite one another, as perfectly balanced as two scales of justice. Ginny's gaze goes from one to the other, wonderingly. What can this mean? Surreptitiously, she glances at Draco to see what he possibly think of all this. But he is still staring up at the room of ritual.

"Malfoy," she hisses. "Look. Malfoy!" She pokes him in the ribs. Too late, she realizes that it might be wiser to say nothing, and perhaps to try getting to the Grimmauld Place tower room herself. But he makes no response.

A man strolls past her, hands stuffed casually in his pockets. His hair is long and silver, and his skin and eyes seem to glow silver as well. He looks more like a silver sculpture come to life than like any human being she has ever seen. He stops in front of her, a slight smile on his face. His eyes are slanted at the corners, and Ginny grows dizzy when she tries to look into them too closely. I've seen him before, she realizes.

"Of course you have," he says.

She gives a violent start.

"Oops. Sorry. I always forget that mortals don't like that. But your thoughts are so easy to read, Ginny Weasley."

"How do you know my name?" she demands. She doesn't want to take her eyes off him, and settles for staring at his chin.

He grins, showing gleaming white teeth. Something about the expression of amusement on his face makes her question sound perfectly ridiculous. "Well, well," he says. "It seems that you have a decision to make, don't you, Ginny?"

"I don't know what you mean," she says, jabbing Draco in the ribs with her elbow. "Look at me," she whispers to him, out of the corner of her mouth. "Look at what's happening! What's the matter with you?"

"He can't hear you," the man says.

Ginny sets her teeth and shakes Draco hard enough to make him fall over, which she secretly rather hopes he will do. But his body is as rigid as stone. He isn't blinking, she realizes. He isn't breathing. I don't think his heart is beating. She can hear her own breath coming very fast. "What's going on?" she asks the man. "What have you done to him? Who are you?"

The man settles himself comfortably in the air, his bright head propped on one hand. The other hand makes idle swimming motions. "Well, that's not really the important question, is it? The only question that matters now is, what are you going to do?"

This is exactly the kind of thing I was afraid would happen, Ginny realizes with dismay. Nobody understands the nature of the strange magic between the worlds on which these powerful Transportation spells depend. Whoever--or whatever--the strange man is, he might have the power to keep them there forever, simply for his own amusement. Looking at the sardonic smile on his face, Ginny thinks it very likely that he will choose to do just that.

"Let me go," she says bravely, starting forward, towards the man. He holds up one hand. All of its fingers are of equal length, which sends a chill down her spine for some reason that Ginny never could have defined.

"Ah, ah, Ginny," he says. "It is hazardous for you to touch me anywhere except in dreams, and we are not in a dream."

"Why?" she asks, perfectly aware that she sounds like a belligerent idiot.

"It is not given to mortals to touch immortality," he says, his voice soft and very dark. And although Ginny does not yet know who the man is, she has a fair idea of what he must be.

A shudder goes down her spine. She is not as utterly shocked or disbelieving as a Muggle might be in the same situation. She knows that the man--being?-- she sees is a possible part of the magic world in which she lives, although even wizards and witches do not expect to encounter Immortals in the course of their normal lives. But these facts only frighten her more. Rapidly, she tries to recall all the stories and legends she has ever heard about mortals who found themselves in this sort of situation. I don't think any of them ended well, she thinks nervously.

"Where are we, then?" Ginny asks, as calmly as she can manage.

The man shrugs. "You might say that we are in a sort of way-station between the worlds. Time does not really exist here; only duration, and that only at my pleasure. I have stopped even that, for him." He nods towards Draco. "For this decision is yours alone, Ginny."

"What do you want from me?"

The man gestures towards the two spheres suspended on either side of her, first one, and then the other. "I want you to choose."

"Choose?" she echoes. "You mean... choose which one I want to go to?"

"Yes."

"What kind of a question is that?" she asks suspiciously. "I can see that one of them's Twelve Grimmauld Place. Of course that's where I want to go!"

"You don't wish to return to Malfoy Manor?" The man's smile mocks her.

"I'd rather die," Ginny says flatly. Too late, she realizes that it's probably not a good idea to say such a thing to an Immortal, who certainly holds the power of life and death over any mortal living. But it is the truth.

"Very well," he says. "I ask a price, however. Will you pay it?"

"Yes!" she exclaims. "Or--er, at least--what is it?"

The smile widens, turning his face into something that is both beautiful and utterly inhuman. "You ought to have asked that question earlier. It's too late, now. You've agreed to my terms."

"Wait! That isn't fair--I didn't know--"

But it is too late. He raises his hand again, and even in the midst of her other emotions, Ginny is struck by how unnatural it looks. The mists swirl up and around her until she cannot even see Draco, who is still right next to her. She didn't feel the ground under her feet before, but she does feel herself being lifted away from it, and moving upwards. Draco's breath catches, and he clutches onto her.

"What--what's happening? Where are we going?" he asks, his voice pitched higher and higher with panic.

And even in the midst of her terror, she smirks at the thought that whatever is happening, at least it is making Draco Malfoy afraid. Good. Let him feel what I felt!

The two of them continue to soar upwards, the tall, fair man floating just above them. The circular little tower room in Twelve Grimmauld Place grows larger and larger as they approach it, and when they are close enough to almost touch its walls on all sides, Ginny sees that a red mist seems to separate them from it. We're inside the spell web, she realizes. And that's where I saw the man before! He was that little figure I saw inside it when Sirius brought me here. What can this mean? She glances over at Draco to see what his reaction is to all of these strange things, and doesn't even try to suppress her grin. He has turned deathly pale and is clutching his stomach.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he says plaintively.

"Not on me, you're not," Ginny says to him, trying to take a step backwards.

"I shouldn't let go of him, if I were you," the man says idly.

"What'll happen if I do?"

He examines his glasslike fingernails, not bothering to look at her. "Oh, most likely you'll both be sucked into the magical void, never to return. And that's if you're lucky."

Ginny scowls, but she does not move away from Draco, or take his arm from around her waist. "Can't we get into the room now?" she asks impatiently.

"In a moment," says the man. "Let the spell complete itself."

Ginny grits her teeth together until a sharp pain shoots through her jaw. Draco has lapsed into silence next to her, his eyes wide and troubled, his Slytherin mind obviously racing among possibilities. But there's nothing I can do about whatever evil thing he's planning next, I suppose! The red mist between them and the room is beginning to clear, and she can see everything more clearly. Sirius is sitting on the cot bed next to Remus, and Snape is standing over him, arms crossed, glowering.

"For the last time, Black," he says, "we simply need to wait. These sorts of spells are extraordinarily subtle, and they do take time. "

Sirius runs a hand through his hair. His face is haggard and unshaven. "We've been waiting long enough," he says. "Merlin only knows what they might be doing to her. There's something more we can do to get her back; I know it."

"Do I really have to explain the entire process of a Returning spell again?" Snape asks snidely. "I'm aware that your wizarding knowledge was interrupted most inopportunely by Azkaban, but I'm not getting paid to teach at the moment, you know."

Sirius tightens his lips until the edges turned white. "Isn't there something more you can do, Snape?" he asks.

"There's nothing. I've already told you that. Repeatedly."

"Oh? Are you sure there isn't something you've kept to yourself?" Sirius asked pointedly.

"I don't know what you mean. Wake up Lupin again and get him to help me re-cast the spell, if you like. It won't do any good, but--"

"We've already asked too much of him," says Sirius flatly, "and taken too much out of him. I won't force him to do what's beyond his strength." He looks down at where Remus lay on the cot bed next to him, his eyes closed, not seeming to clearly hear or understand what was going on around him. Snape's eyes flick over them both. His lip curls.

"Touching," he says.

Sirius seems about to say something cutting, but clearly thinks better of it. He gets up from the cot with an abrupt movement and begins to pace restlessly, his black cloak swirling around him. "What happens if the spell has gone wrong?" he asks. "What then, Snape?"

The Potions Master shrugs. "As to that, I really don't know, although I don't see the point of borrowing trouble before we need to do so."

Sirius continues to pace, shooting keen glances at Snape from time to time. "Would Ginny end up back at Malfoy Manor?"

"It's possible," Snape admits, "if the spell failed, which it won't."

"Oh, really." Sirius chews on the end of a fingernail. "And what would the Malfoys do then, in this very hypothetical case?"

"I don't know," Snape says quietly, in a far less sarcastic tone than he generally used.

"Don't you," says Sirius. "After all that time you've spent at the Manor this summer, I'd think you would at least have some idea."

Snape controls himself with obvious effort. "I went where I was needed most, Black. You know that perfectly well."

"Yet it's strange how you never seemed to pick up much useful information, isn't it?"

"Lucius Malfoy plays his cards very close to his robes. You surely must remember that?" Snape lays an odd emphasis on the last sentence.

Sirius stiffens, but he continues speaking as if he hasn't heard. "All that sneaking about, and you really haven't learned a thing. Odd, when it would seem to fit your talents so well, Snape."

"I'm performing useful services for the order, Black. Dumbledore seems to be of that opinion, at any rate. A shame that you'll never have the opportunity to do the same. But then that's just the way you like it, isn't it?"

Sirius turns to face the other man, and Ginny could swear that the expression on his face is almost pleased, as if he has been waiting for this confrontation for a very long time. "What do you mean, Snape?"

"Oh, not a thing. Not a thing. It gets rather dull being stuck in this house all the time, doesn't it?"

"It does," says Sirius. "But there are compensations."

"Really? I can't imagine what they are," Snape says silkily.

Sirius takes a step closer to Snape. "I'm serving the Order as best I can. And I'm doing it loyally. Not everybody can say that."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Snape's voice sounds almost amused.

"I provide a place of safety for us all. No, it's not the sort of active role that I'd like to play, but--" Sirius chose his next words very deliberately. "But at least I'm not Lucius Malfoy's lapdog, and maybe even more."

Snape gives a short, derisive laugh. "Black, you've been hiding in this house for so long that it's sent you round the bend. But we're getting away from the point, aren't we? That's not the sort of thing I meant when I said there were compensations."

"Oh, you don't have to say it. Let me say it for you. You're going to tell me that you think I'm a coward for hiding in this house. You've wanted to come out and say that all along, haven't you? But the only problem is, you see, that I don't care what a slimy, greasy-haired git like you thinks of me. "

Snape's mouth curves into a malicious smirk. Ginny suddenly realizes that he has been building up to a point all along, and that he is about to make it now. A dart of fear goes through her for Sirius, who is looking at the other man so bravely and so scornfully. He looks like Harry to her in that moment, and she feels the rush of mingled love and pity that always goes through her at the thought of Harry now.

"That's not what I meant, either," Snape says softly.

"Then what the hell are you talking about?"

"Stop it!" shouts Ginny, stepping forward, dragging Draco with her. "Stop it this instant."

She doesn't expect them to stop, but they do. The two men stare at her with mouths open wide, their argument apparently forgotten for the moment.

I'm in the room, Ginny realizes. I mean, I'm really here; they can see me! But wait--where did the man go? Before she can think about it anymore, she feels the floor begin to sway under her feet. She takes a step forward, clutching at the elaborate gilt frame of a large, blank portrait on the wall. Before she falls, Sirius runs forward and catches her, easing her back and down to the cot bed. "You're back," he murmurs. "Oh, Ginny-- you can't imagine how worried we all were! We cast the Returning spell, but there was no way to know if it would work--"

"Where's everybody else?" she croaks.

"The door locked itself behind us; we were the only ones who had a chance to get through. I don't quite know why. Something to do with that spell of Kreacher's, I suppose. But that doesn't matter now. All that matters is that you came back, Ginny." His face hardens. "But you didn't come back alone."

"I couldn't help--"

"Don't think I'm blaming you." He turns his head to glare at Snape. "The Malfoy brat is here. Happy now, Snape?"

Draco is huddled on the floor, clutching onto the hem of Snape's robes and looking as if he does not know quite where he is. Oh, God! thinks Ginny. He came through, too. I should have known.

"Don't be ridiculous," says Snape, fixing Draco with an angry stare. "Get up, Draco." The boy rises slowly, still clinging to Snape's arm for support. Ginny thinks that he doesn't seem too steady on his feet.

"Oh, so now I'm ridiculous, am I?" asks Sirius. "Isn't this the way you wanted it all along?"

"We will continue our argument later," Snape says, in measured tones. "There's no time for it now. We need to help Miss Weasley as best we can."

"I'll help her, thank you very much. And you!" Sirius whirls on Draco, who mumbles something incoherent and cradles his head. "We've got you now, you little bastard--"

"Can't you see that he's not well?" snaps Snape, stepping in front of Draco.

"Try to protect that slimy little piece of shite, and even you won't get away with it, Snape!"

"Please, don't yell," moans Ginny. "My head hurts so much."

Sirius stops himself and kneels in front of her where she is slumped on the cot bed, half-sitting, half-lying. He takes her hands. His touch is very gentle. "Ginny, I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to ask you questions just now. I wish I could let you rest, and recover... but I can't. There are things we need to know. Will you tell me?"

"I'll try," she whispers.

"Good girl," he says. He strokes her fingers gently. "You went to Malfoy Manor, didn't you, Ginny?"

"Yes."

"Who was there?"

She tries to think. Her head hurts so much that it is extremely difficult to do. "Kreacher, but he disappeared almost right away... he came back here, I suppose."

Sirius's face darkens at the mention of the house-elf. "Oh, we'll deal with Kreacher later. Don't worry about him now. And Draco Malfoy brought you back, so I know that he was there. But who else?"

"Lucius Malfoy," she says faintly, feeling a wave of sickness go over her.

"Ginny!" Sirius says urgently. "Ginny. You've got to stay with me. You've got to tell me what he did to you, or we can't stop him. Please, Ginny."

"He touched me," she says faintly.

Sirius sucks in his breath sharply. "Where?"

"Here..." Ginny lays her hand over her chest. "He took my robe off. I didn't have anything on above my waist and he put me under a Petrification spell and I couldn't move and he touched me..."

"What else did he do?"

"He touched me..." Ginny repeats in a sobbing sigh, and then she can say no more. She curls up into a small ball on the cot bed, staring at nothing. She dimly feels the warmth of Remus's body against her side. The back of his neck, in front of her face, is as pale as death. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see that Draco is sitting up against the end of the bed, arms wrapped around his crossed knees. He is staring at nothing too. Sirius is still saying Ginny, Ginny, but the words seem to be coming from very far away.

"You won't get anything more out of her," says Snape.

A spasm of pain crosses Sirius's face. "And it would be cruel to try." For once, his voice does not hold malice towards the other man.

"Yes, it would. We must learn all we can from Draco."

"I'll get it out of him," mutters Sirius. "Just let me get my hands on--"

"That wouldn't do any good," says Snape. He hestitates. "Whatever you may think of me, Black, I am an accomplished Legillimens. And I want to help Miss Weasley every bit as much as you do. If Dumbledore were here--if anyone were here, if anyone else could get into this room--they would say the same."

Sirius bites his lip, then gives a curt nod. "All right," he says. "Question him."

Snape sits on his heels at the end of the cot bed, his cloak spreading around him on the floor like the wings of a giant bat. He takes Draco's chin in one hand and turns it, so that he is looking directly into the boy's eyes. There is a long, silent pause.

"Draco," Snape says. His voice has gone very low and deep and velvety, a deliciously caressing sound that Ginny can hear even in the pronunciation of a single name. "Can you hear me, Draco?"

Another pause. Ginny cannot quite see Draco's face from where she is lying, but she can hear his voice when he answers Snape. "Yes," he says.

"Can you understand what I am saying to you?"

"Yes..."

"Do you know who I am?"

"You're Professor Snape." Draco's voice sounds oddly unfocussed.

"Very good. I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer them, fully and truthfully. Will you do that?"

"I will..."

"How do you know this is going to work, Snape?" Sirius asks.

"I know," answers Snape, not taking his eyes off Draco. "This shouldn't be too difficult. He's already in a vulnerable state, from the aftermath of the spell and the journey."

"Hmmph."

"If you want me to get at the truth," says Snape, "don't interrupt my concentration again, Black."

Sirius gives Snape an unpleasant look, but contents himself with tapping his foot not-quite-audibly against the floor.

"What happened after Kreacher took you and Ginny Weasley out of the house through the house-elf Portkey, Draco?"

"We ended up at home," Draco says in a monotone.

"At Malfoy Manor?"

"Yes."

"Where in the Manor were you?"

"In the catacombs underneath--the old place. Beneath Stonehenge. It was the room where I found you, when you were leaving with the Aurors."

Snape nods, as if confirmation.

"Why did you do it, Professor?" Draco asks, his voice vague and troubled. "Why did you go with them, why did you turn traitor? I trusted you."

"Never mind about that now," says Snape. "You won't wonder about that sort of thing. You'll only answer my questions."

"I'll only answer your questions," Draco repeated obediently.

"What happened then?"

"My father was glad to see me with her. He said that I'd done the right thing. He was proud of me." Draco's voice takes on a wistful note. "But then we took Ginny Weasley into the other room..."

With occasional promptings from Snape, he tells the entire story up to the point where his father had ordered him to leave the room. Ginny lets the softly mumbled words wash over her like warm waves. She is exhausted, and she already knows this part. The bit of the story that I don't know is coming, though. She crawls to the edge of the cot so that she can see Draco's slack, unmoving face.

"Where did you go then, Draco? What did you do?" asks Snape.

"I went to the far end of the corridor, where I supposed that the magic of the place would be weakest," says Draco. "And I cast a Spell of Seeming, to look like my father."

Sirius sucks in his breath sharply, but Snape ignores him. "Why did you do that?" he asks Draco.

A spasm of some unnamable emotion twists Draco's narrow face for an instant. "I... I didn't want him to have her."

"Why?"

Draco's lips work soundlessly before he speaks. "She should have been mine. I brought her there, when nobody else could've done it. She's meant for me. I wanted the power..."

"And why else?"

"Do you need another reason?" sneers Sirius.

"Shut up, Black," says Snape, his eyes locked on Draco's. "Why else?"

Draco blinks and then does not open his eyes all the way. He seems to slip deeper into trance. "I saw him touch her," he says.

"How did you see that?" asks Snape. "You said that you went to the end of the corridor."

"I came back. I watched through a crack in the door. I couldn't hear what he said, or what she answered. But my father sat on the bed where she lay, and ran his hand along her leg... and then she spit in his face, and he grew angry." A tremor went all through the boy. "He Petrified her, and he took off the upper part of her robe, and he touched her... her breasts. He made her want to die."

"How do you know that?" asks Snape.

"I don't know," says Draco. "But I knew. He wanted the power, and he wanted her; he wanted them both. She would die if he took her. I knew that as well." His voice grew plaintive, like that of a very small child. "I didn't want her to die."

"And that's why you pretended to be your father, and took her to the Room of Ritual in Lucius Malfoy's place," says Snape, with a trace of satisfaction in his voice.

Sirius has been barely containing himself all through the interview; Ginny can tell that without even looking at him. The waves of anger and impatience and disgust he gives off are palpable things. And at last, he explodes.

"Oh, the bloody fuck it was!" he says.

"Black, what did I tell you about--" begins Snape.

"That's enough. That's fucking well enough of this. He's feeding you a load of shite and you're buying it!"

"I am a Legillimens, which apparently is a fact I must repeat," says Snape, his voice as cold as ice. "I am not deceived easily, and never by a fifteen-year-old boy."

"No! You're right. You're not deceived at all, are you? It's worse than that. "

"I don't know what you mean, Black." At last, Snape rises from his position facing Draco, and his face burns with chill anger. "However, I do know that you've prevented me from finding out anything more from him."

"I've heard enough," sneers Sirius.

"He likely had more valuable information to impart. But then, would you even know it if you did hear it?"

"Don't make me laugh. I don't need to listen to more of you coddling him, making excuses for him--didn't you just hear him tell you what he was planning to do to her?"

"Listen to me, Black," Snape says intensely. "Try to think rationally, if you're even capable of it! Draco is not his father. Lucius Malfoy is beyond redemption, but his son is not."

"I know what he is. He's what all the Malfoys are and always have been. He's filth."

"No, he is not." Snape steps forward. "He's a fifteen-year-old boy who is worth fighting for--and worth saving. I must save him, if he can be saved. I have made vows. I have promises to keep-- "

Sirius stands very still, breathing heavily. "Promises to keep?" he asks softly. "And to whom were these made, Snape? And when?"

Ginny has the sudden feeling that the two men are referring to events that she knows nothing about. There is a sense of enmity between them that is palpable, and its roots go back into the past, deeper than she can imagine. She is strangely sure of that. But Snape takes a deep breath, and seems to be trying to get himself under control.

"I am his teacher," Snape replies stiffly. "You would know nothing about this, of course, but all Hogwarts professors swear an oath of loyalty to Dumbledore that they will protect their students. So naturally I feel a certain sense of responsibility towards--"

"Don't make me laugh. You're Harry's teacher as well, and you certainly don't feel any responsibility towards him. You've despised him since Day One."

"I've saved that arrogant twit's neck more times than I can-"

"Let's see." Sirius taps one finger against his cheek in an exaggerated gesture of deep thought. "You're taking your orders from Lucius Malfoy, we all know that."

"I am not--"

"And now you want to save his son from becoming a Death Eater. Noble of you. Where's the Malfoy heir going to be while all this salvation is going on?" Sirius asks musingly.

"Here, of course. We have to keep him at Twelve Grimmauld Place. He can't go back to Malfoy Manor."

"Here," says Sirius. "With Ginny, who we already know he planned to rape if he could get away with it."

"I really do not believe that Draco would have--"

"This house is under a Fidelius charm," continues Sirius. "But those can be broken, can't they? Blood bonds are stronger, aren't they? And when Lucius Malfoy comes for his son as the oldest magic allows him to do, he'll find us all. And that's exactly how you planned it all along, now isn't it, Snape?"

"You are raving," Snape says coldly.

"Am I? I don't think so." The tower room is very small, and when Sirius takes one more step in Snape's direction, the two men are almost nose to nose in front of the gilt-framed portrait. "You're a bit fonder of that boy than you ought to be, aren't you, Snape?" he asks.

Snape blanches back, but recovers quickly. "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."

"Are you keeping a secret, Snape?" asks Sirius. "A little secret from Lucius Malfoy?"

The two men look at each other with utter loathing, but make no further move towards one another for the moment. Sick, incurious, head aching dreadfully, Ginny hopes they will both be quiet and let her rest.

The tension in the room does not abate, but it seems to slide into another key. Quieter, but perhaps more deadly. Snape's eyes are glittering like onyx, Ginny sees. She wonders if Draco is looking, but his head is bent down, and his eyes are closed.

"Ginny Weasley has been here nearly the entire summer, hasn't she?" Snape asks.

"What?" Sirius asks impatiently. "Of course she has. Along with her brother and her parents, and Hermione Granger."

"And she hasn't been allowed to leave the house, has she?"

"Dumbledore thought it was best," Sirius says. "If you have a point, Snape, could you get to it?"

"Oh, I will." Snape's mouth twists. "So she hasn't been able to leave, and neither have you. I've heard a few things about what has been going on... You've been able to keep yourself busy with the Weasley girl, haven't you?"

Sirius shrugs, but his face has suddenly gone wary, and his tone is guarded. "I enjoy speaking with her. She's a sweet child."

"A bit more than that, I think. To you, at least."

"I really don't know what you mean." Sirius tries for a casual tone, and fails utterly.

"I think you know exactly what I mean. I suppose she's served as quite an amusement for you. Tell me, does Molly Weasley know anything about this? Or do you have the wool pulled over her eyes, just as you've done with everyone else?"

"What are you trying to say, Snape?"

"What are you doing with that girl, Black?"

The two men face off against each other in the middle of the floor, like adversaries in a wizard's duel.

"Stay away from her," says Snape. "Nobody else seems to see what's going on; perhaps Molly Weasley doesn't even see, but I do."

"You mean you actually think--"

"I think that you're the same as you ever were, Black, just as reckless, every bit as careless. You haven't changed a bit since Hogwarts. And you could destroy that girl--without meaning to, maybe, I'll give you that much; but you could do it nonetheless."

"Do you think I tamper with children?" Sirius exploded. "That's low, Snape. Even for you. The gods only know what you've seen and done during your sick Death Eater orgies, but I don't--"

Snape continues as if he hadn't heard. "Just leave her alone. Keep your hands off her. Or is it already too late for that advice? "

"I already know what you think of me. What you've always thought of me. You don't have to tell me that! But you don't have the right to even think such a thing about Ginny Weasley," says Sirius, stepping closer still. "She's a good, pure, innocent girl. I haven't laid a finger on her--and I wouldn't--I never would--how can you think, even you-- shut your filthy mouth, Snape, or I'll--" His words choke in his throat.

Snape laughs. "You'll what? Stick pins in one of the voodoo dolls you brought back from your little American jaunt? That's about all you could accomplish, stuck in this house day and night."

Sirius advances on Snape. Waves of sickness and fear and excitement sweep over Ginny as she watches. She leans forward, over the edge of the cot. A pin falls from her hair and onto the floor with a sharp little click. At the sound, Draco finally looks up. His eyes widen at the sight of the two men, who are clearly about to come to blows.

"You're useless, Black," whispers Snape, pressed up against one wall of the tower. "Dead weight. Do you really think anybody pays the slightest bit of attention to you, or listens to a word you say? I suppose that's why you have to use a fourteen-year-old girl--she doesn't know any better, doesn't understand what a pitiful failure of a man you really are--"

"That's it," Sirius says, almost pleasantly, lifting Snape up by the neck of his robes without the slightest strain.

The sound of clapping interrupts them. It is slow, deliberate clapping, with long pauses between each little explosion of sound, and it fills the room. Sirius drops Snape, who stumbles backwards, hand going to his wand. They both stare wildly around. It is impossible to tell where the sound is coming from, but it is as loud as the tolling of a great bell.

"Bravo," says a slow, lazy, insolent voice. "Bravo. Have the two of you ever considered roles on Days of Our Lives?"

"Wh-what?" stammers Snape. Ginny thinks that she has never heard the Potions Master sound so unsure about anything.

The man saunters towards the cot bed and sits casually down on one end of it. Ginny can feel the unnatural heat of his skin. When she looks closely at him, it is impossible to get a fix on exactly what he looks like. But he seems to be falling even as he sits next to her, falling eternally through flames.

"You're the man I saw," she whispers. Her voice is very hoarse. "The man between the worlds."

He smiles delightedly. The smile is such a dreadfully bad imitation of any expression on a human face that just looking at it makes Ginny's head ache more fiercely than before. "Bingo," he says.

Sirius walks to stand by Ginny. She feels the warmth of his thigh touching the curve of her shoulder through his trousers and cloak. The humanness of him is comforting, when immortality sits at her side. "Why have you come?" he asks. But although there is shock in his voice, Ginny realizes that there is a curious lack of surprise.

"You don't ask who I am, Sirius Black," says the man.

"I know who you are."

"True. We meet again, don't we? But I suppose I can hardly expect you to know why I am here, in this room on the borderlands."

"To play with mortals," says Sirius. "That much, I know. Do you ever come for any other reason?"

The man shrugs. "No. But it's rude to carry on a private conversation." He looks around the room. "He knows who I am, this magnificent heir to the House of Black." His voice sings with mockery. "But what about the rest of you?"

"I know your name, my Lord," says Snape, his voice trembling.

"Ah, worship," sighs the man. "Or proper respect, at least. I've missed that from mortals."

"Snape would know all about that," says Sirius. "He's practiced groveling at the Dark Lord's feet often enough."

"Shut up, Black!" hisses Snape. "Do you want to get us all killed?"

"Oh, nobody's going to be killed today," says the man. "It's a nice friendly visit."

Sirius snorts. "Permit me to doubt it."

The man ignores him, and turns his gaze on Ginny. She gulps and looks past his right ear. She could swear that he is fixing both her and Draco with his eyes at the same time, although that's clearly impossible. "And you," he says softly. "Weasley and Malfoy, youngest heirs of the two great pureblood houses... who do you say that I am?"

And suddenly Ginny does know. I probably would have figured it out before, if I hadn't been... well, fighting for my life for the past few hours. That tends to wipe everything else out of your mind! But I know now. "I saw you in a book," she says.

"In Binns's History of Magic class," says Draco.

"You were falling through fire," says Ginny. "It said that you have many names--"

"And you are he who is not to be named," adds Draco.

"But that your favorite name is--"

The man's face lights up with satisfaction.

"Loki," he says. "And now that all the introductions are out of the way... or the important ones, at least... let's get down to business, shall we?"