Loving the Enemy

Ginny Weasley tossed her long, straight copper hair behind her back as she Apparated to the Battle Field. The Great War had just recently torn its way over this part of the country. Ginny, among others, was sent to give help to the survivors and take away the dead. It was a gruesome job but somebody had to do it. Right now, Voldemort had supreme rule over Wales and the London area, basically almost all of England and rapidly descending on Scotland.

There was one person who had started all of this, and it was surprisingly not Voldemort. Draco Malfoy had quickly taken charge when his father had died. He was Voldemort's right-hand man, the one who reeked havoc on everything in sight.

Today was one of those days where you get up, work, work, work some more, and go to sleep; a very uniform day. At least that's how it started.

Ginny, along with her friend Lizzie, were both sent to help the wounded. When they Apparated to the Battle Field, they got on pure white horses; one of the marks of a medi-witch.

They split up quickly; Lizzie taking the left side, Ginny the right.

As Ginny scanned the ground for any movement, a shadow fell upon her. She looked up, and saw a vicious-looking Death Eater right by her side. She opened her mouth to scream but was quickly grabbed by another Death Eater behind her, who put his hand tightly over her mouth, winding rough cloth around it to muffle her screams. She glanced frantically around for Lizzie, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Her hands were roughly tied behind her back from ropes out of a Death Eater's wand, and her feet bound to the saddle of a horse. Her wand was quickly taken away, and the horse pushed to move. Ginny tried to stay calm. Pretty soon, Dumbledore would have the whole order looking for her, they would find her, and everything would be all right again.

She closed her eyes wearily, and let the jostling of the horses rock her to sleep.

<><><><>

When she awoke, she winced in pain; her head was throbbing. She found herself in a stone cell, barely bigger than a closet.

"So you've awakened," a silky, deep, almost slippery voice from behind her said.

She jumped and whirled around to come face to face with Draco Malfoy himself--the only thing separating the two was a thick wall of criss-crossed iron bars. And she spat in his face.

He calmly wiped it off.

"You'll learn soon enough that you don't treat your Master that way," he said with an annoying smirk--the exact same one from all those years ago in Hogwarts, when Ginny was but a girl.

"You're a war captive now, Ginny. And there's no. One. Here. To. Save. You," he said the last part like every word gave him pleasure--and it probably did. It wasn't the insult that gave him pleasure, though--it was the sound of his own voice.

"A war captive?" Ginny asked, trying to sound and look as calm as he did, "What's the point of having me as a war captive? No one will ever even bother looking for me," she lied--well, at least hoped it was a lie.

Draco laughed. "You think I'm going to keep you in this cell all day long? On the contrary, Weasley. Yes, you're a war captive--but I should add that all of my war captives are slaves, too. Guards!" he called out sharply.

In an instant two strangely familiar-looking Neanderthals came into view.

"Crabbe and Goyle??" Ginny gasped, almost smiling. "You both look...exactly the same!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Goyle. Crabbe. I fancy a walk with Miss Weasley. We need to...discuss some things." Draco smirked again, his silver-blonde hair falling into his eyes.

The two dimwit bodyguards escorted Ginny out into an amazingly beautiful garden. Draco was right behind her. He offered his arm to her, but she turned and stomped on his foot as hard as she could. Draco's face contorted in pain for a fraction of a second, but then maintained his original composure and slapped Ginny. Just like that. She gasped and stumbled back from the impact, her cheek numb. He pulled her to him until he was just inches away from her face.

"When I offer you my arm you will take it, Miss Weasley," he said quietly, his breath hot on Ginny's face.

Ginny stood there for a second, trembling. He put out his arm again and this time she reluctantly took it. Draco smirked again.

"Now," he said finally, "let's break this down to the basics: you will give me information on the Order."

Ginny laughed nervously. "I will not," she said defiantly.

Draco shrugged indifferently. "Fine. Then you will work here--as a slave--until my or your life ends. Now if you give me the information I need, I'll set you free. Those are your options."

Ginny straightened. "I would never commit such an evil treason."

Draco snorted with contempt. They walked in silence for a few minutes. Finally he said, "I think we're done here. Guards!"

Crabbe and Goyle were there in an instant. "Take Miss Weasley away to her new quarters. The one in the West Wing."

Draco carelessly dismissed them with a wave of his hand and resumed walking, this time by himself. If Ginny had been looking carefully, she would have seen Crabbe and Goyle's eyebrows raise.

'Damn, that Weasley girl sure has grown into quite a woman,' he thought as he watched his dimwitted guards struggle with her in the distance. 'I must find out more about her.'

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Ginny was led through a complex maze of corridors and flights of stairs. They finally reached a large oak door. Opening it with a whispered spell, Crabbe pushed the door open. Ginny gasped as she stepped inside. The floor was white marble with abstract gray streaks that shone. A fire was burning in a large marble hearth with two armchairs surrounding it, and there was a huge, king-sized bead covered with pillows and down comforters in the center. Two bay windows overlooked a rolling hillside and a small lake. There were even window seats for one to sit and gaze out at the view. Something told her she wasn't in England anymore. She jumped when she heard the door slam behind her. Sighing heavily, she caught sight of another door off to the side. Running over to it, she tried to turn the doorknob. It wouldn't budge. She sighed heavily, and fell backward on the bed, letting the tears fall at last.