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Elemental	By : AngelaBlythe Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Ginny Views: 3286 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
ELEMENTAL

~by The Labris~

CHAPTER EIGHT:

Under the Waves

A Drive in the Country

Ginny frowned at the gentle bumping of the carriage.
It had been making her sick for a kilometer. Just how big was Dorothea�s
Anti-Apparition Shield anyway? Fighting the urge to puke, she looked out
the window and sighed. St. Petersburg was far behind them. They�d Portkeyed in to a pit stop at St. Petersburg State
University, where famous sociologist Roman Mogilevsky
met them. Mogilevsky was a wizard working in
secret for the Russian government. Moody spoke Russian, so translating
wasn�t a problem, but Mogilevsky spoke perfect
English.

Mogilevsky had shown them to their
carriage, given them some advice, and sent them on their way. Now, Ginny
was again in a carriage and was heading to Dorothea�s house. She was
excited, she supposed. Mainly because she was going to meet Dorothea in
person.

Ginny didn�t know what to think of Moody. She�d met
him once, the real Moody, but hadn�t talked to him. It wasn�t as if he
scared her, but he was rather terrifying looking. And he was big.
Ginny wondered about stable too. Dumbledore told her that after the
incident in her third year, St. Mungo�s had improved
his psychological condition with the latest healing and sanity-inducing
charms. It didn�t make her any more comfortable. She wished
Dumbledore hadn�t told her anything.

Ginny almost gasped as they pulled up to the house. It
was huge! It looked white and pristine from where she was. As she
got closer, she saw huge gardens and fountains; rose bushes were in magical
bloom, and the towering, crystal windows were bright and lined with plants and
ivy. The driveway led to an overhang where an outdoor chandelier hung,
lighting the drive in the overcast afternoon.

Moody opened the door for her, and she stepped out, eyes
flashing over the house. She took in the ivy. To the naked, Muggle eye, it was just ivy. To her and any wizard
with the slightest idea of what a rune was, it was an intricate design of
highly powerful protective and warning runes. Ginny smiled at it, placing
it in line with Dorothea�s personality.

She heard Moody grunt as the door opened. Dorothea
stood in the doorway, an unreadable expression on her face. She stood
like that for a while, her lips pressed together, her face tight, her eyes hard
and, Ginny noticed, not on her.

�Dorothea,� Moody grunted. It was the first word Ginny
had heard them say besides �watch your head� when she almost ran into a low
hanging sign at the university.

Dorothea stiffened again, her lips taut. �Alastor.�

They stared each other down, neither backing away.

�Ginevra,� Dorothea said calmly,
still not looking at her. After a moment, a smile, an unwilling one,
albeit, broke onto her face, and she faced Ginny. �So nice to have you,
dear. Come along now, I�m not going to bite.�

�Hello, Dorothea,� Ginny said politely. �Your house is
beautiful. And huge. Do you live here alone?�

�My nieces, Carlotta and Ursula, come with their families
every so often,� Dorothea said as Ginny walked up the stairs and into the
beautiful home. �They won�t be here this week though.�

The house was large and decorative without being gaudy or
flamboyant. Rich greens, blues and reds mingled on the thick rugs, the
wood floors opening up to dark, cream-colored walls. Intricate oil
paintings lined the walls, along with assorted vases and other clay sculptures
sitting on wooden tables. Hallways stretched out from the main hall,
measuring the length of the house.

Dorothea brought them into a large dining area, places set
for three and delicious food on the table. Ginny sat, still in awe of
everything around her. She had never been in a house this inviting or
this grand. The high ceiling had Sistine Chapel-esque
paintings of angels and cupids, dancing in a sun-drenched sky of clouds.
The long, wooden table looked like it could seat fifty comfortably, seventy
otherwise.

Ginny ate sparingly, not really paying attention to the fact
that there was dead silence in the room until the meal ended and Dorothea
turned to her.

�Well, Ginevra,� she said mildly,
�would you like to see some more of the house? It isn�t that long of a
tour, and I�m sure Alastor will want to know
everything about everything that goes on in this house.�

�Um, I would enjoy that, Dorothea,� Ginny said, completely
baffled.

Dorothea smiled, set her napkin on the table, and
stood. �This way now.�

She led them through an arched hallway, similar to the
first, except different paintings. �There are two wings, the north and
the south. The north has the bedrooms, guestrooms, etcetera. The
south contains the studies, libraries, billiard room, kitchens, dining room,
dancing room, and a few trophy rooms.�

She opened a door, and there were books as high as the mind
could imagine. Books upon books upon books lined the walls. The
ceiling was enchanted with clouds, and the books went that high.

�As you can see, the main library. The doors all lead
to private studies.� Dorothea closed the doors and moved on.

�Out behind the house is a hedge maze. I wouldn�t
recommend it though, Ginevra; it likes to
change. Behind the maze are the stables, behind the stables is the lake,
and behind the lake are the pasturelands for the horses. All around us
for about fifteen kilometers are my house lands, mostly pasture, forest, and
lakes.�

Another door was presented as a beautiful ballroom opened to
them. The magnificent chandelier looked as if it must have weighed a
ton. Well, perhaps not that much, but it looked heavy. The floor
was marble, and the ceiling again decorated with angelic scenes.

After closing the door, Dorothea continued, walking up a
flight of stairs. �The house is a little over 150 years old and was
designed by the Scottish architect, Charles Cameron. Cameron designed
such palaces for Catherine the Great at Pavlovsk and Tsarskoe Selo. The design
is original and the paintings, too.�

They headed towards the north wing as Dorothea continued her
commentary. �Though Cameron was a Muggle, his
designs for �sneaky� entrances, trap doors, etcetera, were far beyond his
time. When the Russian wizarding family Mogilevsky sold it to me, they had owned it for nearly
seventy-five years. The family was an old, noble family from tsarist
Russia and had charmed so many rooms, doors, hallways, etcetera, that it took Fidelius Flitwick, Albus and me three days to discover and break most of them.

�And these,� pushing open a wooden set of double doors to
display a lavish bedroom and turning to Ginny, �are your rooms, Ginevra. My rooms,� she said, pointing up, �are on
the fourth and top floor, the master room. Alastor,
your rooms are on the third, between Ginevra and
me. I trust you will be able to find it and the passages that lead to
every room in the house. Yes, yours is the room that can do that. I
have to talk with Ginevra, so here is a map.�

She handed Moody an old parchment and smiled tersely.
Moody only grunted and headed to the stairs. Ginny watched as Dorothea
visibly relaxed and headed into Ginny�s new rooms. Ginny�s trunk was
already there, and her things were unpacked.

The room was...generous, to say the least. The huge
four-poster looked almost petite inside the room. It was dark green and
blue, the carpets meshing with the bedspread and wallpapered walls. It
was magnificent, all the way to the ivory and marble bathroom.

�Dorothea,� Ginny began, turning to the smiling Russian
aristocrat, �this is ��

�Beautiful, I know,� Dorothea said. �I had them
redesigned for you. But now I think you�re going to have to get some
sleep. Tomorrow we�ll start lessons.�

Ginny nodded, and Dorothea closed the doors lightly behind
her. A smile broke out on Ginny�s face as she turned to the bed and
immediately hopped on it. Burying her face in the fresh fabric, she
sighed, thinking of Draco, and went to sleep.

Click the Focus Button

�Well, what did you expect? You have to focus,�
Dorothea drawled.

She rolled her eyes as Ginny fell down on the pillows lining
the floor. Ginny groaned and rubbed her head. How was she ever
supposed to let herself drift down to the Remnants if she couldn�t follow a
Broken Dream?

�But I don�t even have anything to tag onto,� Ginny
complained. �If I was tethered to something, a Broken Dream, I could make
it down there.�

Dorothea frowned and sipped her tea, looking down on Ginny
from her seat at the table. They were in the library. Ginny sniffed
and looked up at the clouds. They weren�t like the clouds at
Hogwarts. These clouds seemed to be real or near to it. She
wondered if they rained.

�The reality of it, Ginevra,�
Dorothea said sharply, �is that you can�t go down into the Remnants tethered to
a Broken Dream and expect to make it out again. You would get caught in
an undercurrent. You�ll just have to keep meditating.�

�Down and down and down we go; when we surface, nobody
knows,� Ginny mumbled grumpily.

�Where is a better question,� Dorothea said. �Now try
again. Deep thoughts now. Like you are under the water. Down,
down, swimming down to the dark world beneath. Down, down, down...�

Ginny took a deep breath, sprawling on the pillows and
closing her eyes to the clouds above her. Down, down, down...swim down, Ginevra...down, down, down...deep thoughts...down, down,
down... Ginny found herself relaxing and let herself in the familiar door
into the center of her mind. Deeper, now, Ginevra...
So she went deeper, delving into her dream state and letting the magic wash
over her. It was steady and organized, or as organized as the mind could
truly be. Deeper...deeper...down into the deep...

It was like being tossed in cold water. Ginny
sputtered and tried to keep her wits about her, to calm down. It was
dark, so dark. And big...so big. There was no light, an unending
pitch, a vortex. It was unnatural. She had to get out; she had to
breathe. Floundering, she felt a force pulling her down.

NO!

She formed a shield around herself to protect her
mind. She swam upwards, forcing the Broken Dreams away as she ascended.

And she could breathe. She sat up, grasping her
throat, but found she wasn�t out of breath at all.

�Ginevra!� Dorothea said, relief
written in her voice. She was crouched by the ground, kneeling on a few
pillows, her face worried and lined with concern. �Are you all
right? Ginevra, talk to me.�

Ginny looked around the room, slightly confused. �Am I
in a Broken Dream?�

�No,� Dorothea sighed, sitting back on her haunches.
�No, you are here with me, Ginevra. Gods!
Where did you go? All of a sudden, you were writhing on the floor,
screaming you couldn�t see and couldn�t breathe.�

Ginny tried to sit, but the firm hand of Dorothea rested on
her shoulder, the older woman�s eyes pinning her down. �I went to the
Remnants,� Ginny whispered, looking about her. �Are you sure this isn�t a
Broken Dream?�

Dorothea only sighed again. �No, this is no Broken
Dream, Ginevra.�

Ginny swallowed and finally sat up. �You�re right,
Dorothea,� she said. �I would have been lost had I tried to weight myself
on a Broken Dream.�

Dorothea nodded.

�But I can�t see anything,� Ginny pondered. �I need a
lantern...and maybe some oxygen. I can�t breathe in there. It�s
this huge vacuum of nothing. Even the Broken Dreams are just
ghosts. Really powerful ghosts.�

�You saw nothing then?� Dorothea asked, helping Ginny up to
the table.

Ginny shook her head. �No, but I think I have an
idea.�

�Oh,� Dorothea said. She poured some tea and put a
restoring tonic in it, handing it to Ginny.

Ginny took a delicate sip and found it tasted quite
good. �This isn�t bad.�

�If it were bad, no one would drink it. Now, as you
were saying.�

�Oh, yes,� Ginny said numbly, taking another sip.
�Well, I was thinking maybe I could make a dream to tether myself to. Not
a Broken Dream, but my own dream. In the dream state, I could rescue my
mother, bring us out on my own dream.�

Dorothea looked at Ginny harshly. �Make a dream for
yourself? As in, send it to yourself.�

�Well, yes,� Ginny said, a bit uncertain now. �Why
not?�

Dorothea snorted. �Well, it�s only that Dreamweavers can�t do that. And if we could, they
probably wouldn�t be strong enough to withstand the Remnants. They rip
normal people�s dreams to shreds; ours wouldn�t withstand any better.
Besides, Artificial Dreams are weaker than real.�

�I�m good at Artificial Dream Animation,� Ginny pouted,
finishing off the cup of tea and pouring another.

�Yes,� Dorothea agreed. �Yes, you are good at
it. But you still need practice. You have the ability to be the
best, Ginevra. I think you can save your
mother, but I also think you need to practice.�

�So that�s it. Practice? No hints, no
suggestions? Just �practice�?� Ginny said, her voice on edge.

Dorothea�s eyes narrowed. �It is all you can do; for
now, that is. You will take your Loom and Weave an Artificial Dream thick
and strong enough to ride down to the depths of the Remnants. You will
take your mother back with you. And you can�t do it without practice.�

Ginny stared at her. Dorothea didn�t break eye contact
or flinch, merely stared Ginny down and remained calm. �It�s all you can
do now, Ginevra,� she said.

After a moment, Ginny sighed and nodded. Then she
stood, making her way to some of the books.

�You should probably wait for a while,� Dorothea said
primly. �Your energy is taxed. Perhaps you should start Weaving
tonight, and you can continue until I think you have it good enough. Then
we�ll start discussing how to get you down to your mother.�

Ginny nodded, eyes following her fingers as she brushed them
past the books on the walls, thinking absently how Hermione would have loved
this place. Sighing, she looked at Dorothea. She was reading something,
though Ginny didn�t catch the title. Another sigh and she coughed
politely. �I�m going to get something to eat and then take a nap.
I�m feeling tired; you�re right. I�ll start Weaving tonight.�

Dorothea only nodded as Ginny left.

What Have You Learned?

A chill wind whipped up and down the tops of the tall
pines. The stars shone dully, and no moon peaked about the canopy of the
trees. Draco thought he could see the lights of
the Aurora Borealis flitting above him and to the north. But then, there
was a Death Eater strike to the north of him. He shivered and pulled his
fur coat up around his cheeks, thanking the gods for the fur-lined hat he
wore. Looking over at his father, he frowned.

Lucius was standing calmly, wand
drawn, waiting for the rest of the members to return. Draco
hadn�t been invited on the purging mission of Alta, Norway . Draco didn�t regret it either. He would have had to
kill, something he�d never wanted to do. His father be damned; he wasn�t
going to end up like that. So putting on the most superior fa�ade he had,
Draco sneered at each Death Eater as they entered the
clearing.

For all his persistence, Lucius
still hadn�t broken Draco, and Draco
wasn�t going to let that happen. Not now that he had Ginny, and certainly
not now that he knew Dumbledore would accept him if he turned over to The
Cause.

It almost made Draco snort.
The Cause. What bullshit. The Cause didn�t even know what was going
on. The Cause wasn�t strong enough to stop this. They couldn�t
predict what places the Death Eaters would strike, what Voldemort�s
game was.

�Draco,� Lucius
cooed, breaking Draco�s train of thought. �Now
tell me, son, what have you learned?�

Lucius asked him this after every
purge. What had he learned? Muggles were
weak, and drunken wizards were weaker. What had he learned?
Disobeying Voldemort meant death and sometimes even
worse. What had he learned? If he was going to escape, he was
probably going to have to fake his own death because the Death Eaters would
keep looking for him until he died.

That was why they were in Alta, Norway . They were
tracking down a renegade Death Eater and massacring countless innocent Muggles as a cover-up. They�d been on two of these
missions. Draco remembered what happened to the
first man they caught. It had been in central Africa. Voldemort had placed him in a sun-amplifying cage and left
him in the middle of the Serengeti. The man had cooked to death.
Slowly.

So what had he learned? �They fight braver drunk than
sober.�

It earned a low chuckle from his father, and Draco thought he was going to kill himself when Dolohov landed an arm over his shoulders as he
laughed. Draco fought the urge to roll
his eyes. He sighed and looked out at the Aurora .

He wondered what he would tell Ginny when she asked where he
went and what he did. The truth? Could she handle the truth?
What if he was forced into being a Death Eater? Would she accept
him? Would she still love him if he killed someone?

�Come now, the authorities will be here shortly.� His
father turned to a man in black. �You, set off the Mark and Disapparate last.�

The man nodded, and the rest of the Death Eaters Apparated to a safe spot. It was in Oslo, not too far
out in the country but on a farm-like setting. It was Dolohov�s
summer home. And though the lake was frozen over now, it was stocked full
of fish in the summer and fall. Draco
remembered it from when he was a little boy.

They entered the country house, the group of twelve, and Draco�s father dismissed him to talk to the initiated Death
Eaters. Just as well, as far as Draco was
concerned. He didn�t want to be in the room of child-raping,
women-whoring Death Eaters any more than they wanted him there.

So when he fell in his bed, he reached into his coat pocket,
the one next to his heart, and took out the many-folded, much-loved, multi-read
letter. It was from Ginny...well, Writer. It was the last letter
she had written him before he had to go, the one she left on the windowsill in
Inverted Tower.

Dear Reader,

With all my heart, I
hope this finds you well. After all the things I meant to say in this
letter, I don�t think any of them will come out quite right. Suffice to
know I am thinking of you and wish you happiness.

For you see, I�ve been
called away for spring holiday. I have a mission of sorts that needs to
be taken care of. It has to do with my mother; she is in grave
danger. I cannot tell you where I�m going or why exactly, but rest
assured I will be kept safe. The maximum amount of security is being
provided for my safety.

I want you to know
I�ll be thinking of you while I�m gone. Every moment I have will be
devoted to a memory, and every memory will be in your name. I send my
love and hope to see you well when school resumes.

With all my undying
love,

Writer

Draco shivered again after he read
it. After folding it carefully, lovingly, into a small square, he tucked
it into his pocket and patted it for reassurance. He was going to get
through this because of Ginny. For Ginny. To be with Ginny.
So when school started in the fall, he could go to Dumbledore and tell him
everything he knew. So when he saw her again, he could confess
everything.

Draco sighed and rolled onto his
stomach, trying to push down the fire he felt when he thought of her. Her
hair, her eyes, her skin, her slight dimples, her generous curves, the way she
stretched after she stood, her lips, her ears, her neck, that habit of
caressing her lips with a quill as she thought, her shoulders, her legs, and
who could forget her voice?

Groaning, he turned back over and looked out his window at
the newly risen moon. He could only hope Ginny was looking at the same
moon...

His door opened and closed quickly and quietly as a
shadow. Draco jumped gracefully to his feet,
wand drawn, but not in time to steady himself before the sharp whisper rattled
the panes and his wand flew from his fingers.

�Expelliarmus!�

Draco almost felt intimidated by
the tall, dark figure of his Potions professor. But he sighed, running
his fingers though his hair, and glared at Snape.
He hated it when he did that. Closing the blinds and frowning, he turned
to Snape.

�What do you want?� he asked cautiously. He knew Snape knew something, and he knew Snape
was loyal to The Cause. He learned so much valuable information via
Ginny. Her brother and Potty really were idiots if they thought their
whispers weren�t heard by her cute little ears.

Snape growled, flipping his wand
back at him. �I thought you were someone else. You don�t usually
let your guard down like that, Malfoy.�

Draco snorted. �I was
thinking. Now, we better make this fast, or Lucius
will suspect something. Do you have it?�

Snape nodded, taking the medallion
out of his shirt and pulling over his head. �All you have to do is say
�listen� and the name of the person whose voice you want to record. Once
you do that, play along and try not to bring attention to it.�

Draco nodded, looping the leather
string over his head and fingering the silver, circular medallion briefly
before tucking it into his shirt. �Thanks,� he said to Snape with a nod.

Snape eyed him carefully, a sneer
fading on his face and a look of worry, and maybe concern, drifting into his
eyes. �Take care of yourself, Draco. I�m
leaving this company, joining the group with the Flints. They�ll be in
England, closer to Voldemort.�

�I will,� Draco said darkly.

Snape looked at him with
unreadable eyes. �In the event you�re discovered, you can contact me
through that. But it will reveal both of us. Don�t do it unless you
absolutely must.�

Draco nodded again.

Another unreadable look from Snape
and he swept from the room, his robes billowing behind him. Draco sat on the bed and put his head between his
hands. How was he going to pull this off? How was he going to stay
alive? Snape had been strong, so he could be
strong.

Alone, in the middle of a group of Death Eaters, he would
collect incriminating evidence, and when term began again, he could give it to
Dumbledore. He took some of his self-brewed No Sleep Potion and
waited. The possibility of getting killed in this house was much higher
than in his own, and he didn�t want to take any chances.

The Trouble with Memories, Part II

Dorothea closed her book and looked at Ginny. She was
still meditating, Weaving. She looked calm and controlled like that, her
legs crossed in front of her and her eyes closed. She was going to be
powerful; Dorothea could feel it. She could feel it in her bones, in her
blood and, yes, in her heart. No one had touched Dorothea�s heart for a
long time until Ginny had come.

She had friends in the Coven, and her nieces visited often
with their growing families, but no one had been more of a companion than
Ginny. She was like the daughter Dorothea never had but had always longed
for. She had her touches of temperament and fire but was also caring and
human. Dorothea smiled at the fact that they didn�t necessarily always
need to talk about Dreamweaving.

Ginny sighed, opening her eyes. She smiled and said,
�I think I�ve got a good one.�

Dorothea nodded, setting down her book and opening her mind
to Ginny�s. And then she was in Ginny�s Loom, her inner Weaving
Circle. The threads were tight, organized, and strong. They seemed
to be sturdy and giving at the same time, almost perfect. But there were
loose threads, a few runs in the perfect dream fabric.

Dorothea was very proud. To have come that far in the
small amount of time was an accomplishment indeed, a very great one. Most
Dreamweavers worked for years before they were able
to make an Artificial Dream even half that good. A fifteen-year-old girl
had done it in just a few months. And Dorothea had taught her. It
made her smile inwardly as she thought of how clever and talented Ginny was.

�So?� Ginny asked expectantly, her hauntingly bronze eyes
shining hopefully. �Is it good enough?�

Dorothea smiled. �This is very good, Ginevra, very good indeed. Many Dreamweavers
would be honored to have Weaved an Artificial Dream that well. But to go
down in the Remnants, you are going to have to make it perfect. No runs
and no loose threads.�

Ginny sighed and shook her head. �Tomorrow I will get
it.�

�I�m sure you will,� Dorothea said lightly. �But now
you will have to go off to bed and have a good rest. Tomorrow you will
Weave a new one on a new Loom, and we�ll test it.�

Ginny nodded and made her way out of the library.
Dorothea smiled sadly after her, taking her wand and Banishing the pillows to
the far side of the library on one of the large couches. The books
Dorothea was reading went into their respective places, and she turned off the
lights in the library before closing the doors.

She walked down to the kitchen, intent on getting a brew of
Dreamless Sleep from her stores. The girl was just too damn strong.
Even her shields didn�t hold through the girl�s Filtering Weave. It was a
strong Weave that only allowed the best dreams to enter the person�s
mind. And for Dorothea, waking up with some of those memories fresh on
her mind hurt. Happy memories weren�t all they were made out to be.

So, cup in hand, she made her way up to her rooms.
Just that act brought her by his rooms. She shivered when she passed his
door, trying to fight back the urge to burst in and give him a piece of her
mind. But she kept walking, breathing deeply as she continued down the
hall.

�Should you really be drinking that?� a deep, baritone voice
said from behind her. �It�s addictive.�

Dorothea froze, knowing who it was. He must have come
through one of the passageways. She turned slowly, placed the brew on a
table with a vase and stared him in the eye. He had a few more scars than
when she last saw him twenty years ago. One less eye and one less
leg. But it didn�t stop her from remembering all the things that had
happened...and all the things that hadn�t.

She tilted her chin defiantly and said sharply, �I don�t see
how it�s any of your business, but yes, I think I should be drinking it.
Would you like some?�

He just snorted and came over to it, checking it for poisons
no doubt. She remained still, trying to not let her emotions show.
When he appeared satisfied, he turned, both of his eyes on her. She
couldn�t see emotion in the blue one. The black one held pain, but
Dorothea couldn�t read the other emotions.

�What?� he grunted, looking down on her.

Dorothea remained calm and said quietly, �Nothing, Alastor. Nothing at all.�

Sighing, Dorothea turned from him and reached out for the
glass of Dreamless Sleep. That was when she heard it. And it
stopped her cold.

�Thea...don�t turn away like
that.�

Her hand dropped to her side, and she turned to face
him. He looked broken, both physically and emotionally. His eye
held sorrow, pain, hope, so many things. His posture was defeated, and
his thin lips parted slightly.

�Thea,� he whispered again, �you
don�t have to be like this.�

She swallowed and said in a hard voice, �Yes, I do, Alastor. Yes, I do.�

�Why?�

�Because you hurt me,� Dorothea said in a small voice,
wrapping her arms around her stomach and looking up at him through her
eyelashes. �Because you hurt me so much I had to.�

�That was the past,� Moody grumbled, soft and firm at the
same time. �This is now, Thea; this is
now. Move past it. We all did things we didn�t want. We all
sacrificed. When it happened, it happened; we can�t change it.�

Dorothea�s eyes shot at him. �Move past it? Move
past it?� she whispered harshly. �When did you ever move past it?
You lived in it for years! Decades! You chased them so long you
forgot why! You forgot me! You forgot us! It hurt, Alastor. And now I hurt!�

�I�m so sorry,� he whispered. �I am truly sorry, Thea. I only did what needed to be done. If I
hadn�t, then no one else would have.�

Dorothea chose not to respond to that. Instead, she
hung her head and let the tears come. He was so damn noble! Why
were all those Gryffindor so damnably noble? And why did she have to love
one? She should have just stayed in St. Petersburg and married a nice Durmstrang boy like her father wanted! But no! Albus Dumbledore, Alastor Moody,
and Evangeline Laferriere had to fly into her life,
and look where it had got her. Broken-hearted and emotionally
scarred. And why? All for a man.

�Did you ever love me?� Dorothea asked desperately.
�Even once, did you care?�

�Yes,� Moody said. �Of course I did! Why else
would I have said it? I could never lie to you, Thea,
not ever.�

Dorothea stood there in silence for a while, tears ready to
leak out of her eyes any moment. She knew she must look a wreck.
And weak. She must have looked terribly weak. She didn�t care.

�And now?� she whispered lowly. �Do you still love me,
Alastor?�

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes hard and
determined. �I never stopped, Thea. I
said I would never stop, and I never have.�

�Oh, Alastor...� Dorothea sobbed,
a tear trickling down the side of her face.

�Thea...�

And they were crushed together, Dorothea forgetting all
shame or pain when his lips reached hers and his arms held her again. The
memories brought floods of joy and happiness, and she kissed him with vivid
fervor. She could feel her heart beating faster and faster as the seconds
rolled into minutes. Finally he released her, holding her tiny form to
his chest and breathing into her hair.

�I won�t leave you again, Thea,�
he said quietly, kissing the top of her head. Bracing her shoulders with
his large hands, he pulled her back and looked into her eyes. �I love
you.�

Dorothea smiled through her tears. �I know, Alastor,� she said firmly, wondering how it would feel to
wake up in his arms again.

Retaining Yourself, Part II

What was her name? Where was she? She couldn�t
see. Why was it so dark? And those...those visions. Did she
have visions? What was her name? Did she have a name? Why was
she here? She was hungry. She was tired. But she had to keep
moving. Why? Why? There was an island... NO! Keep moving. Why?
She forgot. What was her name? What was that voice? It
sounded like...

Mother...

Lifesaver

Ginny collapsed on the pillows, thanking Dorothea silently
for them once again. The fifth Weave she had made that week. What
was it? Saturday? Yes, Saturday sounded right. Her fifth
Weave. This one would be used to save her mother. No loose ends, no
free threads, no runs, no mistakes.

All she needed now was a light. She couldn�t find her
mother without a light. She pursed her lips and stared up at the
ceiling. It was raining lightly, but the rain never hit under five meters
from the ground. It just sort of stopped in mid-air.

Ginny sniffed and closed her eyes. A light.
Where was she going to find a lantern? There had to be something.
If there was one thing Ginny had learned in her life, there was always a way of
doing anything. All you had to do was find the right way. She
smiled wanly when she remembered her mother had told her that.

And it hit her. A light? What about her
crystal? It was, after all, a metaphysical crystal. She couldn�t
really take it out of her mind, but she could take it to the Remnants.
She remembered Dorothea saying when she Weaved her dreams under her crystal�s
light, it would be stronger and would carry her psychic scent
better. Ginny bit her lip. Would her mother remember her
psychic scent? She had been giving Ginny dreams for years, protective
ones too. She would have to be familiar with it. She would have to
be familiar to all her family�s.

Ginny pondered. What if she could Weave her whole
family�s psychic scent into the Artificial Dream? It shouldn�t be that
hard. All she would have to do was capture one or two of their dreams.
All it would take was time. She didn�t have a lot of it, but she had
enough. She had just enough.

Ginny nodded and decided to get a bit of food before she
continued.

Stalking quietly to the kitchen, she heard voices, low
voices. She smiled when she recognized them as Dorothea�s and
Moody�s. She knew there was something there, that there always had
been. At first, she had thought they were old enemies. But upon
closer inspection, she found they were old lovers. Something had happened
between the two early in the week that had changed all that. Ginny
sighed. They deserved their happiness.

She asked a house-elf to get her something, instead of
interrupting Dorothea and Moody. She didn�t want to make them
uncomfortable. Walking back to the library with her tray full of food and
snacks, she began trying to contact her bothers and father. She would
have to make sure they were asleep when she tried to capture one of their
dreams. It was easier on the �victim� if they were asleep.

Ginny shivered when she entered the library and pumped the
fire up with some of her Elemental power. It wasn�t nearly as taxing to
do that as it once was. Dorothea was right. Practice, practice,
practice. She set the food down on the table and ate one of the little
sandwiches. It was pretty good. When she had eaten her fill, she
settled back down on the pillows and willed herself down to her dream state
level.

Finding her brothers and father wouldn�t be too hard.
She had known them, so recognizing their psychic scent would be easier than
trying to find, say, the Queen of England�s. Directing herself onto the
right dream pattern, she swallowed and let her mind wander.

She found Charlie first. His dreams always were louder
for her. It was probably because she knew him best. He was asleep,
his mind resting but, as always, on dragons. His was a happy dream.
The newest dragon admission was a family of docile Common Welsh Greens.
The multi-toned, melodious roar echoed in his dream, and speckled green eggs
were focused on. Ginny smiled at her simple brother and gently Un-Wove
the dream, spinning the thread into an organized ball and placing a soothing
mental kiss on him before leaving.

The next brother she found was Ron. She immediately
left when she found he was still awake. And not alone. And quite
busy with Hermione.

Ginny was able to collect the dreams from the rest of her
brothers with no problems...or inconveniences. Bill, naturally, was
dreaming about treasure. Fred and George were actually sharing
frighteningly similar dreams about laughter and jokes and, for some reason,
Angelina Johnson. Percy was a father in his dream, married to a very
pregnant Penelope with two or three little redheaded, blue-eyed Weasleys running about. She was able to capture one
of Ron�s dreams when it was safe to and found it very similar to Percy�s,
except Hermione was very pregnant and there were closer to five or six little Weasleys.

A smile broke onto her face in response to her family�s
happy dreams. Only her father�s bothered her. He was dreaming about
her mother when they were younger. Her mother was about to go into
labor...with Ginny. She looked like hell, but Ginny couldn�t figure out
what was being said. It was a very confusing dream. She collected
it anyway and Un-Wove it gently. All she needed was a happy memory of her
own, and she would have all the thread she needed.

This made Ginny�s smile falter. A happy memory?
Her happy memories circled around her and Draco.
She had other memories, but they just weren�t strong enough. She needed
her thread to be the strongest, the most sturdy. She was going to save
her mother; her brothers and father were just back-up. Ginny bit her lip
and used a Draco memory anyway. It would have to
do. It was a very strong one, the memory of meeting him for the first
time. If her mother questioned her about it, at least she would
understand.

Sighing and gathering the different threads, Ginny set out
to work, Weaving a strong anchor down to the Remnants.

She didn�t know how long she worked, nor how many meals she
missed. All she knew was the tight Weave on her Loom, threads sparkling
under her black crystal. It was strong and thick, radiant with power and
shining with dream and memory. This would take her to where she needed to
go; this would save her mother.

When Ginny opened her eyes, it was very dark, and only a few
candles lit the otherwise shadowed library. Dorothea had left her a note
and some food. Ginny read it, appreciating the older woman�s concern, and
silently thanked her for the food.

Ginny yawned, stretching her arms over her head as she made
her way slowly to her room. The dark halls seemed to go on and on.
But finally she reached her room and practically passed out on her bed.
She turned the fire hotter and turned off the candles with her power then
immediately went to sleep.

Memoirs of the Midnight Man, Part I

�Has he found her?�

The midnight man asked it, his voice low and
dangerous. The moon didn�t shine; the stars didn�t twinkle. If a Muggle had seen it, they would have thought the scene a
devilry and ran. But then, there were no more Muggles
in that part of the country. The men in black had killed every one of
them.

The pale man with long, blonde hair and a silky demeanor
slipped lightly to his knees and simpered before the taller, darker
figure. �No, Master. But he reports he has narrowed down her age
and year, possibly house.�

�Good,� the dark man returned. �Very good. And
does he know when he will find her, Lucius? I
am getting impatient.�

�He says he is close, Master,� the Death Eater
whispered. �He says once he gets back to school, he can find her more
quickly.�

�Yes,� the master said speculatively. �We did take him
from his task. I think I shall meet him, Lucius.�

�Yes, Master. When?�

The dark man considered this. �You and he will meet me
in Copenhagen in three weeks. I will give you directions from there.�

�Thank you, Master,� the simpering man replied.

�Good. Remember what the punishment for failure is, Lucius. Remember...�

The dark man Apparated, and the
other sighed, standing and brushing off his black robe. He sneered and Apparated too. But behind them, hidden by bushes and
charms but not by Dream Sight, was a set of silver eyes. A flash of
silver and a whispering of words and the eyes were gone.

Pathos

Ginny�s eyes opened with effort. She was still dead
tired. Having put most of her energy into the Weave, she had right to
be. But still, with all her aching bones, she pushed herself out of bed
and into a warm shower. Beginning to wake, she washed the soreness from
her muscles with a soap Dorothea had given her. It relaxed her.

After she got dressed and ate a huge breakfast, she made her
way into the library. Dorothea was sitting there patiently, reading
something Ginny honestly didn�t care about. Dorothea looked at her
mildly, a small smile on her lips.

�Have you made it, Ginevra?�

�Yes.� Ginny opened her mind enough for Dorothea to
see her Weave.

After a moment, Dorothea�s eyes opened, and she looked at
Ginny confidently. �You are ready?�

�Yes.�

�And you know the way?�

�Yes.�

There was a slight pause before Dorothea spoke.
�Good. I will be waiting here for you, Ginevra.�

Ginny nodded. She sank down on the pillows and took a
deep breath.

Questioning the High Priestess, Part I

�Will she make it, Thea?�

A sigh. �She damn well better, Alastor.
She has to go to school tomorrow.�

A snort came in response.

Life Guard

Diving into her own mind, she stopped briefly to collect her
crystal lantern and connect herself with her own communal dream. Lowering
herself to the level of the Remnants was easy this time, having learned the way
earlier in the week. It was still dark and endless, but this time, with
her lantern and collective dream, it wasn�t so unbearable.

Not knowing where to begin, Ginny lit her lantern brighter
and moved, taking in the endlessness of the Remnants. It could drive anyone
insane. Just looking at the place made her shiver. She could see
parts of Broken Dreams, traps waiting for her if she got too close. She
hoped her mother hadn�t got caught in one.

Mother! Molly Weasley! Molly Prewett!

Ginny called out into the abyss, hoping to bring her mother
close enough to see with her lantern. Maybe her mother would come to the
light. She jacked the light of her crystal up as bright as it could go,
watching the black-tinted light swarm the darkness. It was an odd sensation,
black light. There was something wrong about it, but also something
powerful.

It�s me, Ginny!
Your daughter! Mother! Come to me!

Ginny felt a brief touch of a conscious on hers, and a sense
of elation washed over her. It was her mother; she could recognize that
psychic scent from anywhere. She shone her lantern around and looked
about her. Obviously, Ginny�s mother was being cautious. Ginny
sighed, pulling on the dream she brought with her.

I have something,
Mother. It will save you. Come here, Mother! It�s me, Ginny!

Ginny? Is that
you? Is that really you? I remember you...

Ginny sighed in relief. Yes, it�s me, Mother. Come on now, we have to leave.

Leave here?

Yes!

Where is here?

Ginny bit her lip. Her mother was slipping. The
Weave, she needed to wrap her mother in the collective dreams and memories of
her family.

The Remnants,
Mother. Now, come here; I�m sure you�re cold. I have a nice, warm
blanket for you.

Oh, how thoughtful of
you, Ginny.

Ginny wrapped her mother in the Weave and began pulling,
pulling her back to the surface. It was a heavy load and was getting
heavier and heavier with each memory her mother retrieved.

Almost there, Mother.

Yes, Ginny, you must
fight now. I believe in you.

Ginny struggled against the current of the Remnants.
They were trying to pull her down, their cold fingers slipping against her
conscious, trying to find a way in. She beat them off, taking hold of her
mother and the Weave. She strained against the pressure, breathing hard
as she fought.

A strong burst of light. She was free! The light
enveloped her, and she found herself breathing hard on the ground, Dorothea
kneeling down next to her, looking hopeful. Ginny smiled tiredly.
She�d won.

�Ginevra,� Dorothea said
softly. �Sleep now, Ginevra. Sleep.
Tomorrow you can go back to school.�

Ginny nodded tiredly. Only the sun shining high
through the window told her how long she�d been under. It felt like
seconds, maybe minutes. She must have been under for a day.

A mind touched hers lightly, and she sighed.

Mother... she sent
out into the dark.

She closed her eyes and fell asleep when the voice
responded.

Ginny...thank you,
dear. Thank you.

Questioning the High Priestess, Part II

�Her mother?�

�She is well, Alastor. I
just received the news from Jeanette.�

�Nice of her to take care of Molly all this time.�

�Yes. Yes, it was.�

Justify Killing to the Victim

Draco breathed hard, leaning
against a tree. He waited a while, catching his breath under the heavy
foliage of the Black Forest. He couldn�t believe how much resistance the
German Aurors had put up. It was almost as
though they had been waiting for the Death Eaters. Part of Draco wanted to celebrate the fact, but the other part just
wanted to stay alive.

He�d made his first kill that night. He�d killed a
German Auror. It wasn�t an accident. It
wasn�t even self defense. The wizard wasn�t half of his talent; he knew
this. But he had been attacking a younger Death Eater, a person Draco knew from school. He hadn�t wanted the German
to die, but he hadn�t wanted Warrington to die either.

So when he was told to scatter, he did just that. He
dove into the Black Forest , and after twenty minutes of running, he�d come to
a stop here. The little stream supplied him with some water, but every
inch of him wanted to run and run until he found Snape
or Dumbledore or even Ginny and give up.

But no.

He needed to get the information. He needed to earn
his way to the headmaster�s good will. He needed to get enough evidence
to put his father and his father�s friends behind bars. Preferably in
Azkaban where they could rot until they died. He would prove himself to
Ginny and Dumbledore and everyone. Seeing the terror had only made him
want an end to it faster. It had only made him loathe his father
fiercer. It had only made him want to kill his father just that much
more.

He looked up at the black sky. Always at night. They
always attacked at night. They called the night their protector and
claimed it would hide them from their enemies. Thus the black
robes. The silver masks Draco hadn�t figured
out yet.

He snorted and took another drink from the small stream, bathing
his face and the back of his neck. How did Snape
justify killing? Surely the older man did it. Surely he had needed
to do it to prove his �loyalty.� He wished Snape
was there; at least then he wouldn�t be quite so alone.

Above the trees, he could see the faintest green
smoke. It was drifting over the town they had just destroyed. The
skull and snake rose higher over the trees, and it made Draco
want to puke. Someday that mark would never rise again. Draco only hoped he would be part of its downfall.

He straightened his robes and brought his wand to
attention. Then he Disapparated to the safe
spot, a grove of trees with dark powers. Voldemort
had stationed himself there, hoping the trees masked his own dark powers.
The trees were powerful, and they served their purpose. But Draco had no intention of seeing Voldemort,
not until he absolutely had to.

He stalked off to a distant hill and waited for his father,
his thoughts on Ginny the whole time.
- 7
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