Sunshine and Shadows

Sunshine and Shadows Chapter 5- Puss in the Corner

And YES, I am alluding to a certain THING. It is crude, I know, but it works for this chapter, easily describing Ginny’s situation while at the same time, to a sense of home, comfort and safety. Both of these instances occur in chapter 5. This story is getting ready to earn its rating, so if graphic stuff bothers you, please accept this invitation to move on to something else. I do not write this to offend, merely to get rid of the ding-dang bunny that has been thumping in my noggie for over a year.

After much thought and frustration over WHY the next chapter was not coming along, I discovered that I needed to flesh out chapter 5, lay a bit of ground work. So, after a few restless nights and 4 hours of mowing the lawn (some of my bestest ideas come to me during my gardening) I give to you the new, and hopefully better, chapter 5. Felt like I needed to up the fear factor a bit plus plug a few holes that have been giving me fits. Please tell me what you think.


Standard disclaimer: Ahem! Hers. No sue-ie.


Ginny struggled to contain her tremors as blasts of shame and fear rocketed through her slender form. Despite the whispered promises of the cringing house elf, the cloying potion she had finally accepted had done little to alleviate her current dread. The presence of Lucius Malfoy, his hooded eyes burning her skin like dry ice, assured the witch that nothing short of death would separate her from the state of near panic that enclosed her. Not even the leering faces of Crabbe and Goyle jarred her as much as the blank calm of the senior wizard. She could feel his gaze moving over her scantily clad body as a house elf tenderly adjusted the sorry excuse for a garment. The two younger males nudged one another and voiced lewd comments while their hot eyes roved over her form. The sheer cloth covered her from clavicle to calf like a pale fog. Barely more than two panels of white gauze, the veils fell from her shoulders in soft folds where it was gathered by a simple belt of hammered gold, leaving her body uncovered at the sides. Ginny shivered from the cold as the movements of the house elves stirred the air around her. From where he sat, sipping from a crystal goblet, Malfoy’s lips curled in a dangerous smile.

Squeezing her eyes tightly, Ginny attempted to erase the past hours from her mind.

Upon regaining consciousness, Ginny had found herself lying upon the cold damp of a dungeon floor. She had barely raised her throbbing head from its stony pillow when the chamber door opened, permitting several groveling house elves to enter. They approached the battered young witch, their bulging eyes wet with tears of pity.

“ I is being Crapper, young miss.” Whispered one of the creatures, moving closer to Ginny and tenderly lifting the matted hair from the girl’s cheeks. “ We is being sent by Young Master Goyle to assists you’s in your toilette.”

Whimpering, Ginny recoiled from the gentle touch, her eyes darting over the worried faces of the elves to take in the bleak, windowless walls of her cell. “ No!” she whispered brokenly. “ No, no, no!” She collapsed once more to the stones, her desperate words shattering into sobs.

Crapper crouched by the keening witch’s head as the remaining elves drew closer, their expressions drawn tight with grief.

“Hush, miss. Hush.” Crapper murmured. “ I is bringing you’s a special potion. Ease the fright, it will. Keep the very bad feelings away.”

Ginny raised her red, swollen eyes and pleaded, “ Please, please help me!” She clutched the elf’s hand even as the creature shook her head in mournful refusal. “ Please, give me a poison, anything, let me die! Don’t let them take me. Please…”

“ Oh miss, you is knowing we’s house elves is not able to refuse the Masters. But even if we’s could, still Crapper would not kill you.” The elf pulled Ginny’s head into her bony lap. “ You is a good, strong witch! We’s can feel it. You is going to survive this. You is not going to let them what is bad break you’s!”

Shivering sobs rattled through Ginny as she tried to curl fully into the elf’s embrace. In sympathy, the other elves leaned closer, stroking and petting their weeping charge.

Crapper allowed Ginny to cry for a moment longer and then addressed the witch in a gentle but commanding voice. “ Now miss must has her wits about hers. Best you is drinking Crapper’s potion. Will help miss think clearly.” So saying, Crapper gripped Ginny’s hand and placed a small vial within her fingers.

Sniffing, Ginny eyed the bottle. “ What is this?”

Crapper stood, brushing the stone dust from the shabby hand towel she wore tied about her shoulders. “ It is being a simple calming drought, miss. Master is telling Crapper you is over excited about the party. I is good at brewing, miss. Never gives you’s anything to makes you stupid.” The elf nudged the witch’s hand upwards. “ Drinks. It will gives you peace. Calm, to thinks clearly. Strengthens the memory, it will.” Crapper’s green eyes slid around the chamber, peering into the shadowy corners before returning to Ginny with a cunning gleam. “Helps you’s to be remembering things. Faces. Names. Not even Obliviate will take the memories away. Hunts them down, you will. Makes them pay. ”

Sitting back on her haunches, Ginny pried the stopper from the vial and tipped the contents into her mouth. Her face twisted and she gagged on the disgustingly sweet taste, causing the majority of the liquid to spill down the front of her shirt. The remaining potion slid down her throat, thick and heavy, as if she were attempting to swallow a worm, before finally pooling in her stomach. She immediately felt its effects as her mind shunted her fears to the side. They were not canceled out, merely relegated to a corner of her brain, where they continued to snap and gnaw, leaving the larger portion of her mind clear.

Crapper nodded briskly. “Now, we is to get you’s cleaned up.” With a snap of her twig like fingers, a large copper tub appeared, filled to the brim with steaming water.

While the elves removed her soiled clothes and helped her into the bath, Ginny’s mind raced back over the events that had brought her to this hellish place. There had been the attack by Crabbe and Goyle and then a blank void that ended with Lucius Malfoy’s demonically beautiful face marred by a trickle of blood. Draco’s father had brought her here? For what purpose? Had he found out about his son’s interest in her? Did Lucius doubt Draco’s familial devotion to the point where Ginny’s removal was viewed as necessary? Then why not simply kill her where he found her, leaving her body to be discovered by beach strollers or the local constable?

Crabbe and Goyle had mentioned something about a party?

Her mind continued on in this manner as the elves busied themselves with their duty. The questions she fired at the elves concerning her location, the reasons for her capture went unanswered and after a while, Ginny fell silent. Her hair was scrubbed and rinsed before an herbal conditioner was applied. Allowing the conditioner to set, the elves bid Ginny stand while they shaved and exfoliated her entire body. Her cheeks burning with shame, the witch endured their ministrations then sank back into the water for a final dousing.

It was as she was stepping from the tub into the warmth of a fluffy terry cloth towel that Lucius entered the chamber unannounced, Crabbe and Goyle at his heels like trained dogs. Ginny gasped in outrage, pulling the towel firmly about her dripping body, but Lucius only arched one silver brow at her modesty and with a wave of his wand, summoned three gorgeously appointed winged-back chairs. Seating himself, the wizard snapped his fingers and was instantly attended by a new house elf bearing a tray with a single goblet filled with wine so deep a shade of red as to resembled blood. The younger wizards plopped down in the remaining chairs, calling for firewhiskey.

The elves crouched around Ginny’s bare feet, their faces averted from the terrifying wizard and his companions. “ Continue!” Lucius commanded, causing the witch to jump and the house elves to leap back to their task. During the next hour, Ginny kept her brown eyes fixed on the floor. She tried forcing her mind to other climes, places where she could hide from the study of her captors. Yet, the potion she had taken brought her back, time and time again, to her current imprisonment.

Crapper and her assistants had patted the wetness from Ginny’s skin before applying scented oils. She stood naked in the torchlight, her flesh gleaming like polished marble, as the elves levitated themselves to tend to her copper tresses. Makeup was applied to her face and a collar of gleaming gold was attached about the fluted column of her neck. The cuff bore a heavy metal ring, and the young woman could easily guess as to its purpose. The nails of her fingers and toes had been painted in bright red, while the same hue was applied to her lips, leaving her mouth feeling heavy and slick. The entire operation was completed in silence except for the occasional wolf whistle or growl from Crabbe and Goyle.

Finally, the opaque veil was draped over her shoulders and the belt fastened about her narrow waist. The house elves kept their eyes down cast as they gathered their tools and disappeared with a small pop.

The only sounds in the chamber at present were the crackling of the torches and Ginny’s agitated breathing. The fears that had been, for the most part, silent, now set to howling in her brain as the house elves vanished, leaving her alone with the wizards.

Lucius let the silence stretch out until it became thin and brittle. Concealing a wolf-like grin behind the rim of his goblet, the wizard’s gaze roamed at leisure over the lovely image before him. He could smell her fear beneath the layers of subtle perfume lavished over her flesh by the attentive house elves. He would have to complement the elder Goyle upon his skill at selecting such resourceful slaves. The torchlight danced over the girl’s hair, lending the flaming locks and even brighter glow. He hungered to fist his fingers into that spill of molten silk, but restrained himself. Delayed gratification was, in itself, a potent aphrodisiac. Lucius fully intended to satisfy himself with the Weasley chit, but he was ever the doting father, and for now, Draco’s desires must come first.

For now.

Banishing the now empty goblet, he rose with unnatural grace for a man of his stature, gesturing at the to youths remain seated. Like mercury, gleaming and deadly, he flowed over the stones until he stood just inches from the bowed red head. Clasping his long fingered hands behind his back, Lucius strolled slowly around the girl, enjoying the pulses of hatred and dread that wafted from her body. He could almost see the ripples of emotions bending the air about her, like heat waves. He paused to admire her tight butt as it lifted the garment she wore with an enticing swell, the cleft between her pert cheeks, a slender shadow. Lucius leaned closer, his nostrils flaring as he drew in deeply of her scent, the combined smells of fear, shame, herbs and heated female flesh, bringing a delicious tightening to his loins. Without taking a step, Ginny pulled away, her skin crawling from his nearness, and heard a mirthless chuckle near her ear. From where they sat, Vincent and Gregory hooted in glee.

Lucius continued his inspection, running a finger lightly down her bare shoulder to her wrist, where the digit made the leap to the naked curve of her thigh. He felt her shudder and through the spill of hair that covered her face, he saw her he tightly clenched lips quivering with distress.

“My, my.” Lucius whispered huskily. “Little Ginny Weasley, all grown up and going to parties.” Pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he jerked her face up and around, until her deep amber eyes had no choice but to meet with his own. He studied her for a long moment, noting the creamy skin; it’s dusting of freckles giving her an added childish innocence. Her lips were glistening with the red ointment the elves had applied and swollen from her anxious gnawing. Snapping brown eyes glared at him from under the copper arch of her brows and he smiled. Oh, she wanted to fight him! Kill him if she could! He could read it easily in the scorching gaze. Yet there was a delightful splash of fear in her eyes as well, a fear she attempted to conceal behind the hate and rage. Ooo, she was wonderful! What a pity to hand her off to the son, when the sire was much better suited to bending the witch without breaking her too quickly. Once broken, witches were useless, Lucius mused, clinging whores, willing to go down on any wizard who happened to crook a finger. No, Lucius wanted them fighting, screaming, and battling against his greater strength. There was no sweeter victory than one that had been ripped from a woman’s unwilling flesh. That was power.

Pulling her closer, Lucius brushed her tight mouth with his lips, letting his tongue dart out to tease the corners. Crabbe and Goyle yelled out encouragements. Watching her from beneath hooded eyes, he drawled, “It is truly amazing that two grotesque plebeians as Arthur and Molly Weasley, managed to produce such a lovely and delicate flower as your self.” He released her chin and caressed the back of his fingers down the long line of her throat, pausing to stroke the flesh at her collarbone, before moving down, down, to ride the soft rise of one breast. Cupping the trembling weight, Lucius rolled the firm bud of her nipple with his thumb and watched as a tear crept from her eyes that yet burned with hate.

“Why are you doing this?” Ginny grated out from behind stiff lips.

Lucius feigned surprise at her question. “It is what my son wishes. What sort of father would I be if I refused to grant my only child such a simple request?”

Ginny’s heart lay like iron in her breast. “Dra…, Draco sent you to take me?” She stammered.

“Yea!” Goyle replied, toasting her with his glass. “Says he wants you for those times Pansy’s on the rag!” Both seated wizards burst out laughing, nearly falling from their chairs in drunken mirth.

Malfoy rolled his eyes in disgust before pulling a heavy silver pocket watch from his robes. “Ah, look at the time. The party will be starting soon and we still must complete the wrapping of your gift, gentlemen.”

Goyle assisted his equally inebriated partner to his feet and both wizards staggered forward.

Lucius took out his wand and pointed the shining, black shaft at Ginny, only to stop. “Yes, before I forget.” Stepping closer, he grabbed the witch by the head with the hand holding his wand. She was unprepared for the attack when it came. Lucius’ fist exploded into her gut, doubling her over as the air was blasted from her lungs. Black stars danced before her eyes and pain radiated out from the point of impact. His fingers still wrapped about her skull, Lucius snatched Ginny erect by her hair. Smiling almost benignly, he noted, “That was for the stone.” Turning, he shoved her into the waiting arms of his son’s companions and pointed his wand.

“Stupefy.”

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Draco apparated upon a rock jetty, sea spray flying into his face, the wind tugging roughly at his cloak. Behind him, the lights of Bognor Regis were reflected from the low hanging clouds, while before him laid the churning sea. Pocketing his wand, the wizard erased the worried frown from his countenance and in its place, drew an expression of indulged ennui. Confidence radiated from him as he strode quickly towards the end of the jetty where he boldly stepped from the edge.

The magical barrier erected to conceal the Goyle’s palatial vacation home from Muggle eyes closed behind Draco and he continued his brisk pace to the brightly lit residence, the sounds of music and raucous male laughter vying with the roar of the waves for dominance.

Strolling among the well heeled, wizarding social elite, Draco alternated between condescending smiles and arctic glares, depending upon the wizard the current shoulder thumping hand was attached to, all the while, surreptitiously scanning the chatting clusters for a particular dark head.

Mr. Parkinson, enjoying the improved civility, prestige, and power granted by his eminent bonding to the Malfoys, smiled with possessive warmth as he observed his soon to be son in law’s approach. Ignoring the young wizard’s moue of disgust, Parkinson pulled Draco into a burly, back pounding hug.

“Well met, Draco! Well met!” The portly wizard bellowed. “Good to see you at last, my boy.” Keeping one arm firmly wrapped about Draco’s shoulder, Mr. Parkinson gestured expansively with the other. “I was just complementing Greg on the splendid job he had done arranging this little soirée.” He gave Draco a broad wink. “Spared no expense! Nothing too good for the Prince of Malfoy, heh?” Draco concealed a grimace of pain as Pansy’s father squeezed his shoulder with Hagrid-like pressure. “No siree! Well, except for my little flower, what? Ah, it’s breaking this old father’s heart to give her over to you.” He concluded with a dramatic sigh.

I can only imagine, Draco mused while he continued to cautiously search for that one, particular presence.

“Come into the house, lad.” Mr. Parkinson invited. “The rest of the wedding party has gathered for the private celebrations.
Good thing the ladies weren’t invited to this bit of a gathering, heh?” He jerked his balding head to where a group of paid witches, barely clad, were enticing some of the guests into the shadows. Draco leered accordingly. The majority of the guests would amuse themselves upon the lawns, the lush gardens or in one of the many tents erected for their pleasure. The real party would go on inside the mansion. Only members of the immediate family, the males in the groom’s service and a few close associates would enjoy the exclusive delights to be found within the walls of the Goyle manor house.

Steering their way through the array of carousing wizards, Draco and Pansy’s father soon gained the curved, double stairway leading to tall French doors that stood open wide, the sounds of conversation and genteel music floating out to fade into the rude laughter and talk coming from the lawns. The young wizard schooled his features into bland nonchalance as they crossed the threshold, his smile, once more, that of the well trained Pureblood.

“I have located the groom!” Parkinson bellowed, good-naturedly, causing the thirty or so wizards to cease their pursuits and raise their respective glasses and goblets in the pair’s direction. Draco watched as Lucius Malfoy broke away from a group of older wizards and approached. Mr. Parkinson thumped the blond soundly upon the shoulders and took his leave, nodding cheerfully to Malfoy Sr. as they passed. Lucius returned the greeting with a slight nod of his elegant head, his silver eyes never leaving those of his son.

“Draco.” Lucius purred, embracing his son. Draco returned the gesture and felt his father pull him tighter to his chest, holding him close for a second longer. When he released his son, Lucius’ gaze had thawed slightly and the look he gave his son was one of paternal fondness. “My son.” He looked the youth up and down. “You honor me by bearing that title.”

Draco dipped his head in false modestly, waiting for the tag line. His lips tugged in a miniscule grin, One Thames River-Two Thames River-Three Thames... ah, right on time!

“And when you wear the mark of our Lord,” Lucius continued, his voice sweet and rough as granulated honey. “My joy will be complete.”

Plucking a flute of chilled champagne from an obliging tray that hovered close by Draco saluted his sire. “Then you must settle for partial happiness, Father, for I have no intention of joining your battalion of groveling snake worshipers.” As Lucius’ expression compressed into their more familiar lines of cold stone, Draco continued. “It is only for the love of a once proud and worthy name have I allowed myself to be placed upon this particular altar.” He drained his glass and returned it to the tray. “Do not press me. You will not enjoy the results.” He nodded his head politely, intending to move away, but Lucius halted him with a painful pressure to his elbow.

Feigning a tender smile, Lucius leaned close, hissing, “Then the Dark Lord will kill you!”

“Perhaps he will do it before the wedding and put me out of my misery.” Draco quipped, cleanly removing himself from Lucius’ grip. “Why don’t you go speak to him about it? Tell him how the son of his most trusted refuses to bend a knee to a psychotic Mudblood.” When the older wizard remained silent, Draco moved away, joining a group of ex-Slytherin classmates at the bar. Lucius remained standing, his thoughts burning like acid.

Walking through the laughing, drinking crowd, Draco blandly accepted the congratulations and chortled condolences of his former housemates, the entire time studying the room, focusing on the shadows. Decorative banners oozed down the walls, each one covered in pornographic needlework. Draco was no virgin to worldly matters, but the images that writhed and shimmed upon the massive pieces of fabric, caused him to avert his eyes in repugnance. From the ceiling depended four golden trapezes, each bearing a nude and nimble witch. He watched them for an appreciative moment as they flew from one swinging bar to the next, catching each other by the ankles or the wrists. Draco hoped for the witches’ sake that Goyle had remembered to charm a net.

Loud yells from deep within a corridor captured his attention, and he followed the sounds, hoping to locate the one he needed to find. As he entered the new chamber, Draco halted.

The Goyle’s had indeed gone all out. The huge room had been decorated as a medieval fair, complete with dancing girls and strolling minstrels in period costumes. Pennants snapped in a magical breeze and the smells of roasting pork and fowl filled the air. Draco could see that a buffet had been laid out upon a groaning table. Wizards meandered along the length of the board, grazing on bits of meat, slices of chilled fruits and other delicacies. The ringing of dueling swords filled the air and off to one side, a tilting course had been erected. Draco shook his head disbelievingly as Blaise Zambini thundered down the track on the back of a dun stallion, heading for, what appeared to be a wooden opponent bearing a shield and a mace. Blaise’s lance struck the lower outer corner of the shield causing the sylvan enemy to whirl madly, the mace striking the rider across the shoulders. The former Slytherin was blasted from the saddle to land painfully upon the packed dirt, the now riderless horse nickering snidely before trotting away.

A roar exploded from another quarter of the chamber and Draco wheeled on one heel striding in the direction of the din. Several young wizards leaned their elbows upon a low stone wall, cursing and cheering some sort of action below them. As Draco approached, his ears picked up the low, savage growling of dogs and his stomach churned as he imagined the entertainment going on in the pit before him. Shouldering his way between two howling youths, both of them clutching handfuls of gold, he peered into the hole.

Two massive wolfhounds were tangled in a knot of torn skin and blood, the dirt beneath their paws a churned mass of mud and gore, recalling to Draco’s mind the scene of Ginny’s abduction. The dog’s keepers stood at opposite ends of the pit, long corded whips at the ready, should either animal falter in its brutal purpose. The crowd along the wall cheered once more as one canine managed to lock its jaws on the throat of its opponent, twisting the other animal’s head down until the creature was forced to its side, where it lay twitching. The burly keepers strode forth brandishing their whips. One of them clubbed the winning dog solidly upon the head, causing it to break its grip, and slipped a heavy chained muzzle over the animal’s face. As the lunging brute was dragged away from his victory, the remaining dog was finished off with a casually thrown killing curse.

Draco turned away while trying to mask his disgust and continued his search. He obligingly groped the ripe body of a particularly enthusiastic dancer as she gyrated against him, her veils and heavily kohled eyes enticing him to follow her into a smoky tent. Draco smiled, shaking his head. With a moue of regret, she accepted his gold along with his refusal and proceeded on to a new target.

Moving closer to a long buffet table whose surface was hidden beneath mountains of finger foods, Draco finally spied his goal. Stifling a sigh of relief, he collected a delicate china plate and napkin, and made a good show of evaluating the spread prior to making his selections, occasionally exchanging verbal barbs with those around him. His plate filled, Draco walked casually over to where the man stood, black-clad back to the wall.

“Severus.”

“Draco.” The Potions Master responded with a curt nod.

“Enjoying the gathering?” Draco popped a ripe cherry into his mouth, his heart clenching from the memory the fruit inspired.

“Hardly.” Was Snape’s biting reply. “You?”

“I would rather be setting myself on fire with a blast-ended skrewt.”

The dry snort that passed for laughter with the ebony haired professor floated about the pair as their gazes, obsidian and silver, moved constantly over the crowd. They ate in companionable silence, comfortable in each other’s presence.

Setting his plate aside, Severus wiped his lips with a crisp linen napkin. “You had words with Lucius.”

“Indeed.”

“Yet, it is not your father’s ire that has placed the glint of danger in your eye.” The observant wizard stated dryly.

Turning slightly so that his face was hidden from the room, Draco discarded his plate while whispering low, “Ginny Weasley has been taken.”

If he was shocked by these words, Snape hid it well as he shrugged. “The silly girl is probably off with friends again. She pulled the same stunt just last evening.”

Draco folded his arms over his chest and pressed his back to the wall alongside his friend and mentor. “How do you know that, about last night?”

“Who do you think Molly flooed, shrieking the news that her youngest had not returned from work?” Snape arched a black brow over an equally dark eye and regarded the young wizard at his side. “I wasted several hours of prime sleeping time searching for the girl only to be informed that she had merely skived off class to play.” He snorted with disgust before taking a long sip from his own cup.

Draco hesitated a moment before stating, “Ginny didn’t skive off.” He grimaced before continuing. “She was with me. And now she is missing. I found evidence of an attack outside the cantina where she works.” The blond wizard noted that with his words, the dark professor stiffened slightly, the crease between his eyes deepening a bit as he listened. “A sandal had been ripped from her foot in the struggle and there was blood…”

“Blood?” Snape intoned, his posture of calm never wavering.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“I found blood and hair on the side of the rubbish bin near the cantina.”

Levering himself from the wall, Snape commanded, “Walk with me, Mr. Malfoy. We will attract less attention if we are seen strolling about the entertainments.”

As they roamed, Severus and Draco projected an almost tangible wall of predominant isolation before them, causing the other wizards to provide them with wide berth. Draco Malfoy, the rising son of a powerful and feared family, walking with Severus Snape, Voldemort’s chained angel of death, was a sight that inspired awe and trembling fear. Those who attempted to penetrate their barrier of segregated superiority were quickly dissuaded of the notion by twin glares of silver fire and black ice.

“Miss Weasley was with you last night.” Snape prodded as the pair stood observing Gregory Goyle’s attempts at avoiding the mace-swinging target. “ Explain.”

Quickly, Draco recited the events of the previous evening, how he had followed the young witch into the alley, her violent reaction to his touch, and the hours he had spent holding her as she struggled and cried. He avoided mention of his planned seduction and his suspicions concerning her probable rape.

“I escorted her home, and I have spoken with her today. When I returned to the cantina earlier this evening, hoping to- well, that is unimportant. I found what looked to be the remains of a struggle. Your skills are far superior to mine, Severus, you would likely find something that will allow us to locate her.” Draco glanced at the wizard he had called friend for the past three years, waiting patiently.

“Other than last night and today, have you spent an inordinate amount of time in her company?”

Draco knew where this line of questioning could lead and hid his trepidation behind a jaunty salute to Vincent Crabbe, who was next up on the list. He spoke to his mentor around a chilly smile. “I have been visiting Fortesque’s establishment frequently, yes, but all Weasley and I have done is spar.” His conscience kicked him sharply so the young wizard added sotto voice, “I kissed her, ok?”

“Has it occurred to you, Draco, that Miss Weasley’s disappearance could be a direct result of the unusual amount of attention you have paid her of late?” Snape’s tone was as dry and packed as the dirt on the tilting course and Draco’s brain was rattled by the impact.

“Impossible.” The young wizard retorted feeling his skin sting. “I have done nothing more than continue the battles we shared while in school.”

“I do not recall you kissing Miss Weasley at Hogwarts.” The Potions Master stated, his attention seemingly fixed by the action on the listing field.

“Things change, Severus. You of all people should be aware of that fact.”

“Indeed.” Here Snape fixed his youthful friend with a stern glare. “Yet some ‘things’ never change. Many of the folk in this very room would find your attention to Miss Weasley to be of great interest.” He lowered his voice to a fierce whisper. “And of great value.”

“No one knows of this!” Draco retorted.

“You have informed no one, other than myself?” Severus questioned, one brow quirked slightly.

“Well,” here Draco floundered, mentally cursing himself. “Vincent and Gregory have accompanied me on several occasions, but they are harmless. They haven’t the brains for independent thought, much less action.”

“Do not fool your self, Draco.” The dark Potions Master replied. “Even the dimmest of flames can burn you if mishandled.”

The blond wizard could only nod in frustrated agreement.

The pealing of a gong interrupted their conversation and both wizards turned to the center of the chamber as two massive tables materialized upon a raised dais, arranged in a T shape. The tops were covered with crisp white cloths that hung to the floor. Around the tables, tall backed chairs were placed and at the head was an ornate, throne-like seat covered in deep, rich red velvet. A glad cry went up from some of the playing wizards.

“The Feast!”

“The Feast!”

“Where is the Man of Honor? Where is our king?”

Before Draco could draw a breath, he found him self scooped up and slung over a thick shoulder. Crabbe’s voice rang out. “I have him here! Come help me, fellows! He is no lightweight.” Laughing men surrounded Vincent and his fuming burden was lifted up. Draco’s features were flushed with anger and indignation as he was raised high above the heads of his bearers and carried towards the dais, Gregory racing ahead to pull the throne from the table. With much fanfare, Draco was deposited into the gigantic seat and a crown of gold leaves was lowered upon his head.

“Behold, our king for the evening!” Goyle bellowed amid the rich laughter and catcalls.

Severus watched the proceedings, a disgusted expression on his narrow face. He turned slightly as he felt the approach of another and nodded politely to Lucius Malfoy. “Draco will make them pay dearly for their folly.” He observed dryly.

Malfoy chuckled almost warmly. “As did I after my own wedding feast.” Looking at his long time acquaintance, he continued. “You remember that night, do you not, Severus?”

“Indeed, I do.” Snape responded as both wizards made their way to their chairs. “As I was the only sober man in the room that night.”

“You always were a wet rag, my friend, but someone had to insure I made it to my wedding in one piece.”

“The fact that I was capable of brewing a particularly powerful hangover cure not withstanding.” Snape added as he and Lucius took their seats.

Lucius grinned. “There was that, yes.”

The dust and grime magically removed from their formal robes, Vincent and Gregory took their places of honor located to either side of Draco. Unwilling to devote the time necessary in deciding who should stand with him during the wedding, and not actually caring, Draco had, weeks ago, simply informed both of the hulking wizards that they would act as best men. The pair now glowed with pride as they took center stage with their undisputed leader and watched as the remaining guests found their seats.

The feast was interminable for Draco. Dish after dish was pressed upon him and his goblet never seemed to run dry. He regretted not ordering his wine well watered as the evening wore on and the features of the chamber and its revelers became soft and fuzzy about the edges. He tried asking his two beaming best men leading questions about their activities since taking their leave of him this afternoon, but only received drunken nods and knowing winks in return. Music swirled about the feasters, as did the veiled dancers, the noise and distraction making eavesdropping on nearby conversations impossible. Nodding in agreement with whatever Gregory was proposing at the moment, Draco glanced to his far left, where Professor Snape sat chatting quietly with the elder Malfoy. The dark wizard had given him no sign during the feast that he had learned anything of import from those around him concerning Ginny Weasley and Draco ground his teeth behind the rim of his goblet.

He was pulled from his dark thoughts as Crabbe and Goyle lumbered drunkenly to their feet. “Shut yer gobs!” Vincent bellowed with a laugh. “Greg and I have a bit of a surprise for our beloved king here. But first,” here the swaying giant raised his cup, “ the toast.” Chairs scrapped loudly as the assembled wizards rose, lifting their own drinks in salute. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose tightly and groaned.

“Draco,” Vincent turned slightly and addressed the seated wizard, his words slurred and dragging. “You are the best friend in the whole wide world. I dare anyone at this table to show me a nobler, more loyal, more deserving wizard. He’s a damn sight more than Pansy deserves, I say!” Mr. Parkinson snorted loudly and had to be restrained by his neighbors as the rest of the assembly roared in appreciation. Vincent wiped his eyes and continued. “Words can’t describe how Greg and I feel about you, so I won’t even try. We’ll let the gift speak for its self. Suffice it to say, we love you, mate!” Both Crabbe and Goyle sniffed loudly. “To Draco!”

“To Draco!” The platters that yet remained upon the table vibrated from the roar as the assembled wizards toasted the groom. Their cups had barely left their lips when Gregory cried out, “The dessert! Bring out the dessert.”

“No, no.” Draco said imploringly. “Really, guys, I can’t eat another bite and it is getting….”

Vincent planted a beefy hand on the table in front of Draco and leaned down, his breath fanning the pale fringe on Draco’s brow and causing the blond wizard to pull back from the fumes. “This ain’t just any dessert, Draco. It came special order. Just for you.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest further, beg if necessary, but the chamber doors flew wide with a resounding bang and a troupe of house elves entered bearing the largest platter the young wizard had ever seen. The used plates and flatware vanished from the table as the elves advanced with their offering. With its silver dome reflecting back the candle’s glow, the covered dish was carried with great pomp to the head of the table and placed before the guest of honor. Draco reckoned he could lay full out upon the tray, so large was the piece, the domed cover rising high enough to obscure his view of the lower table. Pushing back his chair, Draco rose slowly. He cocked a platinum brow at the grinning Crabbe. “What is this?”

“This, my friend,” Vincent nodded sharply to the elves and the silver lid vanished with a pop. “is dessert!”

The spit instantly evaporated from Draco’s mouth.

Turned slightly on her side, her head pillowed on one bent arm, Ginny Weasley rested upon a bed of rose petals. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell with her slight breathing. Her lightly freckled face was calm in repose and Draco felt his heart catch in his chest as he wondered what hexes and curses had been performed upon her. Thick lashes, long and bright as her hair, feathered over cheeks that glowed like ivory in the candlelight. Her fiery hair had been artfully arranged about her body, spilling over the scented bed and looping along the swell of her breasts. Several coppery tendrils coyly curled about the length of the arm that lay across her narrow waist drawing the viewer’s eye down the length of her body. The garment she wore had been cunningly arranged as well, exposing one bent thigh, yet hiding the dewy cleft of her womanhood.

“Wow!” Draco exhaled loudly, his eyes wide with surprise. “Wow, guys… this is…wow.”

Crabbe and Goyle, laughing, slapped their stunned friend hard on the back, nearly causing Draco to topple over on to the sleeping witch before him.

“Bet you weren’t expecting this, huh?” Goyle slurred through a lopsided grin.

“Did we do good, Draco?” Vincent asked eagerly.

Draco looked at the two young wizards; their round faces glistening with drunken sweat, and mentally cursed their stupidity in bringing the girl to this place. He swallowed hard. “Guys, you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well, you making us best men and all,” Crabbe slurred. “We wanted to show just how much that, and you, mean to us.”

“Yea!” Goyle belched, listing slightly to port. “Ain’t’cha gonna have a taste? Go on! You get the first piece.”

The crowd roared their approval of Gregory’s suggestion, save Pansy’s father, who protested in hot whispers to those wizards close enough to hear.

Deciding to indulge the baser appetites of his audience while formulating a plan for Ginny’s escape, Draco snatched the ridiculous crown from his head and tossed it across the chamber where it landed with a loud clang. Wearing a feral grin, he climbed upon the table and advanced on all fours until he was positioned above the sleeping witch. The fragrance rising from her warm skin mingled with the wine he had consumed, making his head swim with desire. Lowering his mouth, he extended his tongue and laved Ginny’s face from jaw to temple. Glancing up at the heated eyes around him, Draco licked his lips. “Tasty.” He growled before going back for seconds. This time the wizard nibbled along the slim length of her neck, taking notice of the collar and chain. His action caused Ginny to roll fully to her back and Draco released a groan of pleasure and pain as her round breasts came into view, the pink rose buds of her nipples peeking shyly up at him from behind their misty veil. He nudged the material aside with his nose, breathing in deeply of her scent, before pulling one pert nipple between his lips. He could feel his cock tighten in anticipation.

The gathered wizards yelled with enthusiasm.

“What fun is there in playing alone, Draco?” Lucius called down the table’s length to his son while extracting the ebony length of his wand from his sleeve. “Let us see what your new plaything is capable of. Enervate!”

Draco mentally cursed his sire as Ginny’s body bucked below him and her eyes sprang wide, her lips opened in a gasp of surprise. Draco threw himself on the now struggling woman, his mouth claiming hers in a bruising kiss. Ginny gagged as his tongue drove past her lips and deep into her throat. Draco dug the fingers of one hand into the curls at the back of her head, forcing her to arch her neck as he released her mouth and began to roughly bite his way along her jaw line. Ginny clawed at his shoulders while her hips writhed in a vain attempt to free herself of his pressing weight.

“You bastard!” Her scream exploded near Draco’s ear while her fingers wound their way into his streaming, silver hair. She pulled fiercely, feeling some of the strands pop loose from his scalp. Her attacker released a howl of pain as his head was mauled and snatched. Sitting back on his heels, Draco pinned Ginny’s hips as his hands battled her flying fists. Shrieking obscenities and howling in violent protest, Ginny laid into the silver-eyed wizard, raking her claws over his face and the backs of his hands. Grunting with the effort, he finally managed to capture her slashing claws and imprison them above her flaming head, his fingers tightly wrapped around her wrists. Panting, Draco leaned in and kissed the hissing, snarling woman on the tip of her freckled nose.

“Welcome to my bachelor party, Ginny-girl.” He crooned evilly.

Ginny fell still before tilting her head backwards and then to either side. The lust filled faces of a score or more wizards leered back at her. A whimper crawled from her throat as she returned her gaze once more to Draco’s; his face now inches from her own. “It would seem that Goyle and Crabbe thought you would make a suitable wedding gift.” He informed her loudly, his gray eyes stormy and intent upon hers. “Imagine my surprise when I saw you laying here all warm and soft, like fresh cake. I just could not bring my self to refuse their generosity.” He kissed her roughly, nipping at her swollen bottom lip, and then sliding his mouth along her cheek and to her ear. “I will get you out of here, Ginny. Believe me.” He whispered urgently before running his tongue along the tender shell of flesh.

Draco was unsure how much of his hurriedly whispered message the girl was able to take in, for as he levered himself from her and prepared to pull her up with him, she managed to snatch one hand free of his grasp. Stars filled his vision for a second after her fist barreled into his nose and he staggered back hard against his chair, managing to topple both himself and the heavy piece of furniture ass over heels. Fighting his way out of his tangled cloak, Draco looked up in time to see Ginny spring to her bare feet, the thin, golden chain buzzing angrily as she whirled it about her. The ominous sound created by the propelling links reminded Draco of enraged bees.

Blaise Zambini attempted to snatch Ginny by the ankle and cried out in painful anger as the whining strand caught him about the face. Though they laughed at Zambini’s failed maneuver, each wizard cautiously stepped back from the table. Several yelled words of encouragement and advice to Draco as he wrestled himself free of his restricting garment with the help of the drunk and chortling Goyle and Crabbe. “No wands!” He bellowed, finally stepping forward. “I do not want her injured!” Here he paused to wink at his audience. “Yet.”

“You are going to have to kill me, you loathsome toad!” Ginny cried as she danced away from grabbing hands. Several more male voices yelped as her whirling chain bit into their flesh. She moved, cat like, down the table, kicking goblets of wine from her path. The spinning chain moved about her like a humming shield as she dodged groping fingers and the occasional thrown cup or plate.

“You cannot escape, Weasley.” Draco informed the terrified, enraged witch in a bored tone. Ginny turned to face her tormentor and Draco’s felt his gut ice over. Ginny’s eyes were filling with panic and her breathing was becoming labored. The angry flush that had earlier colored her cheeks had faded and now her face was deathly pale. She stared at him, confusion and hurt racing across her features.

“You lied. You said you would never hurt me. You lied.”

Draco gave a cheerful shrug and looked wide-eyed at the crowd of wizards. “I am a Malfoy.” He chuckled. “It is what I do.”

“Well said, Draco!” Lucius laughed from the sidelines, drawing Ginny’s pinched glare and the hissing length of chain to his beautifully maleficent face. With an adroit step backwards, Lucius neatly avoided the stinging links and raised his cup to the witch in a smirking salute. “Quiet the bloodthirsty little bitch, wouldn’t you agree, Severus?” The wizard inquired of the dark personage at his side.

Ginny’s brown eyes widened further at the sight of her former Potions Master. He stood with unflappable poise amongst the howling, slavering wizards, regarding the panting, terrified witch with seeming disinterest.

“Pro...Professor Snape?” Ginny whispered, strangling on her unbelief.

“Oh ho!” Lucius chortled, his icy blue eyes rounding in mock anxiety. “Severus, I fear the chit recognizes you. Surely your cover has been blued.”

Severus rolled his black eyes. “Blown, Lucius! My cover has been blown.” He growled, before inserting a lowly hissed addendum. “Imbecile!” Stepping to the table’s edge, he stabbed a pale finger towards the staggering witch. “Miss Weasley, cease your vapid silliness and come down here, now!” He watched as the deeply etched lines of confusion and fear became blurred by regret and gall.

“Drop dead, you traitorous bastard!” Ginny growled her response, to the increased delight of her audience. On skittering feet, she darted further along the table top, dodging groping hands, sending her biting golden leash before her. Crabbe and Goyle staggered the length of the dais and clambered drunkenly to stand upon the table, effectively blocking the woman’s escape. Ginny froze, her frightened brown eyes darting about for refuge. Snape’s appearance and his obvious allegiance with the ravening crowd surrounding her had turned Ginny’s fueling rage to ash; only the cold damp of fear remained, easily smothering the heat of her ire. What hope that had sparked in her heart died under his hard glare. Now faced with the twin blocks that were Crabbe and Goyle, she felt the last of her resistance being snuffed out.

Draco was carefully sidling closer to the red head, his feet avoiding the spreading puddles of wine. Below him, a pair of his father’s drunken compatriots clung to each other, doubled over with mirth.

“Full of fire, that wench!” One noted, wiping gleeful tears from his eyes.

“Aye! Bes’ cool her down or she’ll scorch young Draco’s bits to charcoal!” That said, the wizard extracted his wand and pointing it at the unsuspecting Ginny, muttered a short spell.

“No!” Draco heard himself cry as a blast of water struck Ginny on the side of the face, forcing her head to whip painfully about on her slim neck. Her pained whimper was drowned by the hiss of water and the yells of approval from her tormentors. Cursing roundly, Draco kicked at the wand-bearing wizard, catching him smartly at the elbow.

“You’re making a mess.” Draco whined in an irritated voice to the man, who clutched his shattered appendage to his side. “This piece is solid mahogany.” His boot heels clicked loudly on the shining surface as he closed the distance between himself and Ginny. The icy bath had reduced her veil to a milky, clinging second skin. It molded to her body, hiding nothing from the hot eyes of her captors. Her pink tipped breasts rose and fell in time with her shallow panting and the glittering chain rattled from her fingers as she covered her chest with her arms in a futile attempt to hide her shame. If he could just touch her, Draco’s brain lamented. He would somehow reassure her of his promise to keep her safe. Pinning her with a determined look, he extended one hand, his fingers beckoning impatiently.

“Really, Weasley,” His voice rolled out lazily. “There is no where for you to run.”

“Not necessarily true, Draco!” Cried a voice from behind the blond. Glancing over his shoulder with an impatient grimace, Draco spied the elder Goyle, his host, raising his hands in a sweeping, magnanimous, gesture. “She has the whole of the Fair!” Casting a shrewd eye over his guests, Goyle continued. “I propose a Hunt!”

“Nooooooooo!” Ginny wailed, crumbling to her knees.

The chamber exploded in a roar of agreement and the weakly struggling witch was dragged from the table. Cruel hands pinched and stroked her body as she was carried the length of the lower dais and tossed roughly to the ground. The blond wizard kept his features neutral as he rapidly considered the options. The majority of the gathered wizards were Death Eaters. How kindly would they take to his curtailing their fun? Yet the peril for Ginny... Draco risked a quick glance at his former professor, catching the irritated glint in Snape’s black eyes. The dark wizard’s head dipped in a barely perceivable nod and Draco whirled upon his host.

“She is mine.” He called. “I claim the right of forfeit! Should she be captured by anyone other than myself, I claim the right of forfeit!”

“ ’Tis only fair.” Goyle agreed.

Draco leaped nimbly from the table and strode to where Ginny cowered in the dirt. Gripping her by the upper arms, he pulled her staggering to her feet. Gazing at her dirt and tear streaked face he addressed her coolly. “Feeling up to a bit of sport, little weasel?”

Ginny hung her head, refusing to meet his mocking eyes. “Just kill me now.” She whispered.

“Ah, where’s the fun in that, Weasley? Now, give us a kiss and off you go.” That said, Draco cupped the back of her head with one large hand and twisted her face upwards. He caught the emptiness in her once sparkling, chocolate eyes before he brought his lips down. He plundered her unresisting mouth, felt her sag helplessly against him. Releasing her lips, he dragged his teeth roughly along her jaw, his growled words nearly buried by the appreciative cheers of his audience. “Don’t give up, Ginny! Don’t you dare give up! Now hide, damn you! I will protect you, just as I promised.”

Releasing her, the young wizard pulled a heavy silver watch from an inner pocket. The lid snapped up and Draco glanced dispassionately at the mother of pearl face. “Let it not be said that you were not given a sporting chance, little weasel. You have two minutes to secure your bolthole ‘ere the hounds are loosed. Use that time wisely.” Looking into Ginny’s uncomprehending face, Draco smirked and leaned closer. “Off with you now. Shoo!”

Clutching her scanty covering about her, Ginny backed fearfully from the circle of leering wizards, then with one last panicked look, she was gone, vanishing amongst the many tents and cubicles of the fair.

“One more factor in her favor, I do believe.” Murmured Draco, pulling his wand and pointing it ceiling-ward. “Vespertum.”
The lighting in the chamber immediately took on a dusk-like quality, images blurring and melting into the gloom.

Draco’s group was soon joined by Lucius and Snape, a red faced Parkinson scampering in their wake.

“I say,” Mr. Parkinson blustered. “I am not feeling quite right about this bit of a romp. The girl doesn’t appear the least bit willing.”

No shit, you wanker! Draco observed silently as he watched the slender, filigreed minute hand move with alarming speed through Ginny’s allotted head start.

“Have no fear on that point, Sylvester.” Lucius drawled. “The girl is a professional, quite an accomplished actress.” The lie dripped easily from his lips as he hid a smirk behind the rim of his goblet.

“Oh well,” Parkinson gruffed. “In that case...I suppose it will be...”

The silvery chime of Draco’s watch interrupted the older man’s words and a blood-curdling yell burst forth from the assembled wizards as they leaped to the hunt. Draco watched as his father and Mr. Parkinson strolled calmly behind the wave of terror sweeping over the grounds.

A large hand upon his shoulder stalled Draco’s own pursuit of the prey and he looked quickly back into the black eyes of his mentor and friend.

Without a word spoken, the pair vanished into the gloom.

~@~


Ginny was blind and deaf to the passage of time. She darted like a rabbit from one hiding place to the next, terrified of being found, of what would happen when their hands were once more laid upon her. The sudden gloom had frightened her until she realized the potential benefit of the deeper shadows.

The shock of being captured, the shame brought on by Lucius Malfoy’s eyes on her bare skin, all were eclipsed by the terror that now coursed through her veins like scalding water. The potion she had taken flashed in her brain, magnifying each sensation, causing her to focus on nothing and everything at the same time. The scrape of rough tent canvas along her skin burned like fire, the sounds of pursuit crashed painfully on her hypersensitive ears and the slightest movement in her peripheral caused her to flush, like a startled pheasant.

Hello, Ginny Weasley.

The memory slipped unchallenged into her mind and Ginny attempted to mentally dodge its approach. Ink fading into ancient pages, flowing script taking its place.

My name is Tom.

The sight of Professor Snape amongst the other jeering wizards had shaken Ginny severely. She had very nearly thrown her self into his arms, pleading for her safety, but his cold glare had stifled the impulse. Once again, she discovered, her trust had been horribly misplaced. Once more, she discovered that she had been deceived.

Abandoned.

I will never leave you, Ginny. We are the dearests of friends, after all.

No, she screamed silently. It was a lie!

She had taken refuge within the obliging folds of voluminous tent fabric, and tucking her knees tightly to her chest, attempted to calm the hammering of her heart.

No one appreciates you as I do, Ginny.

Light footfalls on packed ground captured her attention and Ginny pressed her self deeper into the concealing folds of the tent. Her hand came up to cover her mouth fearful her panting breaths would give away her hiding place. The steps inched closer.

Come to me, Ginny. I will show you the way.

“Here, kitty-kitty-kitty.” Her stalker crooned. “Sweet pussy.”

So sweet! You are my own sweet Ginny-girl.

No! Go away! Go away!

A silk-clad arm wormed its way through the folds of fabric and Ginny watched the advancing fingers in horrible fascination. The hand groped the air inches from Ginny’s trembling thighs before retreating and over the blood rushing through her ears, she could hear stealthy steps moving away. Gulping back tears, the young witch forced her self to remain still until she was sure the wizard had moved on, then oh, so carefully, crawled from her canvas nest.

Will you let me touch you, Ginny-girl? I have been alone for so long.

Pushing the insidious voice from the forefront of her mind, Ginny swiped at her tears with one grimy hand.

The half-light of the chamber confounded Ginny’s eyes, smearing her surroundings in smoke damaged colors. She stepped cautiously, shifting her weight to the outsides of her bare feet. Holding the sharp links of her chain tightly wrapped about one fist; she peeked swiftly around the side of the canvas structure. In the gloom, Ginny was unable to spot her pursuers, hoping against hope that they were equally blinded. Easing from the relative safety of her hiding spot, she prepared herself for yet another frenzied dart over the hard packed dirt floor.

I have you now, Ginny-girl!

“Have you now, my pet!” A well-padded arm snatched the terrified witch from her feet, pressing her back into an equally fluffy abdomen. With a whimpered growl, Ginny threw her head back, feeling her captor’s nose collapse against her skull. He howled in pain, releasing her as his hands flew to his shattered visage. His voice was clotted with blood when he called after her fleeing form. “You bishush bind. I’ll bloody kill you por dat!”

Ginny’s heart filled her throat as her attacker’s cry brought the remaining pack baying in her direction. Skidding on the dry dirt, she caught herself with one hand as her eyes darted about the dusky chamber seeking escape. A wall of rough cut stone blocked her flight on one side while swiftly approaching wizards closed in from all other points of the compass. With a resigned exhale; Ginny launched herself at the wall, praying the drop would be long, dark and final. Her fingers scrambled against its abrasive surface as she vaulted the top most stones, the golden links of the chain tearing through the brittle mortar. With her eyes closed, the witch released herself into the fall, sadly welcoming her possible demise.

We will be together...for all time.

Nooooooooooo!

The impact rattled the teeth in Ginny’s head and she found herself sprawled once more on hard dirt. Struggling to her feet, she sprang instantly into a drunken run only to be snatched rudely by a sudden tightening at her neck. Her fingers scrambled franticly at the heavy collar feeling the vibrating tension from the attached leash as her eyes followed the golden strand upwards to discover it sandwiched deeply within the joints of two stones. From above her head came the sound of pounding feet and delighted laughter. Ginny grappled with the trapped leash, flicking and jerking at the metal thread. A low, wet rumbling at her back caused the witch to cease her struggles and slowly turn.

From the oppressive shade of the pit emerged a massive wolfhound, its coat a patchwork of matted gore and dust. The hackles rising along its back resembled spears, the tail rigid with pain and anger. A black tinged line of spittle hung from the creature’s jaw, growing longer and thinner until it broke free to land on one enormous paw. The animal advanced with stiff legged menace, black lips rippling over its long, yellow fangs, the glowing red eyes fixed upon the one who had dared to disturb him as he had licked his last opponent’s blood from his wounds.

The captured leash forgotten before this new horror, Ginny pressed herself helplessly against the unmoving stone behind her. Images of her ravaged, torn carcass invaded her brain, the brutal agony she would suffer before death claimed her at last filled her every thought and once more she closed her eyes tight against the ending.

Ginny-girl? Where aaaaaaaaaaaare you?

“Avada Kedavra!”

A flash of green light appeared behind Ginny’s eyelids and then was gone. She felt a rush of air and heard a gentle thud as someone or something landed in front of her. Long fingers laced themselves into the hair at her nape, directing her face upwards. The last of the young witch’s strength trickled like sand from the fragile hourglass of her resolve and she collapsed against a hard chest covered in aromatic, spicy broadcloth. Let it end, she pleaded silently. Please.

“Open your eyes, Miss Weasley.” Severus Snape ordered in a gentle whisper and so accustomed was she to following this one’s command she immediately obeyed. He studied her for the briefest of seconds, his practiced gaze taking in her wildly dilated pupils, the blue tinge of her trembling lips, before he lifted his wand tip and placed it against the spot where her tether and the collar joined. Ginny experienced a flash of heat, heard a swift pop, and the chain broke away. Her knees buckled and she would have crumbled into a heap at the Potions Masters feet had he not held her by her tangled tresses. She grappled at his lapels, trying to bring her feet once more under her body but the dark wizard shrugged off her desperate attempts and dragged her roughly to the center of the pit.

“Finite Incantarum.” Snape roared and the chamber once more blazed with light. Ginny shielded her eyes from the sudden glare and then gasped sharply in pain as the hand in her hair jerked her upright. A delighted cheer went up from the wizards that lined the wall and Severus bowed, snidely acknowledging their praise. Lucius, one hip propped upon the rugged stone, lifted his cup in salute. Spinning in a tight, slow circle, Snape pulled the groaning, defeated witch in his wake, flaunting his prize as she floundered at his side.

“Oh good show, Severus!” Draco crowed as he vaulted the wall and landed graceful as a cat. His storm cloud gaze flickered over the canine body before returning to his friend and the witch dangling from his fist. When Draco had spotted Ginny’s desperate leap into the dog pit, his fear for her had nearly brought him to his knees. It was only the sight of Snape flying into the hole, his robes billowing about him like the wings of some demonic guardian angel, which had allowed the blond wizard to maintain his poise.

“Congratulations Severus.” Draco stated as he strode closer to shake the winner’s hand. He took in Ginny’s battered condition, the scrapes on her palms and knees, the pallor of her skin and worse, the glazed void filling her eyes. He flashed a wicked, toothy smile at his former Potions Master. “I am in your debt.”

“Forfeit!” Cried a voice from above the trio. It was quickly taken up by the others who had gathered to watch. “Forfeit! Forfeit!”

Draco lifted his shoulders in a mocking shrug before sending a cunning grin at his friend. “Well Severus, what will it be?”

The dark wizard eyed his young apprentice before glancing towards the witch trembling at his side. “I will take the witch. I doubt Miss Parkinson will take kindly to your bringing this lovely bit of flesh along on your honeymoon.”

It couldn’t have been a more cleverly conceived plan. Severus had captured the prey and it was in Draco’s power to grant the victorious wizard this boon. Ginny would be safe. Snape would take her from this particular corner of hell, hide her away for a few days and then return her safely to the arms of her family. An easily explained Obliviate would provide Snape’s cover. Very nice. Very neat.

But this opportunity, this one glorious opportunity would never come again. He would have the time... He could explain...make her see. No, it was wrong! What he was contemplating was horrible, temptingly wrong.

Draco opened his mouth to grant Severus’ request and was just as shocked as his mentor at the words that came forth.

“No. She is mine and I will not share.” The silence that rose between the two wizards was nearly palpable so thick did it become. The professor’s dark eyes flared with quickly suppressed anger before he blinked it into submission. He speared Ginny with his glare. Merciless, black eyes bore into her wet, brown ones and Ginny felt the strength flow out of her legs, leaving her dangling in the Potions Master’s grip. “Professor Snape…please don’t…” she whispered.

His gaze never leaving hers, Snape addressed Draco. “I have secured your prize, I should receive a bit of reward.”

Draco folded his arms across his chest, smirking. “And what would that be, Severus?”

Severus smiled coldly and Ginny closed her eyes against the sight.

“I know you are disinclined to share your possessions, but I have long desired a taste of this particular Weasley. You must admit she is a cut above the rest of the litter. Being female makes her the only useful one of the lot.” This drew a hoot of approval from the gathering and Lucius Malfoy’s lips drew back in an approving smile.

“Been lusting after your young charges, have you, Snape?” Mr. Parkinson inquired with a growl from his perch along the circling stones.

Severus sent the blustering wizard a slow, withering glare. “You may rest easy Parkinson. It was only the attractive ones that captured my eye.”

The chamber erupted once more in bawdy chuckles and Severus returned to his study of Miss Weasley. “ A kiss, I believe, would settle the score nicely.”

“Of course, Severus. Help yourself to a healthy grope while you are at it.” Draco offered smoothly.

“How generous of you, Draco.” Snape replied. “I believe I shall.” So saying, the Potions Master snatched the witch upright and captured Ginny’s quivering lips with his own. She hung limp on his arm while his sleek tongue invaded her mouth and his free hand slide leisurely along her waist to cup the firmness of one breast, his long fingers stroking teasingly over the sensitive peak.

“Seems like you’ve lost your skill there, old man!” Someone yelled from above. “She appears a bit uninterested if you ask me!”

Severus released her mouth, demanding, “Look at me, woman!”

Shivering, Ginny forced her eyes to open, tears of shame and fear coursing down her dirty cheeks. Snape continued to fondle her breast as he inquired in a conversational tone, “You know who I am.”

You know who I am.

She hesitated before nodding mutely.

“Never forget that.” Snape hissed before leaning down to bite sharply at her exposed throat. Ginny cried out from the pain, her hands moving up to his chest in a futile attempt to fend him off. The professor chuckled against her skin and tightening his grip on her hair, buried his face in the curve on her neck. The young witch increased her struggles when she felt his tongue glide along her shoulder before biting and nipping his way back to her ear. Through her rising hysteria, Ginny heard her former professor and long time confident murmur. “Trust Draco.”

Trust Draco?

Trust me.

“Do as he says and you will come to no harm. Trust him.”

What is your pain to me, Ginny-girl? Don’t you want me to be happy?

Giving her breast a final tweak, Severus released his hold on Ginny, allowing the witch to collapse in a heap at his feet. He quirked a jet brow at the waiting, leering blond. “Delightful, Draco. Your friends have chosen well.”

“I am glad you approve.” Draco responded, reaching out to fondly shake his professor’s hand.

“If you should ever tire of her…” Severus artfully left the sentence dangling.

Draco wrapped his fingers about the band of gold, bringing Ginny choking and gasping to kneel before him. “Oh Severus, remember? I do not like to share.”

Turning, he made for the door that would lead him to the upper chamber, dragging Ginny along behind him. With a snap of his fingers, the sumptuous cloak was once more draped over his shoulders.

“Draco, where are you rushing off too in such a hurry?” Lucius inquired as his son and Professor Snape emerged from the pit nearly dragging the Weasley chit between them. “The night is young and your friends want to see you play with your new toy.” He reached out an elegant hand and stroked the shining red head quivering at his son’s heel.

Draco gave his father a cold glare. “I am used to playing alone, Father. I have no desire to change that habit now.” He whirled, flashing a toothy grin to the room at large. “My dear friends,” he called, and then bowed in the direction of Goyle Senior. “My most excellent host, I bid you good evening. Mr. Goyle, if you would be so kind as to lift your apparation barrier? I am eager to finish unwrapping my gift.”

The elder Goyle pulled his wand and murmured a spell. Draco pressed Ginny’s head tight against his thigh and with a loud crack the pair vanished.

“Ungrateful pup!” Lucius snarled, sotto voice.

“I say,” cried Mr. Parkinson, highly flustered. “You don’t think he truly intends to take the chit along on the honeymoon?”

“Friends!” Bellowed the host. “Lucius is correct, the evening is young and yet holds promise. We have dancing girls!”

A cheer went up as the wizards returned to their sport.

Severus Snape stared at the spot from which Draco and Ginny had vanished and wondered about his young friend’s actions. He would linger for a bit so as not to arouse suspicions and then he would have a word or two with Draco.

TBC

Did Tom’s thoughts come across properly? The potion is messing with Ginny’s head big time. I wasn’t sure how to handle this part of the chapter.

My thanks to fallenwitch for her careful reading and gentle suggestions. She has made this revised chapter much more than it was in the beginning. I hope to have the next chapter up for you all soon. As these are the final days of the school year, I will be busy with parent meetings, graduation for two of my students and making gifts for my own son’s teachers. Be patient with me. I would much rather be writing this stuff than shutting down my classroom. Now, feed me. I hunger.

Love,
gotsnape