When they push you away
When they’ve been
Raped on the inside
Torn on the outside
The dirt and ugly from the stain that they try to hide
Touched in private places
Too scared to ask for help...
I’m wishing the bath water clean
She hides in the back and is unseen
I take off the mask that surrounds me
Look me in the face
What do you see?
-Angel by Blue October
Ginny stepped backwards, shaking her head in disbelief. No. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t possibly be here.
“Oh, but it is, Ginny. It is very possible. You knew I was a student, after all. You knew I had to be in the school. Just because you did not discover my true identity does not mean I stopped existing.”
The girl tripped on an overturned chair, falling to the floor. She continued backing up, this time on all fours, trying to get away from him. He slowly meandered towards her, taking his time, enjoying her fear. The man spun his wand between his hands, a cruel smirk planted on his mouth. Ginny’s back hit the door, and she froze.
“Why do you look so frightened? Aren’t you excited by our reunion, Ginny? Haven’t you missed me?”
Ginny rose up slowly, as if afraid any sudden movements would provoke him to attack. She felt the door behind her, searching for the handle. Finally, her hand rested on the cold metal knob.
“Go ahead. Turn it Ginny. See how far it gets you.” He stopped in his progression, waiting.
Ginny spun around, yanking at the handle, but the door did not budge. She twisted it back and forth, pulling, then pushing, to no avail. Finally, she stopped bothering, and instead resorted to pounding on the wood of the door itself and screaming at the top of her lungs. “Please! Help me! Let me out! Please! He’s in here! He’s in here! Help! Hel—”
A sudden weight slammed her into the door, quieting her. His body pressed against her from behind, his arms trapped her, his hand clamped over her mouth to silence her. “Ginny…I’ve missed hearing you scream. You have no idea how much.”
“Please. Please stop. Please don’t do this.” The tears were running down her face now, a steady stream. Her voice was muffled from his hand, and she was finding it harder and harder to breathe. Her chest heaved for air, she tried to calm herself, to keep her head, but her body shuddered at his touch.
“You know I can’t do that, Ginny.” He whispered in her ear. “You know how much I want this. How much you want this.”
She shook her head, and he spun her around, slamming her against the door. His hands pinned her arms above her body, and he leaned forward, breathing in her scent. The man licked her cheek, making her shrink away from him in disgust. “Did I ever tell you how crazy you make a man?”
“Get away from me.” Her voice sounded weak and pathetic to her ears. He chuckled in amusement.
“But Ginny, you know you can’t resist me. The first time we made love…it was pure bliss.”
Ginny’s teeth gritted, and she glared at him. “I never made love to you! You are a sick, perverted, bastard! You raped me!”
He grabbed her, pulling her away from the door and throwing her. Ginny tumbled to the floor, scraping her knees and elbow as she tried to catch herself. He kicked her in the gut before she could stand, and as she curled up to protect herself, climbed on top of her. “Don’t lie to yourself, Ginny. You’re nothing but a dirty, nasty whore, and you got what you deserved.” The man grabbed her face, turning it towards him. “You’re tainted. Soiled. Used. No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you are and always will be. So stop trying to fight it.” He forced his lips onto hers, invading her mouth with his tongue. She pushed at him, trying to get him off of her, but he was too heavy, too strong. Ginny felt her strength, her resolve weakening. She felt the numbing fear set in. She couldn’t fight him. She was powerless. He would take her again, like he had before. He would kill her this time. He wouldn’t fail.
No. No, she had to fight back. She had won three battles already. Three of them were dead. He was just one man. The odds were even again. She could fight back. She could win. She had to. She couldn’t endure it a second time. She would certainly die, certainly kill herself, if he touched her again. If he raped her again. Ginny pushed against him with all her might, and for a few seconds, they were locked in a wrestle, fighting for dominance. And then she threw his arms off of her, grabbing at his face and tearing into his skin. Her fingers groped for the edge of his mask and the grasped it, yanking it off.
Ginny stared into the black void of nothingness. There was no mouth with which to kiss her. No frightening blue eyes to see her. No nose or ears. No face at all. It was as if she had replaced his Death Eater mask with another one, completely black, completely empty. It wasn’t possible, that this nothingness should exist, that he should wear it for a face. It wasn’t possible, and it baffled her beyond her comprehension. Sent her mind reeling. It wasn’t possible. Where was his face? He really was nothing but a faceless phantom. Faceless.
Ginny’s limbs felt numb and heavy. She couldn’t fight him off as he grabbed at her shirt. She heard the ripping sound, though she did not feel his hands on her. She was too shocked to feel anything. She could do nothing more than stare in horror. Where was his face? His face…
Draco burst into the hall, staring around him. He was blind with rage, but his eyes finally found Parkinson, leaned against a door, a smile on her face. She looked up when she heard him, and their eyes locked.
Draco stalked forward, but the girl did not move. “What…did you do…with Ginny?”
Her jaw set in a firm line, and she lifted her chin. “What did you do with Blaise?”
“Where is she?!” Draco roared, pulling out his wand. He could feel the Cruciatus on the tip of his tongue. A scream cut through his enraged mind. He glanced over the girl’s shoulder, past her, to the closed door. She swallowed audibly, biting her lip. “Move.”
She needed no more incentive. The girl darted out of the way. Draco ran for the door, throwing an opening spell at the lock as he went. He fell inside, his wand at the ready, and froze at the scene he saw.
Ginny lay on the floor on her back, her face contorted with fear, tears streaming out of her eyes. Her shirt was ripped open, revealing her chest, and her skirt was pulled up to her hips. A figure clad in black leaned over her, his hand on her bare stomach. Draco lifted his wand, ready to curse the man, but he stood slowly, of his own accord. “Show your face, you son of a bitch! I want to see your face while I kill you!”
He lifted his hands in surrender, turning slowly. Draco’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped in surprise. Long, silver hair cascaded down the man’s shoulders. His pale face and thin lips were set in a stern line. His eyes, nearly identical to Draco’s, danced with laughter. In his right hand he held a black cane with a silver serpent’s head at the top. “Lucius?”
“Draco, Draco, Draco. What have I told you about interrupting me when I’m busy, Draco?”
“What…what the hell are you doing here, Lucius? What were you doing to Ginny?” Draco pointed his wand at his father with renewed vigor.
“I always did like them young, Draco.”
“I’ll kill you you asshole!” In his peripheral vision, Draco watched Ginny stand and shakily pull her torn shirt around her breasts. Before he could stop her, she ran out of the room. Draco turned to yell at her to wait for him, he didn’t want her alone with that bitch Parkinson, but she was gone.
“Draco, haven’t I taught you anything? Never turn your back on your opponent!” Draco’s eyes widened as the sickening blow struck him in the back of the neck. He fell to the ground, grabbing at his head to shield himself from another strike. The back of his head was wet. Damn. He was bleeding.
The second blow wasn’t as bad as the first. It slammed into Draco’s back. It didn’t break through the skin, but it would give him a hell of a bruise later. He curled into a ball, letting the hits pound down on him, as his mind raced. Why would his father be here? In Hogwarts? How did he get in? How was he not noticed? And why would he be doing that to Ginny?
The thought flashed through his mind for an instance, that Ginny’s rapist was not a student, but his father, but he quickly dismissed it. It made no sense. The night Ginny was raped, Lucius was home. It was a particularly harsh beating he remembered receiving from the man. And besides, Lucius had grey eyes, like Draco’s. Not blue.
And now that Draco thought about it, how could Lucius possibly pay a visit to him here? In the middle of the school year? In Voldemort’s prime? He was permanently assigned to the task of infiltrating the Ministry from the inside. He didn’t have time to go after Draco or his girlfriend, no matter how much he wanted to terrorize them. And even if he did, it would have been impossible for him to get past the wards, a Death Eater, without being noticed.
It didn’t add up. None of this made sense. How was his father here? Why was his father here? Unless…unless the man beating him right now wasn’t his father. Unless the man beating him right now wasn’t a man at all.
As the cane came down for another swing, Draco reached up, grabbing it in his hand. Their eyes met, Draco’s and Lucius’s, and he saw through the deception easily. It was simple, once you knew what you were looking for, to know whether or not you were dealing with a boggart. No matter how your fears manifested themselves onto the creatures, there were always obvious flaws, little glimmers of magic, around the edges. Draco smirked, pointing his wand at the creature, and yelled, “Riddikulus!”
The snake-head cane morphed into a real snake, and Draco dropped it. It turned on its master, biting at his face, and it took all the false Lucius’s energy to keep it at bay. Draco rolled to his feet, running out the door, looking both ways for Ginny. He cursed. She could be anywhere by now.
A squeal of fear to his right drew his attention. Pansy Parkinson was slumped against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible so she was not seen. Draco stalked forward, the anger burning in his chest, his wand raised. “Which way did she go?” She opened her mouth to speak, but her lips trembled, and no sound came out. Draco grabbed her by the throat, squeezing her neck in an iron grip. “Answer my question.”
She shook her head, grabbing at his hand, trying to pull it off. The longer he held her, the bluer her face became. She lifted a hand, pointing down the hallway to his left. He did not let her go. Instead, Draco leaned in, his face inches from hers. “If you ever so much as breathe her name again, I will make sure it will be the last breath you take. What happened to Zabini will seem like a walk in the park compared to what I’ll do to you.” The girl nodded in understanding, and Draco dropped her neck, letting her collapse to the floor gasping for breath.
He spun on his heels and sprinted down the hall after Ginny. Draco called out her name, but it was useless. She either didn’t hear him because she was too far away, or she ignored him. He had to know where she would go and head in that direction rather than follow her through the labyrinth of corridors and moving staircases that was Hogwarts.
So, where would Ginny go if she’d just almost been raped, again, by a boggart that took on the appearance of her worst nightmare? She would feel vulnerable and afraid in the very least. Perhaps harmful to herself if she didn’t truly understand the situation. But she most certainly would want to be alone, away from any people, somewhere secluded where she could hide in her own dark thoughts and fear.
His mind immediately went to the best place to do so. The prefect’s bathroom. She would hide out in there. Draco turned right, taking the shortest route he knew. It was another ten minutes before he made it to the bathroom, and when he finally did, he had to stop to catch his breath. The sound of running water and sobbing met his ears, and he took a deep breath, steadying himself for what he might find. Draco opened the door slowly, poking his head in.
The bathroom was empty, thankfully. He could see the taps running from where he stood, but he couldn’t see Ginny. Her clothes lay in a pile on the floor, so she must be sitting down in the base of the giant tub. Draco closed the door silently behind him and locked it, sealing it with a silencing charm. He had a feeling this was going to be traumatic, and if he didn’t want to be accused of rape himself, he was going to need to make sure Ginny could scream and cry all she wanted without anyone interrupting them.
“Ginny?” Draco called out gently. He didn’t get an answer. He stepped forward in trepidation, glancing over the rim of the pool. As he had thought, Ginny sat in the bottom, the water up to her chest and continuing to fill the tub, a bar of soap and hand towel in her hands. She was scrubbing at her arms furiously, with such vigor that they had turned raw and red and begun to bleed in some places. As she did this, she rocked back and forth, emitting the occasional sob.
Draco grimaced. He grabbed his shoes and socks, pulling them off of his feet and setting them beside her clothes. Draco tossed his robe, shirt, and tie as well, and, rolling his pants legs up to the knees, gently stepped into the water. It was scalding hot, but he ignored the painful heat, and instead focused on Ginny. She didn’t notice his presence, not even when he stood less than a meter from her.
It wasn’t until he gently laid a hand on her shoulder that she reacted, and in the way he had feared worst. She let out an ear-piercing shriek and jerked away from him, thrusting her arms out as if to fight him off. Draco stepped forward slowly, his arms open wide, and tried to console her with his voice, but it seemed to only make her reaction worse. The more he tried to wake her from her nightmare, the more she fought against him, until he was waist deep in water with his arms wrapped around the girl as she pounded uselessly on his chest and screamed for him not to hurt her, not to rape her. Draco winced with each hit, not because it physically hurt him, but because he felt her pain, her suffering. And because she could not even see the difference between him and her rapist.
Finally, the punches slowed to a stop, and she collapsed against him, sobbing openly. She still did not speak, and whether she had finally realized it was Draco holding her, or simply had stopped caring who it was, he wasn’t sure. He held her to his chest, rocking her back and forth to soothe her, stroking her wet red hair comfortingly. They stood there for nearly half an hour, not speaking, not thinking, simply feeling. Finally, her sobs died down to the occasional shudder, and she wrapped her arms around him in return.
“Draco?” Ginny whispered.
“Is it you, Draco?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Gin.”
“He…he was here, Draco. Him. He was raping me.”
“No, Ginny. It wasn’t real.” He held her out at arm’s length, staring sadly into her eyes.
She looked so distraught, so confused and helpless. “B-but…but I saw him. I felt him. He kissed me. He…he touched me. He told me things.”
“It wasn’t real, Gin. It was a boggart. A creature that manifests itself as your worst fear.”
“But…” Her eyes opened in understanding. “That’s…that’s why he didn’t have a face?”
Had Ginny’s boggart had no face? It would be understandable, considering she didn’t know who the man was that she feared. “Yes, Gin. That’s why.”
“Then…what happened to him…it?”
“When I came into the room it turned into my father. I realized it was a boggart and used a counter spell on it.”
“But…it touched me…it said things…”
“Where did it touch you, Gin?” She looked away from him, her lips trembling. Ginny held up a hand, touching her cheek, her hair, then her chest. “Did it touch you anywhere else?” She shook her head. “Did it…?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word rape.
“No.” The relief in her voice comforted him, and she collapsed into him once more, holding him tightly, for dear life. With the same vigor that she had been punching him just moments ago she now embraced him. “But the things it said, Draco. The same things that he said.”
“Just memories, Gin. Just memories of your rapist.”
“It said I was dirty. I’m tainted. I’m tainted because he raped me.” Her voice broke.
“No, Ginny. You know that’s not true.” Draco bit his lip. How he wished he could wash these thoughts, these beliefs, from her mind.
“But it is! I am! I’m dirty! I was…I was trying to clean myself. To wash him off of me.” She reached a hand out for the soap, but Draco pulled it away.
“No, Ginny. You’re hurting yourself. You’re rubbing your skin raw.”
“But I want to be clean, Draco.” Her voice made his heart break. She was practically begging him to let her hurt herself. Draco felt tears spring to his eyes. “I’m so…tainted. Draco…please…please make me clean again Draco.”
Draco closed his eyes, breathing in a shaky breath. “Gin…”
He sighed, feeling his resolve weaken. Draco loved her, he couldn’t deny her. Whatever she wanted, whatever he needed, he would do for her. When it came to Ginny’s needs, Draco was powerless. He nodded, taking her hands and pulling her back towards the tub.