Alphabet Soup


Oh, you're back! *hugs* Good to see you again. I have another…

NB: In this chapter a rather… fascist concept is introduced. In fact, the concept is essentially identical to the Nazi Lebensborn complexes in WWII. I wish it was something stupid and contrived, but unfortunately such things did occur and there are some other Nazi references throughout the rest of the story, so… there's your warning. The previous statement should have implied this, but just in case: slight non-con will be a factor later on.

Ready, set, go!

Alphabet Soup



"I'm not having sex with you."

Ginny jumped, startled. The door seemed to open as soon as it had closed. She furrowed her brow, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. "Malfoy?" she sputtered.

"No, I'm Father Christmas," Malfoy mocked. "And I'm not having sex with you."

"What the hell?" Ginny muttered. "What gave you the impression that I wanted to sleep with you?!"

"It doesn't matter what you want, or what I want- or don't want, in this case," Malfoy sneered. "Don't you know why the Dark Lord is keeping us here?"

"Because I'm a pureblood," Ginny answered with trepidation.

"Come on, Weaselette, make the connection," Draco said as he rolled his grey eyes.

"Tom said that we need more pureblood Wizards and Witches… Oh, god!"

"Took you long enough."

Ginny's cheeks flushed pink. "Well, if Tom thinks I'll have sex with you, he's crazier than I thought."

"That's the second time in twelve seconds that you've mentioned 'Tom'. I've been here for quite a while and haven't ever met anyone named Tom." Draco narrowed his eyes; he wasn't used to being left in the dark. He usually got every little piece of information from his father. Lucius was in trouble now, Draco remembered. He couldn't pass any knowledge that he didn't know.

"But… everyone here knows Tom!" Ginny protested. "Or… they think they do. No one really knows Tom, I guess…" Realization swept over her in a wave. No one else knew Voldemort's real name. Why, then, had he let her call him by his birth name? She wasn't anyone important, like Bellatrix or Avery. Curious. "Never mind. Maybe he didn't tell me his real name." The words gushed from her lips so quickly that Draco was immediately suspicious.

He looked Ginny in the eye and tried to sneak into her thoughts… His brain hit a wall.

"When did you learn to Occlude?" Draco asked archly.

"I've been Occluding since I was fourteen," Ginny answered smugly. "That's one of the benefits of having very talented older brothers: you can learn all of their skills and they're more than willing to teach their baby sister."

"From what I understand, your brothers weren't even clever enough to stay alive," Draco laughed.

Ginny's eyes took on a dangerous look and she glared fire at Malfoy. "You'd best watch your words, ferret, or I'll hex you into next week."

"With what wand?" Draco mocked. He pulled out his own wand and began twirling it between his fingers, smiling. He didn't see Ginny's lip twitch angrily or notice that her face had flushed. She stood as best she could and whispered under her breath one of the most simple and one of the most useful spells she had ever learned. Her anger spurred her on. Wandless magic was simply wonderful.

It felt like a harsh wind blew through the little room when Draco's wand flew from his hand and into Ginny's.

"With this wand."

Draco's eyes widened. "You… give that back, Weasley, or the Dark Lord will hear of this!" His voice shook; Ginny knew he was bluffing.

"Yeah, Malfoy," she languorously replied. "You're going to march up to You-Know-Who and whine that the little blood traitor took your wand. We both know better than that." She pocketed his wand and sat back down. "Just tell me why you're here so you can leave already."

"I have orders to take you to a nice little room on the other side of the complex," he sneered. "I'm supposed to help you walk-" he stared at her bloody leg "-but as you've stolen my wand and are generally annoying, I don't think I will."

"Oh, but what about your orders, Malfoy? We wouldn't want you getting in trouble like your daddy, would we?"

"What do you know of my father?" he snapped. His shoulders slumped slightly and his platinum eyebrows knitted for a fraction of a second.

"Didn't you hear?" Ginny asked airily. "Daddy got in trouble for being mean to the Weaselette."

"You lie."

"Why should I lie when the truth is more likely to sting?" Ginny sighed. "You get your wand back when I'm in a comfy new room. Now help me up and out before I decide to curse you after all."

Draco swore under his breath. He grabbed Ginny's arm and threw it around his neck. He didn't miss the way she gripped his wand and, quite frankly, he didn't want to be hexed by her. She had fought against a group of Death Eaters at the Ministry for Magic and came out with nothing more than an injured ankle.

As they sluggishly made their way through hallway after hallway, Ginny began to laugh. Draco glared confusedly at her. "It's normal, almost," Ginny snickered. "It's not funny at all, but it's normal. You and me, I mean. No matter who's where and what's happened, you're still around to irritate me."

He heard himself chortle unconsciously. Abruptly he stopped at a heavy oak door and turned its silver knob. "Here you are," Draco said. "Now give me my wand."

Ginny threw it down the hall. "Fetch."

Devoid of emotion, he stared at her. "See you later, Weaselette."


"Robes," someone yelled, opening Ginny's door and closing it as quickly as possible.

Ginny sighed. Plain black robes lay in a heap on the floor of her new bedroom. Everything was done in various shades of blue. Ginny hated blue. She didn't recall telling Tom her color preferences when she had the diary, but she figured he must have found out some way or another and put her in a blue room just to make her angry. Sighing again, she picked up the robes and hobbled over to her… blue… washroom. With enough saturation she was able to peel the jeans from her leg with minimal bleeding. She rolled the stained side up to her knee. Pulling on the robes, she looked at her reflection. At least this mirror doesn't talk. She ran fingers through her messy red hair and washed a bit of dirt from her nose.

"Good enough," she muttered, haphazardly throwing on the robes, and just in time. Someone had opened her door a crack and was peering into the room.

"Ginny?" a familiar voice softly called. "Ginny, are you dressed? Is it safe for me to come in?"

Was that- could it be- "Luna?" Ginny replied in shock. "Yes, yes, come in!"

"We're supposed to go have dinner now, Ginny," Luna said. Her airy voice had lost some of its cheerfulness and her flaxen hair seemed dull. "The Dark Lord doesn't like it when we're late."

That isn't to say you'll never be punished.

"Yeah…" Ginny murmured. "We'll talk on the way and during dinner."

"We aren't allowed to talk during dinner," Luna somberly replied as she began to lead Ginny towards the dining room.

"Why not?"

"He thinks we might talk about escaping, as if we could. The fastest Sniggerboohs couldn't get us away from here."

"Sniggerboohs?" Ginny smiled. Another constant- Luna's nonsensical chatter.

"Yes; Father wrote an article about them for the final issue of The Quibbler. They're very useful and quite fast. Remember the Thestrals? Sniggerboohs are almost three times as fast."

"How is your dad, Luna? I mean, is he still…"

"Alive?" Luna finished. "Yes, but I don't get to see him much. He keeps us separated into little groups. We're both female and of age but under twenty-five, so we're in the same group. The boys who meet the same prerequisites are in our group, too. Here we are," she said, knocking on a dark wooden door.

"Name?" a voice asked.

"Luna Lovegood, accompanied by Ginny Weasley."

The door opened, but before they could pass the threshold the masked Death Eater stopped them. "You know the rules, Lovegood- no joint arrivals."

"I was told to show Miss Weasley the way to the dining hall."

The Death Eater didn't verbalize his response; he simply moved aside and allowed them to enter.

This wasn't anything at all like the dining room Ginny had been in before. There were no portraits or fancy china, just bare walls and common flatware. There was a single long table at which many Witches and Wizards her age sat. Luna pressed a finger to her lips, reminding Ginny that speaking was forbidden. She then pointed to a small piece of paper at a place setting. Luna Lovegood, it read. Ginny understood; they had assigned seats. She would have said something sassy, but there were two murderers in masks chaperoning them. Sighing quietly, she searched the empty spaces. The paper reading Ginevra Weasley was situated between Neville Longbottom (she smiled to herself; Neville was alive) and Dmitri Yurovski.

Shrugging, she sat and surveyed the room, looking for familiar faces. There were some she recognized from Hogwarts. There was Draco, Blaise, the Patil twins, some Hufflepuffs and a few Ravenclaws, and a smattering of Slytherins. Most of these people were strangers. How much of the world had Tom already conquered? Dmitri Yurovski took his seat, then Neville. Ginny shot him a quick smile and squeezed his hand under the table once he was seated. She winced and snatched back her hand; Neville looked quickly and saw how torn it was. He raised his eyebrows in silent concern; she frowned slightly and shrugged. Soon enough every seat was filled and food appeared on the table.

It wasn't what she expected. She thought that with all of the rules and the oppressive atmosphere they would be given the stereotypical bread and water. She couldn't have been more wrong. The table was covered with delicious food, the kind she should be eating at Hogwarts right now. Her stomach lurched; Colin Creevey was in her year. Where was he? Then she remembered Tom saying that Muggle-borns would be eliminated. Was he dead? Her eyes stung from tears she didn't know she had been hiding.

After thinking about every Muggle-born and every half-blood (had her friends met Tom's expectations?) she had ever met, Ginny couldn't taste her food. She ate greedily (had she eaten anything since that cold soup?), but the food provided no comfort whatsoever. In fact, it became disconcerting as soon as Padma Patil finished her meal and stood. Ginny gasped; Padma's stomach was swollen. Tom was giving them good food to nourish the pureblood babies he expected the women to bear. Oh, god! When would that happen to her? Who would choose her… partner? She hoped that she and Neville were forced to be together. Neville was her friend and she trusted him to be sympathetic. She never thought that she would sleep with Neville Longbottom, much less hope for it.

Stupid Tom. She'd never be able to fall in love. She'd never be able to make love; plain old sex was all she would ever get. She might resent any child she had because of its father. Stupid Tom and his stupid ideas. He had to be the biggest megalomaniac on the face of the planet, even worse than those guys she learned about in Muggle Studies. Linen and Stalling, right? Or Neapolitan and Hiller? Pot Pot? Meow Z-dung? Tom was worse than any of them, she decided. They had all been beaten, right? So that meant Tom could be beaten as well. Wait- no, not all of them were defeated.


Yeah… so… taa-daa!

Your reviews have been very helpful to me. I go forward and change things when a specific issue is brought to my attention. That means that reviewing is in your best interest! Have any thoughts? Leave them in a review! I really enjoy in-depth critiques, for the record.

Next Time: "I want to know how you went from being so ugly to so good-looking!" Oops. Shouldn't have said most of that.

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