Rating:
PG-13
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Fenrir Greyback Ginny Weasley Lord Voldemort
Genres:
Suspense Drama
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 11/28/2007
Updated: 11/28/2007
Words: 2,913
Chapters: 1
Hits: 344

The Runt of the Litter

HumbugGirl

Story Summary:
“She’s pack,” he said, running the side of his thumb over the exposed scar on her shoulder… Sequel to 'Bloody Footprints'.

Chapter 01

Chapter Summary:
“She’s pack,” he said, running the side of his thumb over the exposed scar on her shoulder… Sequel to 'Bloody Footprints'.
Posted:
11/28/2007
Hits:
0


THE RUNT OF THE LITTER

Ginny stumbled, tripping over her feet as her vision blurred. The nausea that had been welling in the pit of her stomach suddenly grew stronger, almost overwhelming her. She hated side-along Apparation, and she hated being forced into it even more - although, admittedly, her current urge to throw up might well have been a consequence of the concussion that she suspected she was suffering from. Her captors had been less than tender with her so far.

She swallowed furiously, trying to force the queasy feeling away only to fail a few seconds later when she was roughly jostled to one side. Dropping hastily to her knees, she felt bile burn her throat as she vomited on the floor.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," she heard a brusque sounding voice grumble. Ginny immediately recognised it as belonging to one of the Death Eaters who had snatched her outside Rosings, her Aunt Murial's cottage - the female one who seemed to have been placed in charge of her. She was not overly surprised to feel a booted foot nudging her ribs at moment later. "Are you done yet?"

Ginny lifted her slowly head, rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand. She flinched as the foot dug in again, this time even more insistently. It slipped and pressed against her stomach, making Ginny retch - though, thankfully, she managed to stop herself from throwing up again. She hated to think what might have happened if she had accidentally managed to splash any of the pristine dark robes that swirled around her.

A hand grasped her shoulder, digging into the delicate bare flesh showing there. It dragged her sharply to her feet, and Ginny only just managed to avoid treading in the mess she had made on the floor as she once again nearly lost her balance. Sucking in a deep breath, she was still attempting to regain her composure when her captor switched her hold to her upper arm and used the grip to tug her along.

For the first time since they had arrived, Ginny found she had the opportunity to look around. They had appeared in a wide corridor, before a set of huge thick doors that were standing open. The doors only held Ginny's attention for a second, however. Heart pounding, she dug her heels in as it dawned on her that she was completely surrounded by black-clad Death Eaters, and that there were even more in the room to which she was being taken to. She was dragged along, a constant stream of protests bubbling up to her lips but never quite emerging from between them.

Ginny wriggled, trying to break free from the woman's claw-like grip. She had no idea where she would run to even if she managed to get away, since she did not recognise the building and she certainly had not been told where they were going when she had been captured outside her Aunt's cottage. If there was one thing she did know, however, it was that she had to try at the very least. Whatever happened once they managed to get her inside the ominous looking room at the end of the corridor it certainly would not be good. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, flushing her features and leaving her fighting to breathe. It might even be hell, that room.

Her continued resistance only managed to irritate the Death Eater escorting her further though, and after stopping sharply the woman turned to glare at Ginny. There was pure venom in her gaze, and the small redhead barely had a moment to think before she was forced to shy away from hastily thrown fist.

The heavy hem of the woman's voluminous sleeve grazed over Ginny's chin, smacking against her lips as it followed through. But, the sharp blow intended by the Death Eater's clenched fist never landed. Ginny forced her tightly closed eyes to open, and still cowering away from the furious woman, glanced towards the handsome blonde man who was restraining her captor's arm.

"Don't damage the spoils, Belvina," Lucius Malfoy drawled, casting a leer down at the young redhead. His eyes skimmed over her, making Ginny's skin crawl as they lingered and dipped, and seemed to map her entire being. To his comrade, he added, "I believe the Dark Lord said he would prefer that she arrived unharmed, if possible."

Ginny's captor sneered. "One little mark won't hurt. She's been nothing but trouble."

"What did you expect? She's a Weasley. They're always trouble." Releasing Belvina's arm, he took a step closer and peered down at Ginny. "My, you have grown, haven't you? No wonder Potter's besotted with you. Tell me, Ginevra, do you think we'll have time to play a little before your precious boyfriend attempts to rescue you?"

Ginny shuddered, wanting to reply but unable to make the words come out. She wanted to tell him to get away from her, and to stop looking at her as if she was a particularly tasty looking morsel. She wanted spit at him, and watch him flinch as she marked his face or his perfectly turned out robes.

She wanted to steal his wand and escape.

He chuckled, and watched as Belvina pulled her away, manoeuvring her down the corridor to the doors.

The room was just as large as she had expected it to be. Indeed, it was practically cavernous, and even reminded her of one of the rooms that she had seen when her parents had taken them to a tour around a local stately home one summer when she was young. Rich fabrics framed the windows, deep hued wallpaper covered the walls, and on the ceiling there was a finely painted fresco. Ginny's stride faltered as she looked around in awe, her eyes finally landing on the familiar image of the Malfoy family crest above the expansive fireplace.

Chairs were positioned around the space, forming three rows of perfect concentric circles with a large space in the middle. Ginny was walked to the edge of that space, to stand directly opposite from a huge, throne-like chair. It was fantastically intricate, and it could belong to only one man, in her reckoning. A moment later, her suspicions were confirmed as a tall, flamboyantly robbed figure stalked past the growing crowd to take the chair.

Lord Voldemort eyed the gathering with interest, clearly waiting for them to grow quiet. It seemed an age before he allowed his gaze to fall on Ginny. His thin lips curled as he registered her presence.

"Well done, Belvina," he said, his voice carrying easily through the room although he had not raised it in the slightest.

Ginny was shoved forwards as Belvina stepped away from the masses. There was a certain degree of pride to how the female Death Eater moved, as if she had accomplished something magnificent.

The redhead was far from so confident. She lifted her arms, folding one over her middle and the other across her breasts. They had caught her outside, dressed in her pyjamas - one of the skimpy little sets she wore in summer, consisting of little more than a small pair of yellow shorts that clung to her like knickers and a matching tight, thin-strapped t-shirt. There had been a robe, as well, but that had been lost when they had ambushed her and she had tried to escape. Now, she felt as if she might as well have been naked for all the good her clothing did. She could feel the Death Eaters picking over her with their eyes, and among the murmurs she heard several comments worthy of making her blushing.

Noting her discomfort, Voldemort chuckled. "Well done, indeed, Belvina."

"Thank you, my lord," the woman grovelled, inclining her head. She did not appear affronted in the slightest, when he ignored her.

Standing, Voldemort walked towards them. He almost seemed to glide as he did so, and Ginny had to fight the urge to back up. She started in surprise when he stepped to one side and began to move around her, his eyes never leaving her. When he stopped, he was standing so close that she could feel the brush of his robes against the backs of her bare legs.

Fingers brushed over her shoulder, collecting the heavy hair that lay there and moving it so that it to the opposite side of her neck. He leaned closer until his lips hovered over the newly exposed flesh and, for a second, Ginny thought that he was going to kiss her there. Instead, he breathed deeply and made a small sound of appreciation as he caught her scent.

The tenuous control Ginny had been maintaining snapped. She hurriedly stepped forwards, away from him - or at least she tried to. Hands that were as cold as the floor under her bare feet grabbed her, sliding around her middle. He lifted her off her feet, pulling towards him so that her back was crushed against his chest and then chuckled as she struggled to break free. It did not take him long to once again have her under control. He was so strong; he seemed more than capable of squeezing all the air from her body. The ever present rising tide of nausea that she felt did not help, either.

"You understand why you're here, of course," he said, his mouth positioned close to her ear.

"Harry," she said softly in reply. "You want him to come after me."

"Clever girl," he murmured approvingly. "I had heard as much. Ah! Don't be so surprised. Our history is not only a complicated one, but an interesting one as well. I may not remember our time together, Ginevra, but the tales of it fascinated me, and you - the girl that I possessed and yet had never met - were the most intriguing part of all. You should be thankful for them - they're keeping you alive.

"Now," he said, louder. "The question is what to do with you. Shall I keep you here? I have too much to deal with than looking after a teenage girl - you'll undoubtedly end up misplaced or forgotten. I suppose one of my loyal followers would keep an eye on you, though I doubt you would like the price they would extract for their protection. Tell me, do you think you would like being someone's plaything?"

"No," Ginny whimpered, and was shocked to hear her reply immediately echoed by someone else.

A murmur ran through the room, stirring those assembled as they turned and tried to spy who had spoken. The voice had been deep, gravely, and strangely familiar. It seemed to reverberate, and Ginny thought that even Voldemort tensed at the sound of it.

"Fenrir," he said. "I did not know you were planning to join us."

"I wasn't."

Voldemort sucked in a deep breath, momentarily digging his nails into her stomach as he did so. Ginny whimpered, and twisted in his embrace as she tried to make him relax his grip. She had no doubt that if she ever had the chance to check, she would find fingertip shaped bruises where he had been touching her.

"Then pray, tell us all why you are here," Voldemort said, sounding mildly exasperated. His fingers once again flexed against her stomach as Fenrir Greyback stepped into view, and there was a barely perceptible movement of his torso against her back.

"I have a claim on the girl," the werewolf said.

Ignoring the astonished exclamations from the crowd, he stepped closer, moving with a languid grace that made Ginny shiver, stirring memories of her last encounter with the man. For weeks after that day in the shop, she had been plagued by nightmares - terrifying visions of not getting away from the man. In some, he had simply Apparated away with her. He had stolen her away to a dark, hellish place. In others, he had lightly bitten down on the scar on her shoulder, thus completing the process that her brother had once attempted to start in her, and which she sometimes thought he had managed to do.

Now, Ginny's breathing deepened as she watched him warily. His attention was fixed on the man holding her, but there was something about the way that he was holding himself that suggested he was fully aware of every other person in the room, including her.

"You do?" Voldemort sounded sceptical.

Fenrir nodded, and then looked down at Ginny for the first time. The redhead blanched and swallowed nervously. His gaze was heavy. It weighed her down and made her mouth go dry. He was too close now, she decided. Far too close. She felt trapped between the two tall, imposing men - a feeling that was made even worse as Fenrir casually reached up and pushed her bunched hair from her shoulder with one large hand. The same hand was then used to make her tilt her head to one side.

"She's pack," he said, running the side of his thumb over the exposed scar high on her shoulder, massaging the region. The feeling was pleasant - soothing even. Ginny could feel herself being lulled by it, and there was nothing that she could do to fight it, not this time. In the menagerie, all those months before, the sensation of his tongue moving lightly over the puckered flesh had frightened her just enough to make her react. Now though, so close to the swelling of the next full moon, the male's touch oddly calming. It reminded her of those times when she had longed to let Bill free, when it had felt like there were something hovering just beneath the surface of her skin.

"You can't do anything with her without my say," Fenrir added confidently, still looking down at Ginny. "That was our arrangement as far as my wolves are concerned."

There was a pause, during which it seemed all the air had been sucked out of the room. Ginny forced herself to pay attention, to not be distracted by the proximity of the two men and the way they were touching her. Still, when Voldemort suddenly loosened his hold and spun her around, she could not avoid letting out a startled gasp.

"You were bitten," he said, and although it was more of a statement that a question, Ginny found herself replying with a nod. "Who was it?"

"My brother," she said. The words were barely more than a whisper.

"And I bit him," Fenrir added. "At Hogwarts, when the boy Malfoy let us in."

Voldemort said nothing, merely continued to stare at Ginny. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a glimmer of amusement entered his hard eyes and he looked up at the werewolf again. "Very well."

"I won't have her becoming someone's chattel."

"Because wolves are worth so much more," Voldemort observed, drawing chuckles from several of his Death Eaters."

The line of Fenrir's jaw hardened. "Exactly."

The Dark Lord tilted his head slightly to one side, and slowly peered around the room. Ginny wondered whether he was gauging the reactions of his followers before making a decision. There was no doubt in her mind that, if he wanted to, he could easily have killed the lithe werewolf. It was that thought, standing out among many, which stopped the redhead from protesting. Not for the first time in her life, her fate was completely out of her hands.

"Take her yourself, then," Voldemort announced, thrusting her backwards. She stumbled, and it was only Fenrir's hands flying up to steady her that stopped her from falling. Only then did Voldemort once again look down at the girl he had just given away. Slipping his hand under her chin, he made Ginny look up at him. Idly, she wondered how she must look to him - tearstained and tired, probably.

He smirked, his expression dry. "Just make sure you keep her in one piece. She may be useful later, and I would hate to discover that you'd allowed her to be turned into someone's chew toy."

He turned away, his robes flying out behind him in a dramatic black wave. Ginny's lips parted, shock seeping through her. That could not be the end. It simply could not. Another Death Eater was already stepping forwards with the next item, however. He took centre stage on the floor, and she was suddenly forgotten except for the odd lingering look from one of the seated Death Eaters, and Fenrir.

The werewolf ran a hand up her back. He rubbed her shoulder and then drew her to his side, as if tucking her under his wing. The ripple of gratefulness that ran through Ginny was thoroughly unexpected, and yet somehow it managed to seem natural. He was warm, and solid, and Ginny was too dazed to think how absurd it was that she should feel safer with a notoriously vicious werewolf.

"Come," he said in a gruff, low voice. It was obvious there was no room for argument, and Ginny was not sure that she even wanted to when the alternative was to remain within Voldemort's immediate reach. He guided her to the edge of the circle and past the Death Eaters.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, growing irritated with herself when the words came out shaky.

Fenrir glanced down at her. "Home," he said simply.

THE END