The Road To Nowhere

Chapter Three

Darkness Falls Early

"And if the darkness is to keep us apart

And if daylight feels like it´s a long way off

And if your glass heart should crack

And for a second you turn back

Oh no, be strong..."

U2: `Walk On´

"Hello, Tom," she heard herself offer in a flat, uninterested tone. She could sense that someone had come up behind her but her eyes were fixed on the lipless smile that greeted her.

He did not speak but eyed her appraisingly. After a moment she felt two powerful hands close around her shoulders. She looked down and noted that they were not those of Peter, but someone else. But she could not remember anyone else accompanying her into the room.

Voldemort turned and walked to a low table in the center of the room.

Ginny tensed uncomfortably. The diary lay battered and open before her. She felt her breath catch painfully in her chest. It wasn´t gone. Dumbledore hadn´t destroyed it. She´d thought she was safe from this trinket of dark magic for so long, safe from Tom.

She felt herself forcefully moved closer to the black bound book that was marred by a giant hole in its cover.

"Would you be so kind as to lend me a hand, aid me in the appropriation of my former powers?" Voldemort asked smoothly.

Ginny suppressed the urge to laugh openly. She settled instead for glaring sarcasm, "I could. Or you could go to hell." She held his stare, willing herself to be strong, to stand straight, the next moment she knew she would be dead. Voldemortwas not famous for his patience.

To her great surprise he smiled at her and then turned to pick up the diary, but not before nodding to the thug behind her, signifying some silent command. Ginny was turned roughly and struck hard across her face. She fell to her hands and knees and fought for consciousness. It remained with her a while longer.

Blinking back reflexive tears at the pain of a broken cheekbone she chanced a glance at her attacker. Lucius Malfoy. How long had he been waiting to strike her, Arthur Weasley´sdaughter. She felt as though, of all of her father´s children, she´d been singled out as the target of choice for their family´s enemy. He was the one, after all, that had given her the diary that now lay open, taunting her.

She felt the fabric of her robe rip under the strain of his grip as he tugged her to her feet. She resigned the fight, no way would she win even if she had fought back.

He held her throat in one massive hand, constricting slightly as he drew her closer to him, his eyes glinting menacingly as he grinned at the fear she must be showing in her ever widening eyes. She couldn´t breath.

"Enough, Lucius," Voldemort said dully as he walked lazily to the table and thumbed through the charred and battered dairy.

Lucius´ hand slid around her neck and tangled itself in her hair. Grabbing a handful, he jerked her head back with a snap and threw her to the ground at Voldemort´s feet.

"I think you will help me all the same, Miss Weasley. You are really in no position to deny me anything," he smiled, removing a small silver blade from a pocket under his robes.

Ginny heard herself gasp audibly. She also heard Lucius Malfoylaughing at her in the background. As Voldemort approached her with the blade held out in front of him, Ginny unconsciously moved backwards until she was in a kneeling position. She tired to retreat but ran into a solid obstacle in the form of Lucius Malfoy.

Ginny, trapped between two horrible, vile beings whimpered and shut her eyes as she heard Voldemort slowly approaching. He stopped just in front of her and reached down with one scaly hand and grabbed her hand around the wrist so tight it cut the circulation.

He pulled her toward the dairy with one swift motion and with the same speed, sliced the palm of her captive hand into two even halves. The sudden pain caused Ginny´s eyes to fly open as she cried out in the same instant. He slit his hand as well and placed it against the laceration on Ginny´s.

She bit back a cry at the intense pain as he squeezed their palms together letting the blood trickle onto the ivory pages of the book. It absorbed the crimson stains just as it has soaked up ink. Ginny had witnessed the effect of liquid on its pages several times.

Voldemortheld onto her hand pressing it to his with terrifying force. Ginny could no longer feel her fingertips and white lights danced in front of her vision. She slid out of consciousness and into a dark void.

"No!" she screamed bolting into an upright position, "I helped him. He´s going to hurt them all. It´s my fault!" She covered her face with her hands and rested her elbows on her knees. It had only been a dream, but not just a dream, a memory. In the moonlight that that cut a sharp, sliver line across her dark bedroom, Ginny held her hand out in front of her the scar was still there, a reminder.

***

Harry sat in the dark for hours before finally giving in to the need for sleep. Hermione sat with Ginny for most of the day but Harry insisted that she rest for a while in Percy´s old room after he´d found her on the floor scrubbing furiously at the bloodstain and crying softly. She seemed on the breaking point. Hermione, teetering on the edge of sanity scared Harry. She was the levelheaded one, the one with the answers, she always employed her intellect and calm under pressure. Once she was off, there would be no hope for the rest of them.

The early morning quiet was interrupted by Ginny´s screams, "No! I helped him. It´s my fault," causing Harry to jump from his chair in the corner of the room. She´d been asleep for nearly eighteen hours before this outburst. Harry wondered who else had been awakened. With a flick of his wand the room was lit revealing a terrified Ginny staring at her hand, at the scar on her hand in disbelief. She seemed not to notice any other soul in the room, didn´t even register that the lights had come on. She sat tangled in her linen sheets with her eyes fixed on the line that split her palm.

"Is everything alright, Ginny? Are you hurt?" Harry spoke tentatively as he stood rooted to his spot in the corner.

Ginny looked up with the same wide-eyed expression and shook her head slowly, a tear glinted silver in the light before streaking down her cheek as she returned her attention to her hand. She swallowed hard and stared unblinkingly at it.

"Right," Harry said as he watched her odd behavior, "I´m going to get Ron."

At this Ginny´s head shot up and she quickly whispered, "No, let him sleep."

Harry must have worn a set expression because she added, "no one heard me. I´m sure. They never wake up."

Harry walked toward the door anyway. Ron would want to know she was awake, regardless.

He stopped at the note of pleading in her voice, "don´t go, just sit with me until I fall asleep again?" He complied instantly. Of course he wouldn´t leave her if she asked him to stay. He released the doorknob and walked over to where she sat shaking slightly. It wasn´t cold in the room but she was quaking like a leaf, even under the quilt he´d placed over her hours before. She wasn´t cold. She was frightened.

Harry came to sit next to her placing an arm around her shuddering form and drew her closer to him. She smiled gratefully and laid her head on his chest, one bandaged hand cushioning her chin.

"What´s this?" she asked fingering a chain around Harry´s neck.

"Don´t you know?" Harry answered with a smile, "you gave it to me."

"I didn´t realize that you still had it. Why would you keep if it doesn´t work anymore?" she continued, raising her head slightly to inspect the familiar ruby.

"It was a gift and I thought, you know, you´re not supposed to throw things like that out. It would be rude wouldn´t it?" he smiled and rested his head on top of hers. He could feel the rhythmic movements of her breathing.

After a small silence, Ginny released the small amulet. "I´m sorry I hurt you, Harry."

Harry took a deep breath, thinking about how much time he´d actually spent in the last year trying to decide just exactly what Ginny meant to him. She´d left him very hurt and confused that day in the hospital already a year ago, but seeming like just days before. "I know you are, Ginny," Harry answered kissing her lightly on her forehead.

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. In a shaky voice she added, "Don´t give up on me yet."

He shook his head and held her tighter, "I never will, Ginny. I´ve given up on the idea of us. But I won´t give up on you."

She smiled at this answer and wiped her tear stained cheeks, "It never would have worked," she admitted.

"Maybe it would have if everything were different, if--," Harry struggled to find the words to describe how hard things had gotten but came up short.

"I know," was all Ginny needed to say. "Tell me a very boring story, Harry. I´m so tired but I can´t get back to sleep."

Harry laughed. If she wanted boring stories, Hermione could supply several that might fit her need. But, Harry tried to think, boring. He came up with something he´d been reading on the Third Goblin Rebellion of 1910.

Ginny was soon asleep.

Harry turned out the light and settled his head on the bedpost behind him and closed his eyes.

***

Removing his sunglasses in spite of the glaring Paris sun, Draco stepped out of the car and surveyed the familiar street, Rue du Grand Cours. He smiled to himself remembering some bit of wisdom he´d gleaned from Hemingway:

`If you are lucky enough to have lived in Pairs as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a movable feast.´

"Dear are you going to stand there blocking my exit all day?" a voice called laughingly from behind him recalling him from his thoughts.

"Sorry, Grandmother. I was distracted. I´m glad to be back," he explained, turning to offer the elderly, but elegantly dressed, lady a hand to assist her from the car as the driver unloaded their bags.

More than the manor house that was his grandmother´s estate on the coast in the city of Caen, Draco looked forward to visiting Paris while his grandmother stayed in town.

It was here that Draco´s favorite coffee shop sat on the corner of le boulevard du Montparnasse, his favorite bit of grass next to the pond where children sailed their toy boats was just across the street. He loved the museums, Muggle mostly, and the opera. He loved visiting Paris with his grandmother and his sister. He looked forward to it every year. Only this year, Lucy was not to join them until the end of the summer. She had insisted that her physical therapy continue as planned in England under her regular doctor. She would not hear of seeing another doctor and was equally deaf to the idea of Draco staying behind with her. However much Draco disliked the idea of her nearly on her own, she assured him that her elf Portia would be enough help for her. He still felt a slight unease at the fact that she was so far from him and he could not look after her an entire country away, but when she insisted, he was never one to argue. He´d learned that it got him nowhere.

But she would join them at the end of the summer and that had to be enough consolation for Dracoto go on with at the moment.

As they entered number twenty-three, Draco felt the growing excitement of seeing his ebony Steinway again. His grandmother had informed him on their trip to the city that she´d had it moved from the manor house in order that he may play for her on every evening. As he adored his Grandmother Bertrand and, therefore, would play for her as long has she had the patience to listen to his old Frank Sinatra tunes.

Setting down one heavy bag in the foyer, Draco breathed in a deep breath of contentment. He felt like he´d returned home.

Paris would always be his home.

***

"Ah!" Peter grinned nervously as he opened the door to admit the black clad figure whose expression was unreadable behind sunglasses, lending a mysterious air to him. Peter knew who it was, however. There was only one person who knew about his side trip to Florence. "I wasn´t sure if you would take me up on the offer," he added timidly, shutting and bolting the flimsy hotel room door.

"I´m still not sure why I did," was the cold return he got for his hospitality.

Peter deserved that, he reckoned. "Kill´em with kindness," he said slowly taking a breath and offering his guest a seat at the table in one corner.

The tall, dark man stared at him from behind his shades. "Aren´t you going to check me for weapons?" he said betraying no emotion in his monotone voice.

Peter shook his head as he secured one paper shade to the window, making sure no light entered the room, no prying eyes could be watching, that was important. "I figured if you´d wanted to kill me, you would have done it already. Don´t forget that we go way back, you and I. I know you. You were always one to jump on your first impulse," he held up both hands and smiled. "Why else would you be here at this very moment? Curiosity got the best if you again, Sirius."

"Stop with the bullshit, Peter. I still haven´t made up my mind yet. And I have my wand in case you were in doubt about that. So just give me a reason, Peter. That´s all I need," Sirius continued flatly.

Peter smiled a crooked and devilish smile. Nothing had changed. He was pleased to see Sirius Black was still the same swaggering, cocky bastard he´d been at school. Of course, the only thing that had changed was that now Peter was on the receiving end. And that was perfectly fine. He´d expected it, really. Peter had killed his friends.

He was Judas and happy to be so. Someone had to be that guy, right? Better him than a Nobody. Those guys never got their names in the history books.

Besides, he´d never felt like more than a drain on the three of them anyway. They weren´t his real friends, they were do-gooders with too much time on their hands and he was the perfect project. Slow and incompetent, they had pointed this out to him at least three times a week. That was his part to play.

And when the opportunity for real power had come he would take it. And he took it. No regrets there. And they hated him for it. He was never meant to be someone´s lap dog and he would be damned if he had stayed and put up with their shit. All in the name of friendship, right?

No, he was no Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat was daft.

He shook his head and took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

"Please do have a seat, Sirius," he entreated, waving him to the empty chair.

Sirius removed the shades in the dark hotel room and sat.

"What the hell is all of this about, Peter?" Sirius asked in the same tiresome monotone. Peter was going to have some fun with him.

"No catching up first?" he said leaning back with what he hoped was cool carelessness. "How´s Harry?"

"None of your fucking business. Why did you ask me here, Peter?" Impatience and anger--that was something. So his disinterested act couldn´t last forever. Mentioning Harry was a cheap shot, Peter would admit, but the expressionless superiority was growing infuriating, he always did that. He always did that when Remus had come up with another masterful plan. Sirius never wanted him in on the capers. Too clumsy, always got the group into trouble. Peter shook his head again. It was Sirius who´d always blown their cover. He just wouldn´t admit it. Stubborn bastard.

"You want to catch up, Peter? Fine," Sirius said folding his arms over his chest and affecting the casual attitude that Peter had donned. "Remus´ funeral was lovely. The sun was out. There was a nice breeze. Perfect day to bury a dear friend, I wish you could have been there. You should have been there. You should have seen how many people felt the loss. You should have watched as his mother wept when they lowered her son into the ground. You should have seen how angry Arabella was when I´d told her who had killed him." His voice rose to a furious pitch. "But you weren´t there, were you, Peter? You make the mess and then tuck tail and run. Let the rest of us clean it up for you. We always have."

Peter winced.

Sirius had a way with words. Not eloquent, but with just enough loathing to reduce a grown man into an abused, homeless pup. He debated whether he should set the record straight. But then again, why would Sirius believe him. He wondered if Sirius had told Mrs. Lupin everything. Did she know that Peter had killed her son? Fuck the rest of them. He didn´t care what they thought but she´d been like a mother to him. The only one he knew, really. He was sorry for that, if nothing else.

"What if I said I wanted to make it right?" he added in a defeated voice. He had given up trying to gain the advantage over Sirius. He would never win. Sirius was way too good at playing the wronged and wounded victim. Peter would play the bad guy if necessary, he always had.

But he could make things right at the same time.

And he would. He was determined to.

***

"Come on Gin. It´s not all that bad. I thought you were looking forward to this?" Bill called over his shoulder juggling several bags at once, a model of efficiency. Ginny shook her head, it was patronizing really. Bill had no interest in coming to Pairs. She knew he preferred London, well, if he´d had it his way he´d be back in Egypt. But here he was looking after his troublesome little sister in France. However much he didn´t like the idea of it she was grateful that he was taking it so well. This could really put a cramp in his style.

Her father had insisted that it would do her good to go to school as she´d planned. It wasn´t a wholly foolish idea. It beat psychiatrists and counseling and, "how about you tell me what´s really going on Miss Weasley. I can´t help you if you don´t first help yourself" and all that tripe.

She really had been looking forward to the medical interning program that she´d worked so hard for the past two years to get into. It´s just that she had a foreboding feeling about leaving the safety of home. Sure, she´d been here for a year already. She´d attended Beauxbatons during her fifth year of schooling to get a conversational grasp on the language and all of that.

But she couldn´t help the feeling that whatever she´d been running from wasn´t left behind in England. It was ever with her.

Lifting her head to soak in the depressing drizzle that clouded the late June sky she felt conspicuous on the street and hurried into the apartment after her brother.