Avarice

Avarice

Chapter 2

The summer air was cool and crisp when Draco stepped out onto his chamber balcony; sleep eluded him that night. Loose tendrils of his white-blonde hair, freed from their binding at the nape of his neck by the wind, whipped the sides of this face. Summer nights in Wiltshire were never as warm as the days, and Draco preferred the cold, anyway.

Since his father's return, he'd been in a constant state of muted displeasure. The malevolence towards his mother and anyone else that crossed Lucius' path had already begun, and would surely become more frequent as the days wore on. Home had a certain negative effect on Lucius Malfoy, which rippled out to the manor's other occupants; however, it would be nothing in comparison to his father's lashings out on the rest of the Wizarding world. This, and Lucius' promise of introducing him into the Death Eaters at the end of the summer, was the only thing keeping him from leaving for Blaise's immediately.

His eyes traveled to the manor grounds, and what he saw taking place caused the corners of his mouth to curl into a sneer.

Two men in billowing black robes appeared near the forest-whether they had Apparated or emerged from the depths of the trees, Draco couldn't be sure-and began to struggle up the hill towards the gardens. For a brief moment he wondered how Narcissa would react if they trampled her cherished roses-"I only just had them planted!"-but shook the trivial thought with a chuckle.

Upon closer scrutiny Draco spotted a bundle between them, and as they drew closer to the manor he could distinguish it squirming.

"Bloody deities!" one of the men spat in a strong Russian accent; Dolohov, if Draco's memory served.

"Stop making a scene, Dolohov, we're almost there. Imagine Master's pleasure when he learns that we single-handedly delivered the girl to him...a reward, my comrade, is most due," the second man said calmly, dodging a blow from the bundle, which in the light of the moon appeared to be wrapped in a simple faded yellow bed sheet.

"Don't count your nifflers, Macnair. That traitor Malfoy will find some way to turn this entire thing to his favor, won't he?"

"Of course he will," Draco whispered smugly to himself, "and that's why you're only his minions." Suddenly, the holidays were starting to look up.

Ginny dealt a final, ineffective blow to the side of her makeshift prison, in hopes to connect with the body of one of her captors. Her bare feet were capable of little damage, and though the sheet was somewhat translucent, her head reeled as a side effect from the strong Stunning Spell she was hit with prior to being taken from the Burrow, and her aim was more than a bit off. Her wand, still in the pocket of her dressing gown, had proven useless against the charms placed upon her confinement.

Sighing in resignation, she relaxed into an uncomfortable position inside the sheet that had covered her as she slept less than an hour ago.

Before long she would arrive where she was being taken, and the identity of her captors would be revealed. Her memories were vague, but the image of a grinning man in a black cloak surfaced repeatedly in her mind; Death Eaters, Ginny decided, but what it was they wanted, she couldn't even guess.

"We're here, love," the Russian man cooed mockingly. His cohort snickered, and together they untied the thick rope that held her sheet closed.

"Take her wand, Macnair," a familiar voice instructed. Whatever events were unfolding, Lucius Malfoy was involved.

"Hand it over," said Macnair, pulling her roughly to her feet. Ginny dropped her wand into his waiting hand without a second thought, rubbing her eyes until the room swam into focus.

On her right was a glowing fire crackling in its grate, the only object of relative warmth in the entire room- an office of some sort, as it appeared. Shelves displaying books and evidently dark relics covered the far wall, and portraits of sinister looking figures hung on her left. The floor was a black marble, as was the enormous desk at the head of the room. Behind the desk was a tall chair, pivoted to face away from the rest of the space.

Dolohov, a thin man with graying black hair, loomed beside her, his angled face leering. Macnair, who was shorter and thicker in build, used Ginny's own wand to bind her wrists at the small of her back; she allowed him without struggle, still battling fatigue.

"Did everything work out as planned?" Lucius Malfoy asked from his chair, his icy tone daring them to say otherwise.

"Of course, Lucius. We delivered the girl, did we not? And as far as I can tell, the Aurors aren't breaking down your door to get her back," Dolohov replied silkily.

"So it seems...and the rest?"

"Sound asleep in their beds," Macnair notified.

"Are you certain? It seems a...stretch to say that the two of you could take even a slightly skilled witch without waking the other."

"The other? I don't understand," Dolohov faltered. He shot a glance at Macnair, who shrugged subtly.

"There was supposed to be another in the room; the little Weasley girl," Lucius hissed.

Macnair glanced at Ginny, whose mouth had dropped open in alarm. He blinked owlishly, reaching for his and Dolohov's discarded cloaks, preparing to flee. "There was no other, now about our reward-"

"Not yet. I must see her, first." Lucius' chair spun slowly around to face them, and what he saw made his face contort in anger.

"This isn't Granger!" he roared, leaping to his feet and pounding his desk with his fist. Parchment flew into the air from the impact, drifting every which way and falling into an unruly pile.

"It-it doesn't matter, Lucius...she could still be useful..." Macnair discreetly searched for his wand even as he spoke.

"Quiet, fool," Lucius snapped, summoning the Death Eaters' wands to him, along with Ginny's.

Ginny stepped back a few paces, tugging on the bindings on her arms. She wasn't sure what good freeing her hands would do, but she had to do something in the opportunity the temporary confusion gave her.

"Has Azkaban really rendered you so witless?"

"No, Lucius, we-"

"I distinctly stressed the bed by the window!"

"We're sorry...we-we humbly apologize..."

To this, Lucius responded by storming around his desk and past Ginny, pinning Macnair against the wall by his throat. Macnair coughed and sputtered, clawing at Lucius' hand, but the furious man never loosened his grip.

"What would you have me do?" he asked, his voice suddenly dangerously composed.

"You could take her back..."

"Yes, of course, Dolohov...I could take her back," Lucius mocked, dropping Macnair unceremoniously to his feet. Macnair cleared his throat and massaged the tender area, sidestepping into place beside Dolohov. "Do you know what you've done?"

"We did as you instructed, Malfoy," said Dolohov. "You said the bed beneath the window, and we took her"- he nodded towards Ginny-"from the bed beneath the window."

Lucius appeared to think for a moment. "Pettigrew insisted that was where Granger would be." His eyes flashed with anger and something akin to panic; Ginny could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

Dolohov grinned. "As it appears, Pettigrew was...mistaken."

"I think you've been deceived, Malfoy," Macnair laughed nervously. "Now if you don't mind, we'll just...err...be going." The Death Eaters' wands, left unattended atop Malfoy's desk, flew into their hands and they were gone within an instant.

Lucius growled in frustration, focusing his anger on Ginny, who was pressed against the wood-paneled wall. "You've always been more trouble than a Weasley is worth, girl," he barked. Ginny scowled. "But no matter, there's no doubt you will be dealt with come morning."

Malfoy adjusted his fine charcoal robes, considering her disdainfully.

"How is it that you plan to deal with me?" Ginny questioned with intended nerve, but her wavering speech gave her away. She swallowed and forced herself to meet the man's hateful gaze.

He laughed. "The Dark Lord has his ways, but I'm certain you've learned as much..."

His reference to Ginny's second year brought a collection of horrifying memories to her mind. She shook them aside and raised her chin akin to the heroines in her mum's old novels.

"Such gall..." Lucius stepped forward. "Such...spirit." When he stopped an inch from her, Ginny's stomach squirmed in discomfort. "Inside you are overcome with fear." He traced an impossibly long finger down her jaw, smiling with scorn. His changing moods worried Ginny more than even his blind fury.

"Father!"

Ginny's eyes snapped to the study entrance where Draco Malfoy stood, his height filling the doorway. Lucius turned, blocking her from his son's view.

"Your purpose, Draco?"

Again Lucius was distracted, and again Ginny attempted to free her hands, sore from the strict knots of her bindings. It was no use; she suspected they were held by magic.

"I could ask you the same. What is it that was brought to you?"

"Don't interrogate me, boy- tell me why you have disturbed my dealings."

"I've disturbed nothing, father, but you are up to something and I wish to know what," Draco challenged smoothly. Ginny peeked around Lucius' broad shoulders to watch Draco's usual smirk inhabit his face. She hoped the two men quickly finished their debate, for if she were spotted by Draco Malfoy himself, the mortification would be her end.

"It is nothing of your concern," Lucius returned.

"I'm shocked that you are hesitant to boast your scheme. Could it be that something went wrong in your brilliant plan?" Draco mused, striding fully into the study. His angle was just so that Ginny remained obscured from his sight.

"Hold your tongue or I shall remove it myself, Draco. As I will say for the last time, this business is not yours. You will do well to return to your chambers before I become agitated."

"I am inclined to believe I'm right. Dolohov and Macnair certainly left quickly enough...to escape your fit, perhaps?" Draco continued to walk, heading straight for the chair directly between Ginny and the fireplace, which despite its heat was doing nothing to warm the chill of the study. She curled her toes against the smooth marble.

"Stop where you are. I order you to leave, now, and if you don't I'll-!" Lucius was once again irate. His altering moods reminded Ginny somewhat of Crookshanks, the dear cat, but she was nowhere near as fond of Lucius.

"You'll what, father? Put an Unforgivable on me like you do anyone else that gets in your way? Something makes me doubt it..." Draco interrupted. He continued his leisurely walk, torturing Lucius with each step until he halted in his tracks at the sight of her.

Her threadbare dressing gown suddenly seemed even more transparent as the young Malfoy's gaze traveled down its length. She shivered. His expression was unreadable as his slightly widened eyes met her own shifting ones. Ginny fruitlessly attempted to wrap her bound arms around herself, not sure where to avert her eyes. Before she could decide, Lucius' roar cut through the awkward silence.

"If you don't remove yourself from this room this instant you will not be joining me this summer as one of the Dark Lord's rank!"

"What is she doing here?" Draco asked, still staring evidently.

"That is the Dark Lord's concern and my own," Lucius snapped, stepping away from Ginny, given that shielding her would be useless. "There is nothing else to be done tonight but sleep. Take her to the dungeons and leave her there; someone will collect her in the morning." He gave her one last glare before swiftly Disapparating to his chambers.

Draco continued to study her, and she couldn't help but squirm under his bitter gaze. She wondered what he was thinking at that moment. She also wondered what events had unfurled back at the Burrow; was her family worried? Searching for her? Had they even noticed her absence? Surprise was creeping upon Draco's aristocratic features, quickly replaced with scorn.

"What father would want with a worthless Weasley, I wonder." He began to circle her in a predator-like fashion. "Certainly not money..." He chuckled to himself at his rather dull joke.

"It's not me he wanted," Ginny told him modestly, pivoting so that he never faced her back.

"I thought not. Potter, maybe?"

"Not Harry either- Hermione."

"Of course...Granger. Potter would be too stoic, the prat," he said resentfully. "But Granger's got all the answers, doesn't she? At least as far as she's concerned... All those brains stuffed into one head...it is rather large, don't you think?"

"Shut your face, Malfoy," Ginny ordered, zeal rapidly returning due to his insult of her friends. "And stop circling me! What are you, a bloody dragon?"

Draco smirked. "You could say that, yes."

"Must you resort to stroking your own ego, Malfoy? Although...I guess you have to when you don't have any real friends to do it for you," Ginny retorted, inwardly pleased with herself for standing up to the tyrant.

His smirk wavered, but remained, the only sign that her remark had any effect whatsoever. "Actually, Weasley, before you start congratulating yourself on a job well done, I was being serious. My name- it means dragon."

"Oh..." So much for giving him a taste of his own medicine she thought, searching her brain for something to say. "Do you think you could untie me? This rope is really starting to hurt." She sounded more than a bit desperate.

He considered the request for a moment, looking as though he was going to refuse. "Alright, where's your wand?" he asked begrudgingly.

"On the desk under that parchment."

He wordlessly searched for and found her wand, and charmed the unyielding rope from her wrists.

"How are you allowed to use magic outside of school?" she asked, not quite accusing but mildly suspicious.

"My father," was all he said, pocketing her wand. She didn't protest.

"Right...well...thanks." She shook her arms and wrapped them around her to keep her dressing gown shut.

"Don't thank me, it wasn't a favor. Follow me..." he instructed coldly, heading from the study. Ginny nodded and set off behind him. She had been stupid to think that there was anything but personal interest in Malfoys civility towards her. Nothing had changed, and to make matters worse she was now a captive in his father's manor.

He lead her down a grand corridor, dark in décor but splendid in richness. Portraits of Malfoys past and present hung everywhere, watching her menacingly as she passed.

"Do you know what your father wanted with Hermione?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"If I did I wouldn't have come to inquire." He continued on a few paces ahead of her.

"Do you know what will happen tomorrow?" she persisted, embarrassed for voicing her concern but overwhelmed with curiosity.

"You'll be taken to the Dark Lord and he will do what he sees fit. Other than that, I don't know, so stop asking. All I can tell you is that you shouldn't count on leaving, unfortunately."

She regarded his biting tone and let the entire subject rest, intent on watching his blonde hair, slightly windswept and gathered in an emerald ribbon at the nape of his neck, instead. It looked nice and oddly intriguing, much unlike her own hair, which was red and mussed and likely to be sticking up in strange places.

"For curiosity's sake, what happened tonight, anyway?" said Draco.

"It was hot in my room when I went to bed, so I opened the window. My bed is on the far wall, but Hermione's is under the window, and I lay down. Peter Pettigrew was the one who told your father Hermione would be in there... Anyway, I guess I fell asleep. That's all I remember...then I woke up and someone- one of his minions- had me tied in my sheet and was carrying me up your lawn. And here I am."

"My father really is a git if he trusted Pettigrew's word." Draco shook his head and stopped by what appeared to be a plain stone wall.

"He's a git, alright," Ginny agreed. "Why are we stopping?"

Draco put his hand against the wall and whispered something Ginny couldn't make out. The stone began to turn, grinding in its inner workings, to reveal a spiral staircase descending into what Ginny suspected were the Malfoy dungeons.

"We're here," he announced, taking the stairs two at a time with Ginny in close pursuit. "You know, you got lucky tonight. If my father wasn't so surprised at ending up with you instead of Granger, he would have been a lot worse. It's expected he will be tomorrow, once he figures out what to do with you."

"He could let me go. I wouldn't tell anyone..." she said, not even convincing herself.

"Sure you wouldn't."

She momentarily considered fleeing in the opposite direction back up the stairs, but decided against it. She would surely be caught, and the repercussions would be even more severe. With a sigh of resignation, she stopped once again behind Malfoy as he did.

"This is it."

She looked up from her bare feet to find herself in a rectangular room similar in appearance to Snape's dungeon- dark, dank, and possessing a particular foul smell. Two identical cells stood on opposite ends, each containing a cot, a thin blanket, and an old blackened pewter cauldron. The cauldron in the cell nearest Ginny was filled with water. A single barred opening could be found in the center of the stone roof, letting in slivers of moonlight.

"This is...nice," Ginny muttered, pushing her hair from her face.

"No, it's not. Here is yours," Draco sneered, pointing at the closest cell. He pulled out a wand from his jumper pocket- not her wand, thankfully- and pointed it at the cell door. It swung open with a squeak. Ginny saw no point in fighting, so she entered the prison willingly; fear could wait until morning.

Her feet ached and her exposed skin had broken out in goose-flesh. Yawning, she took an exhausted seat on the uncomfortable cot, watching as the door slammed shut, and waited for Malfoy to continue speaking.

"That cauldron there is for you to wash up. Someone will be here in the morning to take you to use the lavatory. Don't try to escape; it's impossible, and even if you do you won't get past the entrance hall. The bars of your cell are charmed with something quite unpleasant, so I don't recommend touching them." He turned to leave, but glanced over his shoulder and added a sardonic, "Good-night."

Ginny scowled at his retreating back. "Hey, Malfoy!" she called, half to irritate him and half because the Malfoy manor chill was beginning to get to her, "Do you think I could get an extra blanket?"

"Freeze to death for all it matters to me," he replied, ascending the stone stairway.

"Hey, Mal-"

She was silenced by the appearance of a thick silk duvet in her lap.