Chapter Nine: In Which There Are Many Notes In A Very Short Chapter

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To Ginny, the faerie that dances in my life.

 

Malfoy. The roller coaster he had sent her emotions on took another steep plunge. She sighed, staring at the simple piece of parchment, reading the nine words over and over again.

 

To Ginny, the faerie that dances in my life.

To Ginny, the faerie that dances in my life.

To Ginny, the faerie that –

 

She sighed again and set the note down, feeling very much like flopping on her bed melodramatically. She had told him she loved him. But did he? What if it was a game or even a bet- who knew what twisted concepts the Slytherins could come up with in those dank dungeons. She sprawled recumbent on her bed, glaring at the innocent note. The winter ball was only a few days away….

 

Insistent tapping on her bedside window interrupted her contemplation. She looked up dreamily at the huge black bird pecking at the glass, his ebony feathers and steely eyes glistening in the sun.

 

What the hell…?

 

Opening the window, the raven entered swiftly, nearly knocking her over. It swooped around the room in a circular motion before dropping a letter at her feet and sailing out into the myriad of sunset colors.

 

 

Ginny stared after the disappearing figure and blinked. The bird hadn't even landed to be paid. Slowly, she picked up the envelope and read the minute message inside. She then shook her head in disbelief and read it again. And again. And again. Until the parchment combusted abruptly along with its accompanying envelope. The fiery mess fell to the floor and dissolved into haunting nothingness. Her own body collapsed onto her deep maroon bed, unwilling to believe what she had just read.

 

 

To Miss Virginia Weasley:

 

Yvette Delcaour’ s blood will be on your hands if you do not come to the forest at the south end of Hogsmeade tonight at eleven o'clock. Bring two thousand galleons.

 

It wasn't signed. Finally remembering her friend’s absence that morning, Ginny looked to Yvette’s empty bed, her eyes resting on the dresser beside it. Two pictures in matching oak frames stood on the smooth polished surface. One displayed Yvette and herself on the eve of their fourth year Yule ball. The picture had been snapped without warning when both were laughing at a forgotten joke. Yvette was busy with Ginny's hair, sweeping it into an intricate bun. In the other frame lay a photograph of Yvette's mother holding her daughter up and spinning around to achieve delighted two-year-old giggles. Ginny looked down, arising tears threatening to blur her vision.

 

The covers of Yvette's bed lay in a tousled heap, amid the disheveled blankets a tattered toy. She made her way to the messy bed and picked up the off-white stuffed rabbit, smiling in memory of Yvette's relentless attachment to the ragged object. As she did, she noticed a piece of parchment peeking out from beneath the pillow. She unfolded the crumpled paper.

 

 

Meet me at the transfiguration room at midnight.

Love,

Ron

 

Ron! Was he involved in this? Or what if Ron was held under an Imperious Curse? Notions bounced through her head, each train of thought leading to another possible traitor, plot or hoax. She shook her head, running a hand through her tangled hair. The action was almost violent, driven by desperate determination to quell the paranoia that swelled in her mind. She had to calm down; she had to think rationally.

 

Ron involved in dark magic plot and seducing her irresistible veela best friend? She would have laughed if she were in a stable mental state.

 

Someone kidnapped Yvette - that much was clear. But why, because they simply wanted two thousand galleons? Who, in their right mind, would choose to threaten a Weasley with a ransom note? She shook her head frantically; there was simply no time to ponder all the possibilities of this strange situation. She had to alert Dumbledore.

 

She shot out the door and skimmed down the cobblestone steps, stumbling clumsily into the common room. Harry and Hermione were cuddled in a loveseat by the fire. Ginny rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth not too reluctantly to interrupt the cliché romance novel scene.

 

Strangely enough, nothing happened. Her voice vibrated in her throat, but the silence continued. Her hands flew to the base of her neck. She tried again. Her voice was gone?

 

“Hermione?” Silence. Panic’s chaotic beat began to drum in her mind.

 

“Harry? Hermione?” she screamed. Hermione calmly turned a page, the sound deafening in Ginny’s straining ears. Her throat hurt from the yell, but still no voice would appear. She rushed to them, frantically waving her arms.

 

“Yvette’s been kidnapped,” she mouthed helplessly.

 

They looked up. “Oh, hello Ginny.” Hermione smiled. “Where have you been all day?”

 

Ginny glared at her. Couldn’t they see she was a fish out of water? Again, she tried to speak. Nothing happened except for the appearance of puzzled expressions on Harry and Hermione’s faces.

 

Ginny sighed and waved her arms to show the big black bird flying in through her window and the contents of the ransom note.

 

Two, zero, zero, zero, she motioned. Yvette – she pointed to gold-coated fire pokers and then her own hair – is missing! She opened and closed her hands to reveal nothing.

 

“Yvette is missing!” she mouthed.

 

Harry eyed her strangely. “Are you alright Ginny? Do you need to go to Madame Pomfrey’s?”

 

Ginny sighed, and waved her arms around a bit more. This was a game of charades from hell. She considered the pros and cons of the situation. If she were taken to the hospital wing and somehow regained her voice, valuable time would be lost. Yvette might be killed in a matter of hours. She stretched her lips into a smile, backing away slowly and shaking her head. Once she was halfway up the stairs, she turned and ran back to her room.

 

Hogsmeade. She had to get to Hogsmeade. Ginny searched frantically in her dresser for a certain hideous robe given to her by a certain pair of twin brothers. She found the garment at the bottom of the bottom-most drawer and threw it on, tucking various useful objects into its enchanted folds.

 

“It has fifty-one self-enclosing, weightless pockets!” Fred had exclaimed last Christmas, as Ginny unfolded the lime colored robe from its matching box.

 

“And green has always been your color,” George added.

 

“It’s lovely,” she had lied, giving each of them a warm hug. It definitely wasn’t lovely, but fifty-one self-enclosing pockets sure came in handy at a time like this. She filled them with food, water, muggle lock-picking kits, a spell almanac, and her wand. There was only one thing missing: the two thousand galleons.

 

 *******

 

Draco stepped out of the shower, feeling extremely relaxed. It’d been quite a day between buying Ginny a wand, walking with Ginny, talking with Ginny, and not to mention making Ginny fall in love with him. He smiled at himself in the mirror, relishing narcissistically in the look of success. Pulling on a black bathrobe, he proceeded to tie the sash when a certain someone’s voice appeared in his mind.

 

“Malfoy! I need you help.”

 

"Weasley? What are you doing?" he answered, suddenly feeling very exposed in the empty prefect’s bathroom. Reminding himself that the mindball allowed for no visual communication, he cautiously knotted the sash.

 

“I need your help,” she repeated urgently.

 

“My help? With what?” He reached for his wand to dry his damp hair that fell suavely down over his eyes. He wondered momentarily if he should leave it wet. It’d be something for girls to drool at. On the other hand, it’d present a state of unkemptness that Malfoys kept secret from the world.

 

“Malfoy. I’m in trouble. I need two-thousand galleons now.”

 

“Two-thousand galleons?” He lifted his wand and muttered a drying spell. “That’s an awful lot of money.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Her lips twisted to the side in frustration.

 

 “Why do you need it?”

 

“I don’t have time to explain. It’s a life or death situation. Just drop it by the cat painting, you know, the one that leads to Hogsmeade. I need it as soon as possible.” 

 

There was silence and for a moment Ginny was afraid he had closed the link in rage.

 

"This is a life or death situation," she repeated.

 

"Life or death?" She could almost see his eyebrow raising.

 

“Malfoy!” she screeched, her temper flaring easily under the stress. “You can’t lie mind to mind! I need the money now.”’

 

The long silence grated on her already frayed nerves. "Well?"

 

He smirked. Two thousand galleons was only a month’s allowance after all. "I expect the loan to be repaid by next month. After that I charge interest."

 

She smiled in relief. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

 

“Besides,” he continued. “I knew you would come to me someday for money.”

 

She growled. “And one day you'll come to me begging for a soul."

 

“Oh, that hurt, Weasley,” he laughed.

 

 “Thanks, Malfoy. I...I owe you one.”

 

“You bet you do.”

 

 

Snapping their link shut like a briefcase, she pulled on an oversized plain, black school robe. The bright green would have made her a glow-in-the-dark target. She frowned at her bulky reflection in the dormitory mirror. Bits of neon fabric peeked out from under the school uniform. With a final glance at the pictures on Yvette’s dresser, she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

 

She knew several paths to Hogsmeade, many of which where shown to her by her brothers. However, they all seemed to involve skidding down ghost-marked tunnels or creeping along the banks of Hogwart’s underground moat. Malfoy’s dive into the Persian cat was by far the fastest method.

 

Her ragged, puffing robes coupled with her severely pulled back hair and scruffy sneakers drew the attention of the few others wandering the corridors. Yes, Ginny Weasley had reached a new fashion low, but it couldn’t be helped at the moment. She pursed her lips in determination as she faced the empty space on which the painting was hung. The sack of galleons was below where the portrait would have been if she could see it. She hurriedly tucked it into her robes and glared stonily at the wall. She had come to an impasse that to go through the painting, she needed to see it first.

 

After a few minutes of unproductive staring, she gave up and opted for a new method. She closed her eyes and envisioned the painting against the stone wall. Gathering all her focus into one breath, she rammed her body into where the cat’s inviting mouth would have been. For a moment, she thought she actually fell through, but the dizzy sensation was only a side effect of the wall’s impact on her body. Recovering herself, she tried again only to bruise her shoulder roughly against the granite surface. A wave of nausea and dizziness made tears well up in her eyes, but she angrily blinked them away. She had to see the painting- she needed Malfoy.

 

Should she drag him along with her? No, he’d only get in the way. Besides, he may even be involved in the kidnapping. Calming herself down to a point of rational thinking, she reached out for him in the swirling ocean of her thoughts. She hit the point where his sea met hers in a strangely beautiful blend of sunrise and sunset.

 

When she snapped open her eyes, she saw a solid flicker of the painting against the gray. Willing her body to not hit the unyielding cold surface, she dashed through without hesitation and found herself blinking dazedly on Hogsmeade’s now dark streets.

 

Recovering herself, she took off running to where Yvette’s captors would be. At night, the almost medieval seeming streets resembled her father’s postcards of muggle cities. The nightlife bustled around her in flashing lights of bars and merry melodies of carolers. She bounded past all the corner Santa Clauses and the tired, muddy beggars towards the fringes of town.

 

The bright lights quickly faded behind her. A few faded rays from small houses on the outskirts of town lit the dirt road beneath her feet. Her steps slowed, the sound of her heels against the cobblestone echoing eerily in the darkness - the card had asked her to meet them at the south end. Ginny bit her lip. She was pretty sure that she was at the south end of town. After all, the sun had set in the direction of Mrs. Weatherspoon’s shop. If that was west, then this empty, barely residential part of town must be south. She spun around towards the woods. Yvette could be just beyond the thin veil of trees. Holding her breath, she proceeded into the dark forest.

 

******

 

Draco stepped out of the bathroom and walked briskly to his room, looking immaculate as usual. He prided himself in his appearance of absolute perfection as if his entire existence was one long good hair day.

 

Once inside the dungeons, he immediately called a house-elf to count and deliver two thousand galleons to the portrait. The ugly and pitifully obedient creature barely made it out the door, when a ferocious black raven showed up at his window. His eyes narrowed as he slid the glass open. Of all his father’s pet messengers, this obsidian creature was by far his least favorite. She loved to do Lucius’s dirty work and reminded him strangely of Pansy: beautiful but strangely vicious and deceitful. He vividly recalled a memory of her leaving bloody peck-marks on his body after he’d disobeyed his father back in fourth year. It was the year he met Yvette and her mother. 

 

Grimacing, he shoved the bird outside before her delivery could hit the ground. She squawked angrily and threw her body against the thick, frosted glass a few times. Draco smirked and drew the drapes closed as he bent to pick up the letter. The cream colored material was thick and expensive, sealed with a wax emblem of a stygian 'M' intertwined with silver snakes.

 

 

Dear Draco,

 

Alas, I have found a solution to the curse concerning you and the Weasley girl.  Come to the south end of Hogsmeade at midnight. The dark lord has granted you the honors of canceling the imprecation. Congratulations as I expect you are very pleased with this recent occurrence. Be punctual. 

 

Merry Christmas.

 

Lucius Malfoy

 

 

Draco set the letter down so as not to singe his fingers when it burst into flame. He had a strong feeling that ‘this recent occurrence’ had to do with Ginny’s ‘life or death situation’. He ran a hand through his gelled hair: life had just gotten a bit more complicated.

 

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Ginny stumbled over yet another large tree root and with that decided she had come far enough. If this was the south end forest, then Yvette’s kidnappers couldn’t be far away.

"Come out, you bastards!" she attempted to scream, only to remember her voice was gone. She cursed silently.

Without warning, a fluorescent green light shot violently out of the darkness, its target clearly her own body. The blow knocked her on to her back but left her unharmed. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she blinked rapidly as robed figures materialized from the gloomy emptiness between the ancient tres. It was as if she were in a ruin, surrounded by ominous faceless statues.

A figure paced forward, "So, you finally arrived."

Ginny glared furiously, focusing all her hate on his shadow-obscured face. The figure continued towards her, unfazed. As trembles overtook her body, she raised her wand shakily, aiming it directly at whatever lay beneath his hood.

The figure stopped and she could almost see the condescending smirk on his face. She knew who he was. Lucius Malfoy had ruined her life once and he was about to do it again. His hand rose, nestled in his palm a glowing bauble. The ball pulsed and glowed, illuminating the glen.

Ginny looked away to avoid the piercing glow. The ball brightened, causing her eyes to clench and her head to spin. She dropped her wand to shield her eyes from the blinding intensity that sent her to her knees, curling into a fetal position. Then as abruptly as it started, the light was gone. She blinked, unsure if her eyes were open or not. She was surrounded by thick pitch-black air, her eyes unable to adjust, as if she were blind. Panicked, she groped around the ground, feeling for her fallen wand. She froze. The ground had changed from the grassy, root-infested, dirt-covered forest floor to a rugged stone surface.

"Lost something?" he chuckled. "You might be interested to know that, even though you lost your sight you have regained your voice."

Her head tilted sharply towards the source of the voice, hoping that he would speak again. After a moment, she desperately tried to engage her captor in conversation. "Where am I?", she wanted to ask. There was so much she wanted to ask. Where was Yvette? Were Draco and Mrs. Weatherspoon and the detention committee part of some intricate plan to get her killed? To capture Yvette? Either way, I'll rip every vital organ you have from your body, she thought to herself angrily, and slowly feed them to pigs you arrogant, cold blooded, son of a -

Instead she sighed shakily and said, "What do you want with me Lucius?"

For a while, Ginny was afraid he had already left her - alone, blinded, and wandless - until he spoke once more.

"You’ll see soon enough."

 

******

End of Chapter 9

 

What will happen to Ginny? What will happen to Yvette? To Draco? To H+H and Ron? All that and more in the next chapter of “Antithetical.”  Stay tuned.

 

 

Last, but not least. Thank you to our beta-reader, equinebound. =) Thank you so much for picking out those typos. LOL. =)

 

 

Once again, thanks a bunch to everyone who reads this fic. Thanks a double bunch to everyone who reviews. =) ^_~

 

Comments? Constructive Criticism? Just have extra time on your hands? E-mail us at mignonne_sellene@yahoo.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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