Chapter Two

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No one came back that night. Ginny lay frozen for hours, shivering on the cold, dungeon floor. Her wide open eyes stared endlessly at the walls, tears falling noiselessly down her face. A squeak in a dark corner alerted her to the presence of another creature, and had she the ability the move, she would have frozen at that point. She did not, however, have the luxury of choosing whether to move or not. She simply lay there, hearing the noise come closer and closer.

Finally the creature came within sight, illuminated by a single candle. A rat. It could be worse, Ginny reflected, knowing the Malfoy's, they could have kept a far worse beast in the dungeons . The thought offered little comfort.

The rat crept forward, its nose twitching in an absurd manner. Ginny might have found it amusing, had the circumstances been different. The rat, as if aware that Ginny was watching it, glanced up sharply. It stood perfectly still for a minute, as if it had been stupefied as well. Finally, judging that Ginny was no potential threat, it continued forward.

Ginny flinched inwardly as the small creature tentatively climbed onto her unmoving hands. Perhaps it felt a pulse in her body, for again it paused, looking warily at the warm flesh it stood upon. Ginny could feel the rodent scurrying over her hands, and a shiver went up her spine. If such a harmless creature as a rat could crawl all over her without even getting shooed away, what would happen later when Draco came back? Or worse, Lucius?

Suddenly Ginny felt a sharp burst of pain from her thumb. The rat had bitten her! She could feel bloody slowly pooling in the wound, then gently dripping down the side of her finger. That little bugger bites deeps! She scowled internally. The rat continued to nibble on her bound hands, until Ginny felt an increased pressure on the ropes that bound her. The continued nibbling sound meant only one thing– the rat had started eating away at the ropes. A flicker of hope, unbidden, bloomed in Ginny's chest. As the rat continued nibbling and bitting, Ginny's mind flashed to the past twenty-four hours when she had been captured.

Molly had gone with Hermione and Ron to visit Bill in St. Mungo's, where he was still recovering. Arthur had gone to work, and Tonks, who was staying with the Weasleys, had accompanied Harry on his last trip to the Durley's for a formal farewell. Ginny alone was left in the Weasley house. Well, not alone, per se. Remus had locked himself in Charlie's old room, and was currently curled up asleep on the bed. His monthly transformation had begun, and although Madame Pomfrey had managed to whip up a batch of Wolfsbane Potion for him, it wasn't nearly as effective as what Snape had usually prepared.

Thus Ginny was left to her own devices. Finally resorting to advice Fleur had given her earlier, she'd opened up one of Molly's many cookbooks and selected a fairly simple recipe for Pumpkin Cookies. Harry had mentioned he was particularly fond of them, and she was determined to have a delicious snack ready for him when he returned. Propping the cookbook up on the counter, Ginny set to work.

An hour later, Ginny was elbow deep in flour as she placed the second batch of cookies in the oven. The first batch lay cooling on the counter, and her wand supervised the stirring of a third batch on the kitchen table. There was no way only two dozen cookies could be enough for everyone staying at the Weasley house; Ginny had hurried to make two more batches. Feeling somewhat tired, she paused, glancing out the window. To her surprise and delight, she saw Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood strolling up the path towards the house. Grinning, Ginny had snatched up the plate of freshly baked cookies and scurried outside to meet the pair.

Something had seemed odd to her the very moment she got within speaking range. Neville and Luna had exchanged conspiratorial glances before Luna quickly turned her wide eyes on the Weasley house, looking about for other people. Neville stepped forward and threw his arms around Ginny in a rough, tight hug. A warning bell started going off in Ginny's head– Neville was never this unrestrained or physical. As a precaution, Ginny began reaching into her robes for her wand, only to find that she had left it in the kitchen, stirring the cookie dough. She heard Neville utter a deep laugh, before a horrifying an unfamiliar feeling took over her. It felt as if she was being suffocated and squished on all sides, and she succumbed to darkness. When she had awoken, she was bound and gagged in a dark, damp dungeon.

It was hours later, and Ginny was still bound in the dungeon, though she'd managed to loosen the cloth that was gagging her. The rat was still gnawing diligently on the ropes. It must have smelled a bit of residual cookie dough on her hands. If, no, when she got out of there, she was going to make a concentrated effort to be nicer to Fleur. That is, if the rat managed to chew all the way through the ropes.

Suddenly Ginny felt a release of tension around her wrists. The ropes, chewed on and spat out, had broken. Elation filled Ginny and she experimentally moved on of her fingers. Her left index finger twitched ever so slightly. The rat, noticing Ginny's movements, scurried away. The tiny movement had cost Ginny a great deal of energy, but once again hope burgeoned in her chest. All was not lost. Again she tried moving her hands, although this time she shook all her fingers. The rope slid a centimeter down her hand. She rested for another minute, then tried again. And again, and again. The Stupefy was weakening, but it was still working. By her fourth try, Ginny was breathing heavily. But it was worth on. On the floor, a few centimeters away from her hands, lay the rope. Her mission a success, the much weakened girl finally succumbed to the welcoming blankness of unconsciousness.

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Unlike Ginny, Draco had fallen asleep in a large, comfortable bed that night. After they had withdrawn from the dungeons, his father and Snape had drilled him relentlessly in manner and decorum expected at the next meeting, as well as relating the Dark Lord's newest orders to him. In precisely three days, the Dark Lord was to visit. It was then that he would torture the blood traitor, withdrawing all the information he could about the Order of the Phoenix and Harry Potter. When he was finished, Ginevra Weasley would be turned over to the Death Eaters for them to do as they pleased. Draco shuddered involuntarily. He'd heard stories of what the Death Eaters did to their victims, and it wasn't pretty.

Both Lucius and Snape had been annoyingly condescending as they described Draco's task to him: he was to guard the blood traitor, and make sure that she would be ready for the Dark Lord's arrival. The two men were each counting on him to do well, to make up for his blunder with Dumbledore earlier. Lucius saw Draco as a way to ingratiate himself with the Dark Lord. Snape was already beginning to refer to Draco as his protege, and was eagerly awaiting the praise that he would receive for training Draco to that point.

Draco had listened to his father and Snape speak until they were practically blue in the face, all the while nodding and repeating the directions until they'd become firmly tattooed on his brain. Honestly, did they have so little faith? Draco had fumed inwardly. Finally, Lucius had declared that Draco was ready, and the boy was permitted to return to his room. He fell asleep that night, his hand unconsciously touching the vivid Dark Mark on his forearm.

The platinum boy slept peacefully that night, awakening leisurely to find a house elf with a breakfast tray standing beside his bed. It was only as he was spreading a thick layer of marmalade on his toast that he remembered Ginny, still locked away in the dungeons. Chewing thoughtfully on the food, he decided he'd bring some water and toast down when he went to check on her. It wouldn't do to have her fainting from hunger at the Dark Lord's feet.

Stretching, Draco slid out of the bed and padded over to where his clothes lay. His grey eyes fell upon a folded black robe and white mask– his Death Eater garb. Remembering how Ginny had taunted him the previous day, he scowled. This will show her who is in power, he decided, donning the black robe. Placing the mask over his pale, pointed face, Draco snatched up a piece of cold toast and began making his way down to the dungeons.

"Good morning, Weasel," Draco announced haughtily, striding into the cold, subterranean room. Ginny was where they had left her the previous night, huddled in the center of the room. Smirking, Draco dropped the piece of toast onto the chair he had occupied while 'guarding' Ginny. The girl still seemed to be frozen, though the Stupefy should have worn off hours ago. She must be sleeping, Draco though, a smirk forming on his lips. Well, she wouldn't be asleep for much longer.

Draco took a step forward, then placed a well aimed kick at Ginny's midsection. His foot made contact, but not with her torso. Unexpectedly her hands– unbound– shot out and snatched his ankle, yanking it back suddenly. With a cry of surprise, Draco crashed to the floor. At once, Ginny was on top of him pummeling him with her tiny fists. She'd never been particularly strong, having inherited Arthur Weasley's thin frame but none of his height. Yet now her hate and anger overtook her small stature, as she ruthlessly hit the boy beneath her.

Draco flailed his arms and howled as Ginny beat him, but it was useless against the redhead's fury. Suddenly, Ginny stopped. She'd located his wand, and Draco found himself looking down his nose at the thin strip of wood pointed right at him.

"Take off the robe and mask," Ginny demanded, the eery calm of her voice belied by the angry red flush of her cheeks. Draco, not wishing to be hexed, complied. Glaring at him as the clothes were placed at her feet, Ginny raised the wand. " Stupefy!" The boy crumpled at her feet just as she had at his hours ago. She took the ropes she had managed to untie from around her ankles, and tied them firmly around Draco's wrists. It was, she mused, an ironic reversal of roles.

Slipping the Death Eater garb on with a shudder, Ginny exited the cell, closing the door soundly behind her. It was still early, she recalled as she hurried down the passage. Hopefully no one would be about. Clutching Draco's wand in her hand in case she did come across somebody, the girl continued forward, spying a bit of light at the end of the dimly lit corridor. A door! Malfoy Manor was built on a hilltop, and that must have been one of the many secret entrances built in the uneven terrain. It had obviously been used recently, for whoever had opened it had failed to close it properly and a sliver of sunlight had made its way into the dungeons. Wanting to cry for happiness, Ginny eased the heavy stone door open, slipping out into the blinding sunlight. She was free!

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