The Road To Nowhere

Chapter Eighteen

No Reason To Hide

"To what do I owe this gift, my friend?

My life, my love, my soul?

I've been dancing with the devil way too long

And it's making me grow old

Making me grow old

Let's leave...oh let's get away

Run in fields of time

Where there's no reason to hide

No reason to hide..."

Creed: 'Hide'

The fog had subsided slightly, allowing for a clear vantage of the island fortress from the light of the full moon. Carefully making their way across the bridge, Harry, Ron and Hermione had decided to keep their wands stowed, as they would attract too much attention if they used them to light their way. The moon was doing a decent job all on its own, besides.

Hermione had overtaken both Ron and Harry as they walked along the bridge that connected the lakeshore to the keep. She was leading the way now, becoming more surefooted and confident with each step.

Harry was mildly concerned with how easy it had been to walk right up to the castle undetected. He was wary of the fact that it looked like a trap. Or, possibly, Voldemort had been just that stupid. Harry had seen him fail enough on account of his own miscalculations not to rule out this factor.

He knew someone must have noted their approach.

Ron rushed up to Hermione who had taken another step closer and was at the enormous wooden doors of the complex. She'd taken one of the massive rings that served as a means of opening the solid barriers to the entrance in her hands. She was studying it briefly until Ron's hand on her shoulder pulled her back roughly, startling her enough to make her choke back a scream of surprise. She clapped one hand over her mouth before taking a calming breath and glaring venomously at Ron.

"What was that for?" She whispered, clasping a hand over her rapidly pounding heart, "You nearly made me scream."

"I thought you were just going to walk up to the doors and invite yourself in," Ron answered in his defense.

"Of course I wouldn't be that stupid, Ron. I was checking to see if these iron rings would hold my weight. I want to get to that window up there," she said, indicating an opening about fifteen feet up. "We need to see what things look like from the inside, see how many they've got guarding this place. If there's only one or two at this door then I say we can take them. If there's more, then I say we look for another way in." She quietly examined the iron rings, this time without interruption. "I think I can do this, I just need a lift up, to get my foot into that ring there."

Ron nodded and lowered himself to where his knee was just the right height that Hermione could step from it and into the ring easily.

She smiled in thanks and put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, putting all of her weight on his one knee momentarily before placing the other in the iron ring of the door. She faltered slightly as she lost her balance, but Ron, as an extension of reflex, had reached up and caught her by the back of her knee and took her other hand in his to steady her before giving all of her weight to the metal hardware of the door. He never let go of her leg, but left her hands free to hold onto the small frame around the high window. She barely reached far enough to see down into the entryway. Ron kept a hand up to spot her as she moved to get the better vantage point.

"Hm," she said in a wary tone. It didn't sound good to Ron on the ground. Harry wasn't even listening. He was looking up into the top row of windows, occupied with something.

"Hm, what?" Ron asked, looking curiously at Harry.

"There's no one there," she said in a thoroughly puzzled tone.

"No one? There's got to be someone watching the door," Ron pointed out incredulously.

"Could you just help me down, Ron? I know how to count to zero. There's no one watching the door," she quipped, turning awkwardly to argue with him from her perch on the door.

"Just jump. I'll catch you, I promise," Ron said in a warning tone, backing away from the door as if he would like nothing better than just to leave her there.

"Ron, you come back here and help me!" she whispered in a threatening tone, losing her foothold slightly and faltering.

Ron ceased with his amusement and hurried over immediately to help her down.

"Look at that!" she demanded of him when she was safely on the ground, "you made me bang my elbow." She whimpered.

"Don't expect me to feel sorry for you," Ron retorted, folding his arms in front of him and ignoring her whines and protests. "If you would stop being so bossy--," he began to reprimand Hermione but was interrupted by Harry.

"I just saw someone up there. In that window, just there," he pointed. "It could have been Ginny, but I'm not sure. Too far away," he said, taking another look, but no one was at the window that was backlit by a flickering fire now. "This is the place they've taken her. They must've taken Lucy here too. They'll be looking for me next," he added thoughtfully. He would rather that he'd been taken first--neither Ginny nor Lucy deserved this.

***

"We've got to find a way out of here," Draco said, looking out of the window as Ginny had finished recounting the events of the past twenty-four hours. He knew there was something that she wasn't telling him. He began to wonder what they'd done to her. She was shaking and wouldn't look at him. She was hiding, ashamed of something. He wanted to get her as far away from this place as possible, back home where she could be with her family. He didn't know what to do or what to say.

She'd returned to her spot on the floor in front of the fire where she was trembling and in a sort of oblivious trance state, as if trying to block something from her mind.

He continued to stare down into the shimmering waters, moonlit and surrounding the castle they were trapped in. The only way they would be getting out of this place was by that bridge. He had crossed that bridge only hours before, but he did know that it was defended, even if its defenses weren't blatantly obvious. There were wards on it, for sure. The small contingent of Death Eaters that had been invited here for the immortality ceremony would surely be alerted if there were movements on that bridge. And they certainly couldn't swim that loch. Even in late August that water would freeze them through. Apparating was out of the question. There were certainly wards in place to prevent unwanted guests from gaining easy entrance, and leaving no avenue of escape for hostages.

"Draco?" Ginny whimpered from her mass of blankets on the ground.

He was at her side in an instant, crouching next to her, he placed a hand on the back of her head, the only thing that was not covered in the quilts she'd ripped from the bed. He stroked her soft hair and watched with quiet concern as a tear slid down her cheek and dropped from her chin. She'd been crying like that for a good twenty minutes now. Unblinkingly, she stared at the fire.

"What is it, Ginny?" he asked, pulling her covers up closer to her chin. She was still shaking like a leaf in a late autumn wind.

"I know who the Ravenclawheir is," she choked out before she was wracked with another round of violent sobs. Draco rubbed her back comfortingly, encouraging her to go on. He listened to her, his gray eyes never leaving her bright brown ones, now red and washed with tears. "I've known since I was taken. I was drugged or knocked out or something," she shook her head as if to clear it and carried on, stumbling only a few times through the rest of her explanation. "Well, I had another vision."

So far, Dracocouldn't see why she was so upset over that fact. She looked like she was hating herself pretty hard at the moment. She lurched forward as if she was going to be sick. Dracoreflexively caught her, inches before her head hit the stone.

"What did you see, Ginny?" Draco asked, prompting her. She was struggling hard with this, he didn't understand why.

Ginny looked away from the fire and into Draco's eyes for the first time since they'd began this discussion. She hated that she was having him waste his concern on her. She dwelled in his attentions, thrived in his care and lived just to be near him. But she didn't deserve any of it. She was about to hurt him in a way she was positive he'd never felt pain before. She'd betrayed him. She thought it best to break away from him immediately. She wanted one last chance to lose herself in his beautiful, fathomless gray eyes and then she would end it all. This time, she really would. She'd reached the limit to how much she could endure. Hurting him pushed her past that point. It would finish her.

She broke free from his grasp, from the warmth of the blankets she'd been hiding in. She tore his cloak from her neck. She didn't deserve this protection. She felt exposed, unguarded, naked. He was staring at her as if he were terrified of her and for her at the same moment. Whether it was the uncertainty in his gaze or the draft that blew hard from the open window, she wasn't sure. It chilled her to the very bone all the same. For an eternity of a second, realization dawned on him. He'd put it together. He knew who was in danger because she'd let their identity slip.

"Lucy," he gasped, his stomach convulsed painfully. She was helpless and Harry was unaware of her immediate danger. And he was here, away from her.

Ginny seemed to crumble and felt liberated all at the same moment. She let go of her fear of losing him. It was done. He was gone. And now it was her time to go.

The time it took her to make it to the opposite wall and onto the ledge of the window was nothing at all and now she was standing on the precipice. It was so far down and yet not far at all. The wind whipped violently around the silk of her garments, grabbing her, claiming her for the darkness that waited to swallow her up. She put one foot out into space. All it took was just one more step and it would all be over.

She never got there, though.

Draco, rooted to the spot of his realization and horror, awoke to find Ginny on the edge, about to end it all--again. He was angry now. She wouldn't get out of this that easily. Did she always try to run? No wonder she'd had so many attempts under her belt. When things got tough, it was the easy way out. She wouldn't leave him this way. She wouldn't kill him twice. If his sister was dead, it would be all he could bear. She couldn't go too. He forbade it.

He rushed over to the window. He hadn't much time to react, one foot was already out over the water, four or five stories below.

Grabbing one arm roughly, he snatched her off of the window ledge just as she was about to let go. He wouldn't have let her jump. She couldn't get away that quickly from this mess. However innocently her part was played out, she had to help fix her mistakes. He wouldn't be left to do it alone.

She ripped her arm from his grip. Tearstained and disbelieving, her face showed every sort of emotion as she blinkingly looked up to him, save gratitude and save hope. Shame clouded her once bright eyes that would never fully recover their luminescent brilliance after tonight.

She cried out in frustration and collapsed to her knees.

Dracoregarded her pitiful state with pitiless eyes. All feeling was set aside. He was a facade of the calculatingly cool man he'd grown up admiring. He was strikingly like his father in that moment.

"Put this on," he said, throwing his cloak on the floor next to her and walking toward the door, "We've got to find her. She'd be helpless against them," he snapped accusingly.

Ginny got unsteadily to her feet, faltering only once before doing as she was instructed and followed after him.

***

Lucy felt a dull pain at the back of her neck. She knew well enough not to make any sudden movements. The first thing she did check, however, was her wrist. It was still there, the bracelet she'd picked up off of her nightstand in the instant after she'd seen her in the corner of her bedroom, by the wardrobe.

She never wore it, but she was hardly ever without it, either--a security measure of sorts. She always kept it hidden in her robes at school, at home. She'd only had it on in certain instances. She couldn't think now why her automatic reaction had been to reach for it, even before calling for help.

A loud crash caused her to jump slightly. A blinding rush of pain ran up her neck and she paused a second to allow the ache to dull before rolling onto her side to investigate.

It was a shattering noise, fairly close to her. Shards of broken mirror had rained down on her. Sharp, large pieces clattered to the ground around her. She looked up to the fireplace where the frame that had housed the glass hung, small amounts of the reflective surface remained in tact.

A man stood there glaring at the broken reflection, his tired eyes red with rage, pent up over an eternity of suffering. His silver hand clenched and unclenched methodically at his side. His other hand (apparently the one he'd used to attack the reflection) rested, bloody and mangled, on the mantle.

She pushed herself into an upright position on her elbows and stared curiously at the man for an instant and then turned her attention to her surroundings. She recognized the man, but not the room.

"Why'd you do that?" she asked finally.

Without taking his eyes from the fragmented man in the frame, he answered her in pained tones, "I didn't like what I saw." He swallowed hard and pushed away from the fire to lean against the opposite wall. He regarded his charge with interest and pity.

She stared back with concern.

"So you've finally given in?" she asked, sitting up fully and engaging him.

He furrowed his brow and glared at her. As if he could really hide behind that weak façade. She could see right through it.

"Given in to what?" he asked with mild agitation.

"You've finally realized that this is not who you are, what you are," she answered simply. She knew everything about him. How he'd come to be in Voldemort's service. What he'd done. Every crime he'd committed. She'd done some digging. She always did that with the ones that interested her, the ones that had that look. He was used and finished with it all. This was his moment to give in or give up completely. She was thankful that it had come at a time when she was able to be there.

It will probably be the last thing I do on this earth, she thought, frightening herself somewhat. Oh well, she reasoned. If she could help one last person, Peter was just as good as anyone.

"And what is it that you think I am," he asked sarcastically. He was mocking her, but she put that aside. He was afraid, and he should be.

"I know who you are," she said, "He's used you over and over. That's not you, Peter. You wouldn't have done it on your own."

He interrupted her impatiently. Something was stirring him from within. He wouldn't fight like this if it didn't ring true. "I can do anything," he spat, "you don't know what I can do. I could end you this instant. It would be easier than drowning a kitten," he laughed.

She blinked and continued, "What did you see that you didn't like?"

"What?" he answered.

"In the mirror.What did you see?" she said with fathomless patience.

"What does it matter to you?" he spat, looking down on her in an attempt to intimidate her. It had little effect.

She looked up at him and shrugged. "You think you're alone, that no one cares whether you live or die. You are redeemable, you know. You could still make it out. You could change that reflection," she said with a nod at the broken fragments on the floor.

He snorted and turned his back on her. "What do you know about it? You won't even make it out of here alive, Miss Malfoy. You have no chance," he turned slowly to see if his words had the intended effect. She was stubbornly unmoved. "And neither will I," he added darkly.

"So what if I don't make it out. I'm not afraid of dying, only dying without having convinced you of your own worth as a person." She stopped as he dropped slowly to the ground and stared at her, sitting near the door, on eye level with her. "Is it that you hate looking at the person he's made you?"

He nodded slowly. Apparently he thought it quite unsettling how this one handicapped little girl, without a prayer in hell to save herself from all of this, chose to spend her last few hours on this earth, convincing him that he could somehow make this mess right again.

It was what he'd wanted for sometime now. He didn't dare to think it possible though. How could he alone stop what was surely going to put an end to life, taint it and kill it with dark magic? He wasn't even in control of his own mind. Voldemortwas in control. There was no hope for him--he thought.

Lucy was proving him wrong.

It was shameful to cower in front of this amazingly strong-willed girl, morals that wouldn't shift and principles that never wavered. She had the graceful care of her mother, the gift of finding a need and then going to whatever lengths necessary in fulfilling it. He'd often watched in wonder at the elegant wife of the undeserving, vile Lucius Malfoy. She served the right cause. Quietly and confidently, she brought people back, corrupted and stained as they were under the Dark Lord's influence. She guided them to the other side, salvaged their lives, their souls. Lucy had that gift as well.

"I can't. It's too late to stop it all. The last heir will be easy to find. Once they have him," he hesitated, breaking under the strain, shame, realization and denial--years spent decaying in the wretched dregs of humanity, never being completely human, nor entirely dead for so long now. "I can't save you," he said desperately.

She shook her head slowly, "And I can't save you, Peter. You have to do that yourself, and trust me to find my own way."

He looked doubtfully at her one last time before nodding and standing. He boldly opened the door and left the room. Lucy had hoped that he would finally do what was right, what he needed to do to make all of his wrongs a little less so. He could see heaven, this side of eternity, if he only thought himself worthy of it after so many years of thinking himself less than the lowliest of creatures.

He was worthy of it, she was sure.

***

"So what are we going to do?" Ron asked Hermione, staring at the mass of oak and iron blocking their entry. They were beginning to drip unpleasantly as the mist around the loch slowly escalated into an almost driving rain.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, whether to snap at him for his question or to propose an idea, he would never find out. The doors opened.

Harry's attention was finally drawn from the window where he'd seen figures standing, three or four windows up. He, Ron and Hermione took a collective step back.

The doors opening for them in invitation could only mean one thing--one very bad thing.

They'd been expected.

Immediately two figures in hooded cloaks stepped into the torrent and flanked the three soaked newcomers.

Harry caught Ron's gesture and shook his head. He knew what Ron was suggesting: Take them.

A bad idea--who knew how many more where waiting just inside?

No, it was the easiest way to get inside. They would just have to figure a way to get away from these two thugs once inside and find Malfoyand Ginny. Perhaps they knew where Lucy was as well.

***

"The girl talked. I increased the amount of serum, but the effects won't be with her for long. She'll be dead before they even begin to show. I suspect she's no more ready to join me than that crack pot old fool, Dumbledore." Tom had a far off look in his eye, speaking to his pseudo-protégé, LuciusMalfoy. He shook his head mournfully. "Pity, really. She would have been a grand edition. What I could do with her in my power. It's a shame really that free-will is attached to such a useful gift."

"Do you suppose that is why there are so few seers in existence?" Luciusasked his Lord with a sly grin. "They don't seem to have a striking track record when it comes to faithful support of the Dark Arts."

"No, her grandmother sure put up a fight in the end. I admired her spirit and determination. Young Miss Weasley has that too. But let's not get carried away with sentiment." Tom smiled his cunning lopsided smile.

"What has she revealed, Lord?" Lucius asked, following Tom to the window where they watched the three, cloaked figures approaching the bridge.

"Interestingly enough, the Ravenclaw chosen one is none other than your daughter, Lucilla," Tom turned a darkly suspicious gaze on the man next to him. "I would like to think you knew nothing of this. Your previous treatment of the child would suggest that you care nothing for her. Would you hide her from me now? Cover up her part in this?"

Lucius coolly shook his head, "I knew nothing of her predetermined involvement. It's her mother's family that would have the connection there. If you would like for me to retrieve the child for you, Master, I would be happy--," he was silenced by an interruption in the form of a small dark-haired woman, Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Forgive the interruption, Lord. The last of the chosen is approaching the entrance," she stood in the doorway, military-like, all business. "We await your instruction."

"Please, invite them in, Mr. Potter and his two faithful sidekicks. They can join in the festivities. Show them into the chamber off of the ceremony hall. I will be with them shortly, Bellatrix," Tom answered cheerfully.

The woman gave a crisp bow and exited the room instantly.

Tom turned his attention to the Death Eater next to him again. "It won't be necessary that you retrieve the Ravenclaw heir. As you've heard from Ms. Lestrange, Mr. Potter is the last to arrive, leading to the conclusion that Lucillais already here." He smiled again.

Lucius was expressionless. It was true. He cared nothing for the girl. His son's loyalty would be important when Voldemort'sreign was ended. He planned to groom him as the heir of a new, more efficient Dark Order.

Whatever Voldemort's plan for the boy, they would never be realized. Voldemort's end comes at midnight. Plans were set in motion.

Things could get sketchy if the girl were involved, however. It was true. She'd never been loyal to him. A traitorous wretch like her mother, Lucillawas better off dead in his opinion. She had too much influence over Draco. His attachment to her was his greatest weakness, a weakness that needed to be removed. But Lucius could not do it himself. Draco would turn from him altogether. Lucy must be disposed of in another way.

The other way sauntered into the room at that very moment.

Elena Vassikin smiled mischievously and winked a knowing wink at him when Tom had turned his back to watch the proceedings on the bridge.

"Lord, the girl is here. I had no problems in taking her. Easy task really. Her necklace has been planted and the other chosen one should be along shortly," she said moving toward the two men at the window.

Tom turned and smiled, "Perfect as always, my faithful assassin. Take a look out the window. The fruits of your flawless execution: Harry Potter arrives this very moment." He placed an adoring arm around the dark and dangerous looking woman--a black widow of humankind, and pointed out the approaching party already being flanked by the hooded guides and ushered into the fortress.

She grinned and looked on the scene with satisfaction.

"Shall we visit the girl?" Tom said after the scene beneath them had progressed inward and their vantage point failed.

The woman nodded and Lucius bowed his assent. Only so much more ass kissing and he would never have to take an order again. Tom/Voldemort proceeded unsuspecting.

***

Draco dodged the large grids of light the windows shed on the long corridors, keeping to the shadows. He had Ginny roughly by the wrist, and she followed silently and mechanically, tripping every once in a while. She seemed as if the effects of a slow acting drug were kicking in. She didn't seem to be registering much of what was going on.

They'd reached the first floor and still they were no closer to finding Lucy.

At the appearance of two hooded figures, Draco stopped and ducked into a nearby room, snapping Ginny's arm painfully backward and pulling her in behind him. She didn't cry out, though the pain had been intense, she didn't even cringe. She began to feel lightheaded, otherworldly. Pain didn't even register in her mind. She was numb to everything but the memory of the betrayed and hurt look Draco had given her only minutes ago.

Shoving Ginny back against the stone wall, crashing her into a low sconce of some kind, Draco took little notice. She'd obviously cared nothing for the well being of those she'd betrayed and so he wasted little concern with her.

He peered out from behind the door he and Ginny stood against.

The two Death Eaters ushered Granger, Potter and Weasley into the entryway. Water dripped from them and pooled under each figure as they stood in the doorway.

Wands were confiscated from each of them as well as Potter's sword.

Draco shook his head. Leave it to Gryffindorsto bust though the front door of danger. But, he reasoned, there was really no other way. This place was a marvel of efficiency. No way in and no way out, save one precarious bridge over freezing Irish waters.

Waiting for the group to proceed at a safe distance in front of him, Draco ducked back out into the hallway, dragging the lethargic Ginny behind him. He would follow them, and maybe all prisoners would be taken to the same general area, leading him to his sister in turn.

He noted carefully how many guards and other Death Eaters he'd seen in total. It couldn't hurt to get a general idea of how many he'd be dealing with to get them all out of there.

This seemed to be a pretty low-key operation, he'd noticed. Not many people had been invited to take part. The total number of black-cloaked figures in Voldemort's service only came to four.

Granger, Potter and Weasley were all flung into one room with one watch posted out front. The other headed off in the opposite direction. No one else seemed to inhabit this floor.

Draco would have to work up a plan quickly. Now he had four prisoners to liberate, one coked out prom queen dragging ass behind him and after all of that, they still had to find a way out. This hero shit was all overrated in his opinion.

***

Arm in arm with the Dark Lord, Elena proceeded with Tom ahead of Luciusto the first floor corridor where Lucy had been speaking with Peter moments ago.

The guard bowed his acknowledgement to his master and slid a key into the lock.

Typical, Elena thought--paranoid to the point of using obsolete Muggletechniques. She was a damned paralytic. How was the girl to escape, even if the door had been left wide open?

She entered and eyed the wretch hungrily.

How often had she dreamt of murdering this nosy little girl?

Now she was begging for the chance.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, Lucius," Tom said as he smiled at the girl who cowered on the ground of the meagerly furnished room. No fire was in the grate and the mirror that hung over the mantle was shattered where she lay.

"Is there any chance, my dear that you would reconsider?" Tom asked gently, bending to the girl's level.

"Not unless you're willing to spare my brother," she answered with wide eyes. She knew that that would not be granted her and she would die.

"Not possible, dear," he said simply. One heartless kiss on her forehead and Tom had left Lucius to the task. Elena had begged to stay and watch. Tom was amused by her interest in the matter and granted that concession.

Lucius watched cautiously as the latch of the door fastened securely and then leveled a cold gaze on his child who was struggling to control her trembling shoulders.

"Father, don't give Draco over to him," she pleaded as he stood over her and listened amusedly.

"Hush, child," he commanded, "I don't plan to give him over to anyone. The Dark Lord will command none of us after tonight. I plan to have his power," he turned to share a meaningful glance with his mistress.

Lucy knew her well.

"But, you will die, as he wishes. I have no more tolerance for your interference. You have too much sway over your brother, but that all ends now. Goodbye, child," he said disinterestedly, moving toward the door. Turning to Elena he added, "I'll let you handle this, I must see to some other matters."

She nodded with the pleased smile of a child getting their way.

Lucius left under the watch of both, disbelieving and regretful on the part of Lucy, full of deep admiration from Elena.

As he closed the door, Elena produced a knife and advanced slowly on the angelic child with bright eyes and silver ringlets, relishing the fact that in a few short steps she would be able end that personification of the good and the pure, wiping from her face the forgiveness she bestowed on her murderer even before the crime had been exacted.

Lucy inched painfully backward across the strewn glass shards from Peter's earlier fit of rage. Her hand caught the sharp edge of one piece, ripping the skin painfully. She whimpered softly as her hunter pursued her.

Elena, smiling with pleasure the entire time held the knife over the child, who cowered by the wall next to the fireplace.

***

With one violent rip, the edge tore through her skin, just under the ribs, puncturing a lung. Blood poured over the gray stone of the floor. Gasping, she fought for consciousness briefly before the world spun into blackness.