Galatea

Chapter Five

Nimue

So by [Nimue's] subtle working she made Merlin to go under that

stone to let her wit of the marvels there; but she wrought so

there for him that he came never out for all the craft he could

do. And so she departed and left Merlin.

--Le Morte d'Arthur Book IV Chapter I

Delia strolled into the solarium, trying to keep her features schooled into a mask of nonchalance. No one could know that she'd just had an illicit meeting with an Auror, not even when that Auror was her twin. Family was family, and Dana was the most important person in the world to her, but she doubted her fellows would see things that way.

"Where have you been?" Andrea demanded when Delia entered the room. Before Delia could think of a plausible lie, Andrea continued, "Never mind. You've missed a lot."

"Have I?"

Andrea filled her in on the Pendragon's sudden appearance. Delia stared. "You're telling me she's here? Right now?" She wondered if Ginny and Draco had linked minds yet, but didn't ask.

"Draco took dinner in to her twenty minutes ago. Do you want to see?" her fellow Death Eater asked. "They have a spy mirror in the room. We can check his progress."

"All right," Delia agreed, both because she didn't have anything better to do and because it would get her out of answering questions about her whereabouts that evening. A trip to the Malfoy library to research possible causes of the change in her powers would have to wait. The Pendragon was much more important.

* * * * *

"Look who's here," Pansy said. The third-floor room was a small space, made all the more cramped by the large number of people jammed inside. A free-standing oval mirror leaned against the wall. Rather than showing reflections, it was a window to the fifth-floor room where Draco had installed Ginny Weasley, a direct connection to an identical mirror in her prison. Delia suspected this room, like many in Malfoy Manor, had been set aside for less than wholesome reasons. There were undoubtedly members of Voldemort's circle who enjoyed watching women being tortured and raped, though they might not have the stomach to do it themselves. The thought made Delia shudder, and the room seemed closer than ever.

It was dark, the only light coming from the mirror. The candle-glow from Ginny's prison spilled out of the gold frame and bathed their faces in its soft light. There was a table, as well as several armchairs. Some members of the faction were sitting on the floor. All stared at the glass, transfixed, watching their leader at work. "Take a seat," Pansy invited, rising from her chair. "We wouldn't want you to miss any of this, would we?"

Delia couldn't quite figure out the cause of Pansy's tone; there was something jeering in its sticky sweetness.

"Shut it," Blaise said. "Delia doesn't need to concern herself with this Auror whore. What's your problem, Pansy?"

"My problem?" Pansy asked, feigning offense. "I'm just offering my good friend Delia a front row seat to the show of the year."

Now Delia was extremely suspicious.

Grace said, "Come on. She doesn't need to see all that."

"All what?" Delia asked.

"Nothing," three people said at once.

She stepped over a few of the people on the floor, but Neil stood and blocked her view. "It's not important," he said, taking hold of her shoulders, preventing her from moving. "Really, it's not."

"You all are in here, glued to this mirror like it's the best movie you've seen," Delia said with a nervous smile. "What's going on?"

Pansy laughed. "Movie? Oh, of course. You're Muggle raised, aren't you. How charming, and it explains so much."

Delia frowned. She didn't like to be reminded of her youth spent with the Muggles, especially here, in front of the entire faction. "Neil, get out of my way. What's going on that's so..." She leaned around the Death Eater and trailed off at the image in the mirror. Draco and Ginny Weasley sat across a table from each other. He held her hand, and with his other, reached out and gently trailed a finger across her cheek, a wicked smile on his face. And she...she was wearing his robe. Just then, the door cracked open and a terrified-looking elf stuck his head in.

"Miss Delia?" the creature said. "Master Draco said he'd been unavoidably detained."

"Unavoidably detained?" Delia asked sharply. "What does that mean?"

"It means you shouldn't expect him before breakfast," Pansy said with a mean laugh.

Delia turned from the mirror to look at the little servant, who seemed very miserable indeed. Her gaze played around the room, all the pitying eyes, Pansy's smug face. Drawing a deep breath, Delia gathered as much dignity as she could muster, thanked the elf, and left without another word. Before the door closed, she heard Pansy say, "Poor, Muggle-raised dear. It must be such a shock. I heard he requested the strongest lust potion in Snape's stores."

She'd go to his rooms and wait for him, even if it took all night. The bastard had some explaining to do.

* * * * *

Delia leaned against one of the bedposts and watched Draco through narrowed eyes. His hair was slightly disheveled and it seemed he'd left his robe with Ginny. Or, rather, on Ginny. Glancing at the clock, she noted that, while it was late, he had at least not spent the whole night with the Pendragon, which gave Delia some small comfort. Draco didn't seem to have noticed her, so she stood quietly and waited. She'd give him a chance to confess before she let him have it.

He walked straight to the table and took the stopper from the brandy. To Delia's surprise, he didn't even bother with a glass, but drank straight from the bottle. She knew the exact moment he noticed her. His shoulders tensed and he turned towards the bed, but when he saw who stood there, he relaxed again. Still, his words were anything but welcoming. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Delia straightened and walked over, taking the bottle from his grasp and pouring him a glass, which she pressed into his hand. "I had a message that you would be late, so I thought I'd save you the walk to my room," she answered, sounding much calmer than she felt. "You look tired. Rough night?"

He leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to her mouth. "Wonderful night. You have no idea. Ginny Weasley is here, in the house. She fell right into my lap."

I'll just bet she did, thought Delia. "Really?" she said with a broad smile. "And how is the poor thing?" She watched him carefully, gauging his reaction.

Draco laughed. "She's one third furious and two thirds drunk. She'll come around, though, make no mistake."

"Oh, I have complete faith in your powers of persuasion," she told him. "You'll have her eating out of your hand soon." Delia leaned back against the table with a coy smile.

Finally, something pierced his alcohol and ego muddled brain. "Are you all right?" Draco asked with a slight frown. "You're acting strangely."

"Am I?" she asked, "I hadn't noticed. Did you enjoy yourself?"

Draco looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "Enjoy myself? With that...that Weasley? What the hell do you take me for?"

"Come off it, Malfoy," Delia snapped. "I saw you through the mirror. You were holding her hand. She was wearing your clothes!"

He rolled his eyes. "Jealousy isn't flattering on you, Delia. She was wearing my clothes because the ones the elves brought her were completely unsuitable. They were see-through, for gods' sake. I couldn't very well negotiate with someone who's practically naked."

"Really?" Delia challenged, "It didn't stop you the other night. As I recall, I wasn't wearing anything at all. And I'm not jealous, I'm angry. If you want to play with someone else that's fine but I won't be made a fool of. That elf was practically shouting it from the rooftops that you were spending the night with the Weasley bitch."

"You're doing a damn good impersonation of someone who's jealous," he sneered, "for a person who isn't, at all." Draco set his glass on the table and leaned in, his face a bare inch from hers. "What's this really about, Delia? Tell the truth."

She didn't even flinch at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. "It's about the fact that everyone is convinced that you've thrown me over, quite publicly with the faction I might add, for her. Do you think I enjoyed their pity, Draco? Because I didn't." Her eyes flashed pure silver before settling back to a stormy gray.

Now he laughed, long and loud. "The next time you decide to take a fit of jealousy, darling, talk to me first. I never even touched Ginny, whatever the others might think. I'm not one to take Potter's leavings, thank you very much."

Delia bristled at his tone. "You might want to inform everyone else then. If you had heard Pansy, and her disgusting, patronizing -"

He arched an eyebrow. "And you care what Pansy thinks because?"

"Because I'm not a fool, Draco Malfoy, and I won't be thought of as one," she told him, "nor do I care to have it insinuated that you slept with me out of pity because I'm the 'poor Muggle-raised dear.' " The sarcasm rolled off her tongue. "I pull my own weight around here, which is more than can be said for some of them."

"Of course you do," he said, resting his hands gently on her shoulders. "No one is implying otherwise. If they are, send them to me and I'll straighten them out. Look, Delia, nothing happened between Ginny and me, I promise. She's Agent Jezebel, for goddess's sake. She hates me. It's mutual. She's a...she's a Weasley."

Delia wouldn't be mollified that easily. "So what does it matter that she's Agent Jezebel? Or that's she's a Weasley? You don't request the strongest lust potion in the Manor if you don't plan on using it," she seethed.

"I didn't use it," Draco said, releasing her abruptly and taking a step back. He'd gone out of his way to reassure her and still she insisted on harping at him. Now, he was irritated. "If you don't believe me, there's the door."

"Fine," Delia spat. "If you need me in the next hour, I'll be packing." She turned to walk out.

Draco opened his mouth to call her back, ask her to stay, but then he thought, What the hell am I doing? A voice echoed in his head...Caring about someone else, maybe? It was Ginny. Bloody fucking hell.

Draco scowled and shouted, "Fine! Don't forget, though, you swore an oath. If you so much as set foot outside this house tonight, consider yourself forsworn and say goodbye to your birth parents." The slam of his door echoed in the room.

He stood, glass still in hand, feeling at a loss. Usually, lashing out at others made him feel better, or at least gave him some kind of satisfaction. Now, though, he felt strangely discontented. He wanted to go after Delia, but pride kept him in place. He was just pouring himself another drink when Ginny's voice spoke once again in his head. Even telepathically, her words were slightly slurred. You've really done it now, Malfoy.

"What is this?" he yelled, slamming his glass down on the table and looking wildly around the room. "What the hell kind of magic is -"

Ginny laughed. Consider it a perk. You don't have to speak out loud. I can hear you just fine.

How much? he asked, slightly horrified and more than a little embarrassed. He rarely lost control and raised his voice. He couldn't afford to do so in front of the Pendragon. Too much was at stake.

Oh, she replied lightly, only every last word.

He didn't believe her. It was impossible. Prove it, Weasley.

Ginny said, One third furious and two-thirds drunk. She'll come around eventually, make no mistake. Except that I won't. There's no way in hell I'd ever go along with your plan. And do you want to know why?

"You're drunk," he said, forgetting to speak silently. "You're completely pissed. We'll talk tomorrow, when you've sobered up. I'll have the elves bring you a potion."

Screw your elves, screw your potions, and screw you, she hissed. It was a decidedly unpleasant feeling. Draco could feel her anger, the fury and resentment and fear that burned inside of her, as closely as though it were a part of him. Maybe it was. You're a sociopath, and I don't want to have anything to do with you, ever. He wasn't a sociopath; she'd never met anyone with such a precise grip on sanity as Draco Malfoy. Goddess knew she didn't enjoy the same.

Draco knew Ginny was lying, and said as much. Do you know why you won't make a deal with me? Why you've turned it down without even taking the time to think about it? Because you know that if you let yourself consider our bargain, you'll be tempted to say yes. And why shouldn't you be? I'm offering you exactly what you want.

You don't have the first clue what I want.

Neither do you, he countered, but I promise, when I figure it out, you'll be the first to know.

Ginny was silent for a long time. Draco wondered if she'd passed out, but just as he was leaving to check on her, she spoke again. You should talk to her.

To whom? he asked, although he knew full well whom she meant.

Delia. She's really going, and I don't like you well enough to let you cry on my shoulder.

She's not leaving, Draco said confidently.

Her words wet with firewhisky, Ginny said, If she's anything like her sister, then she has pride enough to spare and she'll leave you just to prove that she can. She might come back, but she might not. Do you want to take that chance?

Draco considered that for a moment. No, he didn't want to take the chance. He wouldn't soon forget the way Delia had talked him back from the brink of despair. Why do you care? he asked Ginny.

He felt her shrug. I'm benevolent when I'm drunk.

Draco almost argued at the supposed benevolence of Agent Jezebel, but quickly changed his mind. Time was short. The Pendragon could wait. Right now, he had to get some sobriety potion, then find Delia.

* * * * *

Delia surveyed her packed belongings. Should she risk a transporting charm? After what had happened in the forest with the summoning charm, she was leery of even trying. Finally, she just called for a house elf and told it to have her things delivered to her parents' house. She'd find another place to live tomorrow and get her boxes then.

There was a soft knock at the door, but Draco pushed it open without waiting for permission to enter. He surveyed the mess. "What are you doing?"

Delia stiffened, but didn't turn around. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're leaving. Do you remember our contract?" His voice was smooth and calm, with no trace of the drunken anger that had been there before.

"Better than you do, apparently," she said. "Our contract only called for my loyalty. It never said I had to live in your home to give it." She turned and picked up the only photo she kept of her twin, taken when they were sixth years, and placed it in her bag. "That's the last of it. Do you have anything to say? If not, then goodbye."

He caught her arm as she walked past and pulled her back and searched her face for some sign that she was bluffing, testing him, but saw nothing to indicate that she wasn't serious. He couldn't let her leave; that's all there was to it. "Would you believe me if I drank Veritaserum?"

Delia considered his offer. "I might. I'll let you know." Her anger had cooled but she wasn't about to fall into his arms and forgive him. She had more pride than that.

Draco heaved an inward sigh of relief. The situation was salvageable. All he had to do was convince her that she was invaluable to the cause, that they couldn't go forward without her. His thoughts fell headfirst into a viable plan, and then he smiled. "You'll let me know, will you? Will you stay while you think about it, at least? I need someone to give me a second opinion on how to approach this situation. Blaise is useless, since Ginny is the one who killed Shannon."

Delia quirked an eyebrow, "This situation? I thought you had it all planned out." He couldn't be having second thoughts now could he?

"Plans depend on both parties behaving the way they're supposed to," Draco explained. "Everything about this girl is unpredictable. She...I don't know. Blaise would have me throw her in the dungeon and put her on the rack until she sees the light. I'm thinking subtlety is the way to go."

"She's a Gryffindor," Delia pointed out as she sat on the lid of her closed trunk and looked up at him. "Subtlety is wasted on people like her."

"All right," Draco replied, fighting to keep his tone even. At least she wasn't standing, ready to walk out the door. It was a start. "Do you have any ideas, then?"

"I might," Delia told him. "Will you quit glaring and let me think?"

He forced his eyes into a neutral expression and stepped back, folding his arms across his chest. She was going to stay. He could see it in her face. Somewhere in the back of his mind Ginny's voice echoed, Well done, Malfoy. The bit about Zabini was a nice touch.

Every word of it was true, Draco replied. Don't ever be alone with Blaise. I guarantee it would end badly for one of you.

Probably for him, Ginny pointed out wryly.

A little privacy, please? Draco demanded. You told me to go after her, and I can't think with you talking in my head.

There was no answer.

Delia motioned to a chair. As Draco sat, she asked, "What have you tried so far?"

He shrugged. "Talking to her. It's what I do best. I discredited Potter; did a damn good job of it, by the way. She'll not forget what I said anytime soon. I explained how things are, laid out her options, opened negotiation.... She wasn't having it."

Delia thought for a moment, unconsciously grabbing a lock of hair and twisting it in her fingers. "She's still entrenched in the thinking that Dumbledore pounded into her. Talking won't work; she's had talking in her direction for too long. You need another approach." She frowned and put her hand to her forehead; she was suddenly dizzy.

Draco replied, but Delia couldn't hear what he was saying. His voice came as though from far away and her head felt thick, filled with smoke; thoughts were coming very slowly. She felt her Old Magic uncurl within her and streak up towards her mouth, pushing words out that she had no intention of saying. "Perhaps...no, that won't work." A cruel smile curled across her lips as she dropped her hair and walked over to Draco. "I just might have a solution for you."

He was encouraged by the lascivious glint in her eyes. She must have decided to forgive him, because she certainly didn't look angry. "And that would be?" Draco asked, leaning in and winding his arms around her waist.

Delia sank into his lap. "Make her want to help you. Out of love." she said the last with derision.

Draco's eyes widened. He must not have heard correctly. "Love?"

"Stranger things have happened," Delia purred, catching his earlobe between her teeth.

He pulled back and looked her in the face, his expression grave. "You were ready to leave because it looked like I may have slept with her. Now you're encouraging me to do just that. What's the catch? I won't be played, if that's what you're trying to do. You can't make a suggestion like this and then tell me next week that you didn't mean it or that you've changed your mind or -"

"All right," Delia interrupted, forcing the words past the silver fire that had taken hold of her throat. "Not love." She didn't want Draco falling in love with Ginny; that would destroy everything he'd worked to build. If Ginny fell in love with him, however.... "But you should be able to handle lust without the help of a potion, I'd think. Chemically induced desires are never as effective as the real thing."

Draco was thoughtful. "Do you really think it could work? If I slept with her -"

"I think it might," Delia confirmed, her lips against his. "It can't hurt to try."

Draco closed his arms around her and lost himself in the kiss. When she finally pulled away, he said, "If you'd like, I could tell the rest of the faction about our plan. They wouldn't pity you or -"

She silenced him with another, swift kiss. "That won't be necessary," she purred. "It's enough that I know."

"And you swear you won't change your mind?" he murmured into her hair.

"I swear," she whispered, tipping her head up to look into his eyes. The contractual magic sparked between them, and the smoke cleared from Delia's mind. Her thoughts crystallized, and her words echoed in her ears. She jumped to her feet and recoiled, hand over her mouth.

Draco frowned. "What? You didn't expect me to make an agreement like that without some kind of insurance?"

"No," Delia murmured, "of course not." She wasn't listening, though. Her entire mind was focused on what had just happened; her powers had turned against her and taken control. She needed to get to the library and find out what was going on. For a moment, looking at the genuine concern on his face, she almost told him everything: her clandestine meeting with Dana, the abrupt increase in the strength of their Otherworldly powers, the fact that it had not been she who made the suggestion that he seduce Ginny, but something beyond this plane of existence. She almost confessed...but she couldn't. It was too much. She and Dana would solve it on their own; she couldn't let him see her as a liability to his organization, to his plan. This was where she belonged, and if he discovered that she'd lost control of her powers and had been secretly meeting with a senior Auror, he'd cast her out without a second thought.

"Are you feeling well?" Draco asked. He stood and walked over to her, opened his arms, and she leaned into the warm embrace.

"I'm fine, just a little..." Her mind raced to fix on a plausible story. "I'm at loose ends. You recruited me to find the Pendragon, in case Dumbledore hid her from you. You have her now; it's a nonissue. I'm feeling unnecessary." She couldn't believe she'd just lied to him; she'd never done so before. She felt unpleasantly guilty. He deserved her honesty. She owed him that much, at least. She couldn't give it, though. If he knew what was truly going on, he'd expel her from the faction. This was the only way.

"Don't," he murmured into her hair. "Of course you're necessary. You and Blaise are the two people in the world I trust the most."

Delia didn't reply; she just wrapped her arms tighter around his waist. He squeezed her back, then looked down into her eyes and smiled. "I know what to do."

"What?" she whispered, her eyes fixed on his lips.

"You can watch her. I'm putting you in charge of her security team."

Delia blinked in surprise, hardly sure she'd heard correctly. "I beg your pardon? I can watch her?"

"Well," he explained, "you'll hardly feel unnecessary then. Set up a command post on the other end of the spy mirror. You'll set up shifts to watch her, keep me informed, and sound the alarm if she escapes or - I don't know - takes a hostage or something. You're invaluable to this organization, Delia. We couldn't get on without you."

She had to accept or risk making him suspicious, so she pasted a smile on her face and whispered, "Thank you," as she leaned up, cupped the back of his neck in her palm, and gently pulled his head down for a kiss.

* * * * *

Macha leaned over the pool and watched the embrace, one head white-blond, the other a dark red. "I can't quite believe you just did that."

MórrÃÂ-gan lounged beside her. "Otherworldly power is what it is, under the dominion of the triad. This was my last chance to influence her before Badb seizes complete control."

"It will happen soon, then?"

MórrÃÂ-gan didn't reply. The tight set of her mouth and the stormy concern in her eyes were all the answer Macha needed. She tried again, "The girl is falling in love with the protector and he with her, and you've forced her to send him into the Pendragon's bed. Jealousy will make her hate them both for this."

"I don't write destiny," MórrÃÂ-gan said. "If there were any other way, if it could be done without earning the pawn's animosity, don't you think I would've taken that road? As it is, I had no more choice than they do. This is how it must be."

"And Virginia?" Macha asked softly. "She'll know you were behind it. Will you treat her hate as nonchalantly as you treat that of our sister's pawn?"

MórrÃÂ-gan only repeated, "This is how it must be."

"Virginia hasn't made her choice yet," Macha pressed. "Until she does, we're jeopardizing -"

Before Macha could finish her sentence, MórrÃÂ-gan jumped to her feet and stalked away. She disappeared inside her pavilion without looking back. Macha knew that she'd seen the last of the maiden face for a while, and steeled herself for the warrior mother and death crone, occasionally overwhelming even after eternities spent in their company.

* * * * *

In her pavilion, away from the eyes of her sister and her soldiers, MórrÃÂ-gan sank into a chair and considered what had just happened. Macha was absolutely correct; Virginia would probably hate her for what she had just done. However, this was war. The bonds between the Pendragon and her protectors had to be as strong as possible. At this point in time, there was no other way. Still, perhaps there was something she could give to Virginia in compensation....

The young goddess jerked open a trunk and pulled out a heavy, ruby-encrusted mirror. As she lifted it to her face, the glass shimmered and rippled like disturbed water, then flattened out again to reveal her champion, pacing across the length of the luxurious room that had become her prison.

Ginny knew right away that she was being watched, froze in place, and looked around. MórrÃÂ-gan was pleased.

"Where are you?" Ginny asked out loud, turning in a full circle but seeing no one in the room but herself. "I know you're here." After all this time, she could feel when the goddess was close by.

"I'm here," MórrÃÂ-gan said.

Ginny spun again, opened her mouth to speak out loud, but then remembered the spy mirror in the corner. Draco's faction was somewhere in the house, watching her every move. She took a moment to concentrate on blocking everyone but the goddess from her thoughts and said silently, If you're close enough to talk to me, you're close enough to get me out.

"That isn't possible," MórrÃÂ-gan said. "Not at this time."

The Pendragon resumed her pacing. Then did you drop by to talk? I'll be here for months before my plan starts to work. Who knows what kind of mess the world will be in by then?

"Not months," the goddess said, and Ginny stopped in place. MórrÃÂ-gan continued, "Your powers are stronger now, infinitely stronger than they were when you were sixteen. What took so long then will happen very quickly now."

You're saying I'm bleeding into him, Ginny translated. Aren't you? You're sure? He'll let me go?

"No," MórrÃÂ-gan replied, and Ginny let out a frustrated roar, so like one of the goddess's own.

I can't stay here! Harry is ready to explode. I can feel....

"Then reassure him," the goddess instructed.

I can't. He'd charge in here and get himself killed. That's how he is.

"Then send someone else to reassure him. He will know that you're safe, and you will exert your power over the one who thinks he can cage you and keep you for his own purposes."

Ginny blinked in surprise, mulling that over, then nodded. I understand.

MórrÃÂ-gan acknowledged, "You're much faster to comprehend than you were when we first met. I think linking with your other protector has made you more intelligent."

Ginny made an obscene gesture towards the ceiling because she didn't know where else to direct it, then went back to her pacing, knowing MórrÃÂ-gan was watching, but determined to ignore her. She had to handle this delicately, manipulating Draco so that he didn't know he was being manipulated. She had to make him think he was going to the Division on his own, to lord it over to Harry that he'd won the latest battle in their twelve-year feud. She started to plan.

* * * * *

The next morning:

Ron drained his tenth cup of coffee and looked at the report through bloodshot eyes. "You're telling me no one saw her vanish? Not one person in the entire village, out of all the people at the Imbolc festival? How is that possible?" The sun was coming up; he'd have to go home and break the news to his mum soon and wanted to have at least something concrete to take to her, not a lot of uninformative reports and gut feelings from his best friend. "Harry said she'd just stepped out for a minute. How could you not have found someone who saw her leave the pub, at least?"

"That's another strange thing," Agent Taliesin said, sliding into a seat across from the strategic planner. "Madame Rosmerta doesn't remember seeing Ginny either. She was positive Potter came into her pub alone. All the Hogsmeade residents and festival goers remember Potter, but not Ginny. In all the rolls of film taken by all the paparazzi, not one photograph shows Potter with anyone. All eyewitness accounts have him entering the village alone, standing outside of the pub alone, then going inside alone."

Ron frowned. "Are you saying Harry is lying about my sister?"

The other Auror ignored Ron's vaguely threatening tone. Taliesin was one of the most senior officers in the Surveillance department, and wasn't going to be intimidated by Ron's bad temper. "I'm telling you what the eyewitness accounts said. Your sister was never in the village. Wherever she went, she was gone before Potter went to the Three Broomsticks. Make of it what you like; I collect information, I don't interpret it. That's your department's job. But, yes, it would certainly seem that Agent Midas knows more than he's saying about Ginny's disappearance."

Ron tried to force his sleep-deprived mind to reason out an explanation for his friend's behavior, but couldn't come up with a single theory that made any sense. "All right," he said aloud. "Thank you, Taliesin."

Taliesin stood, but didn't leave. "Potter is insisting that she's being held in Malfoy Manor."

Ron rubbed his eyes, steeling himself for the impending confrontation with his best friend. "That's right."

"I'd start with that," Taliesin offered. "Why is he so adamant that she's there of all places? It might tell you why he's been less than straightforward about the other things."

"I know," Ron sighed. "I'll talk to him right away."

"Right," Taliesin acknowledged. "And my team and I will spend the rest of the day investigating the Malfoys."

"I'd rather be in your shoes," Ron said, picking up the surveillance notes and copies of the paparazzi photographs to use in case Harry proved difficult. He hoped he wouldn't need them.

"So would I," Taliesin said. "Good luck."

"I'm going to need it."

* * * * *

Harry walked into his office, hung his cloak on the hook near the door, and set his briefcase down before he realized there was someone else in the room with him. His head jerked up and his startled green eyes locked with a calm gray gaze. It was Draco Malfoy, that person whom, at the moment, he detested more than any other. Without missing a beat, Harry's wand was in hand and trained on the Death Eater's forehead. "Where is she?"

Draco lounged in Harry's chair, shoes propped up on the Auror's desk. His smile was cool. "You already know where, I'm sure."

"I should kill you." Harry's words were even and soft, but Draco detected the rage simmering just beneath the surface.

"You should, I agree. It's what any decent Auror would do. It's what Dumbledore would want, even though he'd pay lip service to the wrongness of unforgivable curses. Thinking like an Auror is a liability, Potter. It's not going to help you one bit. Think like a protector of the Pendragon, and we might actually get somewhere."

"This isn't a game!" Harry said, his voice rising to a shout on the last word. "Where is she? You'll tell me or I'll end you, I swear to the goddess I will."

His nemesis arched an eyebrow. "Don't swear. It's a promise you can't keep."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Malfoy," Harry hissed. "If we duel, I'll be able to shoot a lot more than sparks."

Draco smiled lazily. "We were children, Potter. Don't you think it's time you let all that go? Are you still angry about Hagrid's dragon too?"

"Where is she?"

"At the manor," he replied, suddenly serious, "and I'm here for a reason. Voldemort is looking for her. She's safe where she is and I want you to seriously consider leaving her with me -"

"In Death Eater headquarters? Isn't that what you called it when we were at school?" Harry snarled. "Safe? What drugs could you possibly be on that you'd think I'd abandon her -"

"Don't!" Draco said. He didn't raise his voice, but his tone stopped Harry mid-sentence. "The Dark Lord is after her. Right now, I can protect her. You can't. Leave her to me."

Harry stared. He couldn't believe his ears. "Leave her...leave her to you? You're the next Dark Lord. You're the worst Death Eater of them all. We have an entire room, cabinets upon cabinets of files on things you've done but haven't been caught for, and you expect me to leave Ginny to -"

"Oh, yes," Draco interrupted smoothly, "I'd forgotten. You're in love with her. It's clouding your judgment, Potter, although I can't say I blame you; she's a gorgeous thing, isn't she? Curves like I've never seen. I'd have to be dead not to appreciate, but I'd never let it get in the way of reason. You need to consider this rationally."

Harry's voice was cold. "Anything you touch her with, Malfoy, I will cut off and feed to you."

The corners of Draco's mouth quirked up in a smile. "How messy."

Harry's wand never wavered. "You've linked with her."

Draco inclined his head. "And you know what that means, Potter," he drawled. "You've been obsessed for years with having her commit all of herself to you, but now it's a pipe dream. You'll never have everything she has to give, because part of her will always belong to me, and you'll never be able to forget."

"If you hurt her -"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to torture or kill her, if that's what you're thinking. She has a comfortable room; no sleeping on cold dungeon floors."

Harry's hand tightened around the wand, but he didn't fire. The silence stretched between them, then Draco swung his feet off of Harry's desk and crossed the room to stand before him. He looked down into the Auror's face and said, "She's safe right now, but she won't be if you try to get her out. I'm telling the truth."

"Why are you here?" Harry asked, his words just as quiet as Draco's had been.

The Death Eater smirked, and suddenly the Draco that was so familiar to Harry from their school days was back. "Because, Potter, I've won. I just wanted to stop by and let you know."

He started to move past, and Harry closed a vice-like grip around Draco's upper arm. "You haven't won anything. You're going to jail. You won't reach the Department waiting room before incarceration agents are all over you."

Draco arched an imperious eyebrow. "My father is the chairman of the Grand Council; I don't need to remind you."

"Will you stop hiding behind your father!" Harry snapped. "It was pathetic when we were eleven, and it's even worse now. You're twenty-three. Grow up."

To Harry's surprise, Draco actually seemed to be thinking about his words. His eyes considering, the Death Eater finally spoke. "How about this, then?" His words dripped with soft menace. "If I'm gone, there's nothing to stop them tearing her limb from limb, Pendragon or no. Ginny murdered Shannon Cannon. My faction is ready to kill her family in front of her, just so she can watch them die. I am what's standing in their way. You remove me from the equation, and any blood spilled is on your head, Potter." Draco looked down at Harry's hand, still gripping his arm, then back to Harry's face, a sneer twisting his lips. "Your call."

Harry let go as though he'd been burned. "Get out of here."

Draco smiled. "I knew you'd be reasonable."

As the office door swung closed, Draco felt an overwhelming surge of triumph roar through his mind. It wasn't coming from him; he didn't feel at all happy about the outcome of this interview. Going to see Potter? What the hell had possessed him? Then he knew, and with the realization, anger flared. Did you think I wouldn't figure it out? he roared. How dare you?

I'm the Pendragon, she replied. I dare anything I damn well please.

We're going to have a talk, he said, struggling to get a grip on his temper, to keep from exploding in the middle of the Auror division.

I'm not going anywhere. Her tone was challenging, even defiant.

He turned back towards the door, read the name plate. Agent Midas. It hadn't been a dream. She'd really made him go tell Potter she was safe and unharmed. He hated her for this. She made sure he was aware that the feeling was mutual.

For the second time in as many minutes, an iron grip closed around Draco's upper arm. He had to look up to meet Weasley's eyes. "What," the Auror said furiously, "in the nine hells are you doing here?"

The office door swung open and Harry stepped out. "Let him go, Ron."

Ron stared. "He walks right into our office, and you tell me to -"

"Let him go," Harry ordered.

Ron released Draco with a snarl of distaste. "Leave. Now."

Draco smiled at them both. "And a good morning to you too, Weasel," he said pleasantly. "It's reassuring to see that your manners haven't improved with age. The stigma of low birth never quite goes away, does it?"

Harry caught Ron's arm before his friend could hit Malfoy. "Get out," Harry said. "Remember what I said."

"You do the same," Draco said, then turned on his heel and walked out, his thoughts occupied with Ginny, and his revenge for this stunt.

As soon as the Death Eater disappeared through the door, Ron whirled around and faced his friend. "Harry, that was Draco Malfoy."

Harry nodded, pulled the other Auror into the office, and shut the door against eavesdroppers. "I went to the mess for breakfast, and he was here when I got back."

Ron was shocked. This was not Malfoy behavior. He'd spent the last five years of his life trying to second-guess that entire dirty family, and he knew that there was no way the Dark Lord's second in command would ever walk into the Auror Division and sit down for a chat in Harry Potter's office. "What did he want?"

Harry didn't waste any time. "Put a watch on the Burrow and the twins' shop."

"We've had one since she went missing."

"Double it."

Ron frowned. "I don't understand -"

"Your family is in danger, Ron. You're in danger, and Hermione. More danger than you can even imagine. Owl your wife and tell her she's not to leave Hogwarts until we have Ginny back, even just to walk on the grounds."

Ron tried to keep up with his friend's words. "Did Malfoy threaten us? Why are you -"

"I'm a field agent," Harry snapped. "This is what I do. I assess risk, and take measures to counteract. Don't let Hermione out of the castle. Triple the watch on your brothers and parents, and put one on Mike too. You have no idea -"

"Then tell me!" Ron shouted. "Why have you been lying? Where is my sister?"

"She's exactly where I said she was," Harry replied, his voice deadly calm. "At Malfoy Manor. He just sat at my desk and told me so."

Ron was dumbfounded. "Why would he do that? He can't be turning double agent."

"No."

"And you believed him?"

"Yes."

Ron opened his folder and pulled out the photographs, held them to his best friend. Harry took them and flipped through. Ron said, "These were taken yesterday at the village. Ginny isn't in any of them. She was never at the pub. She never 'stepped out for a minute.' " His voice grew louder on every word. "She never even made it to Hogsmeade. It's time for you to tell me the truth! When was the last time you saw her? Where did you leave her? Where did she go? And how the fuck did you know she was kidnapped by Death Eaters when you hadn't laid eyes on her in at least half an hour?"

Harry studied the glossy eight-by-tens: in one, he stood outside the Three Broomsticks, his collar pulled up around his face; in another, he looked embarrassed at the flashbulbs popping; in a third, he tried to sidle off the edge of the photograph. Damned paparazzi. Harry dropped the photographs on the tile floor, aimed his wand, and before Ron could stop him, said, "Incendio."

Ron's mouth dropped open, and the next thing Harry knew, his best friend had grabbed hold of the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. "Why," Ron demanded, "did you do that?"

Harry closed his hands around Ron's and tried to loosen their grasp. "It's better if everyone involved thinks she was in the village with me."

Ron didn't let go. "Explain why."

"I can't. I'm asking you to trust me."

"What do you know that I don't? If it's about my sister, I have a right to know."

"I know," Harry said quietly. "And I'll tell you, but not now. This is a bad time."

Ron's grip tightened again. "Am I inconveniencing you?"

"No!" Harry finally had enough. He shifted, then used the leverage of his forearms to push out on Ron's wrists, forcing the other Auror to let him go. "This isn't a conversation that we can have here."

His friend took a step back. "I'm going to Hogwarts tonight to update Hermione on the search. You're coming with me, and you're going to explain why you're lying about where Ginny was before she vanished."

"Only if you don't tell anyone else that she wasn't in the village. It doesn't matter to the end result, anyway. She's at Malfoy Manor. We have proof now. He told me to my face that he had her."

Ron shook his head. "It's no good. The information is hearsay unless we find corroborating evidence. I have Taliesin on it, though, and he and his team are the best. If there's any proof that she's there, they'll find it."

Harry nodded, wanting very badly to believe his friend. Ginny, he called out, are you all right? Say something! There was no answer, and had been none since she'd vanished.

Ron said, a little gruffly, "You've been here all night. Go home and get some sleep; there's nothing you can do right now. Field agents don't have anything to do with this stage of the investigations."

Harry shook his head. "You still haven't told your parents. I'm going with you. Do you think I'd let you go through that alone? And while we're at the Burrow, I'll make sure the security detail is increased and that the hit wizards Catherine assigned are up to scratch."

Ron nodded, glad he wouldn't have to break the news alone, but confused and upset over Harry's stubborn insistence on holding to lies, and very, very afraid for his sister's welfare.

* * * * *

Draco stormed through the wall. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"

Ginny sat at the dining table, her bare feet drawn up beneath her. She shifted a pile of cards and said, "Why are you asking me questions you already know the answers to? I needed to let Harry know that I'm as safe as I can be. You," a sly smile tinged her lips, "were in the right place at the right time."

"The right place?"

"When compared to me, for example." She motioned vaguely at the room, but didn't lift her eyes from the table.

He froze, to angry to think, and stared at her. She'd found a deck of tarot cards in the back of a drawer somewhere, had separated out the major arcana and was using the minor arcana to play - "Solitaire?"

She shifted the ace of swords onto the two of cups. "I was bored."

He could only gape. "That's not what those are for!" he shouted, when he finally had regained his wits enough to talk.

Ginny shrugged. "You wouldn't leave me anything to read." The seven of pentacles went on the eight of wands.

His long legs carried him to her table in three strides, and he reached down and scooped the cards into a pile. "Hey!" she protested. "I was going to win!"

"Tell someone who cares," he snapped back. "These cards were hand painted by Rowena Ravenclaw. I haven't the faintest idea how they wound up in here, but they've been in my family for generations and I'm not going to let you desecrate them."

Ginny arched an eyebrow. "They weren't."

Draco scowled. "Weren't what? Desecrated? You were using them for solitaire!" His pale face was unusually flushed as he struggled to maintain control. It was a losing battle not to wring her neck.

"They weren't painted by Rowena Ravenclaw," she clarified. Ginny reached into the pile in front of him and fished out a card. "Look at this one."

"So?" Draco asked, studying the card in her hand. It had a picture of a woman riding a gold chariot drawn by a red horse. The woman held a sword aloft and her red hair streamed out behind her.

"So," Ginny said, "it's a portrait of the MórrÃÂ-gan."

He pulled the card out of her hand and looked at it more closely. "Are you serious?"

She nodded, and trailed her finger along the woman's brilliant red locks. "Also, this kind of red wasn't made in the Founders' time. It's a very specific pigment, with a secret recipe that only a few knew. By the time Ravenclaw came into her own as a witch, this was already arcane knowledge."

"How would you know that?" Draco asked incredulously.

Ginny leaned across the table to get a better look. "I went through an art history phase. Read everything I could get my hands on."

"You're saying these cards were made before the Founders?" he couldn't quite believe he was holding something so old.

Ginny nodded. "I'm saying this portrait of the goddess was painted by someone who saw her in person, which means that the cards were made before the Otherworld was closed off."

He reverently set the card atop the pile, then looked up at her, eyes once again blazing. "And you were playing with them? For all we know, they were made by Merlin himself. You're unbelievable." He took a deep breath, about to flay her once more for sending him waltzing into the Auror Division, but she stopped him cold.

Ginny tipped her chair onto its back legs and propped her feet up on the table. It was a maneuver calculated to unnerve him, and she felt a flush of satisfaction when it worked. "You can yell at me," she said, taking advantage of his silence, "or you can read my tarot cards. Your choice. A deck this old is sure to have some kind of extra magic. If you'd rather throw a tantrum, though...what's done is done. I'm not sorry, and all the screaming in the world isn't going to make me sorry. I did what I had to do."

Draco's equilibrium, his innate sense of rightness and wrongness, careened wildly. He had to regain the upper hand, show her which one of them held control of the situation. He was her captor. He was the Dark Lord's second in command. He could handle this Gryffindor. He could get his revenge later, after he'd secured what he needed from her. And, for now, that meant that if she wanted her tarot read, he'd oblige. Truthfully, he was curious about what the cards would show. "Get your feet off the table."

She smirked, and tilted her chair back to the ground. "I knew you'd be reasonable."

He glared, then rifled through the pile and fished out a card and slid the rest over to her. "Shuffle three times and cut the deck."

She obeyed. "Why did you take one out?"

"It's your Significator," Draco explained. "A card that represents you."

Ginny cut the deck and slid it back to him. "Which one did you choose?"

He laid it down in the center of the table. The King of Swords. She arched an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Draco dealt the cards into a basic spread and took a moment to survey the results. Most of the cards in the spread were from the suit of Swords, which didn't surprise him in the least.

"All right. This first card," he pointed to the one that lay on top of her Significator, "covers you. It's the substance of your problem."

"The ten of wands," Ginny said, because he seemed to be waiting for her to speak.

"Right. It's the burden of success," he translated. "Heavy responsibilities, pressure to succeed, loneliness at the top." Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get a word out, he said, "This next card," he touched the one that laid crosswise over the ten of wands, "shows forces that may help or hinder you. It's the seven of wands."

"He looks angry." The man on the card held a stick and glared out at them with furious eyes, rendered in vivid inks.

"He's holding firm," Draco corrected. "A conflict is coming to a head; you have a superior vantage point of the situation. You..." He trailed off.

"I what?"

He looked up and, forcing his voice to remain steady, said, "You have the advantage even if you don't realize it."

Ginny leaned in close. "What if I do realize it?"

They were just tarot cards; they didn't mean anything, Draco reminded himself. He opted to ignore her question. "The next card," he pointed to the one below the central group, "is where you're coming from regarding the matter at hand. It's the judgment card, which can mean a rebirth or an identity crisis, among other things. No surprise there. Next you have the eight of swords, which shows your recent past."

The card depicted a woman, bound and blindfolded, standing among swords that had been plunged into the dirt. "She's trapped," Ginny observed.

"Yes." He forced himself to keep his tone businesslike. "This card can mean a lack of empowerment, forced restraint, bondage, confusion, emotional pain...your life hasn't been very good."

"No."

"And it's mostly been your fault."

"No!" Fury sparked in her eyes.

"The card says otherwise. The eight of swords means that you're your own worst enemy. Fear, blockage, limitation...all self-imposed. You can blame Dumbledore and Tom Riddle all you like, Ginny, but this," he held the card up, "says that you need to come to terms with whatever it is you're afraid of because you're going to have to make an important decision very soon. You can't afford the luxury of being afraid."

Ginny couldn't have looked more stunned if he'd slapped her across the face. She turned in her chair, scanning the room as though she fully expected someone else to be in there with them.

"What are you looking for?" Draco asked, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

She turned back to face him. "Nothing. Keep going."

He felt her gather her courage, steel herself for whatever the cards said next. Something he'd said had touched a nerve; Draco only wished he could find out what, so he could use it again. "This card," he touched the one on top of the central group, "shows the best possible outcome. It's the six of wands reversed, meaning delayed victory."

"Delayed victory is the best outcome?" That didn't sound good.

He nodded, "It looks that way," then moved on to the card to the right of the central group. "This shows what's coming, what's in store for your future."

Ginny tilted her head, confused. "The Lovers card?" She was already in love with someone; it was in her past, not her future.

"It doesn't mean that you're going to fall in love, necessarily," he explained. "More likely, considering the other cards in the spread so far, it means a partnership, a fork in the road, and another reference to a major choice. You'll have a decision, two paths you can take, and you'll have to settle on one."

She rolled her eyes. "An easy choice, between Harry and you."

"It might have nothing to do with me," Draco pointed out. "I wouldn't be so quick to assume if I were you. This next card represents your state of mind." The grin, though he tried to stifle it, still tugged at his mouth.

"What's funny?" Ginny demanded.

"It's bad."

"You don't need to look so happy about it," she said with disgust. The thought of being tied to this man for life repulsed her. She was never going to be able to get rid of him, and in that moment the years ahead seemed very long.

"The Tower reversed," Draco explained. "Restriction of freedom, failure to live up to expectations... You think your life is unfair."

"It is unfair!"

He arched an eyebrow. "You say that so often, Ginny, I wonder what your basis for comparison is."

She snapped, "Don't you dare judge me -"

He held up his hand and, before she could go off, said, "It's your life. You're not going to get another one. If I were you, I'd make do with the one I was given, even though it comes with a destiny you wish you didn't have."

Her lips pressed thin. "Tell me what else the card means."

"Um...imprisonment. Probably literal, all things considered." He motioned to the walls of her room, then continued, "Also, you're going to have to face problems that could have been avoided but, then, we both knew that already, didn't we? You have Potter to thank for -"

"If you mention his name one more time," Ginny said, "I'll break your fucking nose."

Draco grinned outright. "How incredibly vulgar."

The next card in the spread, representing the people around her, was the seven of swords. "It means someone is trying to take advantage of you," he explained.

"That's obvious."

"Good god, you're giving me a lot of credit," Draco said. "There's no reason to think that any of these cards have anything to do with me. Someone is going to sabotage you, Ginny, and I'm not going to be that person. We have a bargain, remember?"

"If not you, then who? I'm not stupid."

"But you are narrow-minded, and that's all I can tell you." He shrugged. "Divination is an inexact thing."

"I took Care of Magical Creatures."

"I know."

She made an aggravated noise and said, "Keep going."

The next card was the Chariot, the one with the portrait of the MórrÃÂ-gan. "This is your greatest hope."

"The goddess?" Ginny asked incredulously. "I don't even like her."

"It means balance. Determination, control, success...you'll need to take control of competing forces." Draco's heart sank. These ancient cards had laid bare her price, her dearest wish, and he hadn't the faintest idea how he was going to give it to her. She wanted to succeed, to restore the balance and fulfill the will of the goddess in the picture and everything the card stood for, wanted it more than she wanted her next breath. It was ingrained in who she was, for all that she fought it. How could he turn this to his advantage?

She interrupted his thoughts, and circumvented his strategy with one shrewd question. "This control of competing forces - can you give it to me?"

Draco cursed her newfound cunning. He had to answer honestly; the magic held him to it. "No, I can't." The words fell from his tongue like lead weights. He'd just lost any advantage he could have had on that front, and would have to find another way. There was always Delia's plan, his mind said, but when he came right down to it, Draco didn't think he'd be able to go through with it. The thought made him sick, and he couldn't understand why. He'd used such tactics before without a qualm, but with her...

"What does the last card mean?"

He shook himself out of his reverie. He'd think the situation over later, when he had some time alone. "Right. The last card is the final outcome. It's the two of swords reversed. The end of a stalemate, and a definite choice."

"Does it say what I'm going to choose?"

He turned another card off of the pile for clarification, and then sucked in a breath. It was the queen of wands reversed. A red-haired goddess, her face terrible and twisted, looked out at them. Draco cleared his throat. "Egotism, manipulation, domination, lies...whatever choice you make," he said, "it's going to earn you a mortal enemy."

Draco pushed his chair back and stood. He needed to be alone and regroup, formulate a new plan of attack. He had a chilling feeling that he knew exactly who the queen of wands might be.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

He didn't even take the time to sneer or toss off a nasty comment. He'd read her cards, and now he had to get out of this room.

Ginny watched him gather the deck and disappear through the wall without a word. The moment he was gone, she tipped her head to the ceiling and demanded, "What the hell was that all about? Suppose you explain what's going on?"

No answer.

"I know you're here somewhere!" she shouted, not caring who overheard. "He said I can't afford to be afraid, which is your fucking mantra, and I deserve an explanation!"

The goddess was silent.

Ginny considered the whisky decanter on the sideboard, but ignored it in favor of pacing the room.

Watching on the other end of the spy-mirror, Delia was reminded of a caged lion. She didn't know what to make of their prisoner talking to an empty room, and filed the information away for future reference.

Grace poked her head in the door. "Delia? This just came for you." She held out an envelope.

"By owl?" she asked as she tore the letter open. She recognized the handwriting right away. What could be so important that Day would write to her, when she knew how dangerous it was?

* * * * *

That night:

Delia stepped into the clearing, irritation and nervousness evident on her face. "Do you have any idea what they'll do to you if they find you here?" she demanded.

"As though you care," Dana replied. She wore black robes; she didn't want to be seen. She knew her sister was right about what would happen to both of them if the Death Eaters discovered her.

"You're my twin. Of course I care what happens to you." Despite her kind words, Delia's tone was peevish. "What's so important that you dragged me out here in the middle of the night?"

Dana glanced through the trees. The mansion's lights were just barely visible twinkling through the branches. "I need some information."

Delia shook her head emphatically. "Absolutely not," she said. "How could you ask me that, Day? I never ask you about the Aurors."

"Do you think I'd be here if it wasn't important?" Dana snapped.

"With you, it's always important," Delia said, irritated. "It's all dramatics and matters of life and death. When are you going to wake up and learn that nothing is ever black or white?"

Dana elected not to answer her sister's question. Instead, she said, "An Auror has gone missing."

Delia shrugged. "Being an Auror is a dangerous line of work."

"Dammit, Dee! Have you heard anything?"

"Why are you asking questions you know I'm not going to answer?" Delia examined her fingernails.

"Please," Dana said softly. "Please, Dee. I didn't come on behalf of the Auror Division or the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I'm here for myself and I have to know how badly she's hurt." Dana refused to consider the possibility that Ginny was dead. It just couldn't be.

"She?" Delia asked. She knew full well whom Dana was asking about, but decided to drag it out as long as possible.

Dana took a deep breath. "It's Ginny Weasley. Anything you've heard at all, Dee. Anything, please?" She couldn't believe she had been reduced to begging her sister, but she was desperate.

Delia considered her twin carefully. "I might have heard something," she finally said.

"Might have?" Dana asked sharply. "You're a wonderful liar, Dee, but never with me. Where is she?"

"I don't know." Delia was bored with this conversation. She wanted to get back into the house and have a long bath. And then maybe have Draco.

"Ginny's in there, isn't she." Dana motioned toward Malfoy Manor with her head. "Is she all right?"

Delia shrugged. "She's as fine as she can be, I suppose."

Dana sucked in a breath. Her fear for her friend's well being had just intensified tenfold. "What's that supposed to mean? What have you people done to her?"

"Nothing drastic. She hasn't been beaten or cursed. At least," she added, remembering Ginny's first few hours at the manor, "not lately."

Dana's face was like stone. "I have to see."

"That's impossible. I promise that she's all right. She's more valuable alive than dead. Draco has personally ordered that no one go near her."

Dana gave a short, mocking laugh. "The most effective tortures aren't physical. A promise from Malfoy is completely worthless, and a promise from you is only marginally better. I have to see."

"You can't."

"I will."

Delia raised an eyebrow. "How?"

Dana shrugged. "That's for you to figure out, isn't it? All I have to say is that if I don't see with my own eyes that she's all right I'll have every Auror at the ministry banging down Malfoy's front door tomorrow."

Her sister was amused. "You'd never send me to Azkaban"

"You're right. They'll be under orders to take no prisoners."

Delia paled. "You would never do that."

"No," Dana answered. "I wouldn't, if you let me see Ginny." She prayed her twin wouldn't call her bluff.

Delia muttered something under her breath, the only words of which Dana caught were "bloody Slytherin."

The sisters regarded each other silently for several moments. Then, reluctantly, Delia unhooked the chain around her neck and held it out to her sister. An amulet hung from the necklace; it was crescent shaped, and the points were sharp. "The door to her prison will only open for someone with the Dark Mark. You could get in, but you'd never be able to get out."

Dana took the chain from her sister. "I assume this will take care of the problem?"

Delia nodded. "New recruits who are deemed trustworthy are given these amulets to get them into restricted areas before their marks are burned on."

"So why are you still wearing it? You've had your mark for ages."

Delia's smile was eerie. "It was given to me by the Dark Lord himself. He was the one to place it around my neck."

Dana felt queasy. She would have to take a shower when she got home, after wearing something Voldemort had his hands all over. "That's disgusting."

Delia laughed, but it sounded forced. They both knew what would happen to them if Dana were caught. "I'm joking, idiot. Draco is the one who gave it to me. I kept it because it's cool. It certainly fits the atmosphere in that house."

Dana fastened the chain around her own neck and tucked the amulet beneath her shirt. "I'll need a mark," she said. "My sleeves are loose. All someone would have to do is pull one up, and they'd know I'm not you."

Delia drew her wand, but Dana grabbed her wrist. "Don't you dare."

"It's just an illusion charm -," Delia said, but Dana interrupted, "You'll blow my arm off, considering how our powers are acting lately. Think of another way."

Seemingly from nowhere, Delia produced a lip liner. "Come here." Dana held out her left forearm, and Delia began to draw.

Dana watched her sister sketch the ugly skull-and-snake on her arm and said softly, "You know, Dee, it's never too late to join the side that's going to win. Please, think about it?"

Delia finished the mark and capped the makeup pencil.

Dana pressed her case. "We have the right on our side. You could always come back with me."

Delia gave her twin a strange smile. "That's funny, Day," she said, "because I was just about to say the same thing to you."

* * * * *

Just outside the front door, Dana paused and steeled her nerve. She was Delia now, a Death Eater who'd kept rooms at Malfoy Manor for at least two years. She should walk like she owned the place. Dana straightened her shoulders and reached for the heavy iron ring on the door. It swung open at her touch. Across the spacious entryway, a red-carpeted staircase swooped to the first floor and beyond. Dana walked towards it, mentally rehearsing her twin's directions on how to find Ginny's room. She'd only ascended ten steps when something stopped her dead.

"Delia," Malfoy called, jogging up the stairs behind her. Dana almost hadn't recognized his voice without that maddening drawl. He sounded...normal, which was enough to make her wary.

"Yes?" she asked casually as she turned to face him. Her heart leapt up to her throat and she gripped the banister tightly to keep her hand from shaking.

Draco stopped two steps below her, putting them at eye level. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips.

What would Delia say to that? Dana thought frantically. But she hadn't been placed in Slytherin for nothing and the words flowed from her lips by instinct. "To my room. I left a book in there that has some information I want to check against one in your father's library. Do you need something?"

The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. Not a smirk, a smile. Goddess above, this was not normal Malfoy behavior. What the hell was going on between him and her sister? Dana felt queasy.

"Do I need something?" he repeated. The words became a double entendre. Draco laughed softly and leaned in. "What do you think, Delia? Do I need something?"

Realization sank in. He was the man Delia was interested in. She forced herself not to choke on the words, "Absolutely. Maybe we can meet later and do something about it?"

"Later?" he asked, that half-smile still playing around his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes. Dana had never, in a million years, thought that Malfoy would look at her, or anyone, this way. He whispered against her lips, "I'm impatient."

She made herself smile back. "That's a lie."

He laughed gently. "A preview then? To tide me over?"

He's not going to do what I think he's going to do is he? Dana thought, inwardly panicking as Malfoy leaned closer and brought a hand up to the back of her head. Oh God and goddess, he is.

Dana jerked away; she couldn't help it. It was an involuntary reaction. Draco's eyes narrowed. "You're not still upset about last night, are you?" he asked. "I told you, nothing happened."

Dana shook her head. She had no idea what he was talking about, but could only brazen it out and hope she didn't make a crucial misstep. "No. Well, maybe a little. You can make it up to me tonight." She took another step up to place a few more inches of space between them. "I'm going to get that book, unless there really was something you needed." She grimaced at his expression, "Other than that, I mean." This was too creepy for her: Malfoy acting like a human being. Worse, Malfoy acting like a human being in love, or at least in lust. She suppressed a shudder.

"No," he said. "I'm fine for now. I'll be in my study if you change your mind."

Dana smiled. "We'll see." She turned and resumed her walk up the staircase, forcing herself through superhuman effort not to run like hell. At the top, she turned to the left and then he was out of sight.

* * * * *

Harry flopped into an armchair and faced Ron and Hermione, who sat together on the sofa. Although their rooms at Hogwarts were small and cozy, Harry felt anything but comfortable. His best friends stared him down, stone-faced, and waited for an explanation.

Ron realized Harry wasn't going to be the one to open the conversation. "Well? What about it? You've been lying to us since before we knew she was gone. You've destroyed evidence. What is going on with my sister?"

Hermione rested her hand on Ron's knee and squeezed, a warning for him to keep his voice down. "Let him explain," she said, fixing Harry with a sharply assessing stare.

Harry was nervous. Hermione was much smarter than he, and would be sure to catch any inconsistencies in his story. "What do you want to know first?"

"When you said she'd stepped out for a minute, where had she really gone?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "I can't tell you that."

"You -"

"Ron!" he shouted over his friend. "Listen. I'm not going to lie to you, so if you ask me something I can't talk about, I'm not going to answer. That's all there is to it."

"Is it classified?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Harry said, relieved that she'd given him an out. "It's classified. I can't talk about it."

"We have the same clearance level," Ron protested. "If Hermione left the room -"

"You're not cleared for this," Harry said. His tone was final. "Next question."

"I'm not cleared for -"

Hermione squeezed his leg once again. When Ron stopped talking long enough to glare at her, she took the opportunity to say, "I have a question. How did you know when she went missing?"

Harry framed his reply in the vaguest terms possible. "We're under a spell."

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "What kind of spell?"

Harry didn't know how to explain, but he gave it his best shot. "It tells one of us when the other is in trouble. It's kind of like an alarm system, so we can cover each other's backs."

She nodded thoughtfully, processing that information.

"How did you know she was at Malfoy Manor?" Ron asked.

Hermione answered her husband's question. "This spell told him, right, Harry?"

Harry nodded, relieved that she'd helped him. "That's right. It's a gut feeling. I just know that's where she is, somehow. I'm not sure how it works."

Hermione mulled this over, then asked, "How long have you been under this spell?"

"Um...a long time."

"How long? Since you joined the Division?"

Harry shook his head reluctantly. "Before that. Since Hogwarts."

"You what?" Ron exploded, but Hermione shushed him.

"That long?" she asked, mild surprise tingeing her features. "It must be powerful magic to have lasted so many years. Which one of you performed it?"

"Er, what?" Harry asked.

"The spell," she said. "Which one of you performed it? Did you do it?"

"No..."

"Then she did?"

"Not exactly. I mean, I don't -"

"You don't know," Hermione filled in.

"We both did it, sort of," he explained lamely.

She worked that over, tried to see where it fit in with the rest of his information. When Ron opened his mouth to speak again, Hermione headed him off. "Thanks. This can't have been easy for you."

"Thanks?" Ron spluttered. "He's been lying about my sister since she went missing, and he still hasn't explained -"

"The lie hasn't affected the outcome of the investigation," Hermione said, "and, apparently, the information you want is classified. We appreciate your coming by, Harry. I'll be sure to take extra precautions when I leave the castle."

Harry frowned. "You're not to leave the castle, even with precautions. It's too dangerous right now. Ron and I talked about this."

"But neither of you discussed it with me," she said blithely. "It's nice of you to be concerned, but I'm sure I'll be fine."

Harry met Ron's eyes. "This isn't negotiable, Hermione. We -"

Once again, Hermione squeezed her husband's knee. Ron looked over and met her eyes, then turned back to Harry. "I'll talk to her. Why don't you leave by the front hall? Let me walk you out."

In the small entryway, Ron caught Harry's shoulder before he could leave. "Don't think I'm going to let this drop," he murmured. "Just because Hermione is satisfied doesn't mean I'm anywhere near. We'll talk back at the Ministry."

Harry grimaced slightly. "I figured."

His reluctance touched a nerve with Ron. "If there were something important about my sister that I should know, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

Harry nodded, looking up to meet his friend's eyes. "You know I would, unless it's something that's not my place to tell."

This took Ron by surprise. He said, "If it's not your place, then whose is it? Dumbledore's?"

Harry sighed. "He'd like to think so, but I wouldn't ask him if I were you." He paused, then said, "You need to talk to Hermione."

"I will."

"You need to do it tonight."

"I know," Ron said. "Just give me a few minutes alone with her. I'll meet you back at the Division. Taliesin should have a preliminary report by now."

Harry nodded, waved to Hermione, and was gone.

As soon as the door shut, Ron whirled around and stomped back into the sitting room. "What d'you think you're doing? He didn't explain a single thing, and you let him walk out of here -"

"He told us everything we need to know, I think," Hermione said. "This spell, for starters. A magical connection that's lasted so many years without losing any of its strength? Trust me, no Hogwarts students, not even Harry and Ginny, could do something like that. We can begin there."

"Begin where?" Ron looked as though she'd lost her mind.

"The library, of course," Hermione said. "You need to get back to work, so I'll go see what I can find on spells like this. I know I've read about something like it, I just can't think where."

"And you won't go outside the castle?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Not tonight, anyway. I'll be researching. After that...we'll talk about it later. You need to find Ginny."

Ron walked across the room and folded her into his arms. The top of her head fit perfectly beneath his chin. "My parents are a mess. Maybe you could call them through the fire tonight?"

"I will," Hermione promised, "just as soon as you leave, and I'll tell them you and Harry are doing everything you can to bring her home safely."

"Bill and Charlie are coming home."

"Good."

He pressed his lips to her forehead and murmured, "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you. I can't understand how he's so calm."

Hermione shrugged. "The two of you are different, that's all. He's not calm, but he's keeping together well. You really need to get to work, Ron. I'll owl when I find something."

That was his Hermione. Not if she found something, but when. He kissed her again, told her he loved her, and threw a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace.

* * * * *

Dana followed the curved hallway of the fifth floor corridor to the wall that was paneled in plain wood. She set her teeth, told herself that it was no different from the barrier at platform nine and three quarters, and walked straight through. Ginny paced at the other end of the room, but froze when Dana entered. The two women stared at each other, then Ginny rushed over. "What are you doing in here?" she demanded. "You can't get out!"

Dana pulled the amulet from beneath her collar. "Problem solved. My sister loaned it to me for the night. It works just like a mark, only not as ugly."

Ginny's mouth dropped open in wild disbelief. "Where's mine?"

Dana looked from Ginny's outstretched hand, back to her face. "Your what?"

"My amulet, Dana. We have to hurry; they watch this room."

"It's all right," Dana said. "My sister is on watch duty right now, and she's waiting in the woods for me to come back."

"What about the others?" Ginny asked. Something wasn't quite right.

Dana asked, "What others?"

"The...the other Aurors. You didn't come here alone." Realization dawned. "You did come here alone. Christ, Dana, do you have any idea what - you just strolled into Malfoy Manor with Delia's necklace and -"

Dana interrupted, "Are you all right? You don't look cursed or beaten or starved or..."

"I'm fine," Ginny said. "I can keep up with you. Give me my amulet and we can get out of here."

"You promise you're all right? You'd tell me if you weren't?"

Something about the situation was wasn't making any sense. Her tone tinged with suspicion, Ginny said, "Dana, give me my amulet."

And now it came down to it. "I only have one."

Ginny took a step back. Her chin tilted up fractionally and she looked Dana through narrowed eyes. "Oh. So what are you doing here, exactly, if you didn't come to get me out?"

Dana didn't have an answer. At least, not one that Ginny would find satisfactory.

"Now that you've been here," Ginny said, "you can tell the Division where in the house to find me, and that the amulet is the only way to get me out."

Still, Dana was silent. They stared at each other, a face-off.

"I see," Ginny finally said. "You're not going to tell them."

"I can't," Dana explained. "It would compromise my sister. If she went to jail because of me -"

"Your Death Eater sister is not my problem!" Ginny shouted as the threads of her control frayed. "My problem, Dana, is that I'm a prisoner in Draco Malfoy's house of moral surrealism and you won't lift a finger to get me out!"

"I only have one amulet!" Dana protested.

Ginny drew herself up straighter. The air around her shimmered with magical energy, and the room's temperature sank. "If I wanted," Ginny said in an odd tone, "I could make you give it to me. You'd hand it over and wave me out of the room with a smile on your face."

Dana felt a cold lick of fear at the base of her spine. It had been a mistake to come here. In that moment, she fully believed Ginny capable of anything. "You wouldn't do that."

The moment passed, and Ginny sighed. "Unfortunately for me, I'm a great fan of free will." Her words, though benign on their surface, belied her contempt for Dana, who asked, "What do you want me to do? What can I do? I only have one."

"And if you had two?" she asked. "What then, Dana?" The Auror was silent. Ginny shook her head. "I didn't think so."

"I can't do anything that might send Delia to jail, or make them realize that she's been meeting with me secretly," Dana explained. "If you disappeared on her watch, they'd have no mercy. You understand that, Gin. Family is family."

"You can't just leave me trapped in here!"

"Like you left me?" Dana asked coolly, arching an eyebrow. "Like you abandoned me, and the rest of the world? You have no idea what you were, Ginny, and how much we needed you to stay."

"Is that what this is about?" she asked, dumbfounded. "Some kind of twisted Slytherin revenge because I quit my job? You're fucking kidding me."

Dana's eyes narrowed with resentment. "I came here to make sure you were still alive and that you weren't being mistreated."

"You came here as a balm to your guilty conscience," Ginny hissed. "I hope it worked. Now get out."

"Gin -"

"I said get out!" A panel on the sideboard shattered, punctuating Ginny's shout with glass raining to the floor.

Dana looked at the shards, then back to Ginny's face. "You can't intimidate me."

"I don't want to scare you, I want you to leave."

"Fine. I'm gone."

And then, she was.

Dana left the room and leaned against the wall, guilt washing over her in waves. Ginny was right; she should tell the Auror Division about tonight's excursion. But Delia was all she had, even if Dana didn't agree with her choices. It was callous of Dana think this way, but Ginny had two parents and six brothers; she could afford to lose one or two and still have a family. If Dana lost Delia, she'd lose everything. Dana shook her head to clear it. Now was not the time for her to second guess herself. This was Death Eater headquarters, after all. First and foremost, she had to focus on getting out in one piece. She could be maudlin later.

On the other side of the wall, Ginny screamed an obscenity at the top of her lungs, then turned her attention to the rest of the sideboard's windowed cabinets. As another hail of glass fell to the carpet, she made no attempt to dispel the hot fury that raged inside her mind.

She hadn't been at it for more than half an hour when Draco walked into the room and stopped short. "What do you think you're doing?"

A hurricane shade that covered one of the wall sconces exploded, raining slivers of glass onto the floor. "What does it look like?" Ginny asked from her seat at the table.

"It looks like you're throwing a tantrum." As he walked over to her, his polished shoes crunched on pieces of smashed glass and porcelain. "Why?"

"I don't explain myself to Death Eaters." A dinner plate on the sideboard crumpled in on itself. When the china could no longer stand the stress, it shattered.

"Are you planning on breaking everything in the room?"

"Everything breakable. Whatever I've ruined, you can afford ten new ones."

Draco reached over to the sideboard. "In that case, you forgot the whiskey bottle."

She looked at the crystal decanter in front of her, then pulled out the stopper and took a deep swallow. "I think I'll keep this around for now." As she drank, a vase burst into crystal shards.

* * * * *

Dana crept inside her flat. She didn't turn on any lights, for fear of disturbing Mike. She'd only made it as far as the living room, however, when a lamp flicked on. He sat in an armchair, eyes pinning her in place. "That's twice this week that you've sneaked out after you thought I was asleep, then came back hours later. Suppose you tell me where you've been?"

Bloody hell, he thought she was having an affair.

* * * * *

The next afternoon, forty-eight hours after Ginny's disappearance:

The senior Aurors, the elite thirteen, sat around the battered conference table. Catherine looked through her folder of intelligence data one last time. "A vote, then, now that we've heard from everyone. Is there sufficient evidence to suggest that Ginny Weasley is being held at Malfoy Manor and to justify a raid to get her back?"

As they went around the table, Harry kept a mental tally. He voted yes, as did Ron. Both of them had argued vehemently in favor of the raid. Still, Taliesin's final report had been anything but absolute, and many of their fellows expressed reservations about storming the home of such a politically prominent family. Several Aurors voted against the raid. At the end of the table, with one vote to go, it was six and six.

Dana looked at the chipped tabletop, and then raised her eyes to Harry's. His confidence that she would vote his way was plain to see; he was already running through attack formations in his mind. Dana thought of Ginny, and of the terrifying latent power she'd sensed the night before. Then she thought of Delia, her twin, her other half. And she cast her vote. "No."

Harry blinked. His thoughtful expression quickly gave way to shock, then anger that deepened into rage. "No?" The word was soft, but Dana didn't miss the threat behind it.

"There's no evidence. We don't have proof that the Malfoys had anything to do with Ginny's disappearance. She could be in a dozen other places. I suggest we start assessing those as possible targets."

"She's your friend!" Ron exclaimed.

Catherine interjected, "The vote is over. Malfoy Manor is safe for now. You'll get another crack at Draco, Agent Midas."

"That's not -" Harry sputtered, "that's not what this is about! Ginny is there! I know it!"

"But can you prove it?" Catherine asked.

He was silent.

The Division Chief turned to her ranks. "I want people around the clock on this. We need to get her back. The more time passes, the more likely it is that they've broken her. If that happens, a lot of people are going to die."

* * * * *

Harry caught Dana's elbow as she walked past, and dragged her into his office. Sparks of anger snapped in his emerald eyes. He looked more dangerous than Dana had ever seen him. "Explain." One word. A command. He was visibly restraining himself from hitting her.

"There's no concrete evidence," Dana said for the second time that afternoon. "I'm not about to vote to authorize a raid without proof."

"I gave you proof." Every word was pushed out through clenched teeth. An indefinable aura of power surrounded him; for good reason was he called one of the strongest wizards of their time.

"I'm supposed to believe that Malfoy sat in this office and told you he had her locked in a room? How gullible do you think I am?"

Harry's eyes widened. "A room?" he said hoarsely.

Dana frowned. "What?"

"You said a room. Not a cell, a room."

"That's what you told us -"

"No I didn't." - Dana was increasingly sure she wasn't going to come out of this conversation in one piece - "I never specified anything of the kind." His words were clipped. He was barely holding his fury in check. "How did you know she was being held in a room, Dana?" When she didn't reply, Harry grabbed her shoulders with force enough to bruise and shouted full in her face, "How did you know? Where were you last night?"

"Last night?" she asked, maintaining her façade till the end.

"Taliesin's had your flat watched, along with the Burrow, in case they tried to hurt Mike for being Jezebel's best friend. Last night, you snuck out at midnight and came back nearly two hours later."

"I -"

"I have the Surveillance report, Dana! No one followed you because it's Mike they were watching, but they wrote down all comings and goings. You left in the middle of the night. You went to the Manor." He was putting the pieces together.

"Of course I didn't," Dana said, feigning outrage.

"And you saw her. Otherwise how would you have known that she was in a room upstairs, instead of a cell in the dungeon? You saw her, and you probably even spoke to her, and still you did this. For what, Dana? What's so important that you would stab your friend in the back and -"

Dana watched his face as the last puzzle piece fell into place. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't see Ginny. I went for a walk."

"You're lying."

"Why would I visit Malfoy Manor? Think about it, Harry."

"I have. You sold Ginny out for a Death Eater." His hands were still digging painfully into her skin, but his face was eerily calm.

"You're being stupid," she protested. "Why would I choose a Death Eater over -"

"You would in a heartbeat," Harry interrupted, "if the Death Eater was your twin."

All Dana's life, whenever she tried to mask her thoughts, there had been a split-second before her mask slid into place in which she gave herself away. This time was no different. "My twin?" she asked, a lame recovery if there ever was one.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Harry was shouting again; his face twisted with wrath.

"You and I both know she's been obliviated," Dana said. "The story you fed Catherine about her remembering everything is a lie. They could do a Priori Incantatum on my wand to prove it; I did the memory charm."

"It didn't work, Dana." He shook her once, hard. "Your stupid charm didn't do a goddamned thing to her memory because she's the Pendragon, and you've just given her to Draco Malfoy, gift wrapped, on a silver platter!"

Dana's mind latched on the word Pendragon; she didn't hear anything after that. It swirled around her consciousness - Pendragon - and then, something inside of her shattered. Dana looked up at Harry. Her grin stopped his rant short. Through her giggles, she exclaimed, "I was almost fooled! I mean, sure, I ran across references to the legend while Dee and I did our research. For a moment you really had me going! Have you ever thought about acting? That was brilliant, Gin."

"Gin?" Harry demanded. "What?"

Instead of answering, she pitched forward into his arms, out cold.

* * * * *

Evening:

Ginny was the first thing Delia saw when she entered the room with the dinner tray. The prisoner leaned against one of the posts at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed across her chest. "I see you've left off your pacing for the evening," Delia said as she set the tray on the table.

Ginny tilted her head and gave a faint smile. "I'm just having a bit of a rest is all. I'll take it up again after I've eaten."

Delia's expression was disgruntled. "You only do it because you know he assigned me to watch you."

Ginny shoved away from the bed and started towards the table. "Watch me? Spy on me is more like. Lucky for my sanity, I'm not here to entertain you." She surveyed the tray of food and picked up a fork. "Where is he?"

"There was a sacrifice tonight. They're all there at the request of the Dark Lord."

"Anyone I know?" Ginny's tone was nonchalant; her face still wore that slightly unsettling half smile.

Delia shook her head. "A Muggle they took a few days ago."

Without sitting, Ginny speared a carrot and ate it. She made a face and motioned with the fork. "It needs salt. Would you mind?"

Delia rolled her eyes and started towards the sideboard. No sooner had she turned her back than Ginny launched herself across the room. The two women fell in a tangle of limbs, and as they went down Delia struck her forehead against an end table with a sickening crack. The last thing she was aware of before she lost consciousness was the chain of her amulet breaking as Ginny tore it from her neck.

* * * * *

Ginny stole quietly through the halls of the manor. Tonight, Death Eaters were scarce; apparently, Voldemort had requested the presence of all of them. The building seemed deserted. She called up Draco's mental map of his home; she couldn't waste time searching for exits. After twenty minutes she located an outside door and gingerly pushed it open, silently thanking the diligent house elves who kept the hinges well oiled. She slipped outside and pushed the door closed, then froze.

Ginny heard voices approaching; the dark ritual must have finished and now they were returning to headquarters. Ginny looked around frantically; there were no convenient hiding places. She would have to count on the cover of darkness to keep her concealed. Silently, Ginny darted around the corner of the house and pressed her back up against the stone wall. She was sure they'd be able to hear the frantic heartbeat that pounded in her ears.

The crowd of Death Eaters passed within ten feet of her. They were all hooded and masked; some had slick, shiny stains down the fronts of their robes. After a moment's confusion, Ginny came to the sickening realization that it was blood. None of the dark wizards glanced her way; their work was done for the night and there was no reason for them to get suspicious and investigate around corners when a nice, hot meal awaited them in the Malfoy dining room.

When the last one entered the house and pulled the door shut, Ginny released the breath she had been holding and took a moment to scan the grounds of the manor. The place was covered with anti-apparition wards, and there was no way she'd be able to break through them without first knowing the specific spells Lucius had used to guard against intruders. There was nothing for it; Ginny would have to get off the grounds before she could truly make her escape.

She quickly evaluated her options. The way across the lawns was faster, but she would be in the open and readily visible to anyone who happened to look out a window. She would be safer if she went through the woods, although the path was longer. Ginny hesitated a moment, and then took off through the Malfoy family forest.

She dodged boughs and tree trunks, devoting all her instincts to finding the shortest way through the woods. Branches tore at her sleeves and hair and scratched across her face, but she ignored it all. Ginny pushed her way through a particularly think clump of trunks and froze once she was on the other side. Draco had just stepped into her line of sight; he walked towards the manor with a purposeful stride as he fastened the silver clasps on his cloak. His Death Eater hood and mask were slung over his arm.

Before Ginny could hide, he looked up and stopped short, obviously just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. His mouth dropped open slightly and, fastenings forgotten, his cloak slipped off his shoulders and fell to the ground.

Draco's mouth tightened as he tossed a quick glance over his shoulder and then turned back to her. "I'm not even going to ask how you got out here." He strode through the trees to her, his blond hair glinting in the faint gray starlight. "But you're going back now." He was furious; but the rolling thunder clouds gathering in his eyes were the only visual evidence of the anger she felt lurking under the surface of his calm facade.

"Like hell I am," she answered, backing away as he neared.

"Where are you going to run to, Virginia?" His voice was harsh. "There's nowhere you can hide from me. I'll find you wherever you go. Even if you moved into Dumbledore's own bloody office you think I wouldn't find a way to bring you back here?" His eyes never left hers as he methodically stalked her through the trees.

Ginny backed into a trunk, and she quickly darted around the other side. He followed, his features set in an expression of fierce determination.

"Like hell I'm going back with you," Ginny repeated.

Draco shot another glance over his shoulder and Ginny seized the opportunity of his momentary distraction and ran. She only got a few steps, though, before his hand closed around her wrist. He nearly yanked her arm out of joint as he pulled her up against him; his chest pressed into her back and his free hand snaked out and caught hold of her other wrist before she could lash out at him. He squeezed his arms around her struggling body and whispered grimly in her ear, "Never underestimate the reflexes of a former Seeker." He spun her around and slammed her against a tree hard enough to momentarily stun her. His body pressed hers tightly to the rough bark, leaving her no room to strike as his arms pinned hers to her sides. Although given room to maneuver she was a much more dangerous fighter than he, in such close quarters sheer strength was all that mattered and he had it in spades. Once more he looked over his shoulder and then turned back to her, his face set in an odd combination of resolve and anticipation, and slammed his mouth onto hers.

At the force of his kiss, Ginny's head flew back and struck the tree. She saw stars, and could only manage a sound of outraged pain. She tried to turn away from the assault, but his mouth followed hers. She felt a scream of panic gathering in her throat.

Don't you dare, he said through their link. His voice was stern, demanding, and as relentless as his kiss. I swear to God, Ginny, if you scream I'll put you on bread and water for a month.

She intensified her struggles. Let me go! she cried into his mind.

Not a chance. Did you think we were alone out here?

This gave her pause. We're not?

Neither of them had closed their eyes. They stood, bodies pressed together, lips fused, gazes locked. Flint and Crabbe stayed behind to help me clean up, and they're coming this way. If they see that you escaped, they'll put two and two together and realize I didn't really give you that love potion.

So? she asked.

So! They'll wonder why I lied about it, which will lead to them wondering about other things. They'll start to ask questions and eventually the plan will be exposed. His eyes bored into hers, pinning her against the tree as effectively as his body did.

He heard her mocking laughter in his mind. What are they going to do, kill me?

No, he said, but they very well might kill me.

Ginny glanced then to her right. Sure enough, she heard the crack of sticks and twigs underfoot, accompanied by voices. Her eyes flew back to his. If your plan were ever found out, would they really kill you? They're your friends.

They might be, Draco answered, but there's a reason I didn't recruit them. Their loyalty to Voldemort is absolute. Would they kill me if they found out I was planning to betray him? Absolutely.

Dammit! She might not like it, but the importance of keeping him alive trumped her escape.

Just kiss me, he ordered. Like you mean it. And then follow my lead.

What are you going to do?

I'll make it up as I go along, he said, removing his hands from her wrists and wrapping his arms around her. Still, he didn't close his eyes. Ginny remembered something Shannon always said: never trust a man who kisses with his eyes open.

Ginny! He was exasperated. Are you this cardboard when you're with Potter?

What?

Remember you're under a love potion. Like you mean it, all right?

With that, Draco flicked his tongue out and traced the seam of her lips. Valiantly tamping down her revulsion, Ginny parted her lips and allowed Draco to deepen the kiss. Her palms stroked up his stomach to his chest and she clutched handfuls of his black shirt in her fists.

Draco had to hand it to Ginny; she was one hell of an actress. She sank into him with closed eyes and returned his kiss with intoxicating abandon. Just as he began to forget everything but the woman in his arms, Flint and Crabbe blundered into his line of sight.

Draco glanced at his fellow Death Eaters and then slowly ended the kiss. The brief look he gave her spoke volumes. Behave yourself or I'm dead. He put his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the spot where his neck met his shoulder to keep them from recognizing her.

"I think you took a wrong turn, boys." Draco's voice was the essence of aristocratic aloofness, but Ginny could feel his heart hammering inside his chest.

"What's she doing out here?" Crabbe asked.

Draco shrugged. "What can I say? She can't get enough of me."

"What if she saw something?" Crabbe asked.

Draco arched an eyebrow and gave the junior Death Eater a look of warning. "She didn't," he said coolly.

"But what if she did?" Crabbe insisted.

"Even if she did, her mind is so far gone from the potion that she wouldn't have known what she was looking at." He traced his finger lazily down the side of Ginny's neck in a proprietary gesture. "I'm afraid Agent Jezebel is only good for one thing anymore." Draco grunted in surprise.

"What was that?" Crabbe asked suspiciously.

Draco chuckled. "She bit me."

"We'll just leave you two alone, shall we?" Flint said with a wink at Draco. "Come on, Crabbe."

"But what about--"

"Come on, Crabbe." Flint took the younger man by the arm and pulled him away from the couple who leaned against the tree.

Draco released his grip on her hair and leaned his head back so he could look in her face. Was the bite really necessary?

Her eyes blazed. I'm afraid my mind is too far gone to answer your stupid questions.

She braced her palms against his chest to push him away and he grasped her wrists. Easy, he said. They're not out of sight yet. He once again lowered his mouth to hers, but the unyielding harshness from the last kiss was replaced with gentle tenderness. His thumbs stroked over her wrists, easing the pain from when he had grabbed her before. Now when she turned her head away from his mouth he dotted little, fluttering bites over her jawbone, slowly working his way to her ear. When his lips fastened onto her pulse point, she gasped and turned her head back towards him, breaking the contact. He smiled down at her, and then gently caught her lower lip between his teeth. Come on, Ginny. They could turn around at any moment. Just relax and let me take care of everything.

Because there was nothing else she could do if she wanted to keep him alive, Ginny obeyed. She wound her arms around his neck and returned his kiss without struggling. You'd better appreciate this, she said to him.

Oh, believe me, I do, he replied. You're making quite a noble sacrifice, aren't you? No doubt Potter would be proud. He wound his arms around her, held her against his chest, and let himself drown in her. She was beautiful and sexy as hell, and he wasn't likely to get another chance, after all.

From far away, Ginny heard a soft moan and realized with horror that it had come from her. She abruptly broke their kiss and looked up at him, fear and confusion playing across her features. "Let me go," she whispered.

He couldn't. Draco kept his eyes were half closed, giving him a deceptively lazy air. He threaded his fingers through her hair. "No," he said softly. "What I would like to know is how you managed to get out of your room." She didn't answer and he smiled. "Forget I asked. You'll never tell, will you?" He ducked his head down and traced a line of soft kisses down her neck. "Let's talk, then, about that very interesting noise you made just now." She pushed against his chest, but he didn't budge. "Were you really trying to escape, Ginny? Or did you come out here looking for me?"

"Of course not," she whispered desperately. His mouth had abandoned her neck and was now sipping along her collarbone.

No? Damn him, he actually sounded amused. Then prove it. His lips brushed softly across hers then curved into a smile.

"Do you honestly think I would've gone through all the trouble of breaking out just so I be alone with you in the woods?"

Draco shifted his attention to her earlobe, catching it between his lips and sucking gently. I haven't seen anything to prove otherwise.

"What kind of monster do you think I am?" she whispered.

He froze, and then pulled back slightly to meet her eyes. "I beg your pardon?"

"You've just participated in a human sacrifice, and you think I would ever come to you willingly? That I would ever -"

"Is that what you think then?" His face had turned to granite; the teasing look in his eyes vanished as though it had never been. "You think I enjoyed what happened tonight? You think I don't realize that they're all insane, and Voldemort most of all? I'm nothing like the rest of them, and you know it."

"That mark on your arm says otherwise," Ginny retorted. She wanted to anger him, to turn him from the Draco whose kisses set her on fire back to the Draco she knew and hated, and she saw with satisfaction that she had succeeded.

"Not two minutes ago you were hanging 'round my neck and kissing me like there was no one else in the world." His voice dripped with ice. "Maybe Potter can't fill all your needs, hm?"

Ginny snarled, "I hate you."

"Do you? That certainly makes things more...interesting." His gaze turned predatory, and he grasped her chin with his palm and forced her to meet his eyes. Ginny tried to struggle, but there was nowhere for her to go. She was sandwiched between his body and the tree, and Draco wasn't about to release her. His smile was fiendish as he murmured silkily, "You do impeach your modesty too much, to commit yourself into the hands of one who loves you not," he lowered his mouth to just a few inches from hers. "To trust the opportunity of night," now his lips were only a breath away, "and the ill council of a desert place--"

His lips descended on hers. Ginny squirmed away from their touch and then slammed her forehead into his mouth as hard as she could. When he pulled back in pain, she shoved hard against his chest and ran for all she was worth. Draco swore roundly and chased after her. She managed to get nearly thirty yards before he caught hold of her wrist, but she immediately reeled around and swung with her free hand. The punch landed solidly across his jaw, but he didn't release his grip on her. Ginny launched herself at Draco, and when the full weight of her body slammed into him, he tripped backwards and fell to the ground. She went down on top of him and pulled the amulet from her pocket, holding the sharp edge to his throat. "Your virtue is my privilege," she hissed.

To her surprise, Draco's eyes glowed with a wry respect. "Sarcasm is an unbecoming trait in a woman." A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Still, it was nicely done, and I'm impressed that you know Midsummer Night's Dream as thoroughly as you know Macbeth." She didn't budge. "Come on, Ginny," he said. "You're not fooling anyone. We both know that you're not going to hurt me."

She hesitated a moment too long, and he swung his legs around to trap hers and flung her over. Now he was on top, and she was the one pressed into the ground. He anchored her wrists above her head and tried to ignore the fire that streaked through his body in all the places it touched hers. "So, now that you're well and truly trapped, what am I going to do with you?" She glared, and his expression turned smug. "No suggestions?" he asked. "No requests?"

"Let me go," she pleaded, even though she hated herself for doing so.

"I can't."

Please.

I told you, I can't. I need you.

"I don't care," she said out loud.

"No, of course you don't," he acknowledged. "You just now told me you hated me, didn't you? It's a good thing that I realize you didn't mean it, because if -"

"Who said I didn't mean it?"

He sighed. "You're angry with yourself for responding to me the way you did," he explained. "I can certainly understand that, and I even understand your need to punish me for making you feel the things you felt. Really, though, I have to ask you to reconsider. You're hurting yourself just as much as me by denying it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." He didn't attempt to hide the heat in his voice, since he could feel it burning inside of her too. "Just like you didn't know that I would be out here tonight."

"I didn't," she insisted, but there was no force behind her words. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and her lips parted slightly.

Draco nearly shouted in triumph. He had received that look enough times to know exactly what it meant. Without hesitating, he claimed her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. He let his desire flow through the link; he knew she felt it. He moaned when she slid her feet up his body and wrapped her legs around his waist. He released her wrists so that his hands could explore her body, and she tangled her fingers in his hair. Not breaking their kiss, he propped himself up on his elbows and traced his fingers over the front of her shirt. He had only opened two buttons when she slid her leg down his side and then crashed her knee up into his groin. He doubled up in pain and Ginny drove her elbow into the side of his face, rolled from beneath him, and ran.

He lay on the ground, gasping in agony, and realized that she was only a few yards from the edge of the woods. He jumped to his feet and, through no small effort, gave chase. He lunged at her from behind and brought her crashing face-first to the forest floor. Draco flipped her over and, without hesitating, pulled a vial from his pocket and shoved it into her mouth. She bit down hard on his hand, and the container vanished on contact with her teeth. Draught of Living Death spilled into her mouth. Ginny coughed and tried to spit the potion out, but she had already swallowed enough of it.

"Clever girl," Draco choked out, admiring her ingenuity in spite of himself. His chest heaved with pain, exertion, and the remnants of passion, and he didn't move from his place on top of her. "You would've made a great Slytherin."

She gasped weakly. "I can not believe you carry that stuff around."

"All's fair in love and war." His eyes turned grim. "It was for the ritual tonight. In case he needed to be subdued." Ginny's eyes had taken on a slightly glazed look, but he still understood the question in them. "We didn't need it. He was unconscious the whole time." Draco pulled himself up and sat beside her prone form.

Shakily, Ginny struggled to her knees and then, wrapping her arms around a tree trunk, pulled herself to a standing position. Draco idly wondered how long the potion took to affect someone with power as strong as hers. Still, he didn't move from his place on the ground. Ginny managed to stagger several steps before she stumbled to her knees, and then collapsed.

Draco rubbed his sore jaw as he crawled over to her. She was out cold. He sat on the ground for a long time, waiting for the painful throb in his lower body to fade and the fire in his blood to cool. When he felt he could touch her without losing control, he picked her up and started the long walk back to the mansion.

* * * * *

Draco managed to avoid his fellow Death Eaters without much trouble; they were all firmly ensconced in the dining room. No doubt Crabbe and Flint had made his excuses. No one would expect him tonight. He turned down the hall that housed her room and heard a startled, high-pitched gasp. Draco looked up in surprise and noticed one of the house elves rushing toward him.

"Oh, Master Draco! You are a mess!"

If Ginny's appearance was anything to go by, he was in a right state indeed. Draco pressed against the wall and it dissolved into a doorway. He stepped into Ginny's room, dumped her unceremoniously on the bed, and untwisted the amulet from her fingers. Then, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was tangled with bits of leaves and twigs, his clothes were torn, and his face was streaked with dirt. His lip was beginning to swell, and he had two good-sized bruises developing where she had hit him. He turned to the elf, inclined his head toward Ginny, and said, "Fix her up, will you? She's filthy."

"Yes sir," the elf replied. "But what about you, sir?"

Draco started for the whisky decanter on the sideboard and nearly tripped over the unconscious body of Delia, sprawled on the floor. His expression darkened as he pulled out his wand, cleared the goose egg from her forehead, and woke her up. She looked at him, dazed, and then her memories came flooding back. "Oh, God, Draco! I'm so sorry! We have to hurry; she can't have gone far."

He stood and started toward the door, the alcohol forgotten. "Never mind," he answered coldly. "I took care of it myself." He pushed past the house elf and the door dissolved back into the wall as Delia followed him.

Draco didn't spare her a glance as he paced through the halls of the manor. His strides were so long, Delia had to jog to keep up. "I was getting her some salt -" she began.

Draco stopped short and gave her an incredulous look. "You're telling me you actually turned your back to her!"

"She's been docile enough," Delia protested.

Draco gave a humorless laugh and probed the bruise on his jaw. "She's half wild," he said, and resumed his walk.

"There's been no indication that she's dangerous until now," Delia defended herself.

Draco didn't even spare her a glance. "No indication that she's dangerous? She's Agent fucking Jezebel. She's the most dangerous person either of us has ever met and you were stupid enough to turn your back to her."

"Draco!" Delia pleaded. "Draco, I didn't think--"

"No, you didn't," he interrupted, grabbing her roughly. "Lucky for you, I was able to fix your mistake quickly before the others noticed anything wrong." He began dragging her down the hallway.

"Draco?" Delia asked, stumbling. "What are you doing?" She had never seen him look so cold.

"Thanks to her I now have a problem," he said as he opened the door to his room and pushed her in. "So you're going to help me take care of it." As his mouth came down on hers with a bruising force, she realized that he was in a murderous rage and full to the brim with lust for his untouchable prisoner. Delia braced herself. Hopefully he wouldn't go too far.

* * * * *

Mike stormed through the halls of St. Mungo's, fixing on the person he most wanted to see. He grabbed Harry's collar and shoved him up against the wall. "What the hell did you do to her?"

Harry rested his palms on Mike's chest and shoved as hard as he could, sending the shorter man staggering back several paces. "The mediwizards say she was under a strong memory charm."

Mike snarled, "You had something to do with it. I know you did."

"I broke the charm," Harry acknowledged. "I didn't know it was there. I'm as surprised as anyone. She'll be all right, though. They have her sedated."

"Son of a bitch!" Mike cursed. "Why can't you just leave me alone? You put my girlfriend in the hospital, and all you can say is that you're surprised?"

"Your girlfriend," Harry growled, "chose her Death Eater sister over Ginny's safety." At this moment, all he cared about was putting Mike in his place. "Your girlfriend voted not to raid Malfoy Manor and rescue your best friend, because her evil twin might have to actually pay for the crimes she's committed."

Mike looked horrified. "Delia Silvermoon? A Death Eater?"

Harry just glared.

"Dana wouldn't do that," Mike insisted.

Harry motioned towards the closed door at the end of the hall. "Ask her yourself. Ask her to tell you where she was last night when she snuck out."

"She told me she went for a walk," Mike said, more to himself than anything.

Harry snorted with scornful laughter. "Women have been telling that lie to their husbands for centuries, and Michael Fletcher, Ravenclaw genius, is the first man to actually believe it."

"Fuck you, Potter."

"Go ask her to tell you what she did," Harry challenged. "I'm looking forward to hearing you say, 'You were right, Harry, and I was wrong. Dana is a bitch, and a traitor.' "

Mike balled up his fist and let it fly. Harry had excellent reflexes, but after all these years of nonviolence between them, he wasn't expecting the Ravenclaw to strike him. He managed to dodge the brunt of the blow, but it still caught his jaw at an unpleasant angle, snapping his head to the side. Harry did what he'd wanted to do since he was seventeen years old: he swung, and his punch landed across Mike's cheek with a satisfying crunch. Before the fight could progress, two burly male nurses stepped between them. Harry didn't struggle, but one of them had to forcibly hold Mike back. "You ask her," Harry said as the younger man flailed. "I'm telling the truth. And get someone to fix your face while you're here." He turned and walked down the hall, and didn't give Mike the satisfaction of looking back.

* * * * *

Ginny stirred, then opened her eyes. Draco's face was the first thing she saw. He was lounging in a chair beside her bed, watching her through languorous, half-closed eyes. Gone was the simmering rage she'd provoked in the forest. His cool façade was back. She wondered why he bothered with the act. She could sense his spirit, the Draco beneath the mask. He was trembling inside, shaking from the effort it took to stay calm despite the link, at what she made him feel, at the way her soul had awakened parts of his that he'd always kept carefully buried. She was the spark that Voldemort had anticipated, the one that would set Draco on fire.

"You're awake," he said, his tone oddly subdued. That terrible drawl was nowhere in evidence.

She sat up slowly and pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. "This is one for the loss column."

Draco shook his head, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "I'm afraid so. But it was a good try, even if it did almost get me killed, and I respect you all the more for it."

Ginny saw with surprise that he was being sincere. She turned on the bed, shifted to face him. They held each other's eyes for a silent moment. Finally, Ginny murmured, "You owe Delia an apology."

"Why?" His smile vanished and the familiar harshness tinged his expression. "Sometimes people like it rough. I didn't force her into anything."

"No," Ginny acknowledged, "you didn't. But you used her, and this isn't the first time."

"I haven't done anything that she hasn't consented to," he said. "Why would she let me use her?"

Ginny shrugged. "You'll have to ask her." She turned her face away from Draco's and leaned back against the headboard with a sigh.

He took in her profile - the stubborn chin, the nose that turned up slightly at the end, the tousled red hair, shot through with strands of gold, her pale skin. "The elves did a good job healing your face."

"My face?" she asked without looking at him. "What was wrong with my face?"

He shifted from his chair to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, facing her. "You had bruises here," he brushed his fingertips over her cheek, "and here," her jaw, "and here," he ran his thumb over her lower lip. Ginny shivered, but didn't give him the satisfaction of pulling away. In actual fact, that would've given him very little satisfaction indeed. He didn't know why he felt this sudden compulsion, to touch her, to hear her voice, to look at her as though she were an oasis and he was dying of thirst. He wanted to get as far away from her as possible. He wanted to crawl inside her skin, to grab on and never let go. She was a woman he hated and a goddess he worshipped, and every moment he spent in her company left him drained and shaken from staving off the loss of control he knew was imminent.

"Why were you bruised, Ginny?" he continued in that same, soft voice. "I didn't lay a hand on you. How did you get bruises in the places that you hit me?"

She looked down at her lap. She couldn't - couldn't - look into those eyes and see them reflecting the same turbulence she felt. "The link."

"Do you and Potter have this problem? Both of you get injuries incurred by one?"

She shook her head and whispered, "No."

"Why not?"

Ginny was silent for a long time. Just when he was about to repeat his question, she took a deep, shuddering breath and spoke. "My link with him is contained. I built a wall. Ours is still open."

Draco took a moment to process that. "This is why I...I mean, we're..."

"We're bleeding into each other," Ginny said, her voice a little stronger now, her tone more firm.

"Can you make it stop?"

Finally, she looked up at him. "I can. But I won't. Not until you let me go."

"I can't." He forced himself to stay calm. If he raised his voice, if he allowed even one small crack in his armor of control, he'd lay hands on her and...he didn't want to think about it. He was barely holding it together as it was. His tone was modulated as he continued, "Not until you promise to support my cause."

"Then we're at a stalemate." Her eyes had a look to them, determined and cool. Draco had a sudden, eerie feeling that he was looking at himself, that this was the part of him she carried inside talking rather than Ginny herself.

"Can we negotiate?" he asked.

"No," she said flatly. "Let me go, and I'll wall up the link. Those are my terms."

"God dammit!" he exclaimed. "This is torture." He looked truly desperate. "I want -" He paused and licked his dry lips, then asked, "Is this how it was with you and Potter?"

"No. My power is stronger now, though, than it was six years ago."

"Ginny." Her name was nothing more than a whisper as it left his lips, an almost inaudible plea. He felt like he was going mad, like the wildness she provoked would scorch him from the inside out.

"What happened tonight?" Ginny asked. "Who is he sacrificing to, Draco? What's going on?"

He drew a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. "You mean you don't know?"

Mute, Ginny shook her head.

"He found some scrolls years ago, did terrible dark magic to get them. Spells I don't even want to know."

"Too dark for a Malfoy?" she asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow.

"Hard to believe, I know. The scrolls told how to gain great power, power beyond any mortal. Except for..."

"The Pendragon."

"The Pendragon." He nodded in confirmation, then continued; "The blood spilled for the goddess bolsters her strength in the Otherworld. Blood sacrifices are always the most effective kind."

"Which goddess?" Her heart beat a staccato rhythm against her ribs as she waited for his answer.

"It's Badb, Gin."

She was stunned, actually covered her mouth with her hand in shock. MórrÃÂ-gan's sister was the one who'd risen up against her?

"She's given him a ring," Draco said. "It's some kind of key to power, but he hasn't unlocked it yet. That's why he needs you."

"Is he insane?"

He laughed softly, a depreciating, tired sound. "Yes, Ginny, Voldemort is insane. He's completely mad. Is this news to you?"

She shook her head.

"He can't see that he's in over his head. By accepting the ring, he's opened a door to this world and right now he's a strong enough wizard to keep the goddess from coming in, but the more he sacrifices to her the stronger she gets and -"

"You have to let me go," Ginny interrupted. "I can't stay here, not now. They need me out there!"

"You wouldn't last ten minutes," he snapped. A fissure streaked through his control; he ignored it. "Voldemort will find you. Don't think for a second that he won't."

"You have to let me go!"

"It's not safe!"

She shook her head, too stubborn to care that they were both close to the breaking point. "You're only saying that because of the link!" Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. "You're too psychotically overprotective to see that I can't be here! I need to get out! I need -"

And, at that moment, Draco's control snapped. His hand snaked out and grabbed the back of her neck; he leaned forward and covered her mouth with his. Anything to quiet the roaring in his head...

She brought her hand to his, grabbed his wrist, but didn't pull away. Emotions had been riding too high all night; they were both half-mad. He pushed her back until they both sprawled across the bed, limbs tangled. They devoured each other, ravenous and ruthless. They bit and clawed, pressed their lips together hard enough to bruise. He sank his teeth into her shoulder; she raked her nails down his back. Several hungry minutes later, Draco broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. His breath was rapid, panting, as he gasped, "Ask me to stay the night."

Ginny dragged her eyes open. "What?"

He kissed her again, until they were both near to mindless. There was nothing gentle or tender about it; it was wild, animal, instinctive, and passionate. It seemed a contest: which of them could inflict the most pain. She bit his lip until she tasted blood. He gripped her hips tightly enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Once again, he said, "Ask me to stay the night."

She couldn't catch onto a thought. "Um -" she whispered, warm breath against his mouth.

"Ask me." He took one of her hands in his and brought it to his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt, Ginny could feel his heart pounding. Or maybe it was hers. She could hardly tell anymore. They were both shaking.

She gathered all her mental control and, through a superhuman effort, said, "I love Harry."

Draco didn't move his hand from her heart. He shook his head and kissed her once more, the contact achingly brief, even though he wanted to devour her. "He'll never have to know."

"I'd know." Still, she didn't pull away. They lay there, forehead to forehead. He held her wrist shackled in his grip and she felt his heart; they watched each other through eyes that were wary, combative, and hazy with passion. "I'd know," Ginny repeated, more to remind herself, since she knew he'd heard her the first time. Then, she gathered her strength and told him, "You have to go."

"No. You have to close off the link." He couldn't tolerate this loss of control. He abhorred it in others; it was terrifying to feel it in himself.

"Not until you let me out of here." It was the one thing that gave her power over him, her one advantage. She couldn't give it up.

His mouth was close...so close...Ginny whispered, "You have to go." It took every bit of willpower she possessed to pull her hand from his chest. He tried to hold her beneath him, but she squirmed away. "We can't. It'll only make it worse." She remembered how her connection with Harry had deepened after they'd made love. Considering their current mental state, sex with Draco would probably drive them both mad. They'd be lost in each other forever, and never be able to untangle who was who.

His laugh was harsh as he rolled onto his side to look at her. "It can't get any worse."

"It can. And if you don't leave right now, it will."

He didn't move.

"Trust me," she said, desperate. The last thing she wanted to do was to betray Harry, which meant she had to get Draco out of this room.

He laid there for an endless minute, then rolled to the edge of the bed, stood, and strode through the wall. He didn't look back. If he had, he wouldn't have been able to leave. And she wouldn't have been able to let him go.

The panel dissolved as he walked through, and reconstituted the moment he was in the hall. Draco leaned back against it, eyes closed, and shuddered. She'd given him an ultimatum, but he'd come too far, had planned too long to just give in. He'd last as long as she did, or until one of them went mad.

"Brilliant! Bloody brilliant!"

Draco looked up and saw Blaise jogging down the hall, a huge grin on his face. Draco asked, "What was brilliant?" He forced his face into a neutral expression and pushed away from the wall, stood up straight.

"Trying to get her into bed, that's what," Blaise said. "I was watching through the mirror. It's a perfect plan to drive Potter and her apart. Why didn't you tell me this is what you were going to do?"

Draco thanked every god in the pantheon that his followers thought he'd been acting. If they ever suspected for a moment that he'd been sincere, that he and Ginny were caught in a magical web with no escape without surrender, and neither one was going to give in...it didn't bear thinking about. Draco schooled his features into a mask of arrogance and said, "I give her a week."

Blaise nodded, thoughtful. "Fifty Galleons?"

Draco made himself grin. "It's a bet." They shook on it, and if Blaise noticed that Draco's palm was on the damp side, he didn't say anything.

Draco turned and took off down the hall, and Blaise called after him, "Where are you going?"

"To find Delia," Draco called over his shoulder, the smile gone from his face.

"Again?" Blaise asked, confused. "Didn't you two just -"

"Does everyone know my business?" Draco exploded, whirling around to face his friend.

Blaise was taken aback. "It's hard to keep a secret from this group of people; you know that. It's just that you and Delia...I mean, you two..."

He was using her and, goddess help him, for the first time in his life, Draco felt guilty. Delia deserved better than this. Ginny, what the hell are you doing to me? He sent the thought through the link.

Her answer was wry, but tinged with exhaustion. We human beings call it a conscience. You owe her an apology.

He knew she was right. If I apologize, will this feeling go away?

Draco felt a burning course down his throat to his stomach, and knew Ginny had just downed a large swallow of Firewhiskey. There's some liquid courage. Go do it before you lose your nerve.

"Hey," Blaise said, "are you all right?"

Draco looked at his friend, surprised, as though he'd momentarily forgotten Blaise's presence. "I'm fine."

"You have one week," Blaise said with a grin. "Don't forget."

"A Malfoy never loses a bet," Draco replied. He turned on his heel and walked away without another word. Ginny was already on her second glass of whisky; he needed to get this Delia conversation over with before the Pendragon got herself and, by extension, him, thoroughly drunk.

* * * * *

Draco had no idea where Delia could be. She wasn't in her rooms, watching the spy mirror, or in the library. As he walked through an unused parlor on his way down to the kitchens - maybe she'd wanted a snack - he heard someone say, "Good evening, Draco."

He whirled around and, to his acute surprise, there stood Cornelius Fudge, escorted by a terrified-looking Malfoy house elf. "Minister," Draco acknowledged. "What are you doing here?"

"He's paying us a visit, son." Draco's father strolled into the room behind Fudge and bolted the door. "Aren't you, Minister?"

"A visit," Fudge confirmed blandly. The Imperius Curse was still holding strong, it was plain to see.

Draco arched an eyebrow. "In the middle of the night, Lucius?"

"No witnesses," his father explained, and before Draco could react, his father pulled his wand and a bright green light rushed through the room on the cold wind of death. Fudge dropped to the floor. The house elf squeaked and dove under a dusty ottoman.

Draco's eyes widened. "You just killed the Minister of Magic. You just...killed..."

"On our lord's orders," Lucius clarified. "He was tired of maintaining the curse. The old man was starting to fight it, and we couldn't have that. I'm Chairman of the Grand Council. I'm next in line, should the Minister meet with an accident."

"I don't think shooting him in the back counts as an accident," Draco pointed out. If Lucius became the Minister of Magic, Voldemort would be that much more entrenched in the wizarding world. His coup just got a lot more complicated.

"It will look like a suicide," Lucius drawled. "Our doctors at St. Mungo's will confirm it. My swearing-in ceremony shouldn't be any more than three days from now. Inform your mother if you get a chance; she'll probably want a new set of robes."

"Why wasn't I consulted?" Draco demanded.

His father stepped over Fudge's body, a dark lump in the nighttime shadows of the room, and leaned down to whisper in his son's ear. "He doesn't trust you. You've never been anything but loyal to him; see that you stay that way. I'll not lose you over this. You're the Malfoy heir. You have a responsibility to the name."

Draco tilted his head to the side and regarded his father with contempt. "If you think he trusts you any more than he trusts me, then you're deluded. He's the Dark Lord. He doesn't trust anyone. But I'm the one he made his second. Not you, Lucius. Don't ever forget that."

Behind his cool exterior, Draco's mind raced frantically. He needed to find Blaise and Delia, and tell them that the plan needed to be accelerated. He needed the Pendragon's support, and soon. There was nothing else for it; he would have to force Ginny's hand.