Galatea

Chapter Six

Master and Slave

Master and slave

In equal parts split down the middle

Drinking doubles at the bar

Master and slave

God bless you both

I've got two for the price of one.

--Cherry Poppin Daddies

What the hell is going on? Ginny shouted. She was halfway through her glass of firewhiskey. The tumbler dangled from her fingers and the amber liquid came dangerously close to spilling out and soaking the rug, but she didn't notice. You had better answer me soon, because I swear to you, if you don't, I'm going to -

"What is it, Pendragon?"

The words came suddenly, loudly into Ginny's drunken mind. She stopped dead in her tracks, surprised that she'd been answered. She hadn't been expecting it.

"Well? Are you going to state your business or would you rather waste my time?"

Ginny goggled up at the ceiling. Macha?

"Pendragon, my patience is limited -"

Ginny shook off her shock and resumed her pacing. She stalked over to the mirror, not caring that there were people on the other end of it, and frowned at her reflection. Her slightly-too-big black robe - all the robes Draco had brought her were black; apparently, variety was not highly prized at Malfoy manor - slipped down one pale shoulder. Ginny leaned close and examined a small bite mark on her collarbone. Dammit. Where's Mórrígan?

Macha hesitated, and looked toward the Phantom Queen's pavilion. "My sister is unavailable," she finally said.

Ginny reached out and brushed her fingers across the smooth glass of the mirror, over the spot where Draco's teeth had marked her, then tossed back the rest of her drink. The first glass and a half had burned, but after four, she downed them like water. The tumbler fell to the carpet with a dull thump and was immediately forgotten. She's unbelievable, is what she is! Did you see what just happened in here?

"Yes," Macha said, "I did." She lounged beside the pool, propping herself up on one elbow.

That wasn't me, Ginny told the goddess, furious. It wasn't me, and it sure as hell wasn't Malfoy either. What is she doing? And don't you dare lie for her, because I know she made us act like that. I could feel it. Did she think I wouldn't be able to feel it? Ginny turned on her heel and resumed her pacing. She wanted to smash something, but the mirror was enchanted and, after her rampage the other night, Draco had the elves remove all breakable things from the room.

"She knew that you'd feel it," Macha said. "She just doesn't care. Did you think she would?"

Ginny let out an aggravated scream and flopped face-first onto the bed, ridges of rumpled satin beneath her cheek. The sudden movement left her dizzy, and she took a second to wait for the room to stop spinning. She doesn't care? She's damned lucky that Malfoy and I were able to stop because if we hadn't, if I had actually slept with that piece of filth -

"Enough, Virginia," Macha interrupted. "Get to the point. Complaining about my sister isn't going to change anything."

Why is she doing this? Ginny demanded. I deserve to know why.

Macha sighed. She didn't agree with her sister's decision, but she couldn't very well say this to a mortal, even if the mortal was the Pendragon. "Because you've shared your body with him, your link with Harry is deeper than your link with Draco. They need to be equally strong. Mórrígan was taking steps to bring this about. It's vital, and I understand why she made the decision she did, even if the two of you don't necessarily like it."

Ginny curled her hands into fists, gripping handfuls of the cool bedspread. There has to be another way.

"I don't -"

I'm telling you, Ginny interrupted, that there has to be another way because I will not do this. I refuse to let anyone...you tell her from me that I'm no one's whore, and I won't allow her to treat me like one. I'm not going to sleep with Malfoy. It's out of the question. I won't -

"Calm down, Virginia," Macha said. This girl could be so dramatic sometimes! It was something she and Mórrígan had in common, although neither of them would ever admit it.

Ginny took a deep breath and rolled onto her back. The dark blue canopy stretched above her. She tried to glare, but had trouble focusing her eyes. Is there another way?

"Not as long as you're in that room." Macha knew she was treading dangerously close to counteracting her sister's actions, and made the split-second decision to press ahead despite this. She knew that Virginia already resented them. If that resentment turned to hate, everything was lost.

Ginny took a minute to digest the goddess's words. What if I got out of the room?

"Then there are options."

All right. Let me out. Ginny sat up, steadied herself, and looked around, half expecting the door in the wall to open right up. Nothing happened.

Macha sighed. "I'm afraid, Virginia, that I can't give you an easy path out of this situation. Whether you follow my sister's plan or mine, you'll have to do things you don't want to do."

Anything's better than fucking Draco Malfoy, Ginny said, using the bedpost to help pull herself to her feet. How do I get out of here?

"He told you how, the very first hour you were there. Make a deal with him."

Ginny's balance deserted her, and she tumbled back onto the bed. No!

"You'd rather sleep with him than shake his hand?" A smile tugged at the corner of Macha's mouth. Virginia's pride was much like Mórrígan's as well.

I don't -

"It's your choice, Pendragon. Give him something he wants in exchange for letting you out, and the rest will follow naturally. Or, you can stay where you are and let my sister's influence do its work."

Ginny rolled to her side and pulled her knees up to her chest. She folded her arms around her body and groaned. Beneath her palms, she could feel the ridges of her ribs sticking through her skin - when had she lost so much weight? This is a nightmare.

"It's not," Macha said. "You're just intoxicated. Everything will seem clearer in the morning. A word of advice - don't negotiate with Draco until you've slept it off. He'd have no qualms about taking advantage of your impaired reason, and you'll wind up giving away more than you intended."

* * * * *

Mike had been standing in the hallway for a long time. He leaned against the wall across from the door, glowering at the blank white paint and the plain, stenciled numbers above the frosted window. He breathed the acrid hospital smell that never failed to make him nervous, cleaning agents mixed with illness. His shoes squeaked on the tiles as he shifted his weight.

Dana was in there. She was ill. She'd been sent to St. Mungo's, and he hadn't even been found out until hours after the fact. How difficult would it have been for Potter to send a note, for fuck's sake? Inconsiderate, in addition to being a bloody liar and an all-around bastard.

Was Delia Silvermoon a Death Eater? Mike remembered her from Hogwarts, of course. They'd been in Ravenclaw together. He'd never liked her. No one had. She'd always been a loner with an enormous superiority complex, he remembered, and Dana had been the only student she'd ever treated civilly. Could a misanthropic Ravenclaw grow into a Death Eater? Make that ultimate commitment to the dark side? And, if she had, would Dana lie to protect her? Even at Ginny's expense?

And this was why Mike didn't want to go in. Dana was on the other side of the door, and she needed him. She'd had a strong memory charm removed, and she needed the man she loved. Mike felt like a coward for not going to her, but he knew that if he went in that door, he wasn't going to leave without learning the truth about Dana, Delia, and Ginny, and he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to know that his girlfriend was capable of harming his best friend. He didn't want to know that chances for Ginny's rescue had been hurt because Dana had withheld information to protect a Death Eater. He didn't want to know that the woman with whom he shared his home, bed, and heart was genetically identical to a woman who belonged to the same organization and subscribed to the same philosophies as the people who'd murdered his parents. He was a coward, and he knew it, and he was disgusted with himself for it, but he couldn't make himself walk across the hall and go to her.

So, Mike leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest, and glowered.

Maybe Potter had made it all up.

Maybe Potter was being honest.

How could he know unless he went inside?

If Ginny were here, she'd want him to go in. She'd go, herself. She wouldn't let her fears get in the way of learning the truth.

What would Mundungus say if he could see Mike now? His father had never recovered from the fact that Mike had been sorted into Ravenclaw rather than Gryffindor, the Fletchers' Hogwarts house for untold generations. Mike had been a disappointment, Mundungus had said. Mike preferred to think that he'd broken the mold. Still, at times like this, it was hard not to wish for a jolt of Gryffindor courage. He doubted much had rubbed off on him from his father, but perhaps the mother he'd never known yet resembled so closely had left him something. Either way, he'd never know unless he tried.

Dana needed him, and he needed to learn the truth about Ginny.

Mike reached for the doorknob.

* * * * *

Harry sat in the waiting room at the end of Dana's hall, and sipped his third cup of coffee. It was thick, bitter, and burnt, poured from the bottom of the pot, but it gave him something to do with his hands. Harry had always been a terrible fidgeter when he was anxious, but he didn't want to show any outward evidence of his worry. The emergency ward of St. Mungo's was not the place for a meltdown.

The nurses had urged him to go home, but he'd steadfastly refused. He wouldn't let Dana get out of this so easily. The second she was conscious and lucid enough to answer his questions, he was going to interrogate her within an inch of her life and then, if he was lucky, put her in jail for conspiring with a dark witch. It was no less than she deserved for what she'd done to Ginny, and Harry would see it carried out if it was the last thing he did.

An uproar, slightly muffled by the closed door, caught his attention. "Incoming! Get out of the way!" someone shouted. Someone who sounded a lot like Ron.

Harry leapt to his feet and barged into the hall, but jumped back in the doorway as a gurney nearly sideswiped him. Mediwizards shouted orders over the din as Aurors fanned out and took sentry positions up and down the corridor, barring all exits. Ron walked brusquely by, his face a sickly pale under the florescent charms that lit the hospital. Harry grabbed his friend's arm and demanded, "What's going on?"

"His Auror security detail found him in his attic," Ron said. "He's dead and they know it, but policy says they have to try to revive him all the same."

Harry looked towards the gurney. He couldn't make out the identity of the body; the swarm of Mediwizards and frantic Auror bodyguards was too thick. "Who?"

"Minister Fudge."

The ramifications of the Minister's death hit Harry immediately. "Bloody Christ, Ron. The chairman of the Grand Council is -"

"Yeah," Ron said, leaning against the wall beside his friend. At the other end of the hall, the hospital's head Mediwizard called time of death.

Harry's head dropped forward and he closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted, Dana and her betrayal temporarily forgotten. "Fuck."

* * * * *

When she finally dropped off to sleep, Ginny plunged headfirst into alcohol soaked dreams, her subconscious saturated with sweaty, lurid colors.

She was on the lawn of Hogwarts castle. It was early morning, and the mist swirled around her ankles and dampened her bare feet. The steel gray clouds threatened rain, but to Ginny, the day couldn't have been more beautiful. Harry was there, and they were together again. She wound her arms around his neck as he picked her up and swung her around. Their warm bodies pressed together as she tried to kiss him everywhere at once - his eyes, cheeks, lips, neck - and her fingers tangled in his thick hair. She'd missed him so much. The happiness that constricted her chest was so sharp it was almost pain. They held each other as the salt tears coursed down her face and they laughed together at the wonder of being reunited. As she pressed her lips to the warm, beating pulse just below his ear, Ginny whispered, "Let's never be separated again."

"I'd never let you go, Ginny. You've always been mine."

The voice was a higher pitch than Harry's, and as Ginny pulled away and looked up, his face melted before her eyes. The skin around his cheekbones tightened, making them more prominent. The nose lengthened, and the lips stretched in a menacing, proprietary smile. He was Harry...but he wasn't.

Tom's arms tightened around her waist, crushing her to him. "I've missed you so much, Ginny. Not a day goes by that I don't think about you, and I know you feel the same. How could you not, after all we've meant to each other?"

Ginny struggled and tried to push him away. For a moment, she was a girl again, her ponytail tickling the back of her neck. Tom's sneer softened into a smile, and he wasn't Tom, he was Harry, twirling her around and laughing. The laugh took on a sinister tone, and he was Tom once more, pulling on her hair, nipping at her earlobe. She sobbed in panic and he laughed, his chest shaking against hers. "After that warm welcome? You wound me, Ginny." He mocked, "We'll never be separated again. Be careful what you wish for -"

And then, suddenly, Draco was there, his wand aimed at Tom's heart. Tom released Ginny's waist, and she stumbled back a step. Her eyes darted from Tom to Draco and back again. But was it Tom? Or was it Harry? She couldn't tell, they blended together so seamlessly. His face was strangely out of focus as he hissed something in Parselmouth, then asked in English, "You're going to kill me, Draco?"

Draco shrugged. "I have nothing to lose."

Ginny stared at this strange tableau. Tom turned to her, his gaze bright green. Harry's eyes in his face. They were so similar.... He said, eerily calm, "Stop him, Ginny. For old time's sake? After all we've been through?"

Ginny's legs gave out on her, and she sank to her knees.

"Let me do it, Gin," Draco said. "It's for the best."

"You're the only one who can stop him killing me," Tom/Harry told her. "Only you, Ginny. If you let him end me, how will you ever forgive yourself? How will you explain to Ron and Hermione? What will you tell the goddess?"

She shook her head, and a helpless sob escaped her lips. "Don't make me choose. I can't -"

Ginny never finished her sentence. There was a flash of cold green light, and Ginny couldn't watch. She hid her eyes, and when she opened them again, the mist was gone. Bright sunlight beat down on her shoulders, and Hogwarts was nowhere in sight. Mórrígan, the warrior mother, stood nearby. The goddess's back was to her, and she looked off into the distance. The horizon was a line of inky black that melted into purple mist, then great, shimmering green that rolled up to the rocky foot of the cliff on which the goddess stood. Ginny took a deep breath and reminded herself, It wasn't real. Nothing can hurt me when I'm with Mórrígan. Except, of course, Mórrígan herself.

Ginny stood and walked to the goddess's side, leaned over the edge, and looked down. At first Ginny thought the cliff went on for eternity, but she just barely detected the sparkle of sunlight on the silver ribbon of a river on the ground below. "Is this really the Otherworld," Ginny asked, "or is it a dream?"

"The very fact that you're able to distinguish between the two means that you're not dreaming," Mórrígan said without turning her head. "Look at that, Virginia."

Ginny looked into the distance, using her hand to shade her eyes. "Why is the horizon dark when the sun is so bright?"

The goddess sighed. "The balance has been disturbed. It eats away at the Otherworld leaving darkness in its path. Soon,Virginia, only chaos will be left."

"Can you stop it?"

Still, the goddess didn't look at her. "You can stop it."

Ginny folded her arms across her chest, although she wasn't cold. "How long until it reaches your camp?"

Finally, Mórrígan looked down at her. The goddess's red eyes were grave. "The way you measure time? Two months."

"Only two?" Ginny gasped.

Mórrígan turned her eyes back to the horizon. "Perhaps three. No more than that."

They stood together, their elongated shadows flung behind them as the sun raced through the sky. At this altitude, the thin air was still. Finally, Ginny spoke. "I'm going to make a deal with Draco."

Mórrígan arched an eyebrow, but her eyes remained glued to the landscape. "I thought you'd rather die than do any such thing. I do believe that's what you said during one of your drunken rants."

Ginny bit her lip and searched the goddess's face, trying to see if the goddess was displeased, but her expression was blank. Ginny matched her icily neutral tone to Mórrígan's: "I've decided that your plan is absolutely out of the question."

Mórrígan closed her grasp around the hilt of the jeweled sword that dangled at her waist. "You've been talking to my sister."

"Does that bother you?" Ginny asked.

After a pause, Mórrígan replied, "No." She rested a heavy hand on Ginny's shoulder and squeezed, not to cause pain, but to reassure. It was the first time in Ginny's memory that the goddess had touched her with anything but aggression. "I told you the last time we spoke that you had to trust yourself. I won't keep you from this, if you truly believe it's the best thing. The only direct orders I've ever given you have been during those times that fear was stopping you from making what you knew to be the right choice. If you're sure that you're not making a deal with Draco because you're afraid of the alternative, then I won't stand in your way."

Ginny digested that statement for a moment. She felt off-balance. Some of it was the last of the alcohol moving through her system, but most of it was Mórrígan's uncharacteristic behavior. This face of the goddess was the warrior mother, it was true, but Ginny had never before experienced the mother, only the warrior. She finally decided, "I'm making this choice because the alternative is unacceptable."

Mórrígan nodded. "Fine. Sleep a while longer, Virginia. Tomorrow will be a long day." Then, a wicked smile on her face, she trailed her hand from Ginny's shoulder around her back, rested her palm right between Ginny's shoulder blades, and pushed. Ginny lost her balance and tumbled off the edge of the cliff. She didn't even have time to gather enough air in her lungs for an adequate scream before the Otherworld melted away, like a chalk drawing dipped in water. Ginny plunged into darkness, and she slept the rest of the night without dreams.

* * * * *

Dana opened her eyes slowly and focused carefully on the figure by the door. Whatever drug they gave me, it was a bad idea, she thought as the man's face swam into focus. It was Mike, and his skin was as white as the sterile hospital wall behind him. "Mike?" she said, her voice only a hoarse croak. Dana cleared her throat and tried again, "Mike, what are you doing here?"

Mike didn't come near. He kept his distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his robe. "Is it true?"

She slowly sat up. The sedatives the Mediwizards had pumped into her body made her woozy and disoriented. "I don't know. Is what true?"

Mike took a step closer. He pulled his hands out of his robe, and Dana saw that they were clenched at his sides in white-knuckled fists. "Ginny, Dana," he said. "You have to tell me where she is."

Ginny. Although it didn't show on her face, that one word forced a cascade of images through Dana's mind: running desperately through the Malfoy forest on four legs; arguing with Delia; shattering glass; casting the tie-breaking vote to leave her at Malfoy manor; Harry's face blurring as the blocks in her memory came crashing down. Through it all, one world swirled through her mind. Pendragon.

Dana felt the tugging of her silver magic, without her direction, searching out the bright spot that was Ginny. She couldn't rein it in; the sedatives had dulled the control she held over her power. Dana said, "You want to know where she is?"

"Is there anything you can tell me?" he asked again.

"She's safe, frightened, angry...." And halfway drunk, Dana thought to herself, but she wasn't about to share that bit of insight with him.

"How do you know?" Mike asked.

"I just do," Dana told him, beginning to shake. She could feel the magic slipping out of her control in her drugged state.

"How?" he demanded. His eyes were wide and angry.

"I just know!" she yelled. A wave of exhaustion washed over her as she looked at Mike. "I'm in the hospital," she snapped, "and all you can talk about is Ginny. What about me, Mike?"

He shook his head. In his eyes, Dana saw heartbreak, betrayal, and shattered trust. It wasn't fair. She was his girlfriend. Why didn't he see that she needed him? All he could do was ask about Ginny. Dana knew he didn't - couldn't - understand. Feeling as though her world was crashing down on her, Dana turned away and closed her eyes. Mike left the room without another word.

* * * * *

Hermione rubbed her eyes. She'd scanned dozens of books on protective enchantments, telepathy, and anything else she thought might have even a tangential relationship to the spell Harry described. No luck. She couldn't find a single reference to a spell that would form so strong a connection between both people that they would each know where the other is at all times. She was beginning to think such an enchantment didn't exist.

Still, Harry had always been a terrible liar. He'd told the truth that afternoon; Hermione was sure of it.

Hermione looked back over her parchment. Right after Harry left, she'd written down everything she could remember about what he'd said. She didn't want to forget a single detail. "Knows where Ginny is," Hermione murmured, reading over her notes, "a spell - some kind of charm, maybe? - performed when they were still in school...." She trailed off, lost in thought, then sat bolt upright in her chair. "That's it!"

Hermione took her candle and jogged over to Madame Pince's desk. It was the middle of the night, and but for her footsteps on the stone floor, the library was silent. The lone candle cast elongated shadows on the wall tapestries, and Hermione felt a cold shiver on the back of her neck. She'd worked alone in the library before, but never this late.

Madame Pince's record books weren't hard to locate. Hermione found the one with 1997-1998 stamped on the spine in gold. She heaved the heavy tome onto the desk and blew the dust off the cover. In here, Madame Pince recorded every book checked out during that school year, who'd taken it, and whether it had been returned on time. Hermione flipped through, careful not to tear the thin pages, searching for Harry's name. She bent low over the words and squinted her eyes, trying to decipher the librarian's pinched writing.

After several months of records, Hermione hit pay dirt. In November of their seventh year, Harry had checked out twelve books in one day. Hermione knew full well that neither he nor Ron had ever put that much effort into their homework. The only topics Harry had ever researched so thoroughly had been clandestine and extracurricular - Buckbeak's appeal, the second Triwizard task, Nicholas Flamel - and Hermione would bet every book in her collection that these tomes had nothing to do with any course Hogwarts was teaching. She picked up her quill and jotted down the titles - Celtic Prophecies: A Complete History, The Pendragon Returns - she couldn't help but think that Harry's reading material was a bit weird - and then she picked up the candle and, stifling a yawn, went to collect the volumes on her list.

I need coffee, she thought as she browsed the shelves. Gone were the days when she could effortlessly study all night. She decided to take these books back to her rooms, where she could read and get much-needed caffeine all at the same time.

* * * * *

The hospital hallway was quiet. A Mediwizard pulled a sheet up over Minister Fudge's head as another cleared away empty vials and beakers of healing potions. The Aurors that had been on the Minister's security detail stood silent, dumbfounded, unable to understand how this could've happened on their watch. How could they have lost track of him for such a length of time? How could he have slipped away and killed himself right under their noses?

Harry turned to Ron. His friend's freckles stood out in the pale of his face. Harry ordered, "Go back to Hogwarts and tell Hermione and Dumbledore what's happened. Don't go back to the Division tonight. Owl everyone else in your department and tell them I said to stay home."

Ron shook his head. "I'm going wherever you are."

"Absolutely not."

"After all we've been through together?" Ron asked in a harsh whisper. He didn't want anyone to overhear. These days, the walls had ears, even in St. Mungo's.

"Ron, listen," Harry said, taking his friend by the shoulders and looking up into his eyes. "You're married. You have a family. I'm not going to let you put all of that at risk."

"And what about you?" Ron demanded. "What the hell are you and the other field agents going to do?" But then, just as the question left his mouth, Ron knew the answer. His stomach dropped. "You're going to try to assassinate Lucius Malfoy."

Harry shook his head, but Ron wasn't having it. "Don't you dare deny it. I can tell, and it's why you want me to go home. He's the next Minister, and you're going to try to kill him. Harry, you could go to Azkaban! Have you thought about that? Assassinating the Minister of Magic is -"

"I never said anything about assassinating the Minister of Magic," Harry interrupted. "You did." He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up on end. "However, if you have a better plan, I'd love to hear it. Don't worry; Ginny will keep me out of jail."

"Ginny?" Ron hissed. "We don't even know where the hell she is! And she's not a barrister or - how the fuck is she going to get you out of this if you get caught?"

"We know exactly where she is," Harry shot back. "At Malfoy manor. Trust me, if I'm thrown in Azkaban over this, she'll get me out."

"She's good, Harry, but she's not that good," Ron said, his forehead creased in a worried frown. He recognized the steely determination in Harry's eyes, and knew with depressing certainty that there was no way he'd ever talk his friend out of whatever suicidal plan he'd hatched.

"She is that good, Ron," Harry answered with a small smile. "You have no idea just how good she is. If your little sister really wanted to, breaking into Azkaban would be a walk in the park for her. She could do it in her sleep."

"I'm coming with you," Ron insisted.

"If you come with me, who will tell Dumbledore about Fudge?" Harry asked. "It's not the kind of thing we can trust to an owl. What would Hermione do if something happened to you? And your parents? If anything goes wrong, they'll have two missing children in one week. Could you do that to them? They need you at the castle, Ron. Once Malfoy takes the oath of office, the school will need to have a fully trained Auror on hand, in case...you know."

Ron was afraid. It hit him full force that this might be the last time in his life he ever saw Harry. He reached out his long arms and pulled his best friend into a tight embrace. "Be careful, mate. Hermione and I - we couldn't get on without you, you know."

"I know," Harry said. "I'll be careful, don't worry."

"I can't help it," Ron said with a rueful smile. "After all these years, I'm in the habit of worrying about you."

Harry slapped Ron on the back, then pulled out of the hug. "Same here, Ron. Stay safe, all right?"

Ron nodded and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He stared at Harry's face, trying to commit every detail to memory, not knowing when, if ever, he'd see it again: the upturned nose; brilliantly emerald eyes framed, as always, by thick glasses; the pale skin, folded into lines of determination around his mouth and forehead; and, of course, the thin, slightly raised lightening bolt, topped off by unruly black hair. He was one of the most powerful wizards of their time, Ron reminded himself. If anyone could pull this off, it was Harry.

"You have to leave," Harry said. "Tell Hermione that I'll see her soon."

Ron tried to force ease into his tone. "Goodbye, then."

Harry smiled, though inside he was just as anxious as his friend. "See you later, Ron."

* * * * *

At the division offices, the field agents and Catherine stared at Harry with dawning horror. "Lucius Malfoy is the Minister of Magic?"

"Not yet," Harry said from the podium in center of the semi-circular briefing room. "Not until he's sworn in, which will probably be sometime tomorrow. You all know what this means."

"Full access," Catherine said, trying valiantly to maintain her usual unruffled calm. Still, anyone who looked in her eyes would see the quiet desperation that had taken hold of her. She got up and walked over to stand next to Harry. "All the files...code names, double agents...once they learn who we really are, the Death Eaters will be busy for months with retaliatory attacks against us."

There was a buzz around the room, and Saturn spoke above the din, "What's going to happen?"

"The Division will almost certainly be disbanded tomorrow," Harry said. "As chairman of the Grand Council, he's been pushing for it for years. Now he actually has the power. We'll be out of here by the afternoon, and by evening, he and his minions will be rooting through our files, feeding everything they can find back to the Dark Lord."

The worried, frightened whispers dropped off immediately. Everyone they cared about - friends, family - would certainly be tortured and killed. The room was silent. Finally, a pale-faced woman in the back spoke up. "What are our orders?"

Harry turned to the Division head. "Catherine," he murmured, "you might want to leave the room. If anything goes wrong, you'll want to maintain plausible deniability. I'll take full responsibility for -"

Catherine knew exactly what Harry was going to order the field agents to do, had known it ever since she'd heard the news of Fudge's death. She shook her head. "My family and I are at just as much at risk as everyone else in this room. I'm not going anywhere, Midas." She turned to the assembled field agents. "Tomorrow evening, we storm Malfoy manor. I want anyone with a Dark Mark taken alive, but Lucius Malfoy had better not survive the night. If any of you object to participating in a rogue Auror operation to assassinate a sworn Minister of Magic, you can leave now with a memory charm."

Nobody stirred.

Catherine nodded, a small smile on her face. "I'm glad to hear that there are no cowards in my Division. Half of you stay here and plan the raid. The other half, go to the records rooms and start destroying documents. Safe houses, criminal files, payroll, interview transcripts, code names - I want them all to disappear. When the Death Eaters get here tomorrow night, I don't want them to find anything but ashes."

* * * * *

Ron paced the sitting room, his forehead drawn into lines of concern. "I can't believe this is happening. First Gin, and now Harry -"

Hermione was just as worried about Harry as her husband was. "I know. It's dangerous, Ron, but he's one of the best agents in the Division. Maybe even the best, since Ginny quit. If anyone can come out of this all right, it's Harry."

Ron just shook his head. "I should be there with him. I should be right next to him."

"What could you do?" Hermione asked. "You're a strategic planner. You're not trained for combat. You'd be an easy target."

Ron turned, face red, and opened his mouth to deliver a blistering retort, but Hermione held up her hand for silence. "I know, Ron. I know how hard this is for you; it's hard for me too. When we were young, the three of us always faced danger together, and it's killing you that he's off on this mission and you won't be there to watch his back. You think I don't feel the same way?"

"He needs me, Hermione," Ron said. "I couldn't help Ginny - she might even be dead by now, for all we know. I can't lose them both. Do you have any idea - it would be just as bad as losing one of the twins, or Charlie...Harry is my brother."

"I know," she said softly. "I know, because I feel the same way. But Dumbledore needs us to be here, Ron. This is where we can do the most good for the light side right now. The school needs us more than Harry does."

Ron shook his head. "I'm going; I don't care what he told me. He's not my superior; I don't have to follow his orders. Where's the floo?"

"This is a war," Hermione said. "We don't get to do things because we want to; we do them because they'll help the side we support. Where will you do the most good, Ron? Are you going to leave the school without an Auror?"

"Dumbledore can take care of it."

"Dumbledore is only human," she pointed out. "He can't be everywhere at once."

Ron sank down into a chair. His forehead dropped into his hands. "I know."

"So you'll stay?" Hermione asked.

He nodded, but didn't look up.

"You should get some sleep," she said gently.

"I can't. Not while Harry's out there. Not until I hear that he's safe."

"You need to be well rested," she said firmly. "Let me get you a potion."

Ignoring his protests, Hermione rooted around the medicine chest until she found a vial of mild sleeping draught. She poured a half dose into a shot glass and brought it out to Ron. "Here," she said, dropping to her knees in front of his chair. She kissed his forehead, and handed him the glass. He sighed and asked, "Are you coming to bed now?"

"Not yet," she answered. "I have a few more books to look through, then I'll be along."

Ron gave her a lingering kiss on the mouth, then tossed the potion back and padded into the bedroom. Sighing, Hermione went back to her reading chair and picked up the first book from the stack on the floor. The Pendragon Returns. This had better be worth it.

* * * * *

Four hours later, Hermione was still curled into the overstuffed armchair. As a rule, she'd never put much stock in prophecies. Still, this was compelling reading. Even if it turned out to have nothing to do with Harry, it was interesting enough to take her mind off of where he was and what he might be doing. She flipped through the pages, scanning the small type, until a paragraph caught her eye.

Arthur formed a connection with Merlin, his first protector, at a very young age. They shared a strong bond and for the remainder of their lives they could find each other with but a thought.

Hermione knew she was close; she could feel it. Her brain buzzed with activity; the answers lurked just beneath the surface.... She threw the book to the floor and picked up another.

Merlin did all he could to hide the fact that Arthur was the Pendragon until such time as Arthur actually ascended to the throne. He told no one but the priests who were charged with preparing Arthur for the kingmaking ritual.

Like a bolt of lightning, Hermione made the connection. Harry knew where Ginny was because he always knew where she was. He had said as much earlier that day.

"Ron!" Hermione ran down the hall, the book still in her hand. She threw open the bedroom door and launched herself across the bed. "Ron!" she shouted, shaking his shoulder.

He looked up at her through sleepy eyes. "Wha?"

"Ron, I've figured it out!" The words tumbled, rapid-fire, out of her mouth. Two years of marriage had taught Ron to decipher her quick speech, even when half asleep. "Harry's the protector of the current Pendragon incarnation, Ginny." Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh! I shouldn't have told you that."

It took Ron only fractions of a second to recover his wits. "How? Never mind; yes you should have told me. What is this Pendragon thing?"

As Hermione explained, Ron grew more and more shocked. "Damn them, damn them both," he swore. "Why the hell didn't he tell us?"

Something in Hermione's brain snapped, and a look of horror dawned on her face. "We knew. Or, we could've known. We were memory charmed to forget." Suddenly she was very angry. How dare someone memory charm her! How dare...Dumbledore. She loved the Headmaster like an uncle, but how dare he! It wasn't as though she hadn't always done everything she could to help Harry. How dare he make that decision for her?

"I don't remember anything like that."

"Of course you don't." she snapped. "You were memory charmed. It was during seventh year, the night we met Sirius in the woods, when he was going to help Mike's dad save Alastor Moody. Ginny followed us outside..." Hermione trailed off, gathering her wits, forcing her way through the fog that cloaked the memory. "There was a crow...Ginny started to scream...her nose was bleeding and, Ron, it wasn't red! I thought she was having an epileptic fit, or had been attacked. Remember, you and Harry tried to go to her, and I held you back. Dumbledore and Snape showed up -" Hermione saw in Ron's face that she'd broken his charm, so she stopped. They stared at each other, wide-eyed, struggling to grasp the magnitude of what they now knew.

"He did what he thought was best," Ron said. He needed to say it, to convince himself that Dumbledore had their best interests at heart when he erased their memories. Any alternative was unthinkable.

"He had no right," she said, her voice strained with anger and betrayal. "No right at all. Those memories were ours, and he didn't even ask, he just did it. He just -"

"Are you questioning what Dumbledore does?" Ron demanded. "He's single handedly spearheading the fight against Voldemort, Hermione, and he's the most powerful wizard living -"

"No," Hermione interrupted. "Your little sister is the most powerful wizard living."

At this declaration, Ron made a strangled, horrified sound in the back of his throat. "I'm only saying that if Dumbledore obliviated us, he must have had a good reason for it."

"You're not even angry?" she asked incredulously.

"Not at the Headmaster," Ron said. "Harry, on the other hand, is a completely different matter."

* * * * *

Morning

Ginny looked at her breakfast tray, then raised her eyes to Delia's. "What's this?"

"It's The Daily Prophet," Delia said, looking at Ginny though she were stupid. "Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"I thought I couldn't have anything to read," Ginny said suspiciously.

Delia shrugged. "That's what Draco said, but today's issue has a headline that you need to see."

Ginny sat down, still watching Delia through narrowed eyes. "Does he know you've brought me a newspaper?"

Delia shrugged. "Are you going to tell him?"

Ginny didn't reply. With one hand, she reached for the coffee mug, and with the other, she picked up the newspaper. She turned it over, read the headline, and promptly choked on her drink. Coughing and spluttering, she slammed the paper down on the table and demanded, "Explain."

The paper was emblazoned, LUCIUS MALFOY TO TAKE OATH OF OFFICE: NATION MOURNS LOSS OF CORNELIUS FUDGE.

Delia arched an eyebrow.

Ginny buried her face in her arms. "Oh hell."

"Make a deal with him," Delia urged. "You need each other. It's the only way anyone is going to come out of this in one piece."

"Shut up," Ginny snapped without lifting her head. "I know. I just...."

Delia rolled her eyes. "He has your best interests at heart. He's not the monster you seem to think."

"Isn't he?" Ginny asked, finally raising her head. "Do you have any idea what kind of person he is? Would you like to know exactly how many people he's raped, tortured, or murdered since he became a Death Eater? Because I can tell you. More than ten. More than thirty, even. Would you like an exact count, including names and ages? Because I can give it to you."

"The Aurors have hardly been friendly to us either -"

"They weren't all Aurors! They were civilians, Silvermoon, living out their lives, minding their own business. People who have never hurt anyone. He's an animal, and today I'm going to have to make a deal with him, because I don't have any other choice."

"If he's done those things -"

"You know he has."

"It's for the greater good," Delia said. "The pureblooded class -"

Ginny's laughter was cruel. "What would you know about the pureblooded class, Delia?"

Delia felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She struggled to breathe. "I beg your pardon?"

Ginny's lips curved in a merciless smile. It was a look Delia had seen on Draco's face dozens of times. "I said," Ginny repeated slowly, "what would you know about the pureblooded class? You're certainly not a member, but you insist on giving your life to keep it in power. You've pledged yourself to one of its most objectionable advocates, and you've even let yourself fall in love with him, goddess alone knows why. What would Draco say, Delia, if he knew who your parents were?"

Delia gripped the back of a chair so tightly, her knuckles turned white. "How would you know anything about my parents?"

"I can see everything," Ginny said smoothly. "Every single detail of your life is right here in front of me, should I choose to look. Draco promised to tell you about your birth parents, but he meant that you'd help him find me, and then I'd tell you about your birth parents. I think you've been waiting long enough, Delia, don't you?"

Delia suddenly didn't want to know. Ignorance was better than undesirable truth. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked.

Ginny stood. "You need to know exactly what you've given your life for." Ginny ignored the stricken look on Delia's face as she continued, her tone matter-of-fact, "Your mother was a nurse. Ravenclaw, class of 1975. Your father was an insurance agent -"

"What house?" Delia interrupted.

Ginny tilted her head. "House? No house, Silvermoon. He didn't go to Hogwarts. He went to a school called St. Mary's Academy."

Delia stared. "St. Mary's Academy? But Hogwarts -"

"He wasn't a wizard, Silvermoon. And when she married him, your mother took up a non-magic profession. She went Muggle for him. They died in an auto accident, in a snowstorm. You and Dana were put up for adoption by a Muggle agency and then adopted by a pair of Muggles because your parents were -"

"Shut up!" Delia shouted. She felt tears burn her eyes, but refused to give into them in front of Ginny. "Just shut up!"

"Chin up, Silvermoon," Ginny taunted. "Being half Muggle isn't so bad. Just ask Voldemort."

"You're lying," Delia insisted.

"Am I? Take a look in the mirror."

Ginny motioned to the spy mirror and, wishing she could run from the room, Delia screwed up her resolve and slowly approached it, afraid of what she would see. Ginny stood behind her, gently placed her fingers on Delia's right temple, and murmured, "Look at what you are."

Delia opened her eyes and looked. A vague nimbus of color surrounded her reflection, and in it she could see...Ginny had told the truth. Like a silver volcano, Delia's Otherworldly power welled up and nearly erupted. She only just managed to keep control.

"What would Draco say if he knew?" Ginny asked quietly.

Without warning, Delia turned and swung. Ginny ducked the blow easily, then stood and declared, an insolent smile on her face, "You'll never be able to say the word mudblood again without thinking of it."

Delia thought she might be sick from rage. She turned and stalked towards the door, but once again, Ginny spoke. "There's another headline that you might want to see."

Delia stopped at the table and picked up the paper. Below the fold, small type proclaimed Agent Nimue Hospitalized. Delia looked back at Ginny, who stood, arms crossed over her chest, and said, "Dana's in St. Mungo's."

"She deserves it," Ginny said flatly. "Tell Draco I want to make a deal."

Delia's steel-colored eyes burned with hate. She turned on her heel and left without another word.

* * * * *

Delia barged into Draco's study without knocking. He looked up from his work, the smile falling from his face when he saw the look in her eyes. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Ginny wants to make a deal," Delia said curtly. She turned on her heel to leave, then thought better of it. She turned back, crossed the room, rested her palms on Draco's desk, and leaned in until her face was a bare inch from his. "I don't care what you have to do," she said quietly, "but if you don't do something about her, I will."

Draco stood and said in the same softly menacing tone, "If you touch one hair on her head, I swear to the goddess I'll kill you myself."

Delia jerked away from him, stumbling back. Her eyes were wide with horror.

Draco looked no less shocked. "Oh my god," he whispered. Then, at normal volume, his words tinged with desperation, "Delia, I have no idea where that came from. I don't know -"

"She made you say it," Delia snarled. "She and her self-righteous, hypocritical -"

Draco shook his head. "No, it didn't come from her. It was...I don't know. I'm sorry."

"You meant it."

"I'd never hurt you," he insisted.

Delia shook her head. "You wouldn't be able to help yourself." She knew then that Malfoy manor was no longer a safe place for her. Draco had been turned into someone she didn't even recognize, and what would the rest of the faction do to her if they discovered her filthy blood? Delia knew she'd stay as long as she could, but she no longer knew how long that would be. She was terrified of Draco, of Ginny, and of herself. She had to see Dana.

* * * * *

Delia sat by her sister's bedside. Dana's eyes were glassy, unfocused, and had taken on a distinctly silver sheen. Their power swirled and sparked between them. "What the hell did they give you?" Delia asked.

Dana shook her head. "I don't know. Some kind of sedative. Dee, I can't control the magic. I'm too out of it. I can't focus."

Delia slipped her hand into her sister's and squeezed, lending Dana some of her strength. "I'm here, Day. We're in this together."

"We don't have anyone else," Dana whispered. A tear spilled out of the corner of Dana's eye and dampened the pillow, and Delia pretended not to notice. She didn't want to embarrass her twin.

"Mike?" Delia asked softly.

Dana shook her head miserably. "He only cares about her. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"I'm sorry, Day," Delia murmured. She knew that her sister truly cared for Mike Fletcher, and must be heartbroken by his desertion.

"What about Malfoy?" Dana asked tentatively. "Are you and he -"

Delia shook her head. Tears choked her voice as she said, "He threatened to kill me this afternoon."

"Dee!" Dana cried. "He what? Tell me you're never going back there. Go to the Division and ask for protection. They'll give it to you. We have safe houses -"

"It wouldn't do any good," Delia insisted. "Ginny has wormed her way into his head like a...like a parasite. She's sucking out everything that makes him Draco and is replacing it with herself."

"Does this have anything to do with the Pendragon?" Dana asked.

Delia gave her a sharp look. "What do you know about the Pendragon, Day?"

"Only what we learned during that History of Magic project fourth year, and that Ginny is it. Harry told me, and it's how I wound up here."

"Harry Potter did this to you?" Delia demanded.

"Yes," Dana said grimly, "and I'm not about to forget it. But the Pendragon - what does it mean?"

"I can't talk about it."

"You don't owe Malfoy anything," Dana insisted. "He said he'd kill you, Dee. It's just us now, you and I. We don't have anyone else; only each other."

Delia considered her twin's words, and finally concluded that Dana was right. Her bargain with Draco was over. She'd lived up to her side and, indirectly, he'd lived up to his. She knew the truth about her birth parents. She drew a deep sigh, then began. "All right, I'll tell you about the Pendragon prophecy. But I'll tell you right now that you're not going to believe it."

* * * * *

Draco decided to let Ginny sweat. The more anxious she was when he showed up to bargain, the better for him. That afternoon, when he finally walked through the wall, he immediately noticed her lounging in a chair, feet propped up on the table, nursing a firewhisky. He frowned. "You shouldn't drink so much."

"You shouldn't sacrifice people to evil war goddesses," she retorted. "We all have our faults, and I think mine is comparatively minor."

He smiled in spite of himself. "Point taken. How many have you had?"

She shrugged. "Just this one. I'm not even finished with it."

"Liquid courage?" he asked with a slight laugh.

"Something like that."

"Why would you need courage, Ginny?" Draco asked. He wanted to hear it from her.

Ginny took a deep breath, steeled her resolve, set her glass on the table, and stood to face him. "I want to make a deal."

He arched an eyebrow and affected surprise, even though he'd known that it's what she was going to say. "A deal?"

"You know," she said, frustrated that he wasn't going to make this easy for her. "I want to bargain. I need to get out of here."

Draco ran his thumb over her lower lip and said, his voice low and smoky, "You have very little to bargain with, Virginia."

She slapped his hand away. "We need to reach some kind of compromise or we're never going to get anywhere."

"I agree," he acknowledged. "So, you've decided to support my coup?"

"Not yet," Ginny hedged.

Draco's expression hardened. "In that case, I think we're done."

He turned to leave, and Ginny grabbed his arm. "Wait! There has to be something else you want."

Draco turned back to her, his eyes considering. "That depends. What did you have in mind?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "I understand there's a sword."

Something in Draco's face changed. He finally appeared to be taking her seriously. He sat in a chair, tipped it onto its back legs, and propped his feet on the table. "I'm listening."

"I need that sword," Ginny said, pacing in front of him. "And if you want your coup to be successful, you need me to have it."

He nodded slowly. "So?"

"So," she said, struggling to keep her voice calm, "do you know where it is?"

Draco nodded. "The lake was in one of the Dark Lord's scrolls. He told me about it almost as soon as he'd translated the passage."

"Dumbledore has no idea," Ginny told him.

Draco smirked. "Then I seem to have the advantage. Is there a deal to be had?"

She nodded. "If you let me out of here, I'll go with you to get the sword. I won't try to run away or escape from you."

"What about my faction?"

"That's another bargain for another time," Ginny said, dropping into the chair across from him. "You've heard my terms. Do you accept them?"

He thought for a moment. "I'll need you to promise not to run away."

"Fine."

Draco shook his head. "Contractual magic isn't strong enough to hold you." He reached into his boot and pulled out an ornate knife. It was silver, and jeweled snakes wound around the base. Draco slid it across the table to rest in front of her. "You'll have to swear it in blood."

Ginny slid the dagger back. "Like hell I'm giving you any of my blood. God only knows what you'd use it for."

He considered her for a moment. "I have a stipulation. If we do this, you have to close off the link. I can't live this way. It has to stop."

"Done," Ginny said. She'd been planning on it anyway.

"There is the matter of your promise...."

Ginny pulled her dragon ring from beneath the neckline of her robes. "What if we swear on this?"

The ring was more than satisfactory. The Mórrígan relentlessly punished any who swore in her name and then went back on their vows. "My father is taking the oath of office this afternoon," Draco said. "I have to be there. I'm not sure when we can leave the manor. If I just disappear, people will notice. I'll need an excuse. Give me a few hours to think, and I'll let you know what we're going to do."

Ginny closed her hand around the ring, and Draco closed his hand around hers. They made their promises in low, solemn voices, both very aware of the magnitude of what they were doing.

Draco pulled his hand away, and said, "The link."

Ginny smiled sweetly, and the next thing Draco knew, a resounding slam echoed through his mind. She hadn't built a wall to allow their thoughts to pass back and forth; she'd shut it off completely. He could no longer feel anything about her, hear her thoughts, speak to her telepathically...he was completely alone. The link had become an irreplaceable part of him, even though it was only a few days old. He felt like he'd lost an arm. "Goddammit!" Draco shouted. "That's not what I meant."

Ginny shrugged and said innocently, "You should always say what you mean, Malfoy. Otherwise, people might take advantage of you."

"Bitch."

She winked.

He growled low, in the back of his throat, and struggled to maintain control. "I'll be back when I have a plan." His lips were thin with fury.

Ginny smirked. "Enjoy the inauguration." She knew it would be excruciating for him, but it was no less than he deserved.

* * * * *

The council room was silent. All eyes were trained on Lucius Malfoy, who stood behind the center of the curved obsidian table, at its center. He was tall, groomed, and dignified. Heavy black curtains lined the walls, as a sign of respect to Minister Fudge.

His voice measured and even, Lucius took the oath of office. As he spoke, his cold gray eyes swept across the room, took in the council members that regarded him with pleasure and respect if they were Death Eaters, and fear if they weren't. The press that covered his swearing in looked at him with wide eyes. Some of them were wary, others smirking and triumphant. The gallery was crowded with followers of Voldemort and Death Eater sympathizers, people who saw Malfoy's ascension as a sign that things were turning around in the wizarding world. Someone was finally in power who would solve the Mudblood problem and bring order back to the wizarding world.

Lucius sat in the high-backed black leather chair. His eyes met his son's gaze and he allowed a ghost of a smile. The corners of Draco's mouth curved up, a faint smile in return. Lucius thought he recognized the faraway look his son's eyes; Draco wasn't paying attention to the ceremony - that much was obvious. The boy's mind must be on the day when he would sit in this chair and have the world at his beck and call. Lucius couldn't blame Draco; he was a Malfoy, after all.

Lucius snapped his fingers, and a parchment and quill was brought over. "My first act as Minister will be the total and immediate disbanding of the Auror Division. They have outlived their usefulness."

As he signed his name with the plumed quill, the gallery buzzed. In the front row, Narcissa was unflustered. Draco showed no reaction at all. A reporter shouted, "What about the Death Eaters?"

Two men in black robes descended on the woman and hauled her to her feet, but they hadn't dragged her very far before Lucius held his hand up to stop them. "What paper do you represent?"

The woman didn't seem to notice that she'd been pulled halfway across the Grand Council chamber. She met Lucius's gaze straight on. "The London Lamppost."

Lucius regarded her with thinly veiled scorn. "Please inform the readers of The London Lamppost that the Death Eaters are a myth. Your audience would do better to worry about Mudbloods diluting the power of the pureblood members of the community and driving up the squib birthrate. If there's anything to fear -"

"But law enforcement -" the woman began.

Lucius cut her off with a flick of his wrist. "I am appointing Charles Crabbe and Beth Lestrange to take over the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I officially sanction whatever steps they deem necessary to protect the security of this Ministry and the people it represents. They will have full authority over the policy and staff of the DMLE. Unless, of course, any council members chooses to oppose?" None objected. Lucius gave a businesslike nod. "Good."

The room was quiet as a tomb. The only sound was the reporter's shoes scuffling on the floor as Lucius's enforcers hauled her out.

"There is one more piece of business before I adjourn for the day. I am personally issuing a warrant for Harry Potter's arrest."

One person gasped; it was loud in the terrible quiet of the chamber. Some faces betrayed shock; more looked pleased. No reporters dared to question; they didn't want to be removed as their colleague had been.

"On what charge?" one brave councilman asked timidly.

"Treason."

The man frowned. "What evidence -"

That is a matter of national security," Lucius replied dismissively, signing his name to the document. "He must be brought in as quickly as possible. Potter is a powerful wizard. We will need someone especially skillful to -"

"I'll do it."

Lucius looked up from his parchment and smiled when he saw who had volunteered. "Are you sure?"

Draco nodded. He was no longer looking distracted, but was very much in the here and now.

"Son, he has powerful friends. You two are evenly matched, I know, but -"

"I'm more than a match for Potter." Dozens of Dictaquills recording Draco's words scratched in the background. He stood, faced his father, and declared, "I'll have him in Azkaban before the month is out."

Lucius nodded. "Excellent." He knew that when Draco said he'd do something, he always followed through. Potter would be out of the way in a matter of weeks, and Ginny Weasley would be theirs for the taking.

* * * * *

For the second time that day, Draco and Ginny studied each other from across the table. "Here's the plan. I've volunteered to track Potter down and put him in Azkaban, which will give me an excuse to be away from the manor for a month or so. You need to tell him to go into hiding, somewhere I'd never look."

"How are you going to sneak me out of here?" Ginny asked.

"The Aurors are planning a raid on my house," Draco explained.

Ginny frowned. "How do you know?"

He rolled his eyes. "Because most of them are Gryffindors, and they're not exactly unpredictable. Trust me, this is what they're planning. They must be. I'll find out when, and we'll leave in the confusion."

"How? We arrested your mole months ago."

"Our mole is gone, true," Draco acknowledged. "But what about your mole?"

Ginny wondered how he knew about Professor Snape, but didn't ask. Instead, she said, "I'll talk to Harry. Give me a minute." Then, silently, she called out, Harry? Are you there?

Harry was in the middle of analyzing blueprints of Malfoy manor for viable entrances when Ginny spoke into his mind. He froze, hardly able to believe it. Ginny! Are you all right? Has Malfoy hurt you? Are you -

No, he hasn't hurt me, Ginny said. Listen, Harry. You've just been declared the Ministry's most wanted. You have to get out of the building.

Harry frowned. What?

Lucius Malfoy said that you're guilty of treason. He's drawn up a warrant. You need to go into hiding, just until I get back.

Back from where? Ginny, where the hell are you?

At Malfoy manor, she replied. But not for long. Draco and I are leaving. I made a deal with him. We're going to find the sword that Mórrígan promised me. Harry, you have to get underground. Trust me.

Right, Harry said. I'll wait for you at Lupin's.

"He's going to Lupin's," Ginny said out loud.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Tell him that's the first place I'd look."

No good, Ginny said. Think of somewhere else.

The Burrow? Harry said.

Ginny relayed the suggestion, and Draco said, "For Christ's sake, Potter, that's the second place I'd look. Exercise some creativity."

"I don't hear you giving any suggestions," Ginny snapped.

"If I suggest a place, then I've thought of it, which defeats the purpose of sending him into hiding," he said snidely.

Ginny scowled at Draco. Harry, what about Mike's?

Absolutely not, Harry replied without missing a beat.

That's my point. It's a good hiding place. No one would ever look for you there, because everyone knows you can't stand each other.

He'd never let me stay, Harry pointed out.

He would, Ginny corrected. He's not a monster. Tell him about the warrant and say you need to be out of sight for a few days. He won't turn you away. If nothing else, he'll let you stay because he knows I love you.

At her words, Harry closed his eyes. It felt like years since he'd last heard them. You do?

Of course I do. I love you, and we're going to get through this. I'll see you in a few days, I promise. Ginny hoped he'd listen, that he wouldn't run off and do something rash, like decide to go on this raid Draco insisted was going to happen.

Harry couldn't help but smile. I love you too, Ginny. I can't say how much. Stay safe.

You too, she said. I have to go now. Tell Ron and Mike I'll be back before they know it, and that I miss them.

At the Division, Harry barged into Catherine's office. He quickly filled her in on his outlaw status and told her he had to go underground. She offered him use of a safe house, but he declined. He told her he'd be back later; there was no way he'd miss this raid, even if he had to drink Polyjuice to participate. Then, steeling himself for what would undoubtedly be an unpleasant conversation with Mike, Harry Disapparated to his flat to pack an overnight bag.

* * * * *

Snape fumbled with the thick metal key ring. He kept the thick wooden door to his lab heavily charmed; he didn't trust anyone in Malfoy manor to keep from prying in his absence.

He stuck the correct skeleton key in the lock, and to his surprise, the door swung open before he could turn it. Someone had unlocked the door while he was gone. Snape pulled out his wand and silently slipped inside. He could just make out the shape of a man, his outline slightly darker than the dark of the rest of the room. "What are you doing in my lab?" Snape demanded in the tone he used on misbehaving students. He'd taught many of the Death Eaters at Hogwarts, and the treatment they'd received at his hands in their school days still inspired a healthy amount of respect bordering on fear. He'd traded on that intimidation more times than he could count.

A candle flared. "Just waiting for you," Draco drawled.

Snape grimaced. The second in command of the Death Eaters merited a sight more respect than the other youthful dark wizards. Besides, despite his best efforts in the Potions classroom, Snape had never been able to intimidate Draco. The young man was simply too full of himself. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.

Draco smiled the smile of a snake that had cornered its prey. He said merely, "I know your secret."

Snape froze, then in one swift motion, turned, pushed the door closed, and slid the deadbolt home. Then he turned back to Draco and, with one eyebrow raised, replied, "If it comes to that, then I know yours too."

Draco braced his hands on the work table behind him and lifted himself onto it. He folded his arms across his chest and asked, "Potter told you, did he?"

Snape glared at the young man sitting on his countertop, but didn't tell him to get down. "No."

"Then how -"

"It wasn't hard, Draco. I know that Agent Jezebel is Ginny Weasley. I know that the Pendragon is Ginny Weasley. I know that Voldemort has been searching high and low for the Pendragon and that you have Agent Jezebel locked up in your private wing of the house. Finally, I know that you have too much pride to spend your life second in command to anyone. What about Potter?"

"He found out when we were still in school," Draco explained. He couldn't believe that Potter hadn't told anyone about Draco's plans for a coup. Still, he'd said he wouldn't breathe a word, and Draco could only suppose that Potter had been true to his promise. How dreadfully noble of him. Draco took a moment to size up his old Potions professor before saying, "You haven't turned me in."

Snape kept his face expressionless as he lit more candles. Draco's angular face looked eerie in the dim light, and Snape reminded himself that they were on equal footing. They were both traitors to the Dark Lord, and if one of them went down, so too would the other. "Why would I?" Snape asked. "You're working towards the same cause as I am, albeit for different reasons. How did you find out that I'm a spy?"

Draco leapt lightly down from the countertop and strolled towards Snape's desk. As he spoke, he shifted through the parchments piled on the blotter. "I linked minds with Ginny. I saw everything she knows, and you were in her brain. It was an enlightening experience."

"I'm sure," Snape said dryly. Draco abandoned the desk and wandered over to the bookshelf, grabbing the heavy, leather-bound tomes at random and flipping through their pages. Snape asked, his voice tinged with impatience, "Is there something in particular you're looking for, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco looked up from the book in his hand. His white-blond hair, gilded by the candlelight, hung in his eyes. "There is, as a matter of fact. Where's the letter?"

"What letter?"

"Don't insult my intelligence, Severus. I know a letter came for you by owl post during the night, and I want it."

Snape said, "I burned it."

Draco snapped the book shut and tossed it on a table. He advanced on his former teacher. "Then tell me what it said."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because we need to know."

"I'm not a member of your faction," Snape reminded him. "I don't have to help you."

"Ginny and I need to know when they're coming," Draco explained. "I'm going to use the confusion to sneak her out of here, so I need to know when."

Snape held his eyes for a minute, then turned to his worktable and busied himself with straightening up various vials and beakers. It was a gesture of obvious dismissal.

Draco grabbed Snape's arm and jerked him around. "Listen," he said, staring down into Snape's eyes. "I could've turned you in at any point during the past few days, but I haven't, and I won't. I need to know what was in that letter. I'm not going to tell the Dark Lord or my father, and my faction won't do anything to stand in the Aurors' way, but you have to give me a date and time."

"What makes you think they're coming here?" Snape asked. "The Division has been disbanded. They've all gone home to their families, to savor what little time they'll have together before your minions hunt them down like animals."

Draco sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. It was one of several mannerisms of Ginny's that he'd picked up through the link. "I know that it's what Potter is going to do, because it's exactly what I would do. They're coming here to kill my father, but Ginny and I won't be able to stay for the fun, I'm afraid. Tell me when and where, and I'll leave you alone."

"No."

Draco pulled himself up to his full height, a sight taller than the Professor, and said, "I'm asking you in her name."

Snape's face was sallow in the dungeon light. "I beg your pardon?"

"Almost six years ago, she saved your memory. You owe her a favor. This is the last time I'll ask - In the name of the Pendragon, Severus, when are they coming?"

Snape sighed, knowing he had no choice but to answer. "Tonight at sunset."

Draco blinked. "They're not wasting any time, are they?"

"Can you blame them?" Snape asked.

"No, I don't suppose I can," Draco said thoughtfully. He was silent a moment, digesting the information, then his eyes refocused on Snape's and he released his hold on the older man's arm. "Thank you."

Before Snape could express his extreme shock at hearing those words from Draco Malfoy's mouth, his former pupil had already swept from the room. Snape closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, praying that he hadn't permanently compromised the Aurors or Dumbledore.

* * * * *

Draco paced across the solarium. The very air seemed serious. Everyone was grave. They'd talked for years about what would happen when it was time to move against the Dark Lord, but now the moment was near at hand. None of them could quite believe it. The Pendragon and Draco had made a deal. It was the first step.

"The Aurors will be here at sunset," Draco said. "Stay out of the way. Don't stop them, but don't help them either. Just...let them do their work. For goddess's sake, don't get yourselves killed."

"How long will you be gone?" Neil asked.

"Not long," Draco said. "A day, at most. Blaise is in charge. I want everyone to listen to him. If things get out of hand, he'll give the evacuation order." He stopped in his pacing and looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each one of his followers. "You are all vital to this organization. Watch your backs, and watch each other's backs. Take care, and stay safe."

"Good luck, Draco," Grace said. The rest of the faction echoed her good wishes. He nodded, both pleased and touched by their loyalty, and left the room. He needed to pack.

* * * * *

Harry took a deep breath, and knocked. Mike opened the door, took one look at Harry, and slammed it shut again.

"Fletcher," Harry called, "open this door. I need to talk to you." There was no reply. Harry took a deep breath, forced himself to stay calm, then said, "Please?"

For a moment, Harry was afraid Mike would ignore him. But then, the door cracked open, the chain lock still in place. Mike said, "You have thirty seconds. I have a stopwatch."

"I need a place to stay."

Mike actually laughed. "And you came here? The answer is no, Potter."

"Listen," Harry said. "When Lucius Malfoy took the oath of office as Minister of Magic, his first act was to disband the Auror Division. His second was to draw up a warrant for my arrest."

"Really?" Mike asked, opening the door a little further. "What for?"

"Treason, or so I'm told. I need a place to hide, just for a few days. Somewhere the Death Eaters won't look."

"You put Dana in the hospital," Mike said. "There is no reason in the world for me to let you into my home."

"I love Ginny," Harry said, "and she loves me, and you love her. That's a reason."

Mike stared at Harry for a silent minute, then slid the chain off and stepped aside, opening the door. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"She told me you would," Harry said. "It was her idea that I come here."

Mike slammed the door shut and threw the locks. "You talked to her?"

"Owl post," Harry lied. "She's escaped from Malfoy manor. She asked me to tell you that she misses you, but she'll see you in a few days."

That little news of Ginny was worth letting Potter stay. Mike thanked him gruffly, and pointed out the spare bedroom.

"How's Dana?" Harry asked.

Mike sighed. "You weren't lying. She really did sell Ginny out for a Death Eater."

"I'm sorry, Fletcher," Harry said. To his surprise, he meant it. Mike looked heartbroken. Harry might not like him very much, but no one deserved this.

Mike shook his head, not wanting to accept Harry's sympathy. "It's just that...they're the ones who murdered my parents, you know?"

Harry nodded. "Mine too."

* * * * *

Ginny had a crescent amulet in one pocket and a shrunken suitcase in the other. She held the invisibility cloak over her head as she and Draco ran through the manor's halls. Smoke billowed from random rooms, and curses buzzed through the air. They dodged them as best as they could, and when dodging got difficult, Draco would shoot a few benign hexes, temporarily incapacitating Aurors with jelly-legs or a slug-belching spell.

They were just ducking into a secret passage concealed in the wall of Draco's study when Ginny froze. "Harry's here."

"What?" Draco demanded. "Of all the stupid, suicidal, Gryffindor things to do -"

Harry! she shouted. You have to leave!

Harry ducked into an alcove. Ginny was distracting him; he couldn't engage the enemy with her talking in his head. No, he said firmly. I'm not leaving until Lucius Malfoy is dead. This is personal, Gin. He told the world that I'm a traitor to the Ministry. I can't let it go.

It's not safe for you, Ginny protested frantically. What if you get hurt? What if they kill you?

I drank Polyjuice. No one has recognized me yet. I can hold my own against the Death Eaters, you know that. After tonight, I'll go back to Mike's and I'll stay out of sight until you're home, but you can't stop me from this. I love you. Good luck with the sword. A Death Eater raced by, and Harry cut off contact, swinging out of the alcove and firing three hexes in a row.

"We don't have time for this," Draco said, pulling Ginny into the passageway and slamming the door. "Wish him luck and tell him you're leaving."

Ginny and Draco spilled out the door into the cold, starry night, and took off across the Malfoy grounds. "When we get off the property," Draco said as they ran, "we can Apparate."

Ginny stopped short. "Apparate?"

"Come on!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

She struggled out of his grasp. "I'm not Apparating anywhere."

He looked at her as though she were mad. "Why the hell not? Why wouldn't you...Ginny, when was the last time you did magic? Intentional magic, I mean."

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I think we'd better talk about it, or we're never going to get out of here."

"Find another way. I'm not Apparating."

"Gah! You are, without a doubt, the most frustrating person I've ever met!" Draco shouted. "How should we get there, Ginny? By train? Because we certainly wouldn't draw any attention there, with my Dark Mark and your tattoo. Or maybe by car? Except that I don't know how to work one and you don't know where we're going. Brooms would take days -"

"Then we take days," Ginny interrupted.

"Fine," Draco said through clenched teeth. He grabbed her hand and, together, they ran around the back of the house, where the Malfoys had their own private Quidditch pitch. He pulled open the door to the broom shed and rooted around in a locker until he came up with two brooms, then tossed her one.

Ginny looked at the handle, emblazoned Nimbus 2001, then at the broom he'd kept for himself. "I want the Firebolt," she said.

"No one touches my Firebolt but me," Draco snapped, striding over to her. He grabbed her hand once more and, pulling her behind him, said, "We'll take off once we clear the forest."

The Malfoy family forest was much as she remembered it from her brief escape attempt, thick with trees and dark. Just before they cleared the edge, Draco stopped. Ginny felt something cool slide over the knuckle of her fourth finger and looked down at her hand. A plain, silver band glistened in the faint moonlight that filtered through the trees. "What is this?" Ginny demanded, looking up at him in surprise.

Draco slid a matching ring onto his own finger. "They're enchanted," he explained. "If you're going to keep the link completely sealed off, at least this will help me keep track of you."

"You don't trust me?" Ginny demanded, pulling at the jewelry. It wouldn't budge.

"I told you," Draco drawled. "It's enchanted. I'm the only one who can remove it, and I'd be more than happy to, if you'd fix the link."

"No." Ginny fully intended to get her sword and run like hell. She couldn't take the chance of him figuring out her plan, so the link had to stay closed.

"Then the ring stays. It's just a locator talisman. It won't kill you." He still loosely held her wrist, and was struck by how thin she was. He didn't think she'd been eating properly since Shannon's death.

Ginny glared, then straddled the Nimbus 2001 and kicked off the ground. Draco followed. Behind them, Malfoy manor remained under siege.

* * * * *

The Death Eaters were too strong. There were too many of them; the field agents hadn't stood a chance. The attack had been a last-ditch effort, an act of desperation, and they'd failed. The Aurors fled the grounds, Disapparating en masse to safe houses across Britain. They'd known it was a gamble, and they'd lost. Lucius's revenge would be absolute. They would all be outlaws by morning.

Harry went first to Catherine's home. She'd paced her sitting room half the night, waiting for news. "Report, Midas."

Harry shook his head. "We stunned a few, killed a few more, but Malfoy got away. Most of them got away. There were just too many of them."

Catherine hung her head. "I should pack," she said, her shoulders sagging. "I understand America is nice this time of year."

Harry forced a smile. "They'd never look for you in, say, Texas."

"It's not me I'm thinking of," Catherine said, "it's my kids." She was the mother of two small boys.

"They'd like Texas," Harry predicted.

She shook her head. "I can't run away and leave all of you to face what's coming. The three of us will ask for sanctuary at Hogwarts. It's the safest place in Britain. Are you coming?"

Harry shook his head. He'd told Ginny he'd stay at Mike's flat, and there he would remain until she came back. He couldn't ask for sanctuary while she was still out in the world, putting herself in danger. He hoped Draco knew what he was doing. If anything happened to Ginny during their little adventure, Harry would kill Draco with his bare hands.

* * * * *

Two days later

Draco was half way through his second pint when he noticed that Ginny was no longer in the hotel bar. He sighed. He'd known it would only be a matter of time before she tried to run, but he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. Well, she couldn't have gone too far. He threw some money on the table and pushed his chair back.

* * * * *

Covered in his invisibility cloak, Draco stole out the back door of the little hotel. He didn't want to risk anyone spotting him out of the window. After two tense days of travel, the barrier Ginny had thrown up in their link still hadn't fallen. Thanks to the locator charm in his ring, though, Draco could still sense her nearness. She hadn't tried to escape after all; she'd just wanted some fresh air. He followed his instincts to the small wood that backed up into the gardens of the hotel, and slowly wound his way through the trees. The moon and stars sent their faint silver glow to Earth, creating deep pools of shadow out of the branches and leaves. The night was quiet, peaceful, and cool. He couldn't blame Ginny for stealing away; the bar had been stuffy and hot, and overcrowded with bluff and genial Muggles who had cloyingly welcomed the petite redhead. He wasn't surprised that Ginny had been uncomfortable.

He knew he was drawing close; he could feel her, even though he couldn't yet see her. Draco slid the invisibility cloak off of his shoulders, slung it over one arm, and stepped into the clearing just ahead. Two steps in, he froze, completely floored by the scene that greeted him. As a rule, Draco didn't surprise easily, but he thought he might make an exception this once.

Ginny lay on her back in the center of the grassy clearing. Her hands were clasped behind her head, and she gazed up at the starry dome of the sky. But what astonished Draco so profoundly was that she was glowing. A silver radiance seemed to leak from her body, as though she was nothing more than a lampshade through which her power shone. She was lit from within, and the pure energy that seeped out through her skin illuminated the entire clearing with a soft, silver light.

He gave himself a mental shake and walked over to her. "I heard you coming," she said, not moving her eyes from the stars.

He sat down on the grass next to her. "What are you doing out here?"

Ginny closed her eyes briefly, and for a moment the glow got brighter. "I'm exhausted," she whispered. "I couldn't hold it in anymore, and I thought, just for a few hours...."

Draco lay back against the ground, shoulder to shoulder with Ginny, and turned his eyes to the heavens. He couldn't remember the last time he felt compassion for anyone, but Ginny had truly looked terrible when they'd arrived at the inn. The circles under her eyes were like purple bruises, and her face had taken on a slightly dazed expression. She carried a massive amount of power within her, and every moment she was fighting a battle with herself to contain and control it. "We all need a rest now and then," he said, keeping his tone carefully neutral. The grass was cool and damp against his back; he could feel the dew seeping through his shirt.

Ginny didn't answer. They lay next to each other for several minutes without talking. Finally, Draco spoke. "It's mind-boggling, isn't it, to think of everything that's out there, too far away to look at even with a telescope lens."

She nodded. He wasn't looking at her, but the motion of her head shifted the silver light in the clearing, making the shadows flicker and dance.

After a moment, she asked hesitantly, "Would you like to see?"

He turned his head to face her. "You can do that?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "I can do anything." She raised herself on her left elbow and rested her right hand index and middle fingers against his temple. He expected her skin to be hot, and was surprised to find that it was as cool as the grass beneath him. "Look up, Draco," she whispered.

He turned his head back to the stars and couldn't withhold a gasp of surprise. An explosion of color rocked his vision. He knew he was looking at things never before seen by human eyes, except for hers. Suns of every color of the rainbow revolved around each other in their timeless dance, chased by comets and planets, asteroids and dust clouds. He was looking at creation itself, at the birth and destruction of every star in the galaxy. He thought the meaning of life might be within his grasp, if only he could focus on one thing. But he was distracted from the sky by the grass and trees and animals that surrounded him. He could see the spark of life within each living thing - that magic that kept them all alive and connected the animals with the plants and with him, filling the clearing with a symphony of Otherworldly color that took his breath away.

Too soon, it was over. She drew her fingers away, and in a brief moment of panic Draco thought he was blind. He wasn't, but his eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the sudden darkness of the world around him. Draco turned to Ginny, full of awe. Nothing was hidden from her. He hadn't fully appreciated that part of the prophecy until this moment. And, most staggeringly, Draco knew that she had only shown him a fraction of what she was capable of seeing. He said so, and she nodded.

"You wouldn't have been able to handle the entire thing," Ginny said. "My first time, the sensory overload put me in a coma for three days."

"How much did I see, then?"

"About a quarter of it, I think. It's enough to get the idea across, and it still makes a good show."

"How can you bear it?" he asked quietly, beginning to understand why she was so tired lately.

"Most of the time, I can repress it," Ginny said. "I see the world exactly like you do, usually. But it's so hard to keep up...." She trailed off, unsure of how to finish her thought. She knew that he understood.

"I can just imagine how Potter must have been the first time he saw all that."

She tilted her head so that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. "He hasn't ever, actually."

"Why not?"

She looked away. "I don't know. It just never came up."

Draco didn't know how long he laid in the clearing, shoulder to shoulder with Ginny. He looked up at the stars and planned out the next leg of their journey. He calculated when they should leave in the morning, how far they would probably get before she was too tired to continue, and then where they would stay for the night once they arrived. Draco rolled onto his elbow to fill her in on his plans, and was brought up short when he saw that she was sound asleep. The silver light still seeped out from her skin; there was no way she'd be able to tamp it down until she woke. "Poor waif," he whispered in amused sympathy. She really did look forlorn; she had lost weight in the past few weeks and her once-fitted clothes hung loosely from her frame.

Draco briefly considered waking her, but then remembered that he had the invisibility cloak with him. He gently picked her up from the ground and then arranged the cloak around the both of them and started for the inn.

* * * * *

Draco cleared the last stair to the third floor, and looked down the hallway in puzzlement. He had no idea which room was hers. He didn't want to wake her to ask, so she would just have to sleep in his room for the night. Draco wasn't sure how she'd react to waking up in his bed, but thought it would certainly be interesting to find out.

Getting his key into the lock without dropping her took some doing, but he eventually managed. Draco gently kicked the door closed behind him, laid Ginny down in the center of the bed, and shrugged out of the invisibility cloak. She'd be terribly uncomfortable if she slept in those clothes. He quickly resized his suitcase, then dug through it until he found what he was looking for - a black shirt, one of his favorites. It would make a suitable nightshirt.

Now he was faced with the problem of how to get her into it. Draco twirled his wand as he rifled through all of the spells he knew that might suit the situation. He had devoted much time to charming ladies' clothes off, but he didn't think he'd ever had to charm them on before. Finally, Draco laid the shirt on the bed next to her, aimed his wand, and said, "Exuviae mutuus." There was a flash of light, and he saw with satisfaction that the spell had worked. She was now dressed in his shirt; the hem fell somewhere around mid-thigh and the sleeves hung past her hands. Her clothes were folded and stacked neatly on the bed next to her, and her shoes sat on the floor.

Draco moved the pile to the sofa, and pulled a chair over to the bed. He didn't bother to put her under the covers; it would only wake her up. Instead, he unfolded the decorative afghan that sat on the end of the bed and spread it over her. It helped quite a bit in dimming the light that still poured from her skin. That done, Draco sat in his chair and gave Ginny a pensive look.

This protector business was getting much more complicated than he had ever dreamed it would be. He had always known that joining his mind to hers was going to be necessary. He had been preparing for the moment for years. What he hadn't counted on, and he was willing to bet Voldemort hadn't either, was that he would actually feel protective of the woman he was born to protect. When Draco had hatched his plans to overthrow the Dark Lord, the Pendragon had been nothing more than a pawn to him, a means to an end, someone he could manipulate into joining his faction. But now, as he looked at her small form curled up on his bed, he found that the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt. More than that, Draco was growing increasingly suspicious that he was incapable of hurting her. It hadn't been like that at first, in the days immediately following the connection of their minds. Lately, though, the impulse to keep her safe had been steadily increasing in strength, and it was going to throw a definite wrench in his plans if he didn't figure out how to get around it. There surely had to be a way to have his cake and eat it too.

Draco was distracted from this line of thought when Ginny shifted on the bed and whimpered. He turned his attention back to her, and saw with astonishment that tears ran down her face. She was crying in her sleep; the light from her skin reflected through her tears and transformed them into shimmering prisms of grief. "Shannon," she whispered.

"Shh," Draco said softly, shifting over to the bed. "It's all right. I'm here."

Ginny opened her eyes, but Draco could tell she wasn't seeing him. She was still sound asleep. Still, she whispered, "Shannon."

Draco stroked his hand over her hair. In spite of himself, his brow creased with worry. "It's okay," he murmured over and over. "It's okay."

Ginny closed her eyes again, and tossed on the bed. "I didn't mean to," she whispered through her sobs. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"She knows that, Ginny," Draco said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice, wondering if she could hear him in her sleep. He moved his hand from her hair to her arm, gently rubbing the fabric that covered her luminescent skin. "She knows."

He was just about to pull his hand back when she laced her fingers through his; he realized that she needed human contact, for all that she was asleep, and he didn't pull away. Although his skin was generally pale, his fingers seemed black against the silver light that poured from her hand. Draco couldn't help the feeling that by touching her he was somehow marring the purity of her power, and he wondered briefly whether Potter ever felt the same way.

They stayed locked in that tableau through the night: Ginny curled into a fetal position with a death grip on his hand, and Draco sitting on the bed next to her, keeping her nightmares at bay.

Draco spent the hours deep in thought. He was a Malfoy, wasn't he? A master manipulator. There had to be a way to regain the upper hand in this bizarre contest of wills. Draco couldn't believe he was even considering asking himself the question, but what would his father do in this situation? Well, first of all, Lucius would try to force her to drop the barricade she had put in their link. With full access to his opponent's thoughts, the battle would be much easier. Draco knew forcing her would be useless; there wasn't a power on Earth that could make the Pendragon do something she didn't want to do. His eyes wandered listlessly over her form and rested on their interlocked fingers. A smile, diabolically triumphant, spread across his face. He couldn't force her, but perhaps he could trick her....

* * * * *

When the clock on the wall struck seven, Draco gently disengaged his hand from hers and eased off the bed. She would wake up soon, and they would have to leave. He tucked the afghan more securely around her shoulders and went to take a shower.

When the bars of daylight that shone through slats in the blinds streaked across the bed, Ginny stirred and then slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she noticed was that her hand, which lay right in front of her eyes, gave off an ethereal silver light, obvious even in the glow of the morning. A spasm of pain crossed her face as she grabbed hold of the power and, with an iron will, forced it back to a place deep within her soul. The radiance faded from her skin. She looked normal again.

The second thing Ginny noticed was that she was wearing a shirt that didn't belong to her. She raised herself up on her elbows and blearily pushed her hair out of her face. That's when she noticed the third thing: Draco Malfoy opened the bathroom door, a white towel wrapped around his waist. A cloud of steam billowed through the doorway. His eyes fixed on her with a disquieting intensity. Ginny wasn't in her own room, wasn't in her own clothes, had been alone with her captor the entire night.

Draco saw the realization dawn on her face, the flash of panicked dismay that she couldn't have concealed if she'd wanted to. She sat up and faced him, her eyes wide. "How did I get into this shirt?" she asked, a slight tremble in the controlled evenness of her tone belying her horror at the situation.

"Use your imagination," Draco purred in a velvety smooth voice. He padded across the carpet to the side of the bed. The smile he gave her was both sensual and chilling.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in shock. "Bastard," she whispered. It couldn't be true. With a shake of her head, she cleared the cobwebs from her mind and glanced around the room. Ginny spotted her clothes folded in a neat pile on the sofa and felt sweet relief wash over her. If they had done what he was suggesting they had, she never would've picked her clothes off the floor and folded them afterward. Would he have?

Ginny eased off the far side of the bed and crossed to the sofa, giving him a wide berth. She was furious with herself. How could she have dropped her guard last night? Being tired was no excuse. And how could he have taken advantage like that? If he had taken advantage. She wouldn't put it past a Malfoy. They were the lowest of the low.

She snatched up her clothes, raced into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind her. She could hear his mocking laughter as she pushed the lock button. Even though she knew that such a flimsy lock would afford no real protection at all should Draco wish to get to her, it still gave her a small measure of security. The steam that filled the room from his shower made her feel sticky and did nothing to dispel the weary fog that gripped her mind. Ginny rapidly donned her clothes and splashed some cold water on her face. When she felt conscious enough to face Draco on equal footing, she opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the hotel room.

He had donned a pair of black trousers and a black shirt, still untucked. His feet were bare. When she appeared, he turned and gave her an inscrutable look. His long fingers deftly fastened his cufflinks: silver, imprinted with snakes wound about the Malfoy crest. Draco was silent; he would let her make the first move. With any luck, the link would be reopened before she left the room.

"Get moving," Ginny snapped, starting towards the door. "We should've been out of here before sunrise."

"Whose fault is that?" Draco asked.

"You should've woken me," Ginny said, stopping in her trip across the room to look at him. "If we're behind schedule it's your fault."

"No," Draco said sharply, "it's not. We could've Apparated and been there days ago if you weren't such a bloody coward."

Her voice was deadly. "What did you just call me?"

"There's nothing wrong with your hearing." His voice dripped with scorn and frustration. "You're too damned scared to use the powers you've been given. Worse, you know it and you don't even want to do anything about it."

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

"You let it control you!" he said over her. "What happened the day they were handing out all that Gryffindor courage, Ginny? Got in the wrong line, did you?"

She threw the black shirt across the room, but he snatched it out of the air before it could hit him. "Fuck you, Malfoy," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Draco's expression was predatory. "Already been done."

"You're a liar." Desperation and fury clouded her eyes.

Ah, now he was back in familiar territory. Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Am I? We could've had a World Cup Quidditch match in here last night and you wouldn't have heard a thing. Are you really so sure I'm not telling the truth?" Draco knew the gentlemanly thing would be to let it go, but he had no intention of doing so. Not when he could use this to turn the tables on her, to regain the upper hand in their battle royale.

He let the shirt slip through his fingers to the floor and slowly stalked across the room to her. When he spoke again, his tone was carefully measured, intense, and every word drove into her brain with the force of a hammer. "What if I told you that I spent the entire night on that bed with you, touching you, my body entwined with yours?"

Ginny's mouth opened as she drew in a shaky breath, but to her credit, she didn't back away from him. His eyes met hers, and the corner of Draco's mouth turned up in a satisfied half smile. The shock and confusion that filled her gaze was exactly what he had hoped she would feel. "You can see with your eyes that I'm telling the truth, can't you?" he drawled. "You might not be able to tell the particulars without unblocking our link, but you can at least see in my aura that I'm telling the truth." She began to shake her head, and Draco gently grasped her chin in his palm and turned her face to his. "Now who's lying?" he asked smugly. "Come on, Ginny. Lots of witches would envy you."

For one terrible moment, Ginny's mind frayed in panic and her knees almost gave out from under her. It just couldn't be. He had to be lying. But he wasn't. She could see his truthfulness with her own eyes. She rallied her pride and forced herself to meet his gaze head-on. "I was asleep, not dead," she said coldly. "If we had done anything interesting last night I'd have noticed, unless you're the lousiest shag in the world." She pushed his hand away from her chin, elbowed past him, and slammed the door behind her as she stormed into the hall.

Draco scooped his shirt up form the floor and hurled it into his open suitcase with such force that it bounced right back out. "Dammit!" he shouted. She was going to drive him insane. He had to get her to drop this barricade in their link. He had almost had her, but the moment had slipped away and he didn't know when another would present itself. "Dammit!"

* * * * *

In a dark, remote corner of England, the Dark Lord knelt on the ground. His hands were steeped in blood; it ran down the front of his robes and soaked the dirt before him, mingling with the rain that fell in torrents. He raised his high-pitched voice over the thunder. "Badb, Lady of Death, Queen of Deception and Despair, greatest of the Mórrígna triad," he cried, "hear your servant. Thank you for the generous gift," he paused a moment to admire his ring, "but it is not enough. I need the Pendragon. Send her to me, and you'll have more human blood spilled in your name than you ever dreamed possible."

In the Otherworld, Badb knelt by a stream. Her army, the creatures of the dark, shrieked and howled around her. The goddess's face, so like her sisters', creased in a sick smile. "The mortal thinks he can bargain with me," she said in amusement. "Very well."

She leaned over the pool and asked Voldemort, "You presume to make demands of the goddess?"

"My lady," Voldemort said, "I mean no disrespect. I only ask for help."

"There is someone who can help you," Badb said. This mortal was close, so close...she would consume him as he'd consumed so many. "I will send this helper to your side."

"Thank you," Voldemort groveled.

"And Tom," Badb said, "do you believe I can't tell the difference between rabbit blood and human? Do not think to fool me again, or I will be most displeased."

"No, my lady," Voldemort said, stiffening at her use of his mudblood name. "I wasn't trying to trick you. I needed blood to contact you, and the rabbit was nearby -"

"I am not interested in your excuses," Badb said. "From now on, use human blood or none at all. I require the most potent magic you possess."

"Yes, my lady," Voldemort said.

Badb waved her hand over the water's surface, and Voldemort disappeared. It was once again a stream. She looked up at Medraut, her second in command, and smiled. "He is so power hungry, he won't understand until it's too late. He is blind."

"Will you really send him the Pendragon?" Medraut asked.

Badb nodded to the demon. "I will try. If she swears to support me, I will be unstoppable. She's too well protected when she's here, but there..."

"The world of mortals will be open to you soon," Medraut said.

Badb nodded. "I know. Everything is going according to plan."

"Your pawns are also coming along nicely."

The goddess smirked. "I only gave them a push in the right direction, but they're succeeding beyond my wildest hopes. They both have so much hate...." She took a moment to relish the panic that Mórrígan must be feeling. Badb thrived on terror and chaos. It was as air to her; she couldn't survive without it.

* * * * *

They stood at the edge of the water. Lightning lashed through the sky, and thunder rumbled so loudly, Ginny could feel the vibrations beating on the inside of her chest. Rain poured down, soaking them to the skin and pounding the surface of the water into mist. "Here it is," Draco shouted over the noise of the storm. His straight platinum hair covered his forehead in dripping strings and his eyelashes stuck together in wet, spiky clumps. His black shirt and trousers clung to his lean body like a second skin, making his flesh seem all the more pale in comparison.

Ginny pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, her hand trembling with the cold. At first, her robes had shielded her a little more from the rain, but now the clothes she wore underneath were just as wet as Draco's. The rain was freezing, and the wind cut right through the fabric plastered to her body, chilling her to the bone. She couldn't feel her feet. "You're sure?" she shouted back as a thunderclap threatened to split the sky in two.

"What?"

Ginny grabbed his head and pulled it down until his ear was right in front of her mouth, then yelled again, "You're sure?"

Draco straightened and nodded.

Ginny's eyes swept the turbulent lake. Waves crashed at their feet. "Where is it?"

"How should I know?" he snapped. "You're the bloody Pendragon; you tell me!"

Ginny cursed inwardly. How the hell was she supposed to know either? Just then, a particularly large wave swept over the beach, soaking them to their knees. Through the mist, Ginny just barely detected motion, something rising from the turbulent water. The next lightning flash illuminated it - an arm, cloaked in red fabric, clutching a sword in its hand.

"There it is!" she screamed, grabbing Draco's arm, using her other hand to point. "It was the water; I had to touch the water."

"Great," he shouted back. "How the fuck are we supposed to get to it?"

"I found it. It's your turn to be useful," she shot back.

Draco's eyes swept the beach and lighted on a clump of reeds. Hidden among the plants, bobbing frantically up and down in the storm, was a small wooden boat. He jogged over and splashed into the water, dragging it free. Two oars rested neatly inside. It was as though the craft had been waiting for them. "We'll use this!" he yelled to Ginny.

She couldn't hear over the fierce thunder, but the gist of his statement was obvious. "You've got to be kidding. In this weather?"

"Scared, Weasley?" he asked, clambering into the unsteady boat and positioning both oars in the dark gray water.

Ginny bristled at the taunting grin on his face. She knew he was remembering the morning in his hotel room, when he'd accused her of being a coward. She'd be damned if she ever let Draco Malfoy trump her in the bravery department. "You wish," she snapped back, climbing into the boat. It almost capsized, and Draco grabbed her arm to steady her.

"Sit still," he ordered. "The water is rough enough without you tipping us even more."

The rain stung their cheeks like icy needles, and they had to squint their eyes against the painful drops. In the center of the lake, in the middle of the worst storm in a thousand years, the hand held Excalibur aloft. Its clear blade flashed silver with each lightening bolt. Draco started to row.