Chapter One: Prisoners
Ginny Weasley was sitting in her new room, silently watching the rain pound against her window. She could still hear heated voices downstairs.

"There's no way Malfoy can stay here."

"I don't trust him one bit. He shouldn't be trusted!"

"We've trusted Death Eaters before, and look what's happened there!"

"Leave Snape out of this - that was a different situation entirely - "


"But what about Malfoy?"

"What else is he supposed to do?"

She idly wondered if they were talking like this in front of Malfoy or if they had the decency to send him to the parlor first.

When she first opened her eyes to the blinding morning sunshine, she distinctly heard birds chirping in the distance. She knew instantly that it was strange the house should be so quiet. She stretched slowly, trying to make out the sounds of her mother in the kitchen, or of someone thumping up the stairs.

Absolute silence.

She rolled out of bed slowly, pulling on her dressing gown and putting on her bed slippers. She stood slowly and stretched again. She knew she wouldn't be properly functioning until she got a cup of tea.

She yawned loudly as she inched down the stairs to the kitchen. She opened the door and opened her mouth to mutter to her mum for a cup of tea --

Instead of her mother, she found Draco Malfoy. He was sitting alone at the empty table. He was dressed in pajamas, wrapped in a luxurious dressing robe. Hisn blond hair was ruffled. His face was in his hands.

He looked up at her with tired eyes.

She stared at him blankly.

"Want some breakfast?" she asked in a quiet voice, afraid of disrupting the silence which loomed like a spell over the house.

"Yes, please."

Ginny stood at the sink, washing up the dishes from breakfast. She heard Malfoy leave. She wondered if she were alone in the house with him. Where was her mother? Where was Hermione?

She turned off the tap and could hear people entering the house, by the sounds of it, her mother and Tonks.

She went up to meet them.

She sat in the study, idly trying to concentrate on the book in her lap. The fireplace was roaring next to her armchair. Her hair was still damp from a bath. Bits of her conversation with her mother kept running through her mind.

"Harry, Ron, and Hermione have left on some sort of mission. And nobody knows where they are."

"You're not to leave the house, under any circumstances, Ginny."

"And Malfoy - dear, you're not to let him leave either."

"What am I," she had asked, "His bloody warden?"

She wasn't a warden, she was a prisoner, too.

It was another quiet morning. She knew it from the moment she heard those distant birds chirping.

She found herself at the door of the kitchen once again, opening the door to find Draco Malfoy sitting at the table. His ruffled hair. His thick, silk dressing robe. His face in his hands.


"Yes, please."