They couldn’t believe she’d done this. They were all shocked, stunned, and appalled by Hermione’s latest act. Even McGonagall. Even after they’d learned what Dumbledore had done, what he’d planned, and that Hermione was pregnant. Instead they’d started coming up with plans to kill the pregnancy. When Ginny objected they called her a traitor.
When she shouted in Ron’s face, told him what they were trying was inhumane, he’d spat back; “at least I’m not a useless dyke!”
It was the gasp and the sound of dishes shattering that told Ginny her mother was there. She turned and saw her mother, tears in her eyes and hands over her mouth. She’d looked so fragile in that moment. A fragility that turned to rage when Ginny said it was true. She’d grabbed Ginny by the hair and thrown her into her room, shouting about how this was “unacceptable,” and “no wonder you’ve been consorting with a death eater!” Then she’d told her she was forbidden from leaving her room until she accepted her place and agreed to marry some young boy. Her mother had taken her wand when she left, and Ginny had dissolved into tears.
She had known her mother wouldn’t take it well, but being forced to marry, having her wand stolen, losing contact with Luna, forced into her room--it was worse than she had expected. The thought of being parted from Luna, especially as the war got worse, was unbearable.
When Bill showed up for his wedding, he was shocked, but made no move to help her. Fleur had reacted much more. A few days after arriving she even got into a shouting match with Ginny’s mum, one that had her hands transforming into the razor-sharp talons of her avian form.
During the argument, Fred had broken into their mum and dad’s room and stolen Ginny’s wand back. He, George, Bill, and Fleur had coordinated everything. When he placed the wand in Ginny’s hand she had roughly twenty minutes to leave. Fred then cast a disillusionment charm on her, and she broke open her window and climbed out. She snuck towards the broomshed. She broke the lock with sheer force and rage, quickly grabbing a pair of Cleansweep Sevens and kicking off.
She arrived at Luna’s, who, unsurprisingly, seemed to have known what would happen. She had packed for both of them. With the dubious blessing of Xenophilius Lovegood the two had quickly attached their luggage to broomsticks and taken off. They flew above the clouds, hoping no sightings would mean Ginny’s parents couldn’t find them.
Neither of them would be able to use magic for a while. Luna would in a few months. Seven, really. Ginny’d have to wait more than a year.
Still, cleaning, cooking, and living without magic would be more than worth it if it meant they would be both together, safe, and not have to fight their friends. It was better than being trapped in her room or a marriage.
Parts of it seemed too good to be true. She was moving to a cottage on the coast of Normandy with her beautiful girlfriend. A cottage their best friend had given them, specifically to be with each other. They would be out of her mother’s reach, and Luna would be out of danger from You-Know-Who’s minions. Luna had even managed to get ahold of some French Muggle money before they left.
Then the rest of it sunk in. Her mother hated her. She’d tried to yell, shout, and lock away her lesbian daughter. Her father and Ron hadn’t bothered to help her. She’d barely managed to get out without promising to marry someone. She was relying on the assistance and goodwill of Bellatrix Black’s soulmate, who had helped a dozen Death Eaters enter Hogwarts and killed Albus Dumbledore
Ginny hadn’t been surprised when she learned Hermione had killed Dumbledore. She’d suspected it after Hermione had body-bound her and Luna. She didn’t really know what to think of it. On the one hand, it was Dumbledore . Leader of the Light, Defender of the Oppressed, the only one You-Know-Who ever feared. On the other hand, he was Dumbledore, the man who had helped kill Hermione’s parents and hide her with an abusive foster family.
Then there was how she had killed him. Harry had been shaking with rage when he came down from the tower, and had not been shy about saying how Dumbledore had died. The Death Eater they’d taken captive, Corban Yaxley, had verified it. He bragged about it. He said her curse made Dumbledore spasm so hard he’d broken bones and dislocated joints. He laughed about it when he was carted off to Azkaban. He was held there for perhaps a week.
Seven crucios. Merlin. She supposed he deserved it for everything that happened to Hermione, but the idea that Hermione, her best friend, was capable of of enough hate to break someone’s bones with the Cruciatus was frightening beyond belief. Harry said it looked worse than what You-Know-Who could do.
She hoped they’d all come out of it alive and well. Or at the very least alive. Part of her felt like a coward for running away, for refusing to choose a side. The rest of her was glad she had the option. She didn’t want to choose between her family (granted, her unsupportive and forced-abortion-friendly family) and her increasingly dark best friend/soulmate of Bellatrix Black.
Ginny had tried to minimize the damage before she left. She’d sent Hermione a message before they took off. She didn’t want to know how Hermione would exact revenge should the Order’s plot succeed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lucius Malfoy was a proud man. This was, of course, known and expected, given that he was a pureblood lord. He took pride in many things, his heritage, his pureblood status, his lordship, his magical skill, his political ability, his wealth, his hair, his house--anything and everything that one could take pride in, Lucius Malfoy did.
Which was precisely why his current state of affairs was entirely untenable.
After the successful raid on Hogwarts, Lucius had expected to be included and lauded. After all, it was his son who secured the Death Eaters’ route into the castle, even if the MacEcrae bitch had stolen the most important job out from under him. Instead he had been tortured, stripped of his wand, and--
Well, it wouldn’t do to dwell on what else had happened. The other Christian lords he had been gathering had largely been scared off by Dumbledore’s murder and the sheer power of her Cruciatus. That just meant he needed to take matters into his own hands. If one wanted a job done well, they had to do it themselves. Or organize it themselves, in his case.
Mood lifting slightly, Lucius stood from behind his desk. It was time to visit the kitchens.