Devils and Dust

Chapter four


Once more into my arid days like dew,
like wind from an oasis, or the sound
of cold sweet water bubbling underground,
A treacherous messenger, the thought of you
Comes to destroy me; once more I renew
Firm faith in your abundance, whom I found
long since to be but just one other mound
of sand, whereon no green thing ever grew.
And once again, and wiser in no wise,
I chase your coloured phantom on the air,
And sob and curse and fall and weep and rise
And stumble pitifully on to where,
Miserable and lost, with stinging eyes,
Once more I clasp,- and there is nothing there.

A sonnet from Second April by Edna St.Vincent Millay.


Draco stood at the edge of the forbidden forest, his stomach churning unpleasantly as he eyed the small black jewel laying inside the wooden box his father had sent him two days ago.

It was of course a portkey, and it had been accompanied by a short note. It seemed that his father didn’t trust him enough to give him the location of the camp. The note itself had been enough of an indication of that all by itself, filled with threats of what would happen to him if he even thought about betraying his father again. It really wasn’t that much of a surprise, but the portkey still made him nervous.

He of course knew how to apparate, but apparation was only possible if you knew both your location and your destination. Which meant that he would have to rely solely on his broom to escape with the Weasley in tow. And he had no guarantee that his father would not destroy it as soon as he arrived. After all his father had no intention of letting him return to Hogwarts, so he couldn’t use the excuse of needing to practice to beat Potter, which he had yet to do in his six years at Hogwarts.

If nothing else he supposed that he could escape into the surrounding area and run like hell until he found a place he recognized. Having his plans be of so desperate a nature disturbed him. He wasn’t one for rash unplanned actions. He liked to plan things meticulously and weigh the pros and cons before acting. But he didn’t have the option this time. His father had seen to that.

He sighed, snapping the box shut sharply. He couldn’t do this. His father obviously didn’t believe him. He was sure to be killed as soon as he arrived, or maybe the portkey would just transport him to the empty air above a very high drop. This was ridiculous, he couldn’t just willingly walk or portkey rather, into the jaws of death. He wasn’t a Gryffindor for Merlin’s sake!

Leaning against the trunk of an innocent enough looking tree(you could never be too careful around greenery in the forbidden forest, even the edge of it) he slid to the ground, resting his head in his hands.

But she was a Gryffindor, Weasley’s little sister. And he knew that she was faring far worse than he would be, even if his father killed him right away. The thought of an innocent fifth year in the hands of his father made him shudder. And she wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for his defection. He was responsible for her, wether he liked it or not, and he most certainly did not. But unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life in fear of what his father would do next, he was going to have to risk it, as bad as the odds were in his favor.

He knew his father, and he knew that once he truly believed that his son had betrayed him, he would make every effort to make Draco’s life a living hell. There weren’t many people he cared about, but Draco was sure that his father would punish them to get his revenge.

There was really no other choice.

He rose slowly to his feet, and before he could talk himself out of it, reached into the box and clasped the cold black jewel in his trembling fingers.

When he finally oriented himself, it always took him a few seconds after portkeying, he did not find himself dangling above a high drop, although the sight that met his eyes was somehow worse.

He’d evidently portkeyed directly into his father’s tent and his father was in it. And he wasn’t alone.

He fought like he had never fought before to keep his expression neutral. He could not allow his disgust at the sight to show or his little mission would be over before it started.

His father finally noticed him, having apparently been a bit preoccupied with carving his name in shallow cuts into the chest of Ginny Weasley. Lucius glanced at him with mild annoyance, before returning his gaze to his little impromptu art. With a salacious smile Lucius slowly ran his tongue over the carved letters and could not contain a small moan as Ginny let out a quiet whimper.

Making a considerable effort to curtail his arousal, Lucius stood wrapping the sheet from the bed around his waist, leaving Ginny naked and bleeding, exposed to the world.

She didn’t seem to mind much, her eyes had gone glassy and she just lay there, staring down at her blood spelling out the letters of his name. When she’d stopped showing sufficient reaction to his raping her, Lucius had found new ways to violate her.

The first thing he’d done was call a good number of Deatheaters to the middle of the camp and proceeded to rape her in front of them. She’d seen the lust in their eyes, but she knew that they would never touch her. Lucius said that she was his and that only he could touch her. It was a relief to know that no one else would touch her. She was at least used to Lucius and could sometimes gauge his moods. Better the devil you know than the one you don’t. She’d actually felt grateful for his possessiveness when faced with the lust-filled eyes of the other deatheaters. And she hated him for it, and hated herself for it. That he should make her feel grateful that she was only raped by him.

She’d thought that there could be nothing worse than being violated and shamed with so many people watching, but that had only been the start.

The worst thing had happened only two nights ago. After tying her to the bed, which had puzzled her, for she had stopped fighting back weeks ago, he’d brought another one of the captive’s into the tent. The girl could only have been twelve or thirteen, not so far removed from Ginny’s own fifteen years, but it had seemed like a vast difference when Ginny had looked into the tear-filled eyes of the small frightened girl.

She had known what Lucius planned to do immediately, having no ridiculous notion that there were some depths to which even he would not sink. No, there wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t do and she knew it. But it still tore at a part of her that she’d thought deadened, and the pain of watching him rape the little girl was more than all of the times he’d raped her put together.

After he was done and the girl was carried out of the tent, bloodied and unconscious, he’d come to lay beside her on the bed. He’d informed her in his cold and flat voice that it was her fault he’d raped the girl. If Ginny would only show a little enthusiasm, would only expend the smallest amount of effort in trying to please him, he would never have had to do it.

And although her brain told her that it wasn’t in anyway her fault and she could have done nothing to prevent it, that voice was drowned out quickly by the guilt and pain and sadness of what she had just witnessed. And she started to think that maybe it was her fault. After all he was already raping her, the least she could do was keep others from being hurt since there was no hope for saving herself. As the feelings of guilt had overwhelmed her she’d broken into sobs, whispering over and over how sorry she was. His face had lit up with a brilliant smile and placing a soft kiss on her forehead he’d told her he forgave her. That was the last she’d seen of him until an hour ago, when he’d come into the tent with his knife and a gleam in his eye, asking if she wanted to play a new game.

But the game had stopped, the pain in her chest was lessening and she looked up confused, wondering where he’d gone. When she spotted Draco, standing in the corner a few feet from his father, who had apparently not left but merely walked a few feet from the bed, her heart stopped beating.

Draco was from Hogwarts, he was a face from another life, and it pained her almost more than she could bear to be reminded that that other life still existed somewhere. Not for her, but for others. Her brother and her friends and her classmates were all safe and happy at Hogwarts, and suddenly she hated them for it. And she hated Draco for reminding her of them.

They were talking and it was an effort to concentrate on what they were saying. It had been so long since she’d made an attempt to live in reality that it was becoming easier to escape it than to focus on it.

“You, Draco, have as usual made an irritant of yourself with your most unfortunate timing.”

“This was the time specified in the note, Father,” Draco answered calmly and was surprised at how unaffected his voice sounded.

Lucius frowned at that, and after a moment of searching his memory realized that Draco was right. “I suppose your correct, I must have lost track of time.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Ginny, “I suppose I became a little distracted.”

He brought his eyes back to meet Draco’s, but for only a moment. He quickly turned back around. There was a look of such pure rage on Ginny’s face that for a moment he just stared. He had never aroused such anger in her in all of the things he’d done to her.

“My lovely pet? What angers you so?”

Ginny bit her lip until it bled, until she could be assured that her answer would not come out as a scream. “I want him to leave. Right now.”

She didn’t know who looked more shocked, Draco or his father.

Lucius’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he spent several long moments staring at her in silence.

“But my pet, it pleases me to have him here. You don’t want me to be displeased do you?” There was just the faintest edge of a threat to his voice which was usually more than enough to quell her. But not this time.

“I don’t care. I don’t care what you do to me. I don’t want him to be here,” she hissed. She felt the pain and anger rise within her and for the first time since she’d arrived it overwhelmed here fear, and her thoughts of survival.

“Get him out,” she yelled. “Get him out right now!”

Both Draco and Lucius were surprised at the anger and defiance she was showing and with a thoughtful expression Lucius turned to regard his son.

“Well it seems that your presence truly upsets my little pet and we can’t have that now can we? Wait for me outside, Draco.”

Draco, glad to be released from this thoroughly confusing situation, quickly fled the tent.

There were various people milling about the camp but none of them paid him much attention. He stayed close to the doors of the tent, hoping to overhear something that might give him a clue as to why the girl had reacted so strongly to his presence. But unfortunately and unsurprisingly, the tent was warded with a silencing charm.

Probably so no one could hear the noises from the sick and depraved activities that occurred within. He closed his eyes tightly trying to mask his disgust as he remembered what he had seen when he’d portkeyed into the tent. And he had no doubt that his father had done worse.

But still the girl could bear his father’s presence over his. This was a disturbing development and was quite upsetting to his plans. How was he ever going to rescue the girl if she screamed bloody murder ever time she saw him. As he continued to contemplate how this changed his plans, in the back of his mind he was wondering what was going on in the tent.


Lucius walked slowly to the bedside and sat down beside her as she struggled to control the anger boiling inside of her.

“There, there, my pet. Everything’s better now, I’ve made him go away,” he said softly as he wiped the tears from her eyes.

He could barely contain his excitement. This was a turning point. It was the first step in making her into his willing slave. He had found something that she couldn’t stand. Something that broke through all of her walls. And he had protected her from it. He had rescued her from it and now she would be grateful. And her gratitude would be what paved the wave for her reformation.

“Please don’t let him back. I can’t bear to see him. I can’t bear it.” The shock and the pain of seeing Draco and all he represented was threatening to crumble what little sanity she had left. She had lived in this new world for what seemed like forever, but which was actual just a few months, and she had survived on dreams of Hogwarts, dreams of rescue.

But no one had rescued her. The first face she’d seen had been that of an enemy. The Hogwarts she imagined, the Hogwarts that kept insanity at bay, was full of friends and family, who would any day come to rescue her. But the appearance of Draco had been a cold slap of reality. No one had come to rescue her. She had endured so much, waiting and waiting for someone to save her.

But no one had come, and no one would come, she was sure of that now. They were all enemies, and she had no one to depend on but herself. And she was powerless, she could not escape and even if she did she could not go back. They had all betrayed her. They had allowed her to be captured and tortured and raped and she would never forgive them.

She gripped Lucius’s arm’s as he placed them around her. For as much as Lucius had hurt her, he had never hurt as much as those who had betrayed her. And right then she needed some one to hold her, even if it was her torturer. “I hate them,” she whispered, “I hate them all.”

“Don’t worry pet. We’ll make them pay. We’ll make them all pay,” he whispered into her hair as he smiled.