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!


Chapter Four

< >The door that led to the back gardens burst open, and Radoc Lafoym came swaggering out into the thick mist that wound around the skeletal black trees and hovered over the dark, overgrown grass. He walked swiftly, his arms folded across his chest, his black coat billowing behind him as he scowled at his scarf, which kept blowing into his face. They day was cold. Frigid, really, and the wind was howling, chips of ice floating around in it. The mist didn't move. It never moved.

< >He quickened his pace until he arrived in a grove of misshapen trees, where Narcissa was standing next to a simple plank of wood which stuck out of the ground. On it someone had used black ink to write: LUCIUS - R.I.P.

< >"And just what do you think you are doing out here?" Radoc asked her sharply. "Didn't I order you not to ever come out here again? Well?"

< >Narcissa turned around, her eyes held a strange look in them. "Pay respects to your father, Draco," she said quietly.

< >He shoved his pale, spindly hands into the pockets of his coat, and chewed his tongue in anger. "Firstly," he said, pronouncing it very clearly. "It's Radoc. And Secondly, I will not under any circumstances 'pay respects' to my so called father. Never."

< >She looked at him calmly, put a hand on his shoulder, and sighed. "I'm going to go get ready to leave," she said. And she started walking away. But, after about twelve steps, she turned and said, "Draco, I am really starting to hate you."

< >Radoc furrowed his brow, and muttered under his breath. He then turned to glare at the makeshift headstone. "I hope you can see what I'm doing, wherever you are." he said to it. "I hope you're proud." He paused, and began to recite something loudly.

"The whiskey on your breath

Could make a small boy dizzy;

But I hung on like death:

Such waltzing was not easy,

We romped until the pans

Slid from the kitchen shelf;

My mother's countenance

Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist

Was battered on one knuckle;

At every step you missed

My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head

With a palm caked hard by dirt,

Then waltzed me off to bed

Still clinging to your shirt."

< >He then spit contemptuously on the grave, and stalked off, still muttering and pausing to kick something every now and then.


< >She was hiding under the bed. She had finally thought of Apparation, but found that she got shocked every time, and was still in the same place she had been. Well, she thought ruefully, I suppose it was worth a try...

< >Why she was hiding under the bed (of all places...) she didn't know. She had remembered hiding there when Fred and George had turned her dolls into skeletons (she had been just six then,) - but couldn't think of why it might be suiting now.

< >One of the men who had taken Professor Snape away said that at the first available moment, Lord Radoc would come to speak with her. She wanted to avoid that at all costs. So, she was under the bed. Hopefully, she guessed he would think she had managed to beat his security system, and would tear out his hair in frustration. However, hope had not gotten her very far in life.

< >"You'd think they'd clean in here every once in a while," she muttered to herself, pushing aside a monstrous dust-bunny. She had been talking to herself for two hours, ever since Professor Snape had been taken away. It wasn't that she found bliss in his company... It was that he was someone to talk to, and he talked in the same way Draco used to. Sarcastic, blunt, and hilarious.

< >"Then again," she continued, rubbing an eye beneath her glasses. "This is a man's tower, and he has ninety-nine out of a hundred servants that are men -"

< >Her discussion on why men weren't very clean was interrupted, however, by the door opening, and two shiny boots appearing in her range of vision. She held her breath. Praying... wishing...

< >"Where has she gone?" Radoc said in an excruciatingly obnoxious feign of bewilderment. "Why, there's no closet in here... And she's not behind that chair... She must be -" his face suddenly appeared, cold eyes glinting in amusement - "Under the bed. Now, Miss Weasley, I must congratulate you on your novel, if somewhat stupid, idea, and order you to come out at once."

< >"I won't." she replied bravely, although she could feel a lump forming in her throat.

< >"I don't have time for these petty games, Virginia," he said crisply.

< >"I'm not coming out of my own free will. So unless you can make me..." her voice trailed off weakly. Oh dear, she thought sadly.

< >His pale face disappeared from view, and she heard his voice. "Elevate," he said lazily. And the bed went slamming upward into the wall, like one of the beds Muggle children see in old cartoons.

< >"That won't work, Virginia my dear," he chuckled, extending a hand to help her to her feet.

< >She took it. It was cold. "Don't call me your dear," she ordered. "That's sick."

< >"I thought you'd learned by now," he said, raising an eyebrow, and pausing to kiss her hand. "I am sick."

< >"That is really not funny," she replied seriously, and he chuckled again. "I mean it. Just because you can kidnap me doesn't mean I'll stand here and let you make fun of me."

< >"Oh, but I'm not making fun of you," he replied, and from the tone of his voice Ginny couldn't tell whether or not he was joking. But, she supposed he was one of those people.

< >She didn't reply. She merely stood there, vaguely wondering why on earth she was still holding his hand. She supposed that it was psychologically reassuring to have someone with her - even though she was unfortunate enough to have it be him.

< >"If you would be kind enough to let go of my hand," he said, raising both eyebrows this time, and she did it quickly. "Now, as I'm sure Professor Snape has informed you, there is to be a siege, but it's been moved to tonight. We're leaving at midnight and should arrive on the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds in about two days. We're traveling on foot, and I was wondering if there was anything you might be needing..."

< >"No," she replied quietly. She had remembered his plans for her to go back to the Chamber. The Chamber of Secrets... Serpentine columns, the statue of Salazar Slytherin...

< >"Good," he said, but she barely heard him. She was lost in a reverie of her first year. Her diary entries... She didn't hear him until he leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Don't worry. Tom's not there to haunt you anymore. Tom left a long time ago. Now there's just me; and you can see me, can't you? I'm solid, aren't I?"

< >"Yes," she mumbled. And for some reason, she found her glasses slipping down her nose as she silently began to cry.

< >"I thought so," he added, turning back to speaking regularly and stepping away from her. "I thought so..." And with that, he left. Shutting the door slowly, as though trying to trap something in it.

< >Ginny personally felt as if that something was her soul.


Two hours later...

< >Radoc watched Narcissa carefully as she slept in an armchair. He thought it was amazing that she could still look composed while she slept. And in an armchair, at that. He knew she had been a little off since he had killed Lucius. But, he wasn't about to loose any sleep over it. After all, she hadn't done much for him that he could be grateful for, and see as a symbol of love. No, she and Lucius merely brought him into the world because the purpose of getting married is having children to pass your money onto when you die. At least, that's what it is for the upper-class, inbreeding purebloods.

< >He sighed deeply, adjusted the collar of his turtleneck, and closed his eyes in a slightly relaxing way. There was a sharp rap on the doorframe. He opened his eyes to see Charles holding Ginny by the scruff of her neck. His other arm was bleeding.

< >"She bit me, sir," he reported in humiliation.

< >"It's all right, Charles," he said consolingly, taking a drink of some coffee he had conjured up previously. "Don't feel ashamed. That girl is quite feisty. It's the red hair, I think."

< >She glared at him, which looked slightly amusing since her glasses were dangling from one ear, and she was hanging at least two feet from the ground.

< >"Take her into the antechamber, Charles," he added, gesturing towards Narcissa's sleeping form.

< >His manservant nodded, and began walking away; the arm that held Ginny extended in front of him as though he were carrying a blast-ended-skrewt rather than a hot-tempered girl.

< >Upon finishing his coffee, he commuted to the antechamber, where he found a very frazzled-looking Ginny, and no sign of Charles. "Why did you bite Charles?" he asked ominously.

< >"Because I had to do something to vent the frustration you so gallantly lay upon my head!" she shouted, breathing heavily.

< >"No need for poetics, Virginia," he said in a tone of scolding. "And besides, Charles is our friend. He only wants to help us."

< >"Since when did I become us?" she asked incredulously. "And since when did Charles become my friend?"

< >"There is no need to be upset," he added, in a voice he hoped was criminally like her older brother's. The one who had become the Minister of Magic.

< >"And there is no need to treat me like a child!" she cried, standing up and walking a few paces closer to him. "I am twenty two years old, Mr. Dark Lord, and I think I have the right to a little dignity, don't you?"

< >He paused, cocked his head to the side, and said, "Why do you call me 'Dark Lord'?"

< >"What?" she asked, taken aback.

< >"Why don't you say my name?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest. "Surely as brave a girl as you can say a simple name like Radoc Lafoym." She winced. "After all, you bit Charles, and found the ingenuity to hide under your bed..."

< >"Er," she began, taking a step backwards.

< >"What is it that makes you call me something cowards call me?" he continued to question, actually wondering the answer to this question. "Something my servants and people too afraid to admit I'm here call me?" He abolished the short distance there was between them, and paused, smirking. "You're afraid." he said firmly.

< >"So what if I am?" she retorted curtly. "I'm not about to let you push me around like you did earlier."

< >This time, he actually smiled. Even if it was a creepy one. Ginny took a step backwards. "I am amazed at your courage to stand up to me, little Weasley," he said sincerely. "People I've murdered haven't even been this brave. They all began pleading for mercy... Little idiots."

< >He patted her atop her head, and began to walk away, when he heard something like a mutter. He turned, and saw that she was now staring at the ground. Just as he was about to ask her to repeat herself, she said: "Radoc Lafoym."

< >"Good girl," he smirked, and exited the scene of the crime, so to speak.

Author's Note:
< >Okay, okay, for those fellow Lemony Snicket fans, I admit that I - borrowed ::gets suspicious looks from Count Olaf and such, along with Esme and her creepy knife-shoes:: the phrase about putting cats in your mouth from "The Wide Window", which is the third book in the series.
< >As you can probably tell, this story is a bit more depressing that the other two, and I'm not turning into some goth weirdo, for those of you who really want to know. I am merely trying something new. (By the way, never put a wet sponge in your pants!) And when you picture the very beginning of this chapter, think Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas. The poem "Radoc" recites in this chapter is called My Papa's Waltz, by Theodore Roethke.

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