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Living Through the End	By : QueenC Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 4392 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Living Through the End
- 1
Title: Living Through the End (1/1)
Author: QueenC
Feedback: queenc@HotPOP.com
Pairing(s): Ginny Weasley/Lucius Malfoy
Rating: NC-17 (to be safe)
Disclaimer: If I were J. K. Rowling, Lucius Malfoy would be in every scene in every book. Naked.
Distribution: Anywhere I send it. Anyone else wants it just let me know.
Categories: Drama/Angst, First Time, PWP, Darkfic, Violence
Spoilers: The first four books. Anything after that is from my twisted mind. In this fic, Ginny is in her seventh year at Hogwarts.
Summary: Sometimes the ending isn't as good as it seems.

Author's Notes: This fic is first person, from Ginny's POV. This is a dark fic which deals with rape, torture, and other wonderful, er, I mean horrible things. *eg* Do not read this fic if you are easily offended by dark themes. Also, this fic is unbeta'd, which means that all the typos and stuff are mine. Words in *'s are emphasized. Enjoy!

Dedication: To all the Ginny/Lucius shippers out there, who don't have nearly enough fics to satisfy them.

WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK, DISTURBING THEMES. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

******

I always knew this day would come. Ever since the first time I woke up in this room that looks like a palace yet is really a prison, I knew that I was on a crash course with the inevitable. I could feel it creeping up on me, waiting to pounce when I least expected it. And, now it finally has.

I know that I should be afraid. And, I guess the part of me that hasn't already been corrupted is. However, considering all I've been through, been forced to endure, I can't actually bring myself to care one way or another.

He's done that to me, you know. With little to no effort, Lucius Malfoy has caused me to stop hoping, stop wishing; stop praying for a savior that will never appear. I don't know how long I've been here, but however long, it only took him about half that time to destroy the person that I once was. But he hasn't been able to break me completely.

At least, not yet.

Now, though, as I watch from my balcony as he strolls across the grounds leading to his house, I'm struck with a feeling of dread the likes of which I've never felt before. I may not be able to leave this place, but that doesn't mean that I don't know what's going on elsewhere.

I hear talk amongst the house elves, whispers of the fall of the resistance. And, of course, he revels in confirming these tales. He tells me, over an intimate dinner, how Dumbledore's mindless followers are losing more ground every day. How it's just a matter of time before Harry Potter comes to the 'same sticky end' as his father did years before.

I've often wondered why he continually uses that exact phrase, although I don't dare ask him. It may have taken me some time, but I've learned my place by now. And, while I'm free to ask about current events, the weather, and a small list of other topics, I am *never* allowed to ask anything personal.

You know, it took over four hours of combined beatings before I finally quit testing that rule. I guess Ron was right when he said I was too thick for my own good.

Still, once I accepted that I was most certainly *not* an equal, even in the confines of this room, things ran much smoother. Not that he was kind, mind you. Far from it, in fact.

Come to think of it, I wonder if the word 'kind' is even in the Malfoy vocabulary. I know I certainly never heard Draco use the phrase or act out its definition while at Hogwarts.

At any rate, I digress. The point is, while Lucius Malfoy certainly wasn't going to win any awards for the best kidnapper, at least the beatings had stopped. But, in their place came something far worse.

The first time he kissed me, I thought I was going to die. By that time, I knew better than to fight back or resist. Yet, to feel him against me, his erection pressing into my stomach, was almost too much to take. Fortunately, before too long he was finished. Pulling back, he stared into my eyes as he ran his hand gently along the side of my face.

"Soon," he whispered, so soft that his voice was difficult to hear over the pounding of my heart. "When Potter is dead and the Dark Lord has risen to power, you will be mine." Then, he was gone, in a flurry of robes and white-blonde hair.

From that day on, it was like that every time he returned. We would eat our parody of a romantic dinner, discuss the current state of the war between Dumbledore and Voldemort, and he would kiss and fondle me until it was time to leave.

Sometimes he would have me suck him until he came, watching with glee as I swallowed his salty essence. Other times he would lick and suck on me, his fingers gently prodding, until I felt as if I were going to fall apart from the pleasure. However, through it all, I remained a virgin, he made certain of that.

You see, he was saving that for when Voldemort won the war.

I guess he saw it as a prize of some sorts. A way to properly celebrate the victory that he felt the side of Dark deserved. I honestly don't know, and quite frankly don't care. All I know is, the way he's walking across the lawn, the lightness to his step, can only mean one thing.

The war is finally over.

Stepping into my room, I look around at the place I've lived for far too long. I don't consider it home, of course. That would mean that I enjoy being here, that I *want* to be his prisoner, his whore.

Shaking my head, I glance at the fireplace, idly wondering if we're going to have a final meal before he gives me his news. Somehow, I think not.

You know, it's interesting how I've never bothered to consider that he might let me live afterwards. I guess it's because I know, even if he doesn't physically kill me, I'll certainly find a way to do it myself. After all, idle kisses and touches are one thing. But, the thought of Lucius Malfoy, one of the cruelest men this world has ever known, taking something of mine that I can never give to someone else again is not something I can live with.

As the knob on my door begins to turn, my last thought is of my friends. I can only hope that I'll see them again, wherever their spirits are resting now, once this is finally over.

I notice that he doesn't enter the room as casually as he usually does. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would think he was in a hurry. Of course, perhaps he is. He has, after all, waited quite a while for this night.

Dropping my eyes in a show of submission, I force my body to relax as he stalks toward me. Grabbing me by my upper arms, he growls at me to look at him, so I do.

Smiling at me, he gently kisses my forehead. "It's over, my sweet," he whispers. Then, his mouth is upon me, devouring me in my entirety.

I return the kiss with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, knowing that things will be easier for me if I appear to be interested. However, apparently that isn't what he wants, because the next thing I know I'm being tossed on the bed, my cheek stinging from where he's slapped me.

"Don't," he practically hisses at me. "Don't play the willing whore. It's unbecoming of you."

Mutely I nod, unsure what else to do. As realization dawns on me, I have to fight myself not to scramble away from him. The intense way he's staring at me makes it all too clear. He has no intentions of taking my virginity tonight.

He's going to steal it.

For a moment, I consider trying to get away. Going down a list in my mind, I try thinking of a way to escape. Jumping off the balcony won't work. Even if he hadn't put charms up to prevent that sort of thing, I would never make it across the room before he caught me. Quickly, I glance toward the door that leads to the rest of the house. Of course, it's shut. However, I can't remember if he actually put the wards back in place upon entering.

Before I can formulate any more of the plan that is certain to fail, he is pulling the robe from my body. Blushing as I always do when I'm nude before him, I clench my hands into fists and force them into the covers of the bed.

Apparently satisfied with what he sees, he kneels on the bed and grabs my legs, pulling me to him. As I lay my head back on the mattress, I scramble to think of something that will take my mind off of what is happening.

The picture of Ron's face on Christmas morning, when we were both too young to attend Hogwarts comes to mind and I hold tightly to the memory, determined not to let it slip away. Unfortunately, my mind has other ideas, and the instant I feel his hands force open my thighs the picture is gone.

Eyes wide, staring at the ceiling, I wince slightly when his fingers press into me, causing slight tremors of pain to spread throughout my body. I can feel myself stretching and tearing to accommodate his long digits and I nearly hyperventilate as panic sets in.

This is really happening.

Suddenly, the fear that I thought he'd beaten from me is back with a vengeance. Snapping out of the submissive state that I was in, I press my hands against his chest and try to push him away. I idly wonder if I'll be punished for physically resisting, then decide that *nothing* could be worse than the fate he has planned for me.

Crying out, I beg him to stop, my voice hoarse from lack of use. Tears begin to leak out of my eyes, blurring my vision and wetting the hair near my temples. Still, his fingers continue their journey, moving in and out of me at an agonizingly slow pace.

Eventually, he must tire from this, because he's suddenly lying directly over me, his face inches from my own. With one hand he grabs both my wrists and pull them above my head, holding them there.

I gasp when I feel his member pressing against my entrance and my struggles return with vigor. Pleading with him now, my cries fall on deaf ears. With horror, I watch a smirk fill his face as he shoves himself into me.

Immediately, I'm lost in a sea of unimaginable pain.

Screaming with everything my battered soul has left, I try to get my legs free, only to find that any movement causes the pain to increase tenfold. Finally, I lie still, sobbing silently as I wait for the humiliation to end.

He moves inside of me at a languid pace, although his face is a picture of concentration. As his gaze locks with mine, I'm unable to look away, out of fear that he will somehow make it worse. After a while, he begins to speed up, each thrust sending sharp jolts of agony through my body.

Lowering his face to my neck, I can feel his hot breath quicken as he nears his release. Closing my eyes, I patiently pray for this to end, for me to finally know peace once more. Finally, I feel him shooting himself inside of me and I whimper in defeat. Remaining still, I wait for the curse that will end my life.

Instead, I fell him press something into my hand and I open my eyes in confusion. He is still lying over me, although he is no longer inside of me. His eyes locked on mine, he squeezes my hand and whispers, "You're free."

Turning my head, I glance at the wand that he's placed in my hand. For a moment, I can't comprehend what he means. The pain and humiliation are too fresh and my brain can't get past the fact that I'm not yet dead. Then, looking from the piece of wood to one of the most hated men in the world, I understand.

Voldemort didn't win the war.

Gasping, I feel tears begin to sting my eyes. Squeezing the wand so hard I think it may break, I shake my head.

"No," I whisper. "It can't be." Looking back at him, still lying over me looking nothing like the proud man he once was, I snap. Pushing against him, I scramble backwards, ignoring the pain in my body.

"Bastard!" I shriek. Looking at the wand again, I pause. It's in my hands now. I could kill him right now. He *wants* me to, in fact. But, then I realize something.

If I kill him, I'll become him.

Dropping the wand as if it had scorched me, I quickly pull my robe around me, my eyes still locked on his desperate face. Suddenly, we're pulled from our face off as the door flies open.

Shocked, I watch as Harry enters the room, flanked by Draco, Ron, and Hermione. They look so different out of their Hogwarts robes.

Moving toward me, Hermione whispers a healing spell, stopping the blood that is seeping down my thighs. The blood I wasn't even aware I was losing, in fact.

It is taking everything Draco has to keep my brother from killing Lucius, as Harry reads off the crimes he's been charged with. Finally, in a blur, they have him in custody and are leading him away, while Hermione is whispering words of comfort in my ear.

Unable to let it simply end like this, I push the other girl away, my gaze locked on Lucius as I ask, "Why me?"

He laughs then, the same dark laugh as he's always had. Good, at least they didn't take that away. Staring at me from the doorway, he replies, "Because I could."

Silent, I watch as they lead him away. After a few moments, I silently stand and let Hermione guide me from the room. As we walk, I let the tears fall again, my hatred for him growing stronger with each moment.

I don't hate him because of what he did. The kidnaping, the beatings, even the rape—those are all things to be expected of him. No, I hate him for what he didn't do. For the hell he made certain would be inflicted on me long after he's rotting in Azkeban. For the nightmares and questions and sympathy I'll have to face for the rest of my life.

I hate him because he let me live.

The End.
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Living Through the End