Chapter 9

Ginny was crying and running for the Quidditch pitch. Crying in furious rage, not any other softer emotion. Damn it, couldn’t they just stay the hell out of her life? She reached the pitch finally, lips pulled back from her teeth in a frozen grimace of fury. Azrael had long been left behind in the school halls as she ran. She stripped off her school robes and pulled her jeans and boots on before taking to the skies. She shot upwards in a vertical climb, hair laid flat against her skull and then she opened her mouth to scream.

A banshee shriek spilled from her open lips, echoing through the heavens. What she wanted to do was rip somebody to pieces, preferably bloody Potter. She took a deep breath, and then screamed again, possibly louder then before.

“Dammit, you bloody chit, are you trying to deafen me or what?” Mordred’s snarl broke into her concentration and she turned her head to look at him. He was dressed in his Slytherin Quidditch robes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Screaming, so I don’t kill the Boy-Who-Lived with my bare hands.” She let off a string of curses that made even Mordred flinch. “I don’t plan on going to Azkaban, thank you.”

“What the hell kind of fool stunt are you trying to pull, Ginny?” Draco snapped as he swooped in. “We are trying to practice here.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, you damn ferret.” Ginny laughed maniacally as his face whitened with rage. He snarled wordlessly and dived for her. Ginny dodged him easily before standing up on her broom unsteadily. “You don’t see. They most assuredly do not see either. How can you not see it? The darkness coming will swallow us all.” Her eyes rolled up in her skull. “Oh god. No.”

“What the hell?” Mordred whispered, and then she fell. He gaped for a second and then sent his broom after her plummeting body in a headlong dive. A fall from this height would kill her, and she didn’t seem to have noticed that she fell. He caught her and they both tumbled off his broom with an audible thud. He lay still for a moment to collect his thoughts, with her splayed out on top of him. He sat up, one arm wrapped around her waist. “Christ, she’s out for the bloody count,” Mordred hissed through his teeth as the other members of the Slytherin Quidditch team came in for a landing. “C’mon Red, wake up now.”

“What in god’s name was that?” Vortigern asked as he kneeled beside his twin. Mordred flashed him a dark look.

“How the fuck should I know?” Ginny was limp against him and she looked quite the sexy little pixy in her form hugging muggle clothes. Mordred shifted uncomfortably. Ginny woke up with a gasp, and then looked directly at Draco.

“I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“Your death. But Tom is not winning that easily, oh hell no. I won’t let him do it again.”

“Get out,” Draco hissed at the other members of the Quidditch team. The three who weren’t part of the group left quickly, murmuring among themselves. Blaise, Vortigern and Mordred stayed.

“Your father is going to let Tom eat you. He’s too weak at the moment, and apparently you fit the bill.” Ginny’s voice rasped through her strained vocal chords. “You’ll stick in his throat though, dragon.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “Get out of my head, Tom.” She rose to her feet and stumbled away from the shocked guys. “You get the fuck outta my mind.” Her eyes flicked open, and they were a deep, burning red. “Get out. You think you can out bitch me? You have so another think coming.” She dropped to her knees, holding her bowed head between her hands as if she could force him out by her vice-like grip.

“You won’t have changed much in the five years.” A hissing, deeper voice emanated from her mouth. “And it wasn’t Draco’s death you saw. It was your own, silly Ginny.”

She panted harshly, and raised her head to look at them. “Run.” A simple command, a word that took all her strength from her to get out. They didn’t run. Her mind whirled with confusion as Voldemort shrieked with laughter. Why? She told them to run. They stood there, grim looks on their faces.

“Ginny! What are you doing to her?” Ginny swung her head slowly to look at Ron. Finally, the concern she’d craved. Too late.

“Nothing. Ginny, you fight that bastard. You can beat him,” Mordred said harshly, eyes fixed on hers.

“Mordred Pendyrwyrdd, you will shut your mouth,” Voldemort hissed through Ginny’s teeth as she stood up, exuding serpentine menace.

“Oh, will I now? You never scared me, you thrice buggering bastard. You get the fuck outta her head, arsehole.”

“You don’t command the master, boy.” Mordred flinched as Ginny laughed.

“I told you to run. Why haven’t you run? Ginny asked them pleadingly. “Stay out of this, Ron. It has nothing to do with the Light. Unh!” Ginny went to her knees, arms wrapped around her stomach. “This is dark. Dark as midnight.” Azrael leapt to her side finally, hissing angrily. She looked through them, a trickle of blood running from her nose. “Oh, Tom is so pissed. You have no idea.” And then Harry stepped up next to Ron. Noble fool. Well, you know, obviously Voldemort so come running to die, Harry. Shit, but he was stupid.

“Ah, Potter. We meet again.” Ginny laughed maniacally. “You’ve grown up to be quite the looker, haven’t you? I would assume you have a lot of ladies on your string, all wanting a share in the famous Harry Potter. But you lost sweet little Virginia. Or maybe you have a thing for members of your own sex, hmm? Maybe you prefer to be fu-“

“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up, you dirty minded pervert. Although, it is true Potter has a nice arse. It’s all that Quidditch, does wonders for a boy’s arse. Not that you can always tell through the robes.” The two shared a laugh. “But Draco has a better one.”

“What is going on here?” Snape asked angrily as he arrived at the Quidditch pitch. Ginny’s eyes tracked over to him.

“Oh no, you are not-”

“Hello, Severus,” Voldemort purred. “Long time no see.”

“God, I so do not want to talk to my teacher in that kind of voice. And ew. That is not an image I need. Anyone else go to a scary mental place? What you are, Tom, is a dirty little slut.”

“Ah, but I’m here in your head, Virginia. And I’m never on the receiving end. You lose too much power that way, and besides, it’s just so much more pleasant to dominate.”

“Get the hell out. That’s just gross.” Snape gaped as he listened to their argument. “I don’t want you here, Tom.” Ginny was locked in her own personal battle with a demon, and didn’t have time or energy to cope with whoever else might be suffering. This could mean the end of her very soul. He would devour all of her, as he had tried to do in the Chamber. But this time, there was no hero with a magic sword. She’d grown up, and the hero couldn’t save the damsel in distress. Sooner or later, fairytales lost their power.

“You invited me in, Ginny. And I don’t intend to leave.” Ginny’s hand whipped out with her wand pointing steadily at Harry. “What a sad ending for the Boy-Who-Lived. Dying at the hand of the lonesome girl he rejected so many times, that she finally walked off the blade of the knife and took him down with her.”

“Why don’t you just run?” Ginny wailed. “Get the hell out of here, you little idiot with a scar. This is so dark, you’ll drown.”

“Run, Potter.” Draco stepped forward, sneer on his pale lips as he looked at the shaken Harry. “She’s ours now. You drove her out, and she fell into our arms. We understand her better then you ever could, the self-righteous white knight that you are. Couldn’t see the fire under the mask. Your loss, our gain. You lost her when you rejected her that very last time and broke her heart past mending. So she came to us, or rather, we sought her out.”

“I can see it here in her pretty little head, Potter. Every wistful schoolgirl sigh. Every heartbreaking rejection and dismissal. All here in living, vibrant colour.”

“Get out.” Ginny gritted her teeth.

“You aren’t strong enough to make me.”

“Oh, aren’t I?” Ginny threw her head back and screamed, throwing herself to the ground in a thrash of limbs and sending her wand skidding across the ground. “Now, I despise Potter, but he isn’t going to die today. Not by my hand. He isn’t worth it.” She arched her back and screamed again, the sound of a soul in torment bringing to mind Dante’s vision of hell and the sinners imprisoned therein. Those around her flinched at the sound of her agony.

Harry watched, feeling useless. What should he do? He was meant to save her, as he had before. But he didn’t know what to do.

Snape watched grimly, arms folded across his chest. So, Voldemort had found another plaything. She seemed to be giving him a run for his money, at the very least. And to bring up his Deatheater past in front of his students. . .he would have some harsh threatening to do. His position could not be compromised.

Ron watched, heart breaking as his sister thrashed and screamed. He couldn’t help her. Again. He died a bit more inside, as he had when Harry had gone on alone to face the Basilisk. He was meant to protect her, dammit! That’s what elder brothers were for.

The twins watched, expressions of grim rage on their faces. Mordred was snarling, and Vortigern’s face showed more emotion then it had for the past year. The cool forbidding wrath of an archangel matched with the wild fury of the wolf.

Draco watched, lips thinned. She was theirs, not Voldemort’s. She was under their protection. He knew his Lord; he would get tired of the game soon, as Ginny kept fighting. He liked a bit of struggle, and then easy surrender. This was not to his liking, this intense fevered battle.

Blaise watched, eyes lighting up with unearthly fervour. She was becoming the flame, letting it eat away at her, purifying her and making her stronger, like tempered steel. He could see her weaknesses dropping away as she writhed, each moment that passed making her stronger. This was what he had foreseen; this was what his line had waited for. The Flame that Burnt all to Ashes. The Phoenix that would turn the world on its head, burning out the impurities. Chaos. How beautiful she was in her agony.

“Be angry,” Blaise purred as he knelt beside her, one hand sweeping bloody strands of hair out of her face. She was sweating blood; great ruby droplets that seeped to the surface, then rolled slowly down her face. The cat wailed beside her and he spared it a caress. “Better yet, laugh at him. He hates that.” The Slytherins stood guard over Ginny, facing off even teachers as Blaise whispered words of comfort to her. In her pain, Ginny latched onto them with frenzied hope as she thrashed and shrieked. Then she was still, panting slightly.

“Christ almighty.” Ginny sat up, the blood turning her face into a red mask, slightly dried blood crackling around her mouth as she spoke. It dripped down her chin from her mouth, and over her lips from her nostrils. The blood sweat seemed to halt, but the slow oozing from the corners of her mouth and her nose continued.

“Oh, but I’m still here, Ginny,” Voldemort mocked.

“I thought I told you to get the hell out?” Ginny said tiredly.

“I command, I do not obey the orders of children. And these boys will not be easily forgiven their treachery. There will be blood and pain as they whimper pleadingly for me to show mercy. But they will not receive it.” The Slytherins shared a glance, ignoring their House Master. This was it. They could not go home again.

“We happen to like Ginny. She’s gone all goth punk bitch. Very interesting,” Blaise snapped. “She’s becoming a flame that burns you, she abuses Potter and her cat has tried to kill him on more then one occasion.”

“Thou hast stepped onto a dangerous path, my liege. Virginia is more then thou thinks her to be.”

“Mordred.” Ginny lurched to her feet. “You havta hit me. Knock me out.”

“What?” Mordred gaped at her.

“I said, hit me, you miserable ass pansy!” Ginny knew she had to make him mad enough to hit her before Voldemort grabbed her mouth again. “Hit me! Or don’t you have the stones?” That did it. With one punch, he sent her flying. She picked herself up again, swaying more pronounced but eyes still snapping with fury. “Is that the best you can do? I said knock me out, not give me a sodding love tap, nancy!”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Mordred howled as he dove at her. “You bleeding little bitch!” Ginny reflected hazily on the truth of that statement. She was bleeding, and the blood loss was making her dizzy.

“Useless cringing fucking catamite,” Ginny whispered into his ear as he pinned her to the ground. He snarled and raised his fist to do as she had taunted him to do. Her eyes flashed red at him, and he hesitated.

“Don’t you dare, you miserable child,” Voldemort hissed. That clinched it. Ginny’s head rocked back, snapping her jaw closed. And she fell into the blessed quiet.

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