Hello Everyone! The plot bunny for this story has tormented me for months so I finally decided to just go ahead and type it out. Who is the only other survivor of the war? Read on to find out...
Ginny sat on the knotted rickety boards that she was sure had once been sturdy steps some years ago, elbows resting on her dirty knees, as she braced her throbbing head with her hands, crying for what must have been the hundredth time, ignoring the harsh burning of both her throat and eyes.
Life as she knew it was completely over. It had been five long days since the final battle between Harry, Voldemort, the Order members, the Deatheaters and quite a few students had taken place, not even three miles from where she sat currently. Just last week, only seven days earlier that already felt like a different lifetime to her, she'd been fantasizing about this day; the long awaited joy, the freedom finally achieved after twenty years of oppression and fear, the numerous celebrations and feasts that would undoubtedly be taking place across the country.
Now that the day had finally arrived, there was nothing to celebrate, not even the freedom that the wizarding world now possessed. Harry killed Voldemort and the world was free of his reign of terror, that was true. However, there was no one from the battlefield left to celebrate this incredible triumph. Not one person who fought remained, save for two. Somehow all had perished.
As she wiped the salty wetness from her freckled cheeks, Ginny inhaled deeply, attempting to calm herself, still shaking her head in disbelief. Never did she think the outcome would be this. Never did she think what should have been the greatest victory of all time would end up an empty hollow shell of mixed feelings and confusion. Never did she think there would only be two survivors from the war.
A moan startled her as she quickly jumped up and rushed back into the tiny damp wood house she'd been surviving in. When she reached his side, hoping he would wake, she saw he was still unconscious. She surmised he must have moved and subconsciously felt the pain, causing him to moan out loud. She reached for the torn piece of cloth in the bowl of water, wrung it out and gently wiped his face, cut and bruised from the battle. It gave her something to do anyway.
She often questioned why she was doing this, telling herself over and over that there would be no appreciation when he woke, no thankfulness. Many times she thought she should have left him on the battlefield, but knew deep within her that she couldn't have done that. One bad deed, or more appropriately many bad deeds, did not mean she should treat him the same as he'd treated her and her family. After all, she was a Weasley and had been raised better. And that meant sometimes treating people better than what they truly deserved simply because it was the right thing to do.
Ginny stared at his chest as it slowly rose and fell. The first twenty-four hours she assumed he would die. There were bruises and lacerations everywhere on his body, with blood all over his robes and clothes - some his and some not she assumed. She was fairly certain a couple ribs were broken and possibly his forearm and leg fractured from examining his wounds when she first brought him here, but wasn't sure of any possible internal injuries. She'd tried to get most of it out, but there was still a bit of dirt, grass and dried blood in his hair, coloring it to a dark gray with a few spots of maroon. And with no wand in this empty, abandoned house, she could do little for him. Or for her.
Living like a Muggle was not something Ginny was accustomed to. She'd considered apparating but between her condition and his and the ministry being able to track anyone that did apparate, she couldn't risk them being found. She'd ventured out into the woods quite a few times, thankfully finding enough fruit to sustain her, and a small stream nearby to provide water. It was better than nothing until she could get away from here.
From the outside, and from a distance, the shack looked like a halfway decent small wooden house. Upon closer inspection, the planks were half rotted, the three steps leading to the front door were uneven with nails sticking up from the boards, the broken shutters around both windows were barely hanging, there was a dirty, grimy film on the windows that was seemingly made worse with water and there were weeds almost as tall as she that encircled half the house. She had no idea who this little shack belonged to but safely assumed they were long gone by it's decrepit condition, looking like it had been deserted for months, maybe even years.
The inside was no better. There was one large room and one smaller one behind it, separated by one wall, the smaller room having remnants of being used as a kitchen at one point. A small black kettle sat in the corner along with a water pitcher and bowl. There were a few scattered pieces of silverware, although they looked like they'd been carved from wood. No cabinets, counters, chairs or tables were found anywhere. There was another door and window in the back room, in the same conditions as in the front room. Both doors were barely hanging and she expected them to fall at any time. It didn't help her to feel very safe at night, never knowing if anyone from the Ministry would happen upon this shack while searching the grounds near the battlefield or if a wild animal would find its way in and think them a fine meal.
Ginny had taken robes from those on the field to use as blankets and for warmth and whatever else she might need. It was October and the nights were getting a little chilly. He was laying on a few of them now with another couple over him and one under his head for a pillow. She slept on a couple others as well. There was nothing in the larger room but them. When she'd first walked in, the floor was covered in dirt with cobwebs filling every corner there was, whether on the ceiling or the floor. She was thankful for the stone fireplace so at least they wouldn't freeze.
Thinking was all she had time to do and the incredible loss weighed heavily on her mind. She'd spent hours crying and was nearly cried out at this point. Her entire family was gone. Some of her friends, teachers and Order members all perished. She often wished she had too. How was it that they were the only ones to be alive? How cruel could the world be to claim them all and leave her to deal alone?
Taking care of him had been the only thing to keep her going, oddly enough. It gave her something to focus on, something else to think about. Without it, she really wasn't sure what her condition would be or where she would be. She hoped he'd wake up soon though, although she knew it might not be pleasant. She had been preparing herself for the yelling and cursing and being called every name imaginable that would surely follow. But at least it would be communication with another human, something she craved. And at this point, she couldn't leave him so her carrying on depended on him waking up and them being able to leave.
If Ginny was real honest with herself, she knew she was purposely hiding so it would be presumed she was dead as well. The Ministry had already been to the field to collect bodies for burials and memorials. She easily could have been out there when they arrived and probably would have been quite the hero being the only survivor. Well almost. But after everything the Ministry had done the past three years, she preferred them thinking she was dead. She didn't want accolades. She had nothing to celebrate, and really by her standards, was dead inside anyway. Yes she would move on, probably heading to Ireland to begin a new life, but it would never compare to the first eighteen years of her life. She'd already decided to change her name, as it was obvious she would not be able to use hers any longer. She'd thought about many names, especially Irish, and decided she liked Shayla O'Hare. Ginny already looked Irish so with an Irish name, she should have no problems once she entered the country. She was looking forward to it in a way, anxious to close the chapter in her life. She also assumed that all magic would be over. Her wand was gone and couldn't get another for fear of being discovered. She would continue to practice wandless magic, but only when she was alone. She wanted to blend in with her surroundings, whatever they would be, as best she could, not to mention magic tended to scare Muggles.
The rumbling in her stomach told her it was time to eat something. Gooseberries, damson and elderberries were the main staples and while they weren't much, there were at least sustenance and kept her alive.
Ginny slowly ate a few berries, pretending they were much more, as the room darkened from the sun disappearing as shadows slowly crept across the floor and night descended. The little bit of wandless magic she could perform did come in handy. She would gather twigs, sticks and small limbs that she could break off trees, and then make a fire in the fireplace, mainly to light the room and to provide a little warmth.
Feeling extremely sleepy, or maybe it was depression kicking in, Ginny really didn't care to make a fire tonight and placed the bowl to the side of her. She laid down and pulled a thick wool cloak over her, dreaming of days past and of how the future should have been as she lay in the dark shack.
Two days later, she returned from the nearby stream, having taken somewhat of a bath, and with clean water in the basin, to find him moving slightly and moaning in pain.
"Lucius!" she exclaimed, quickly putting the basin down and rushing to his side, sitting on her knees and ankles. "Can you hear me?" Her heart was pounding in her chest in anticipation of him gaining consciousness.
She watched as his eyes slowly fluttered open, looked around and then closed briefly while he tried to lift an arm, instantly grimacing and grunting in pain.
"You're hurt," she told him quickly, gently pushing his arm back down. "I think you've got a couple broken ribs and possibly a fractured arm and leg. Try not to move too much just yet." She knew he would be disoriented upon waking up and didn't want anything happening to either of them.
His eyes opened again and looked around as his brow wrinkled, confused with the situation around him. He licked his lips before whispering, "What happened?"
His throat was dry and voice so hoarse, he didn't sound like himself. "Voldemort was defeated," she said simply, offering no more information. She thought she could give him more details later.
Lucius' eyes closed as he barely moved his head from side to side, sighing through his nose. "Potter," he whispered with a slight sneer.
"He's dead too," Ginny said quietly.
Lucius' eyes flew open and met hers in alarm. "Both?" he asked. How could that be?
"Yes both," she confirmed, wondering what to do next, not wanting to have this conversation now. She was leery of moving him because of his ribs but knew he needed food and water to gain strength. "Are you hungry?"
When Lucius nodded slowly, Ginny said, "I'll put another cloak under your head to raise you up a bit." He winced and gasped quietly as he struggled to rise while she slipped her arm under his shoulders to cradle them and assist him as best she could, quickly adjusting the extra cloak under him and easing him back.
She knew he was in pain but could do nothing to ease it. He licked his lips again before whispering, "Wand?"
Shaking her head, Ginny told him, "Both our wands are gone."
He exhaled, signaling his unhappiness with her answer. His eyes met hers once more. "Why are you here?" he whispered. "Where is everyone?"
Ginny bit her lip. This wasn't how she wanted to tell him. "It's a bit complicated," she answered. "Let's get you some food first."
When she started to move to get the bundle of berries, he grabbed her wrist, causing her to wince. "Oww," she whimpered, trying to pry his fingers away, completely shocked he had the strength. "Stop, that hurts!"
"Don't…lie…to…me," he hissed, anger dancing in his tired eyes but still cold as ice itself.
The vice grip he had on her hand was not going to cease until she answered. "Please don't make me tell you like this," she pleaded, surprised she could not remove his fingers. It was the first time she'd felt afraid of him and wondered if bringing him here had been a mistake.
"What happened?" he said, his voice only slightly better. He had to know. What the hell was going on? Where were they? Where were the rest of the Deatheaters? Why was she not with her family?
"They're gone, Lucius!" she exclaimed in frustration, still trying to free her arm, terrified her small wrist bones would snap from the pressure of his grip any second. "All of them! Your side and my side. We're the only survivors." Damn him for making her tell him like that!
His grip only lingered for seconds longer before pushing her arm away. His family, his comrades – everyone gone. How could that be? How was it he and the Weasley girl were the only to survive? What had gone wrong? Months, years even, of strategic planning and calculating only to leave him and this girl? It couldn't be. She had to be lying or perhaps working with the Ministry. It just couldn't be true.
"My son?" he asked. Draco was the only one on that field he'd truly given a damn about.
"Lucius, I'm sorry," Ginny said, massaging the wrist he'd hurt, already seeing bruises forming on her pale skin. She understood the shock as she was still working through her own and had wanted to wait longer before telling him.
He turned his head to the side and said quietly, "Leave me." A rush of emotion filled him, a dangerous mix of anger and sadness, and he didn't need this girl near him to witness any weakness from him. "Go!"
"Okay," she said, quickly standing up. "I…uh…I'll be outside."
As she sat down on the top step, she sadly shook her head. All of the intense preparation, the grand promise of what the future held without Voldemort, the true friends she'd made the past few years and her precious family…it was all so pointless. She knew it was quite the shock to Lucius as well, whom she thought felt quite certain that Voldemort would be victorious and conquer all. On the other side of the same knut, she knew it would take time for him to accept that everyone they'd known had perished. She wasn't even sure she had accepted it yet. Life would never return to what they'd once known. He deserved some time alone with his thoughts; after all, she'd had five days.
Ginny stayed outside at least an hour or so until she heard Lucius calling for her. She rushed inside to find he had sat up a little more from where she'd left him.
"What food is there?" he asked, looking up at her with sad, empty eyes that seemed to be bare of the confidence that had once shown bright.
She ignored the fact that the hair at his temples was wet - no doubt from tears - that his eyes were red and puffy and that his usually white cheeks showed trails where tears had slid through dirt and blood as she gathered a handful of berries and the bowl of water she drank from.
"Can you feed yourself?" she asked, knowing his left arm was useless.
In silence, he reached for a berry and slowly moved his right arm towards his mouth. Whichever fruit he ate was sweet and tart, causing him to momentarily squeeze his eyes together and purse his lips together when he bit into it. It was certainly not his favorite but was so hungry he didn't care and reached for another.
"I've got some water too," she said, offering him the bowl.
He eagerly drank the stream water from the bowl, thinking at first that it was completely inappropriate for a Malfoy to eat this way, and then realized he was all that remained anyway, so maybe appropriateness was irrelevant. As well as the rest of his life at this point. What the hell was he supposed to do now? It probably wouldn't matter, quite certain the Weasley girl would turn him in anyway.
"I wish there was more," Ginny told him apologetically. "All I can find are berries."
He continued eating, moving his arm slowly. "How long…have you been…here?" he asked curiously and with little energy. He'd never felt this weak in his life, feeling as if his entire body weighed twice as much as it actually did and that every muscle pained him terribly when he barely moved any part of his body.
"A week now," she answered, holding the water bowl while he ate more berries.
His eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. "I've been unconscious…that long?" he asked, trying to remember the last thing that happened. He remembered being out on the field, remembered casting spells in every direction as fast as he could speak them. He was quite certain he'd killed a few students and a couple Order members before he was struck down.
"Yes," Ginny answered. "The first couple days I didn't think you were going to make it."
"You brought me here all by yourself?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Ginny almost smiled, knowing why he was asking her that. "You were the only one still breathing," she answered simply. She wished there would have been others to help, having wandered for hours among the bodies searching for anyone who might have still had a pulse, two having actually died in her arms. She'd found only Lucius still breathing.
He nodded, still eating slowly. "You could have left me," he pointed out. She would have struck him down in battle if possible. Why did she help him? Maybe she had some hidden agenda. Maybe she struck a deal with the Ministry. How did he know what she said was really truth? He'd been unconscious for a week. Anything could have happened in that time period. She'd had plenty of time to devise a plan.
"I could have," she agreed, knowing she had truthfully considered it. "But I wasn't raised like that. My parents always taught me that everyone deserves a chance at trust and redemption." Maybe somewhere in her heart she wanted to believe he wasn't as evil as he came across all those years, that somewhere within him he was capable of being decent. And maybe she was looking for miracles. But she couldn't walk away from him on that field.
"Foolish Weasley," Lucius hissed at her noble statement, his lips forming a sneer. "Trust is a dream." Even though he was at her mercy, it didn't mean he trusted her. For all he knew the berries were poisoned and he'd die in his sleep. A small part of him almost wished for that.
She narrowed her eyes. "I didn't say I trusted you," she quipped. "I'm just helping you." Trusting him wasn't something she ever planned on doing. As soon as she could get him back to his house, she would make her way to Ireland and forget about what her life had consisted of up until this point. Or at least try to.
Lucius took a few more sips of water before giving her the bowl, slowly trying to lie down again, wincing and groaning as he moved. Ginny removed one of the cloaks from behind him as he turned his head away from her with no other words spoken. There was no thank you for either the food or saving his miserable life. She didn't blame him though. His 'lord' had lost the war, which meant all their future plans were pointless. He wasn't in the physical condition to return home to his lavish mansion where he could be healed and waited on by house elves, instead forced to lay on a dirt floor covered by cloaks of deceased allies and foes with one of his least favorite people in the world unable to do anything for him, except give him berries and water. No, she couldn't blame him a bit for not being thankful. She didn't think she'd be either.
Ginny ate the rest of the berries he didn't finish and then laid down herself. The sun was just beginning to set so she knew it was early but had no reason to stay awake.
Ginny awoke to hear strange shuffling sounds that seemed to come from across the dark room and groggily sat up. "Lucius?" she said quietly, feeling the empty space beside her where he'd been laying and now was not. "What are you doing?"
He stopped moving but didn't answer. He'd managed to crawl almost to the door, hoping she was a heavy sleeper so he could slip out. It took every ounce of strength he'd had to move this far across the floor but had to do something. He had to get home. This situation was preposterous and he was a sitting duck if he stayed with this girl, having no idea what she was up to.
"Lucius," she said again, her eyes adjusting to the darkness slowly, seeing a figure near the door. She pushed the robe off of her and crawled over to where he was. "Where do you think you'll go?" she asked, realizing he'd been trying to leave.
After a heavy sigh, Lucius answered simply, "Home."
She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "You have broken bones," Ginny reminded him. "You will only injure yourself further if you try to leave." Was he insane? He'd only break more bones if he continued.
"I cannot stay in this….shack," Lucius spat. "It's disgraceful." No one in his family or in generations of his family had ever stayed in something so dirty and tiny. He needed to get home so he could figure out who was truly left and what he could do now. Perhaps someone would have taken Lord Voldemort's place and would be searching for any Deatheaters that had survived or were in hiding to continue with their mission.
"And you think I'm enjoying this?" she asked, already tired of his better than thou attitude. "I've been here for a week. You've only dealt with it one day."
He scoffed. "You should be used to abodes that are less than adequate," he told her, contempt in his voice. "I, however, have had nothing but the best since I was born. My parents had nothing but the best always. Our animals lived in better dwellings than this."
"Well you have broken bones," Ginny said again, choosing to not care about what he did. Her life was over anyway. She was completely alone and utterly exhausted. "You can go but I can guarantee you you won't get far. So if you're ready to die, then get going. It won't take long." She crawled back to her make shift bed on the floor. "I'm going back to sleep."
And she fell asleep very quickly.
Reviews and feedback always welcome of course. )
Will Lucius actually continue without her? Stay tuned for chapter 2...