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Author: Tari Story: Beneath the Eye of the Storm Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 7 Words: 27,946
Hermione stared into her teacup without really seeing it. They had been sitting in silence for the past hour. Stunned. Uncomprehending. How could this have happened? It was Ginny. She was gone. Without a trace. No sign if she was alive or…. No. Ginny was alive. She had to be. "What do we do?" Hermione hadn't meant to say that out loud, and the sudden sound of her voice startled her. She looked at Ron, then at Harry, and back to Ron. They didn't seem to notice she had said anything. Harry stood up abruptly and leaned against a wall, his arms crossing in front of his chest. "We find her. We make sure this is top priority for everyone. I want everyone looking for her." He had a fierce determination pouring from his eyes. Hermione shifted in her chair, not really wanting to disagree with Harry about this. She wanted everyone to look for Ginny as well, but it wasn't very strategic. "I don't think that's the best plan, Harry. This should be known by only a select few-" "What?" Harry interjected harshly. "What do you mean ‘only a select few?' With more people looking for her, the better our chances get in actually finding her." Hermione frowned. She glanced over at Ron, who was staring down at a knot in the wooden table, completely oblivious to any sort of conversation going on around him. She reached out and grabbed his hand. At her touch, Ron seemed to jerk into consciousness. Hermione looked back at Harry. "I'm not sure if that's the logic we should be going by." Harry made a noise of frustration while Ron looked around in confusion and asked, "What?" "Hermione doesn't think we should be looking for Ginny." "I never said that," Hermione said harshly. "I simply don't think it would be best to put everyone on that task." "Well that's sure as hell what it sounded like you were saying. Just forget about her. Just like Bertha Jorkins, huh?" Harry pushed off the wall rather violently and stormed over to a cupboard and pulled out a tall black bottle. Hermione gave a frustrated sigh. "I don't think this is the best time for Firewhiskey, Harry." He spun around and shot her a look that could kill. "Would you stop being so bloody patronizing? First we're not looking for Ginny. Then I can't have a few sips of Firewhiskey. Would you stop?" Hermione felt her eyes widen in shock. "Harry," Ron said harshly. He then squeezed Hermione's hand gently before adding, "Grab me a glass too, will you?" Hermione made a tutting noise. Boys. Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione for a solid minute. Just looking. He then shrugged and grabbed three glasses from a shelf and brought them over to the table. He planted the glasses on the table harshly as he sat down and poured copious amounts into each. He shot one glass over to Ron and one to Hermione before taking a swig of his own. Hermione furrowed her brow. "I didn't ask for one." Harry shrugged. He looked at Hermione and Ron and asked heatedly, "What do we do? We have to do something." Ron stared down at his Firewhiskey with a fierce determination. It looked as though there was a storm raging within Ron, only waiting for an opportunity to let lose. He wrestled his hand from Hermione's as he took a generous sip of his Firewhiskey. If it had been any other situation, she would have warned him not to drink to much. Hermione sighed. "Its probably a better idea to keep her capture quiet. If we blow this up and out of proportion the en-" "'Out of proportion!' She's my sister!" Ron stood up and started pacing madly. "You could have a worldwide search, tear down every building and look under every rock and behind every tree and you wouldn't be ‘blowing it out of proportion!'" He kicked a chair across the room. One of the legs fell off as it made contact with the wall. Hermione winced. "I know. That's not what I meant. We just don't want the enemy to know too much about what we're feeling. That way, we keep whatever power we may have. We keep quiet and we plan. Then attack. That's our best option." Harry took another sip of his amber drink. "So. We just plan in silence, and leave Ginny to those animals? We've been planning for the last seven years! We can't wait another seven to go after her. We have to look for her now!" "Looking for her is part of the planning," Hermione followed the pacing Ron out of the corner of her eye. "You know how close we are to the end. Its in sight. We know where their headquarters are. We know who the top Death Eaters are. We know a lot in every area except one. Ron!" Ron stopped his pacing and looked fiercely at her. She chose to ignore the look. It had nothing to do with her; she knew it didn't. It was for Ginny's situation. But it still hurt. "Ron, come here." Hermione got up as Ron walked slowly towards her. When he was right next to her, Hermione grabbed his hand. "You're good with strategy. Look over our maps. Find their weaknesses. Form our attack." She kissed Ron quickly on the cheek and watched him walk out the door. Turning back to the table, she found Harry absolutely fixated on his glass of Firewhiskey. "You and I have to brainstorm. Are Remus and Moira here?" * Harry sat on the floor in the corner of their study at Grimmauld Place. He had a book open on his lap, but he wasn't looking at it. He was following the other three people in the room with his eyes. Just watching them and trying to shove the reality of the situation to the back of his brain. Hermione was sitting at the desk swimming furiously through thousand page books and handwritten notes. Remus was at the desk as well, writing furiously on a piece of parchment. Moira was in another corner of the room, going through old notes. It was probably around four in the morning, and they had been working for hours with little success. Harry sighed, and threw the book on his lap to the side. There wasn't anything in there three months ago, there wouldn't be anything in there now. He wanted, no… needed to do something more than this. Suddenly, Moira roared out a sound of frustration. "This! I don't understand…" She glanced over at Harry, and then back down at the parchment in front of her. "There must be something here. I know it." "What?" Hermione urged. Moira shook her notes in aggravation and screeched out, "This!" She looked furtively at Remus, and then walked over to Harry and threw the notes in front of him. Harry glanced down at them and instantly felt himself close off. These were the notes on the battle at the Ministry of Magic at the end of his Fifth Year. "Its not complete," Moira accused. "There's something missing, there must be." Harry set his jaw and stared straight ahead. The only person who had known all the details of that night was Dumbledore, and he had died only weeks into his seventh year. Harry had never told anyone else, and had conveniently left some of the more difficult memories out of the notes he had helped compile years ago. Moira started pacing. "Voldemort possessed you. But why did he leave your body when he could have killed you then, easily. There's no explanation there," she motioned to the notes. "Don't you remember anything? Anything at all about that?" Harry remembered. He remembered everything about that night in detail. From Umbridge's office, to the way that veil blew in the non-existent breeze. He remembered the feeling as though he had died when Voldemort had possessed him. And he remembered Sirius…. Harry mentioned none of that now. He stood up and walked towards the door. "Harry," Hermione said. "What?" he spat back. Hermione looked tentatively at Remus and Moira before turning back to Harry. "You have to tell us. We need to know." "Why?" he snapped back venomously. "Well," Hermione began cautiously. "If we know why he wasn't able to stay in your body, it will help us figure out a big part of the puzzle." Lowering her voice, as though attempting to make it so Harry was the only one who could hear, Hermione added, "It may help us find Ginny." That was what did it. Harry froze. He glared at Hermione, who had the decency to look sheepish. Feeling a burning rushing through his body, Harry punched the wall. Feeling satisfied by the pain vibrating up his arm, Harry slumped to the floor. He didn't want to tell them, but he would do anything to help Ginny. Breathing heavily he began, "My head felt as though it was splitting open. I knew I was dying. I wanted to die to stop the pain." Harry clamped his eyes shut, unwilling to let the others see the glistening tears that had formed and were threatening to fall. He could feel them in the crevasse between his eyelids, gathering and threatening to fall in spite of him. "I knew that if I died, I would see Sirius again. That thought brought a warmth. An instant later, Voldemort was gone, and I was still alive. That‘s what‘s not in there," Harry finished, gesturing at the papers in Moira's hands. The room stilled into a silence so thick, it could almost be seen. Harry waited for someone to say something, anything. * Pain. Everywhere pain. Ginny tried to open her eyes, but found she could not; or if she had, it had made no difference. She tried to think where she was, remember what had happened, but her mind was blank; she had no recollection of her apparent capture. The last thing she remembered was a feeling of dread before everything went black. The only thing that registered now was pain, which meant she was in trouble. However, Ginny forced the anguish down. She had to survive, and to do that she must assess her situation and surroundings. That was one of the first things she learned when she became a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She placed her hands on the floor. Cold. Stone. She was in a dungeon. Perhaps a castle? Or a prison? Ginny felt around for a wall, but found none in the immediate area. She willed her body to move, and she crawled across the floor, hands groping for something other than the icy stone floor, her eyes still of no use. Ginny strained her ears for any noise, but found only a deafening silence. She was alone. She couldn't hear any other breathing. There wasn't even the scurrying of rats nearby. Where the hell was she? She forced herself forward despite the immense pain enveloping her entire right side. She had to see how big her cell wa- Her body was suddenly stabbed with a new pain, and she was thrown back in an explosion of light and her own screams. It was as though a thousand swords had been plunged into her flesh at once. She lay on the floor, gasping for air and willing herself to remain conscious. There were wards surrounding her. Magical wards confining her even more so than the door-less grey cell she had managed to glimpse through the pain and flash of light. There seemed to be a few windows up by the tall ceiling, but there was no way to get to them with the wards in place. There was no evident escape for her. This was not good. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Little Weasel." Ginny's breath escaped her and she froze. The torches that were hung on the wall were suddenly lit, casting an eerie shadow over her cell. She knew that voice; the slow overconfident drawl. She hadn't heard it in years, but it was undeniable to whom the voice belonged. Ginny slowly turned around and the familiar sneer came into view. Draco Malfoy. "Fancy meeting you here," he sneered. Standing up, Ginny gave the blond a fierce look. "What do you want, Malfoy?" "Now, Weasley, is that anyway to treat your guard?" "Guard?" Ginny asked weakly. Malfoy laughed, and his sneer grew into a look of horrid delight. "That's right. You're mine now. Potter can't get you here. You'll do well to remember that." Ginny scowled at him. "You're a bastard." "You'll shut your mouth if you know what's good for you." Malfoy was glaring daggers at Ginny. But Ginny would not heed his threats. Even if she was in a weaker position here, she wouldn't let Malfoy get the best of her. "You're a coward. You do whatever your father tells you to do. You're a brainless, spineless-" "SHUT UP!" Malfoy had lost it. His cool façade was dropped and his hideousness was for a moment visible on his pale, pointy face. Ginny stared at him, and a feeling she had never felt towards a Malfoy arose in her stomach. It was so strange it took a moment to realize what the feeling was. Pity. "You don't know a thing about anything, Weasley. You don't know my family, or what my father's like." Malfoy's eyes flashed with what was unmistakable resentment. "You don't know my father, or what I went through…" There was an intense pleading look on his face, startling Ginny profusely. "Don't talk about things you know nothing about." A second later, however, he seemed to realize what he was giving away, and the cool façade was back. Ginny was speechless as she saw Draco Malfoy for what he really was: a victim. He was a victim of the war as well as a victim of his family. Suddenly, there was a question Ginny had to ask. "Why are you down here? There's no way for me to escape. I don't need a minder. What do you want?" Malfoy's façade threatened to dissolve again, but he caught himself in time, his usual sneer deepening on his face. "What the Dark Lord commands is none of your concern." They stared each other down. He was trying to gain the upper hand again. He lost it, and now he was trying to get it back. But Ginny was resolute. She wouldn't be the first to back away from this unsaid challenge. She had somehow gained the advantage and she wouldn't let go. "If you think you're intimidating me, you're damned wrong," Ginny said softly, yet strongly. Draco looked irritated. "Oh, really? Crucio." Ginny fell to all fours in excruciating pain. Draco laughed mirthlessly. "I've got the wand here. I think you'll do whatever I want." Panting on the floor, Ginny felt a sudden breeze fly through the cell. She looked up, wondering what Malfoy was up to. However, what she saw made her lose all balance. Ginny's arms buckled and she fell to the floor. She looked up again, tentatively, unable to believe what she was seeing. It was him. Draco bowed. "My Lord." In a voice so different from the one Ginny was used to, he demanded, "What are you doing down here?" In a voice that sounded almost sheepish, Draco spoke, "Minding the prisoner, my Lord." There was a long pause as he looked Malfoy up and down and Ginny was struck with how much he had changed, yet how he was still the same. His voice was different, so were his eyes. He was taller and no longer in his Hogwarts robes, but he was still Tom. "Go back to your post," Tom commanded. "You can watch her from there just as easily. I'll deal with you later." Draco sent a strange look towards Ginny before he bowed again. "My Lord." He walked over to a wall and touched some sort of black orb. A moment later, he was gone. Ginny looked back over at Tom, whose red eyes were now staring her down. Ginny felt disconcerted by his scrutiny and wished he would stop. She suddenly felt eleven all over again. "You're the Weasley girl," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "I've heard about your past. You have been broken before. You will be easy to break again." Ginny said the only thing that she could at the moment. "Tom." "What did you say?" he hissed. Too stunned to do anything else, Ginny repeated, "Tom." "Crucio. Tom is dead." Tom walked towards Ginny, stopping just shy of the magical wards. "Tell me what you know." Recovering from the pain of the spell, Ginny looked up at Tom, and didn't say anything. She got to her feet weakly and stared defiantly. He may have gotten to her once, but now she was older, and knew better. He couldn't touch her anymore. Tom lifted his wand. "Little girl, you tell me what you know and no more harm will come to you." "Liar," Ginny whispered. She knew what he was doing. She knew what he was. "Crucio," Tom spat and Ginny fell to the floor again. "Did that hurt? Do you want me to stop? Beg me to stop. I want to hear you beg. Tell me what you know." Ginny stared at the floor in front of her face, breathing heavily. "I know nothing." "Crucio. Tell me." * "Love," Hermione muttered, scribbling away on a piece of parchment. "Its so simple, so profound. Of course. How could I not see this earlier?" Harry was pacing the floor, remotely listening to Hermione's mutterings and Remus' breathing. Moira had gone down to the kitchen to make tea a quarter of an hour ago, and had not returned since. Harry was in pain. With every second that passed by, he thought of Ginny and what she was going through, if she was still alive even. Hermione slammed her quill down and buried her head in her hands. "Of course. It's the opposite of everything he stands for…" The door squeaked open and three heads snapped up. Ron cleared his throat and entered the room carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. "Where's Moira?" Harry snapped, suddenly untrusting. After placing the tray on the desk, Ron took a place behind Hermione, resting his hands on her shoulders. Harry's heart constricted. "I found her and Charlie in a deep conversation in the kitchen with this tray sitting untouched next to them. I don't think they even noticed I was there." "What's Charlie doing here?" Harry asked concerned. If there was an international crisis to go with this, he didn't think he could handle it. "Why do you think?" Ron shot him a glance. "He's here to help find Ginny." By the way Ron's hands were moving and how Hermione's eyes had closed, Harry could tell he was giving her a good massage. He turned away and picked up a book. "How are things going up here?" Ron asked. Hermione made a grunting sound. "Good. Well. I think we've found the key element in the equation." Harry glanced at the couple, and saw that Ron's eyes had widened. "What?" he asked. Sighing, Hermione smiled. "Love," she breathed. "Only, we need to figure out how to harness it into some sort of spell." "Okay," Ron nodded, looking as though he was going into a deep thinking process. Harry closed the book in his hands and tossed it onto the top of the nearest pile of books. In a low voice, Harry reminded Hermione, "I can't use my wand against him. A spell won't work." Hermione waved a hand, and a feeling of irritation rose in Harry. "Technicalities," she muttered. "We have the basic formation. We'll build from there." Harry grabbed a biscuit and shoved it into his mouth. "Let's start now, then," he managed through the crumbs. "I can't use my wand against him, but I have to use a spell against him. How is that going to work, Hermione?" "Harry," Remus interrupted. "She's right. That's a technicality we can work out while we develop our ideas." "So!" Harry yelled. "What are we waiting for? Ginny to die? Let's develop!" Hermione's eyes snapped open, and Ron's hands dropped to his sides. "How am I supposed to use love against Voldemort if he's not possessing me? It used to be through my skin, but that option's out. And I really don't want to be possessed again." Harry was panting now. Hermione rose from her chair and started pacing the floor. "The way I see it, there are two potential possibilities. There's the Patronus charm. That's not used directly on a Dementor, it creates this other entity that then goes and battles the Dementor. A Patronus is a manifestation of joy and happiness. We may be able to create something similar, resulting in a manifestation of love. "The other is the cheering charm. Unlike the Patronus, it creates a direct result on the thing you cast it on. There's no separate entity. We can alter that so instead of cheering the other, it would fill them with love. The problem with this method is, of course, Priori Incantatem. Because it would be used directly on Voldemort, that could be a problem, while with the Patronus charm, that wouldn't be an issue." Hermione continued to pace the floor, all eyes glued to her. "However… if…" Hermione continued, her brow furrowing deeply. "If there was a way to find a combination between the two, or a middle ground…" Letting out a sound of frustration, Hermione flopped back down in her chair and opened a book. Harry caught Ron's eye and jerked his head meaningfully. After a quick glance at his wife, Ron walked over and joined Harry in a corner of the room. "How's the plan of attack coming along?" Harry asked quietly, not wanting to break Hermione's concentration. Ron nodded. "Good. It's almost planned. I just need this part worked out to finish it." "I want to see it," Harry said resolutely. "I want to know everything about it." Gesturing towards the door, Ron said, "Downstairs. I'll show you." As the two friends walked towards the door, they were suddenly stopped by Hermione's voice. "Harry, don't you leave. Not now. You're needed up here for this," Hermione said, pointing meaningfully at the notes on the desk. "I'm not leaving. I'm going downstairs," Harry said through his teeth. As though he would leave at a time like this. Hermione tutted. "Don't even leave the room, Harry." Groaning, Harry turned back to Ron and gave him a meaningful look. "I'll bring ‘em up here," the redhead whispered and walked towards the door. However, upon opening it, someone else rushed in, looking a little flushed. Moira shot Harry a sheepish smile. "Did I miss anything?" she asked innocently making Harry roll his eyes. Harry looked at the tray in Moira's hands. There were several goblets resting on it. "What is that?" he asked harshly. Moira glanced over at Remus. "It's a Sleeping Drought," Remus said, not even looking up from his book. "We all need to get sleep tonight." "Remus!" Hermione exclaimed, aghast. "I can't go to sleep now. Not when we're so close." Remus gave her a stern glance. "You'll drink it in a half an hour, after you've organized your notes. You need your sleep." Hermione made a tutting noise. "You'll be more alert after a good sleep," Remus continued, meeting Harry's eye. Harry nodded. He wasn't going to fight this like Remus thought he would. Harry knew he needed the sleep badly, and the only way he was likely to get it would be through a Sleeping Potion. * Ginny rolled over in her cell and opened her eyes. It was dark again, meaning she was alone. She let out a sigh of half-relief, and winced at the pain that small action caused in her body. The last thing she remembered was a blinding light of pain and mocking laughter before she passed out. Curling up in the foetal position, Ginny ignored the pain coursing through her body. It was getting easier to do that, ignore the aching. Yet it was still next to unbearable. Ginny closed her eyes and wished for freedom. Or death. Either one would be welcome at this point. * A/N: Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta, Jner. And, thank you so much to Lady G and Aggiebell. You ladies are keeping me interested in finishing this.
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