Close to Burning

Sometimes Ginny dreamed that blood was running down her arms and pooling in her palms, red and sticky and almost sweet when she brought her hands to her lips, and she laughed as she opened her hand and let it escape through her fingers.

*

Lucius liked the way Ginny felt beneath him, the way her wide brown eyes focused on him as if terrified to let him out of her sight, for fear of what he would do next. He pressed her into the mattress, her teenage body so small and fragile under his own. She screamed, a long wailing sound, though whether from pleasure or from pain Lucius didn't know. Maybe it was both, he thought, looking down at her dispassionately, at how she panted and closed her eyes tightly. Painful pleasure and pleasurable pain. But what else was there in this world?

*

She didn't look up when he stepped into the room, her head down and her back turned towards him.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" he asked, walking over to her and plucking the knife from her grip, setting it down on the nearby table and waiting for her to turn and face him. She didn't.

"No," she said softly. "I don't want to die. I want to be alive." And then she turned, turning eyes that seemed to belong to someone other than a sixteen-year-old girl on him, and he put a hand beneath her chin and tilted it up so that she was looking him in the eye.

"And yet you have such a preoccupation with that knife." He was mild. He could afford to be, when she was in this mood. It was only when the Weasley in her broke out and overcame his careful training that he needed to be as passionate as she was.

"I have never tried to kill myself with it," she said, and Lucius knew that it was true. The knife was as clean as when it had appeared in this room, a test, and her skin unblemished by scars from its edge.

"Then what is it that you do with it, when I'm not here?" He kept his eyes trained on hers, and she barely flinched.

"I look at it," she said, and looked at him too. "And think about what it means."

"And what does it mean?"

She smiled, twistedly, as if from a joke no one but her had understood or even heard. She moved her head to face the knife on the table, and he let her go. "It deals death," she said, "but it means I'm alive. I like being alive. I can hold it in my hand, and the weight reminds me that I'm really here. And while I haven't gone there yet, if I use its edge, blood and pain say nothing save that I'm alive to see it, feel it. I like that."

Lucius said nothing in response.

*

"And how goes the work with dear Ginny?" the Dark Lord asked. Lucius, kneeling before his Master, kept his eyes trained on the hem of the Lord's robes as he answered.

"She has occasional moments, My Lord, when she reverts back to what she was before she came here, but they grow less frequent as the time passes. She has not had any escape attempt in the past month, and she is more polite to me than she was before. I believe progress is being made."

"Good, good." The Lord smiled, a baring of teeth emphasizing his serpentine features. Nagini twined around him and his chair, and Lucius very carefully didn't look up. "She may be ready soon."

Lucius did not ask what she would be ready for.

*

"Sometimes," Ginny said, sitting on the hearthrug in front of the fire, "I don't know whether to love or hate you."

"Oh?" Lucius said, not looking up from the book he was reading.

"You're a bastard," Ginny went on, her voice completely neutral, without inflection. "You kidnapped me and brought me here and tortured me and keep fucking me whether I want you to or not, and now I don't feel like me anymore. Not like I once did. I was a virgin before, and I still don't know why you're screwing me when you still have a wife...and this is the kind of thing I think about now. I don't think about Quidditch or classwork or being back at Hogwarts with friends, I think about why you've decided you want to fuck me. You're changing me, and I don't think I like the changes."

Lucius waited. After he'd first brought her here, she hadn't said anything of use. Nothing but curses, and promises that they would pay for doing this once the Order came to get her. But the Order didn't come to get her, and she was left alone in silence, and then she began to speak, because there was nothing else for her but the sound of her voice. Sometimes, the things she said were rather extraordinary.

"And I can only assume you're doing it because he told you to," Ginny said. "You work for him, after all. You're a sadist, and I think you don't give a damn what happens to me, but you stay here with me and talk to me and do things to me, and it can't be for any reason other than he told you to."

"Mmm," Lucius said. Not agreement or disagreement, but simple acknowledgment that he was listening. The things she said when she didn't have anyone else to say them to...

"And that's why I hate you." She leaned back on the rug, away from the fire, and over the top of his book, Lucius could see that her eyes were closed. But her mouth kept moving, kept shaping the words of her thoughts and feelings that were flooding out.

"And yet...and yet, you're still here. You're still here, when no one else is besides me. I don't think I've seen anyone besides you since I was brought here, and I can't stand what you're doing to me, but if you left, I don't know what I would do. Maybe I love you because you talk to me, you touch me, you're here, and as long as you're here, I know that I'm not fading away. Maybe I love you because I hate you, that you're something tangible to hate, someone whose actions hurt me directly and so I know you. I know you..."

She trailed off, and didn't say anything more. Lucius kept his eyes on his book, but his thoughts were far away from the words on the page. And when Ginny curled up into a small ball on the rug, apparently asleep, he bookmarked his page and left the room.

*

"Progress, I am assuming, has been made."

"Yes, My Lord." Lucius knelt in front of the Dark Lord, his head bowed and eyes on the floor. "She seems to be breaking."

"Oh?"

"About ten minutes ago, as I was reading and she was sitting in front of the fire, she suddenly spoke to me," Lucius began, still staring at the floor. One didn't look at the Lord unless he told them to. "And certain things she said lead me to believe that she can't stand the silence or the lack of people when I am not there. Even though she professes to hate me, often she will start talking when I am there, and will not check what she says. I do not believe she trusts me, but I'm not sure if it matters to her any more."

"Good, good." Lucius didn't look up, but he could hear the smile in his Lord's voice. "Lucius, I want you to not go near her for the next week. The house elves will bring her food when she is sleeping. She is to have no human contact until I say otherwise."

Lucius bowed his head further. "Yes, My Lord," he murmured.

*

Lucius walked down the corridor, the silence almost deafening. And it was a tangible thing, one pressing down on him, because this was the corridor that Ginny's room was off of, and Ginny had been silent for the past seven days.

Even when the Dark Lord did not want him to go in and disturb her, disturb whatever his plans for her were, Lucius would come and check on her. There was a spell to see through walls, and Lucius employed it without a thought to see what she was doing when he was not there.

There was a candle lit on the table, and the windows near the ceiling in the back of the room were open. Ginny knelt, her arms crossed on the table and her chin resting on her forearms, and watched the candle flicker. It took Lucius a moment to notice, but there was something in the fire she was watching, something other than the flame. And her lips were moving. He cast another spell, this one to let him know what she was saying through the wall.

"--your life is burning," she was murmuring, the flame reflecting in her eyes. "Humans aren't the only ones attracted to things that burn them, otherwise you wouldn't be there, would you?" She closed her eyes a moment and breathed a deep sigh before opening them again, still fixed on the candlelight. "We're more alike than we should be, little moth. If we get too close, reach out a hand to touch--," her own hand moved to hover just above the tiny fire, "--we get burned." Her hand came down, snuffing out the fire and putting the moth out of its burning misery.

Lucius turned on his heel and left.

*

"You're back."

Lucius didn't say anything in reply, just looked at the girl sitting cross-legged in front of the fire. There was nothing to suggest that she had watched a moth burn an hour ago.

"Why did you leave?"

What was he supposed to say to that? He remembered what she said, what had sparked him to tell his Master about her progress in becoming what his Master wished her to be. She hated that he followed his orders. But yet, why did it matter if she did?

"I had duties to attend to," he said eventually, his voice impassive, giving nothing away.

"I see." Her voice was very carefully the same, her back still turned towards him, the firelight creating shadows in her red hair.

He studied her slightly, and noticed how she trembled even though she obviously was fighting to keep it from being obvious. "Look at me," he commanded, and slowly, she turned, lifting herself up to move, and settling back into a seated position. Now she was facing him, but her eyes were still cast towards the floor. He crouched down in front of her, raising her chin with his hand. "Look at me," he commanded again, and she raised her big brown eyes to lock onto his pale grey ones.

There was something in those eyes, Lucius decided, as he considered her carefully, his hand holding her chin in place, though he could feel it trembling like the rest of her. Something of a wounded doe, maybe. One broken and bleeding, beset by hunters, wanting to fight back and protect herself but unsure of her ability to do so.

"You were gone," she whispered, her voice barely audible, even as close as they were. "You were gone, and I know it had to have been his orders. It's always his orders. What is he going to do with me?" She looked at him, the trembling more pronounced.

He said nothing. What was there to say? He didn't know what his Lord had planned for her, but he wasn't about to tell her that. She didn't need to have her questions answered...

...Though perhaps he would answer one. A small gift, and possibly the last one she would ever receive. Never let it be said that a Malfoy didn't have a heart.

"You wanted to know why I have sex with you, even though I am still married to Narcissa," he said quietly, and her eyes widened. Her mouth opened slightly, but she didn't say anything, and waited for him to continue.

He looked at her, leaned closer so that they were barely an inch away, her wounded-doe eyes looking straight into his own. "Narcissa is ice," he said, "a frosted lady. Utterly beautiful in her frost. Ice is cool, refreshing, but it isn't long before one begins to shiver. And you, my dear, are fire, even with your flames banked and nearly quenched. There is something just as beautiful in a flickering flame as in an ice sculpture."

"Even a banked fire can burn," she whispered, and tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

"Ah," he said, smiling slightly and leaning closer yet, "but I am not yet burning."

And then his lips met hers, his mouth and tongue and teeth dominating her own. She closed her eyes, and he felt tears splash against his cheek, but he continued kissing her deeply. He pulled her onto his lap and started to lift her robes off, completely ignoring her struggle to keep them on.

He pulled them off, breaking the kiss long enough to get them over her head. "I don't want this," she gasped, almost miserably, hunching herself and burying her face in her hands. But she knew better by now than to try and run away.

"You wanted me here," he pointed out as he shrugged out of his robes, then took her in his hands again.

"But not like this," she protested, tears drying on her cheeks. "And not you, just someone."

"But it's me here," he said, spreading her out. "No one else but me."

She cried out as he moved in, fresh tears falling onto the rug beneath them as she shuddered and moaned.

"Just a lesson, Ginny Weasley," Lucius whispered in her ear when he was finished. "We don't always get what we want."

She looked at him, eyes red and tearstains all over her cheeks. "I know," she said simply. "I know."

*

"She is ready. Bring her to me."

"...Yes, My Lord."

*

"Hello again, Ginny Weasley."

His Lord and Ginny looked at each other while Lucius knelt at the back of the room.

"Tom," she said, returning the greeting. Lucius winced, and wondered what his Lord would do to her now for using that name with such impunity, when he laughed.

The Dark Lord laughed, but Ginny barely flinched. "Only you, Ginny Weasley," he said. "Only you would dare address me so!"

"What is it you want, Tom?" she asked. Lucius could still see the trembling in her limbs, but only because he looked for it.

The Dark Lord leaned closer to her. "You have something that belongs to me," he said. "Something that I would like back."

"I don't have anything of yours," she replied. "Not anymore, and never again."

He reached out a hand and touched her on the forehead, and there she flinched. He laughed again, and it was not pleasant. "You do, Ginny Weasley," he said softly. "And it's something that I would prefer you give to me of your own free will."

"I told you, I have nothing of yours!"

The Dark Lord's eyes flashed. "Denying the Lord, are you?" he hissed. "Don't play stupid, girl. Part of the strength that I gave my diary is now in you, and I want it back."

"And if I don't want to give it to you?"

Why was she defying him this way? Lucius wondered. She never defied Lucius himself the way she was defying the Lord now. There was still something of her father in her, then, something that prompted her to stand when it would be better for her to kneel.

"You shouldn't play with fire, Ginny Weasley," the Lord said softly, dangerously. "If you get too close, you'll get burned."

"I'm already burned," she said, and remained standing. "I have nothing left to lose."

The Lord smiled, and it was not nice. "We shall see about that," he said quietly, "and do things the hard way." Then he locked her eyes with his own. She screamed once, and collapsed. Despite the urge to move, Lucius remained where he was.

"Isn't it ironic, Lucius," the Dark Lord said, looking at Ginny's body sprawled at his feet, "that they gave Harry Potter Occlumency lessons in order to stop me possessing him, but never thought to give the same to Ginny Weasley, even though they already knew she was susceptible? Such fools they are..."

"...Is she dead, My Lord?" Lucius asked quietly.

The Dark Lord shook his head. "No," he said, his voice tinged with amusement, "she's not dead. Nor will she be, should she be adequately cared for. But her mental barriers could not withstand one who had already passed them and then grown in power. My powers were simply too much for her, especially when, as I extracted those bits of me left in her, bits of her that had gotten tangled with me came with them." He laughed again, and it sent a slight chill down Lucius's spine. "Come, pick her up, Lucius. Send her back to those doddering fools at Hogwarts for them to despair at; she is no more use to me."

"They would not be able to find some use for her there eventually, once she recovers, My Lord?" Lucius asked, carefully picking her up and cradling her in his arms. That vibrant flame that was Ginny's own, gone so quickly, swept up in the torrential power that was the Dark Lord Lucius served...

The Lord smiled, another baring of teeth emphasizing serpentine features. "Only if they know how to cure madness," he replied, and Lucius's heart skipped a beat before continuing normally. "She really wasn't prepared at all for the things Legilimancy can do..."

Lucius hesitated before leaving. There was something he wanted to know, but one never knew when the Dark Lord would tire of questions. But apparently he was in a good mood, sated on returned power.

"You have another question, Lucius," the Lord said, gazing at his follower indulgently. "Come, then. Ask it. You shall not be punished."

Lucius swallowed. "My Lord," he said, carefully crafting his question. Even when the Dark Lord said there would be no punishment, that was not a promise, and it wasn't as if he would keep his promises when it suited him not to. "I was just wondering, My Lord, why it was that you had me break the Weasley girl in the first place. Even without preparation, her mental barriers could not have withstood you, and you would have had your power without waiting so long."

The Lord looked at him, and Lucius fought to keep himself from shivering. Do not betray weaknesses in the presence of your Lord unless he wills you to do so. "Do not ask if you do not truly want to know the answer," he said quietly. "Do you persist with your question?"

This Lucius didn't hesitate on. The Dark Lord hated cowardice, and retracting the question now would be nothing but that. "Yes, My Lord," Lucius replied. "If it pleases you to tell me, I would like to know."

This time the look went on considerably longer than it had before, and Lucius prayed he would not start sweating. No weaknesses. Then the Lord's gaze shifted to the girl unconscious in Lucius's arms.

"She is beautiful, is she not?" the Dark Lord said. "A true breila, dusky wild rose of Wales, cut almost before she's finished blooming. Do you not agree, Lucius, that she is beautiful?"

Lucius looked at her, lying in his arms, and could not disagree. "Yes, My Lord," he murmured. There were tears on her eyelashes--dew on her petals--and her hair spilled over his arms, a crimson cascade. It was impossible to say she was not beautiful.

"There is beauty of another sort," the Lord continued, eyes almost the shade of Ginny's hair watching Lucius steadily, "in divesting such a rose of its thorns, carefully shaping it until it is perfect. Is she not perfect this way, Lucius, the rose stripped of her thorns?"

What perfection is there in madness? Lucius wanted to ask, but knew that it would be madness to ask it. "Yes, My Lord," he murmured, because agreement was expected, and disagreement punished. Lucius broke her will and the Dark Lord broke her mind, her fire was on the brink of going out, and there didn't seem to be anything perfect in that.

"And too," the Lord said softly, "never let it be said that Lord Voldemort does not reward his most devoted followers. She is mine, first and foremost, but I could see into your heart, and could see that you wanted some part of her as well." Another teeth-baring grin. "Lord Voldemort is generous. He has given you what you wanted, has he not?"

Do not ask a question if you do not truly wish to know the answer. Answers could burn too.

Lucius bowed as well as he could while carrying someone, and the Lord inclined his head, indicated that Lucius could leave. Once out of the room and into the corridor with the door shut behind him, Lucius looked down at the girl in his arms, who suddenly looked so very young.

"If you get too close to fire," he murmured, "you'll only get burned." He started walking.

Ginny wasn't the only one who had been burned.

*

The blood seeped out of her palms, and Ginny laughed, and laughed, and laughed.