The Quick and the Dead

Draco had never seen such terror on a human face, not even on the day of her death. Her screams were completely incoherent, without even the shapes of words in them, each one splintered and unbearably sharp. They pierced his ears like white-hot needles.

"Don't," he begged. "Please, please, Ginny, stop screaming like that! Somebody will--" His words faltered, because nobody would hear her, except for the house-elves. But the idea of anybody hearing her couldn't have seemed more unimportant at the moment. This isn't what I wanted! It isn't what I hoped for--what I thought--oh gods, what do I do now? he thought desperately. "Can't you be quiet?" he begged.

Her hair tumbled around her shoulders like blood-stained water, and she shook her head in a frenzy, her face twisted with horror.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Draco could not bear to hear her screams for one more second. Scarcely aware of his own actions, he moved forward and drew his hands up, grasping her wrists. .

She stopped screaming as suddenly as if the sound had been cut off with a knife, and stood perfectly still, staring at him, her entire body trembling. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear, but a thought struck Draco. She looks terrified, yes, but... it's not like last time. Not like that day two and a half years ago. I really don't think that she's frightened of me... And it was my touch that made her stop screaming.

A lock of hair was falling into her mouth. Draco reached up and smoothed it back, letting his fingers brush her soft warm cheek. She moved a little, restlessly, but she did not seem to be trying to get away from him. At her movement, one of the candles guttered, and he glanced down at it. The light illuminated the open page of the book, and a single heavy black word leaped out at him.

Danger...

He craned his neck to see closer, still holding her. More words swam up as if surfacing from a great depth.

Many have sought the touch of the revenant, and to touch her in return. Yet in that touch lies danger, and the hazard runs thus...

"What?" hissed Draco. "What's the danger?"

But the page went stubbornly blank.

He stared at it for several more moments, remembering what the Lady Death had told him in his vision.

Danger. Hazard. Risk. And yet... don't those words seem to imply that the risk isn't certain? That there's a way around it?

In memory, he saw again the lovely face of Lady Death speaking to him so seriously, her words carrying a dreary, hopeless heaviness, as if she already knew that he would not listen to what she told him.

It's dangerous to touch those who have returned from my realm.

Draco was not particularly brave, and he knew it. He had always felt that there were more important qualities he possessed, ones more suitable to a Slytherin. The instinct for self-preservation ranked high among these. At this moment, it warred with a desire to touch Ginny Weasley that felt as if it had been bred into his bones before he was ever born. I can't do this, he finally thought. I can't lay a finger on her, not until I know more, anyway. It's not safe.

He gritted his teeth and let go her arms.

Ginny's face crumpled like wet parchment. She began to scream again, more loudly than before.

"Oh gods, don't! Please!" groaned Draco.

She started to sob between her screams, her hands flailing, her hair flying about her head.

"You've got to stop. I can't hold you. I can't touch you. Please, can't you just--" He took a step towards her, and dared go no further.

Ginny began to tear at her own arms. Her fingernails had not grown since he had put her into the enchanted state, but they had been very long on the day she died. Draco took one more step, and then another. Her mouth contorted with her screaming, and drops of blood began to well up behind her clawing fingers.

He never knew quite how it happened, when he remembered this night later on. But somehow he had backed her up against the wall, and she still wouldn't stop, and he couldn't bear to see the blood streaming down her wrists, and his hands came up to grab at her fingers and his arms slid all the way around her. She shivered like a captured wild bird, every muscle shuddering.

"Shhh," he said desperately, stroking her back, feeling the warm living pulsing flesh beneath her nightgown, hearing her heart beat rapidly against his own chest. "Shhh."

And slowly, her screams quieted to great gasping breaths. Her arms did not go around him; she did not return Draco's embrace in any way, and her hands hung limply by her sides. But she grew calmer, bit by bit, until she was finally silent.

"Are you going to stay quiet?" asked Draco.

She gave no sign that she had heard his words, and his lips tightened as fear rippled through him. Still, there was nothing to do but to continue with the ritual. He certainly couldn't stop now.

"Now drink this," he said, picking up the wine glass and holding it to Ginny's lips. She continued to look at him, still a little wild-eyed. "Drink," he repeated. "I want you to drink." He tipped the deep red liquid towards her mouth. She opened it and swallowed, and her fingers closed around the salted bread he put into her hand. She looked at it, not seeming to know quite what to do. "You've got to eat," he insisted, cold sweat starting to trickle down his back. If she doesn't do this... "I want you to eat. It'll make me happy if you do," he said desperately. She opened her mouth for the bread and chewed it. With a rush of relief, he saw her throat move in more swallows. The ritual was complete.

Ginny sat on the floor, her brow puckered. She picked up each of her hands and examined them carefully. She ran her fingers along the inside of each of her arms, tracing the blue veins, wincing when she touched the fresh wounds. She smoothed her hair over and over with one hand. But she said nothing. Draco decided that it was time to find out more of what he needed to know.

"Do you know where you are? Why you're here?" he asked her, hoping that she would understand the words. He wasn't even sure about that.

She glanced around the room, and shook her head. He felt a faint rush of relief. At least she'd taken in the meaning of what he had said. But it's too soon to feel that way. I need to know more.

"Do you know who you are?" Draco asked.

Another shake of the head.

"I want to you to answer me in words." If she even can. He realized that he didn't know if that was possible for Ginny now.

But she did. "No," she said. Her voice was faint and delicate.

"You're Ginny," he told her.

Her brow furrowed again. "Oh. Yes. That's right. I'm Ginny Weasley."

Shit! Why didn't I leave well enough alone? "And do you know who I am?" he asked, watching her closely.

She began to shake her head. Then, clearly remembering the order he gave her, she said, "No."

The only options that made any sense here were clearly to either not tell her anything, or to make up a name. But Draco's mouth seemed to be operating ahead of his brain at the moment. "I'm Malfoy," he said, and then scowled.

"Why do you look so unhappy?" she asked curiously.

"Never you mind about that."

"Malfoy," she said slowly. "Yes. You're Draco Malfoy."

He held his breath, waiting. But she said nothing else.

"You're going to do exactly what I want from now on," he finally said.

"All right."

"You're going to obey all my commands."

"Right."

"You'll do just as I tell you."

"Yes."

"Follow me," he said, and led her down the corridor. He studied her closely as they walked. Her face was smooth and calm. She was softly singing a tune to herself in a clear, sweet voice.

"He's taken her by the milk-white hand
And there he's laid her down
And there he asked no leave of her
As she lay on the ground.
Oh tell me, tell me, then she said
Oh tell me who art thee
My name it is Tam Lin, he said
And this is my story."

A shiver went up Draco's spine, and he did not know why. No time to think about that now. He tried to concentrate on the facts. Nice, neat, calm, rational facts. What is Ginny Weasley now? What exactly do I know about the nature of what I brought back to life?

She knew her own name, and his, but she clearly attached no importance to those facts. She didn't seem to remember the place he had in her world, or how she had felt about him before. He wondered how much she remembered of her life, if anything. Better not to think about that just yet. She had promised to do what he wanted, which he had hardly dared to hope for. Time to find out how far that extends.

He opened the door to the luxurious master bathroom and ushered her inside. He touched the orange witchlights on the dressing table, and they cast long, soft shadows across the little room with its enormous bath in the centre.

"Take off your clothes," he said. This was necessary, of course. He remembered a few specific things that he had read in the book that day, and one was that after the resurrection ceremony, the reawakened revenant must undress completely, and the old clothing must be disposed of. But he could not take his eyes off her, either. He had watched her for nearly a year all over Hogwarts, and he had never been anywhere near this close to her. And she had never before done this for him. She had never known he was there. Will she do it now, though?

She undressed gracefully, without the slightest hesitation or hint of self-consciousness. The wrappings unraveled. The white nightgown that had lain by the side of the pool in the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts over two years ago fell to the floor now, its sleeves stained with her blood. I'll have to heal her wrists after the bath, he thought. I do hope there won't be scars...

Then her white knickers followed, and Draco forgot all about Ginny's arms. He felt his mouth go dry. I'll have to buy her some new clothing. Let's see... some robes, and dresses, and shoes... what else... I wonder what size... He held onto the thought, desperately. She stood completely naked before him, the orange light touching her round breasts and slim waist and long legs.

"Turn," he said, and watched the light play along the curve of her shoulders, the curve of her back, her firm buttocks, her high-arched feet.

Not taking his eyes off her, he twisted the taps of the large sunken bath, nearly as large as the one in the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts. This was necessary. The new zombie needed to be bathed at once after being awakened, he had learned. Zombie...mummy... I really don't care for those words at all. But is that what she really is anyway? The book wasn't the least bit clear on that point. It said nothing about what she would be, exactly, once she had returned. She was singing as she walked down the corridor with me, in such a lovely voice... Zombies and mummies can't do anything but obey orders, and I certainly didn't tell her to sing. And it was the same song she sang before, the very same one...

He chose the scented purple bath salts from a basket on the floor. A house-elf really should have done this, but he didn't want anyone else in this room. He scattered them along the surface of the hot water, and clouds of jasmine rose in the air. But the water remained clear, which was what he wanted.

"Get in the tub," said Draco, "and wash yourself." He handed her a washcloth and a bar of scented soap. She lay back against the rim on one side and trailed the cloth languidly along her arms. Draco sat on the tiled edge and watched her. When she was done washing, she stared at a painting of a Caribbean beach on the wall. He really couldn't tell if her stare was blank, or purposeful.

"Sit up a bit more," he said. "Far enough so that your breasts are just out of the water. I want to see them." She obeyed. He looked his fill, thinking of what a very long time it had been since he had seen her naked breasts. They seemed even fuller and firmer than he remembered. I've run over those memories so many times that I don't even know what they really looked like anymore, he thought. But now... now, I can see them whenever I like... as close as I like... She caught his eye, and blushed a little, looking down. Her nipples were hard, he realized. He wondered if they were like that before he started staring at them.

"Are you cold?" Draco asked.

She shrugged.

"I want you to always answer me in words, Ginny."

"All right," she said.

"And I want you to address me by name."

"I'm not cold, Malfoy," she said.

"Draco," he insisted. "Call me Draco."

"All right... Draco." She kept looking down.

"What's the matter, Ginny?"

"Is this right?" she asked, her voice low.

"What do you mean?"

"Should I be letting a boy watch me naked in a bathtub?" she asked. Her voice sounded genuinely curious, as if inquiring about an unfamiliar custom.

Draco smiled. For some reason, her question pleased him. "I don't want you to let anybody else see you naked," he said. "But with me, it's always right. Do you understand?"

"With you, it's always right," she repeated.

He looked at her again. Beneath the waterline, her body seemed wavy and distorted, but in a pretty way. The reddish-blonde hair between her legs looked like some sort of delicious seaweed. And it's mine. All mine.

"In the future," he said, "I might want you to do other things for me."

"Like what?"

"Different things. I'll tell you when the time comes. But I just want you to know, Ginny, that anything you do with me is right. Can you remember that?"

"Yes," she said.

"Swim a little for me now," he told her.

She dogpaddled back and forth. He watched her red head bob up and down. Then, without any warning at all, it went under the water.

Panic splintered through him. He scrambled to the side of the pool where he'd last seen her, slipping, bumping his elbows and knees painfully, getting up again, ready to dive in even though he didn't know if he could swim well enough to rescue her. "Oh no," he said incoherently, "oh gods no, not now, not this, not this way, not after everything I've done, no--"

Her head broke the surface, and she spat out water, coughing.

Relief surged through him. He leaned against the tiled wall, light-headed. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Water went up my nose," Ginny said plaintively. "I don't think I ever learnt to swim very well."

He knelt by the side of the pool, heedless of the marble grating on his bruised knees. "But you are all right?"

She cocked her head to one side, as if giving the question serious consideration before answering. "I think so. Not that water going up one's nose is a very nice feeling." She giggled. The light little sound echoed off the walls. Then she scanned Draco's face for a reaction, and the happy expression on her own face faltered a little. "Don't you like to hear me laugh?" she asked.

"I like it very much," he said unsteadily.

"Then why do you look at me that way?"

"Because I don't think that anybody's ever laughed in this house before," he said honestly. "Swim a bit more, Ginny. I like seeing that, too. But be more careful."

She nodded, and returned to her dog-paddling. Draco watched, and as he did, a realization came to him. This is what I really wanted all along. To see her like this, and to hear the sound of her voice... And yet I did without any of it for more than two years. He shuddered convulsively. I don't understand how I endured it. I never shall again. It's not what I want. No, not at all.

He wanted movement from her, not stillness. He wanted speech and laughter, not silence. He wanted life, not a semblance of life as she lay in trance or suspended animation or whatever the hell it had been. And above all, he wanted her to do exactly as he pleased. She would never have done that before, when they'd both been at Hogwarts. But she also couldn't very well obey his wishes if she was lying around dead, or at least mostly dead, in a closet off his room.

And he didn't think that she was anything like a zombie, either. He really didn't know why the ritual had turned out this way--perhaps because they were in Britain, not Haiti or Egypt or even Scandinavia, and so much of magic did depend on geography. But as he listened to her silvery laugh echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom, Draco knew that a zombie wasn't at all what he had wanted, anyway. No. This way will be much, much better.

"Ginny," he said, softly.

Her head came up, out of the pool. Streams of jasmine-scented water rippled down her neck and shoulders. "Draco?" she asked, paddling up to the side of the pool where he stood, looking at him questioningly.

"You're so pretty," he told her.

She smiled at him, and suddenly she was beautiful, truly beautiful, her face pert and subtle and mysterious, her lips full and soft and pink, her teeth white and dazzling, and her body... her body...

He held up a hand as she began to swim back towards the other end. "Come back," he said. "Just sit for now. Make sure your breasts are out of the water. Yes, like that. I want to look at them for awhile."

She moved obediently into position, and Draco stared and stared at her naked body, his tongue snaking out to moisten his dry lips.

"Would you like to touch them?" she asked.

Draco jumped. He looked down at his hand. It had extended so that it was nearly, very nearly brushing the curve of her left breast. "I--no. I mean yes. Yes! But not just now. Not just yet. We'll wait awhile, Ginny."

"Oh. All right." Ginny leaned her head back against the tiled edge, beginning to hum softly.

Draco closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. When she had said those words, every drop of blood in his body felt as if it had rushed to his groin. The sensation was actually painful. He didn't think he could walk just yet. He glanced at her, surreptitiously. Her eyes were still closed. He reached down and quickly adjusted his aching self. She began to trail one of her hands through the water, still humming. It was such a pretty hand, small but sturdy, the fingers long and strong and graceful. If she'd pick up that hand, and reach behind her, and press her fingers into my crotch just now... I think I'd explode if she only touched me. And she would do it. She would do it. She'll do whatever I ask.

At that thought, Draco almost swooned. It was so rich with the promise of pleasure, of satisfaction, of desires long denied and at last fulfilled, of--

But it's not safe. Or at least it might not be safe. I don't know enough yet. I can't do those things with her yet. I need to find that part of the book, first. I know I can. All I need is a bit of time.

Draco got up. "Time to go, Ginny."

She got out of the bath immediately, water sluicing down her firm, gleaming body. He avoided looking at her, and handed her a huge towel. Still, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of her damaged arms. I should do something about that.

"I like swimming," she said, wrapping it around herself.

"We'll do it again tomorrow. Hold up your wrists now."

She held up her arms to him, and he winced at the clear sight of her wounds. Still, they weren't deep; only scrapes, really. They won't leave scars. I'm glad. Her skin is so perfect, so lovely...every inch of it... oh, I really oughtn't to be thinking that way at the moment... He muttered a simple Healing charm, passing his wand over her arms.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Er--it's my wand."

Ginny looked confused.

Don't you know what that is?" Draco asked.

She seemed to think the question over before replying. "No."

He smiled slightly. "Good."

"Why is that good?"

He tapped the wand against his chin before replacing it at his waist holster. "I think it's better if you don't remember too many things just now, that's all. Come on now, Ginny."

She padded down the hall after him. "Where are we going?"

"To my rooms. You'll be sleeping there." He turned a corner, and she followed him.

Once they were in his bedroom, she let the towel fall. Draco gulped. He knew exactly what he'd see if he turned to look at her, and he resolutely kept rooting around in his closet. At last, he found what he was looking for.

"Here." He tossed her a dressing gown. "Put this on."

It swallowed her up; her hands were completely lost in it and the hem dragged on the floor. The sight was funny, actually, and Draco smiled at her, grateful to be distracted from his thoughts, if only for a moment.

"I have to..." She squirmed.

"There's a small bathroom right off the bedroom. Over there." It tickled him, actually, that she had to use the loo. A silly thing, of course, but it was additional proof that Ginny Weasley really was alive.

While she went in the bathroom, he took a long winter cloak off a padded hanger in the closet. She came out, wrapping the dressing gown around her, and looked at him uncertainly once she saw what he was doing.

"Get into bed and go to sleep," he said.

"Are you--are you going? You're leaving?"

"I'll be back. After you fall asleep, though."

She caught at his hands. Draco desperately wanted to let her clasp his fingers with her own, but he stepped away. "Don't worry. I'll be back," he repeated. "Sleep well, Ginny."

He walked down the corridor and through the vestibule to the front of the house outside, staring at the full moon until the cold caused him to shiver. There were all sorts of internal Portkeys that could have taken him to the nearest Apparition point at the edge of Malfoy land, but he used none of them. Instead, he walked all the way down the winding drive, his feet crunching on the frozen gravel. Draco had hoped that the long walk in the cold might help to clear his head, but it didn't. His blood thumped so loudly in his temples that it felt like an external force.

The feel of her heartbeat under his hands when he held her at the end of the ritual. I'm the one who calmed her, and the only one who could have done... she stopped screaming, and stopped hurting herself, because of me... The sight of her white nightgown dropping to the tiled floor of the bath. I told her to turn so that I could see all of her, and she did it without hesitation. She showed herself to me without shame... I never thought that would happen, or that it could... Her soft round breasts, creamy white and pink as they jutted out from her chest above the steaming hot water. I nearly touched her... I came so close... and she didn't even try to stop me. She asked me if I wanted to do it. She was willing, more than willing, I think. She offered me... she would have given me...

Draco realized that his breath was coming in little gasps, and his head felt like it was about to explode. He stopped walking and leaned up against the post that marked the Apparition point, trying to take deep breaths. The cold air seared his lungs, and seemed to clear his mind a bit.

.I can't touch Ginny yet. It's too dangerous, and after everything I've gone through to get to this point, I'm not going to take a risk like that, he thought. His thinking sounded rational, anyway, he decided. So... I'll have to release these tensions elsewhere. For now, at least. And then it was if he had known where he was actually going from the moment he put on his cloak. Perhaps I did. Yes, this is what I need, what I must have. It's been too long... Not that it'll be the same as it would have been tonight, if I could have got what I really wanted from Ginny, but it will be better than nothing at any rate. What sort do I want this time, I wonder? No more brunettes, I know that. Maybe a blonde... or perhaps they'll be able to find me a girl with ginger hair, and golden eyes, if they can get the colours exactly right. Of course, the Crystal Palace has always been so good at filling special requests on short notice...

He remembered Ginny's eyes, wide with terror when she first looked at him. He remembered how the expression in them had changed when he held her and soothed her, and how firm and warm her living flesh had been beneath his fingers.

Danger...

But still, she was his now, his creation, his resurrection. And when it was safe--which it would be soon, surely--he would make her entirely his. He would have her in any way he pleased. She's like a blank slate now, Ginny is. And since I certainly know how to make her feel pleasure... well, then that's all that she'll feel when I touch her, because she won't know that she used to feel hatred for me. She doesn't remember enough about me or herself or anything else to feel that, not anymore. So she'll accept me...she'll welcome me...she'll...

A bolt of heat shot through Draco despite the bitter cold, and he gave a long, shaky, shuddering breath.

Enough.

His thoughts of Ginny were beginning to frighten him a little. He ought to have been able to control them entirely, just as he would, of course, now be able to control the girl herself. He could not allow them too much power over him. Deliberately, he put them-- and her-- completely out of his mind. It was a trick that Draco had learned long ago, and one that never failed to work. Or at least, it never had done before.

The winter wind buffeted his cheeks, and he shivered. He stepped into the Apparition point and headed for Hogsmeade.