When the Night Broke

By Hannah Davenport (slytherin_punk@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG

Summary: Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!



< >Draco had obviously thought of running when he spotted Lucius crouching in the Hogwarts bushes. He wanted to ask how long he had been there. He wanted to gently lay Ginny back onto the ground, and pummel his father with every bit of strength he could muster. Or he at least wanted to curse. But Ginny wouldn't want him to do any of these things. So, he didn't. He simply stood up, and casually leaned against the castle wall, which was cold and mossy in some places. Very soon, his father came swaggering towards him, looking outraged, which Draco had seen many, many times.

< >He came right up to Draco, took the collar of his Hogwarts uniform in his hands, and slammed him up against the wall. Draco distinctly heard his head crack. "Do you know how long I have been watching you, you impertinent, ignorant little moron?" he asked venomously, still grinding the back of Draco's head into the castle wall.

< >"Hmm Bob," Draco replied sarcastically. "I should've taken 'Difficult Latin Phrases for nine-hundred.' I'll just go with, every second since the very minute I was born."

< >Lucius put more pressure on Draco's skull, which was now beginning to pulse with pain. "Did you forget what day it is?" he snarled, eyes narrowed into malicious slits.

< >"No, I didn't," Draco replied, averting his gaze to the sleeping form of Ginny on the ground. "But I'm willing to bet you did. After all, the only birthday that's important to you is the Dark Lords. And, perhaps, yours. But who knows about that? You're never home on your birthday."

< >"I'm not talking about that, you insufferable idiot," Lucius growled, violence gleaming in his eyes, and a thirst for blood reverberating in his voice.

< >"Do you like words beginning with the letter 'I' or something?" Draco said in a perplexed tone. "Because so far you've said, I, impertinent, ignorant, it, I'm, insufferable, and idiot."

< >"Don't change the subject, you thick-headed simpleton." he snapped, his rage and vindictive wishes more apparent than ever. And Draco kept quiet. Some good it did him, though.

< >I think it is now time for me to tell you about the single one of the Undetectable Curses I didn't explain in the first part of this story: the Felispo Curse. The Felispo Curse is a very, very dangerous curse, simply for the reason that its purpose is induced vindictiveness. Something that only under very rare circumstances, will wear off. It feeds a venom of hatred and bitter loathing through your veins so fast you wouldn't even have time to say "Grandma's cookies!" before you found you hated your grandmother's cookies, and maybe even your grandmother. And then you'd be on a mad killing spree, realizing all the people you've "hated" without knowing it. And this was Draco's future. Especially after Lucius saw the Charm, which Ginny was still wearing.

< >Lucius dropped Draco in the middle of his head-grinding session/flaying, who crumpled to his knees. He knew what his father was going after. What he had seen. And indeed, just seconds later Lucius shoved the Charm under Draco's nose. "What - is - this?!" he growled. "And don't you dare say a Keeper's Charm!"

< >"Fine," Draco said softly. "I won't say it. But I think even you have brains enough to see what it is."

< >Lucius slapped him. A crisp, sharp noise in the stillness of the night. Ginny sighed in her sleep, and Lucius pocketed the Charm. Draco's face burned as if it were on fire. Another unfortunate side effect of Lucius's punishments. "You're in for it now, boy..." Lucius growled angrily. "The Dark Lord only has five years left, and you need to be... trained."

< >And Lucius fired the message and the sign into the sky. The one that would leave Ginny thinking he was... not.

Chapter One:

< >Ginny was now 22 years old. She worked at Flourish and Blotts bookstore, and lived at home, because of the terror that was now enveloping the whole of Britain. Because, on Draco's birthday of this year, the Dark Lord died, and his heir rose up one hundred times worse than the Dark Lord himself had ever been. Because earlier that year, Dumbledore had died at his hands. The name which was now substituted with the ominous "You-Know-Who" was Lord Radoc Lafoym - Gnommish for "Angel of Death", and Gobbledegook for "Mad serial killer".

< >Ginny was sitting at home, drinking a cup of tea when her father came home from work. He looked extremely harassed, and slumped in his chair the minute he made contact with it.

< >"It's a mad house out there, Gin," he sighed, and she reached over and patted his hand in a calming sort of way. "Absolutely horrible. They're all asking me whether or not the Ministry has put a stop the attacks, and I told them they wouldn't have seen one in the paper this morning if we had. And they all exploded..." he sighed warily, and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "I'm starting to think getting promoted wasn't such a good idea - even if Percy is the Minister..." he added as an afterthought.

< >"Oh, Dad," Ginny said quietly. She found it eerie that You-Know-Who came into their world on Draco's birthday. It was unsettling. "Dad, does anyone know if this guy was a Death Eater before he became who he is? Do you have an identification?"

< >Her dad grunted with the effort of sitting up straight after a full day of running errands for Percy. "There's only one explanation that makes sense," he replied. "But there's just one problem with it - Draco Malfoy isn't really here anymore. When we found his body out in Edinburgh..."

< >Ginny's throat tightened. The body had been awful. She, being the last one who had seen him, had been obligated to identify it. She shuddered, and not because she was drinking tea as cold as ice. "Please don't talk about that, Dad," she said gently, and he nodded in understanding.

< >"He never seemed to be a particularly cheerful child," he muttered, conjuring up some coffee. "Did he ever say anything to you about his home life?"

< >"No," Ginny replied quietly - so quietly that her voice was barely above a whisper. "But it was evident to me what kind of life he had." She thought of that September first when she had helped him fix his battered face.

< >"Well," he said, drinking deeply from his coffee mug. "I know he must have been very important to you - an example of not judging a book by its cover - but you'll make new friends, Ginny darling. Once you start talking to people outside of your family and Harry, that is."

< >Ginny closed her eyes slowly, and wished the tears back into their ducts. She wasn't going to cry. Draco wouldn't want her to cry. Draco would say it was wrong to cry. Draco would want her to get on with her life, even if he wasn't in it. She thought of the last time she had seen him alive. On his birthday two years before. How they had discussed things with each other - things they were supposed to do together eventually.

< >"I'll never have another friend like Draco," she said, but her father was already headed up for his annual after-work-nap, and couldn't hear the complete and total depression in her usually light and melodic voice.


< >He glowered out the window of Deathtrap Tower, not understanding the nature of the crisp and bright leaves that were scattered on the ground. He hated leaves almost as much as he hated trees; which was almost as much as he hated not being obeyed.

< >"I don't mean to be a bother," he said sharply, and the others inside the room stiffened. He smirked to himself. He loved feeling in control and powerful. He loved taking people's worst fears right out of their measly little minds, twisting them to be one hundred times worse, and shoving them under their ignorant noses.

< >"Didn't I order that blasted acacia chopped down?" He turned to glare at his minions, an eyebrow arched and his wand waiting in the pocket of his cloak to kill the first person who came forward.

< >No one moved, or said a word. The silence was so thick he could have sworn no one was breathing.

< >"No one up to confessing?" he asked in a tone of mock despair. "All right then, I guess I'll just have to pick..." his eyes traveled along the line of Death Eaters that were watching him, sweat pouring down their faces like they were just another part of Niagara Falls. He tried not to be sick, and his eyes stopped on one man who he couldn't help but laugh at.

< >"Lucius, my dear man," he said, feigning joviality, and clapping Lucius on the shoulder. "I believe it's your turn. The rest of you - get that blasted tree out of my sight before I take it and do something you will not at all like."

< >They all hurried out of the room, except for Charles, who was the assistant, as Wormtail had been to Voldemort. He walked over to his ebony desk, and sat down, filing through some very organized papers. "Lucius," he said as he did this. "I want you to know this has nothing to do with our past. I'm simply doing this because I can."

< >"Y - yes, My Lord," Lucius stammered, trembling as he had never done before.

< >"Actually," he began again. "That last part was a lie. It is because of our past, and I hate your bloody guts." He sighed and smirked. "But don't look so worried, man!" he ordered. "It will be long and slow and painful, yes, but at least where you're going, you'll feel right at home. And it's hot, so maybe you'll get a tan to fix that vampire complexion you've got."

< >Lucius laughed. It was a nervous laugh. The one you hear when people are secretly wanting to plead and beg for mercy. But it was useless in this case. Because he didn't have a thread of mercy in him.

< >"And as long as you're going to be croaking," he added. "Charles, run and get Narcissa, will you?"

< >Charles nodded. He was a tall, thin man. Rather creepy looking as well. Just the right make for a butler. He walked briskly out of the dark doors that had snakes and all manner of terrifying things carved into them. He looked at Lucius with a small amount of sympathy.

< >"Lucius, Lucius, Lucius," he sighed, looking up from the papers. "It seems that as I was murdering that barmy old coot Albus, that you were trying to lead a revolt against me. Accused me of cheating my men, and told them that I was 'a stupid imbecile'. We can't have that kind of behavior, now can we?" Lucius shook his head and murmured, "No, My Lord. Never," just as Narcissa and Charles entered the room.

< >"Now," he said, standing up and pulling his wand from his pocket. "Let's see... Maintaining hold of all the evidence... all of his rebellious attempts to sabotage me... Ah yes. This one hasn't been used for a while."

< >He straightened up, and smiled at Narcissa, who looked positively horrified. "Crucio," he laughed, swishing his wand at Lucius and completely ignoring Lucius's and Narcissa's mixed screams. "Charles," he added, turning to his manservant. "Make sure Narcissa stays inside the room until he stops screaming. And leave him to die." He pocketed his wand, whistling a depressing little tune about something or other, and stopped at his screaming victim, who was flailing around and twitching like mad. "Have a nice time in the fiery pits, Father," he said sincerely. "And make sure to tell Voldie hello for me."

< >He then swaggered out of the room, a smile on his pale face. The eyes that were once a brilliant silver now glowed a dark and depressing grey, with hints of red tinting them. He was an 'evil, evil man' as one boy had put it right before he met his demise. Lord Radoc smiled to himself. A smile that showed how truly bad he had become. Out in the corridor, he looked out another window to make sure they were getting rid of that hideous tree, which they were. He then Apparated into another meeting room, where three people were waiting for him.

< >"Ah, hello gentlemen." he said darkly. "Did you get the information I asked for?"

< >"Yes," said one of the men, stepping forward and handing Draco a large black envelope. "Directions to his house, and blueprints of it. I would bet all the money I have that Mr. Potter will certainly be surprised to see you, my Lord." He chuckled in a way that lacked every human emotion.

< >Lord Radoc smiled wryly. "Yes," he said curtly, thinking that he was surrounded by morons. "That is the point rather, Avery."

< >"I apologize, My Lord..." Avery said, daunted.

< >"You should be," Lord Radoc laughed. And within seconds Duncan Avery was writhing on the floor, screaming in agony.

< >Lord Radoc smiled, and walked from the room. Not Disapparating because he wanted to look over the information. He wanted to have the entire plot of Potter's house memorized. He wanted to block every single and last chance for escape.

< >Because he was going to strike that very night - and then the world would finally feel his wrath. They would know he wasn't one to be trifled with.


< >Ginny pulled a coat on as she walked out the door. She was headed to Harry's for games with Ron and Hermione. It was going to be a long night, but she was going to try and smile, and not say anything. It was her nature not to complain. So, she Disapparated, dreading the topics of discussion for tonight's games of Exploding Snap, and Advanced Truth-or-Dare, which Harry and Ron had 'invented'.

< >"Hey Ginny," Harry said when he opened the door. "What's up? Anything new at work?"

< >"Not much," she replied cheerfully. "We got a new shipment of textbooks in today, but that's all. How about you?" She marveled to herself that she had begun telling lies. Even if it was just in tone of voice.

< >"Not much," he agreed. "Come on in, Ron and Hermione are already here."

< >The night basically went like that. They had decided to skip Advanced Truth-or-Dare, at the pleading of Ginny and Hermione. Last time they played, Hermione had been forced to eat Pig's food, and Ginny had to switch bodies with Ron. Needless to say they weren't eager to play it again.

< >So, after about four hours of playing, laughing, and talking, Ron and Hermione left. Ginny had decided she better go as well, but first she was going to run upstairs to the restroom.

< >She would soon find out how smart that really was.


< >He peered through Potter's windows, sneering. He was going to do this the right way, or he would never forgive himself. At this moment, Potter was sitting on the sofa. Lord Radoc materialized in front of him.

< >"Hello, Harry," he said bitterly.

< >Potter jumped. It was quite funny to see. Of course, this was his house, and someone dressed like the grim reaper had just appeared in front of him, so it made sense to jump. "What the -" Potter began to say, but then he swallowed, and understood.

< >"If you try and run you'll die anyway," Radoc said with a look of immense entertainment. "But, I might as well just take care of that now." He raised his wand, and narrowed his eyes, because Harry Potter was now shuffling through the house, looking for where he had set his wand. Radoc chuckled, a vindictive laugh that showed how poisoned his mind was.

< >"Hold still, Potter." he commanded. "Hold still or I'll go after your sidekick and your Mudblood girlfriend as well."

< >Potter looked up, frozen. He looked disbelieving, and he barely had time to stammer, "You . . ." before Lord Radoc Lafoym sent Harry the Hero to his downfall. But this man had killed Albus Dumbledore. There wasn't much he couldn't do.

< >And as he was just about to Disapparate, someone came down the stairs. Someone who looked painstakingly familiar. She looked around the bottom level of Potter's house, and then looked right at Radoc. And then he knew. Of course, she had gotten a bit taller, and had become a bit more curvy, but she still had the long, spiraling red curls, still at waist-length. And she still had freckles sprinkled across her face. And she still had imploring brown eyes, covered by the transparent lenses of her rectangular glasses. He ground his teeth together, and she passed out, falling down the last three stairs.

< >He walked right over to her unconscious figure, and his heart stopped. He would have to kill her. Ah, said a voice in his head, you don't have to kill her. You are the Ultimate Evil Overlord! No one can question your authority.

< >"Yes," he agreed, nodding at the voice. "But people she knows will probably know she went over here tonight. If her body is missing from the scene, and she doesn't come home, they'll think I've gone soft."

< >True, the voice muttered.

< >"And I haven't," he added hastily. But even as he looked at her face, eyes closed and glasses now cracked, he knew he couldn't kill her. So he did the only thing he could think of. He moved her body out of the house, and then set it on fire, after which muttering the incantation for the Dark Mark of his, a nefarious looking serpent coiling around a bloody sword.

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