Outside

She heard voices coming from far away. Quiet voices, the muted crackling of a magical fire.

"She's fine, Albus. A little shaken, but none the worse for the wear."

"Just because she shows no ill effects--" A long sigh. "Poppy was horrified. Miss Weasley wouldn't let her heal the marks."

"She wants the scars. She wants to remember."

"I can understand that. Poppy doesn't, I don't think, but she's always unhappy when her skills aren't put to good use. And the numbing lotion?"

"I daresay she probably didn't need it, Albus."

"Oh."

"Yes. I too find it... interesting. I'm rather surprised we didn't see it coming."

"I want you to be particularly careful with her now, Severus. One wrong move on our part, and we will never be able to bring her back from this."

After the pop of the magical fire going out, Ginny blinked her eyes open once, twice. She was in an unfamiliar bed, under soft black linens, in a dark room. It hurt to lay on her back, but it would hurt more to lay on her front, despite the painkillers Madame Pomfrey forcefed her.

Severus--Snape, she told herself harshly--was leaning on the mantel, his head in his hands.

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"I've tried, Albus. She won't bloody talk."

"Severus, you and I both know that you aren't one to coddle your students, but it seems that you're..." A pause. "I am sure she will discuss this with you when she's ready, but I would prefer she be ready sooner rather than later. I would like to make sure she will be able to bear up the next time you're summoned."

"Not to mention, of course, that she'll be missing classes today, and that cannot happen again."

"That I'm less worried about, Severus. I realize this is a particularly Muggle sort of thing, but it won't do her any good to keep--"

"I am confident in her ability to ignore that there is anything to discuss." The indignant rustle of robes only Severus--Snape--could pull off without seeming petulant.

"That reminds me of the attitude of a certain other wizard when he first began to work for Light." The rattle of a tin, and the distinct sound of someone sucking on a lemon drop.

"I was fine, wasn't I?"

"If you consider yourself to be fine, I won't argue, but you'd already had years of dealing with your darker side, Severus. She does not, despite her first year brush with Tom Riddle. If there is one thing that can be said about Molly and Arthur Weasley that no one will ever argue with, it's that they give their children an upbringing very sheltered from the Dark Arts, and that they are very solidly on the side of Light."

"That's two things."

"Still, neither of them can be questioned."

"That is neither here nor there."

"I am worried, Severus. Finding out that you have a natural affinity for Dark magic is easy for no-one, much less someone like Ginny Weasley. I think perhaps I might have been a little rash in agreeing... Well, we can't go back. I wanted to make sure she felt useful, but--"

"But you were not thinking to make her this useful?"

"And you? Are you..."

"While I've oft entertained the notion of torturing one or two of my students, Miss Weasley never made the list." An uncharacteristic silence. "I will be fine, Albus. Thank you for your concern."

"In that case..." The click of a lemon drop tin. "I think it's time to move her into the infirmary and let Poppy take care of her for a while. If she's well enough to refuse to talk to you, she's well enough to leave your room."

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"No." Ginny shook her head, but gingerly, the painkiller hangover kicking in. She wondered if Muggles had as many problems with their medicines as Wizards did.

"Miss Weasley, you must--"

"Please, Madame Pomfrey. Do not. I--"

Professor McGonagall loomed over the bed, her glare as dark as Snape's. "You will, Miss Weasley. I understand that you do not want to tell me what happened to you, or how, but you will stop this nonsense at once and allow Madame Pomfrey to heal those wounds."

Ginny sighed. "But, Professor... I..."

"Cease this." Professor McGonagall stepped back and gestured to Madame Pomfrey. "Go ahead, Poppy."

Madame Pomfrey helped Ginny turn over. The weals on Ginny's back grew inflamed and then cool as Madame Pomfrey touched her wand to each stripe. Snape had varied his wand--cat o'nine tales, a simple cane, a long sharp knife...

She shivered as she remembered the icy cool metal against her skin, the slick burn as the knife sliced through the skin on her back, the runes painted on her back in her own blood.

"You're done," said Madame Pomfrey briskly. "You can go back to Gryffindor Tower now, Ginny."

"No she can't," corrected Professor McGonagall. "The Headmaster wishes to have a word with her."

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"Only four women have ever taken the Dark Mark, Ginny." Dumbledore opened a sweet dish on his desk and took what Ginny vaguely recognized as a gumdrop, a sort of sticky Muggle treat Hermione used to offer her sometimes. What happened to his lemon drops? she wondered. Dumbledore looked at the sweet in his fingers and then back up at Ginny. "Variety," he said with a wink, "is the spice of life, according to Muggles."

Ginny shrugged and Snape sighed heavily.

"As I was saying, only four women have ever taken the Dark Mark, because--"

"Because most of his women are just toys and not worthy of his brand?" Ginny asked sarcastically.

"Actually, yes." Dumbledore chewed his gumdrop, making smacking sounds with his mouth. "Delicious. You will likely not be required to take the Mark. But..."

Snape rolled his eyes. "This is why we don't use female operatives. Rather than being given the Mark, you will be given to one of Voldemort's followers. Presented as a gift to whomever is currently in his favor."

"Presented as a gift?" Ginny repeated faintly. "You mean like when you--at the Malfoys--"

"Yes. Just like that. Except it wouldn't stop at mild bondage. What I did to you was play." Snape stared at her. "They would rape every part of you--your body, your mind, your magic--and depending on their whim, they could and would make you beg for it, make you love it, make it painful--"

"Oh. That. Yes, I know," replied Ginny. "I'm not worried about the pain. I can do that."

It will be just like Tom.

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