The sun shone brightly above, its rays dancing down onto her cheeks. She held her head up to more fully experience the warmth.

Her hair was adorned with a circlet of red and orange leaves, and the rich brown mass made a striking contrast to her ivory gown.

Hermione couldn't have been happier.

Well, that was a lie. She'd be a whole lot happier when Ron finally convinced that damn vicar to marry them.

Sure, eloping in Caerphilly sounded terribly romantic. It would be a great story to tell their children. We married in a grove of heather... or something. But it certainly lacked the organization of a full blown wedding.

She heaved a sigh and tapped her shoes against the ground. A horrid thought struck her mind.

"Please, God," she prayed fervently, "don't let Ron beat up the vicar. No bodily harm. Is that too much to ask?"

Ron chose that moment to exit the edifice with said minister. He towered over the pudgy man, who looked a little frightened but blessedly unbruised.

"To the park?" suggested the minister nervously.

"Capital idea, Henry," Ron said, grinning.

Hermione thought about smacking him for addressing a clergyman so informally.

But she forgot about it when Ron turned that smile on her.

It was his fault she had been taken. Only the deaf, dumb, and blind were unaware of their tumultuous relationship. Why wouldn't Voldemort seize upon the chance to lure Harry with her?

"I should have thought of it sooner," he said aloud. He dragged his fingers through his hair. He felt like such a worthless cad. He should have protected her, should have known this could happen, should have never started up with her in the first place.

"I can't do this," he said, slumping against the wall. "I don't have the talent."

Ron could do it, though.

He squinted at a calender. It was Saturday; Ron spent the weekends at Hogwarts with Hermione. Waiting until Sunday night was not an option.

He found the brooms in the bedroom closet, of all places. Only Ginny would put the racing brooms next to her lingerie. He fingered the lace briefly and felt a fresh wave of guilt.

He grabbed one of his brooms and left.

The ceremony had been short but it had certainly fulfilled the criteria. He was personally glad that he did not have to endure his brothers' teasings on his wedding night.

Ron swept his wife (!) up into his arms and carried her into the hotel suite. "I love you," he said fiercely.

Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek while he set her on the bed. The small gesture lit the fire in his soul, and he went to work on the buttons of her dress.

A lot of buttons. And not only were these fasteners abundant, they were also insanely small. How on earth had she gotten into this thing?

He attempted to locate a knife, but she stared at him in horror.

"I want to save it for our daughters." She bit her lip and looked at him in a way that made him choke back a curse.

His fingers were too large, too awkward for such nimble work. It took nearly ten minutes for the task to be accomplished. He wanted it to be perfect tonight. It certainly wasn't their first time together; his child growing inside of her was testament to that. But tonight was different. Man and wife, and all that. And, really-

Hermione pushed back his jacket and removed his shirt.

His brain had a tendency to stop functioning when she undressed him. Which, unfortunately, caused his plans of slow and sweet to go out the window.

His mouth found hers and claimed it urgently. His hands worked quickly to elminate any furthur barriers between flesh and flesh.

"I love you." She uttered the phrase as his mouth travelled down her collarbone.

That alone made it perfect.

Harry impatiently waded through the crowds of dumbstruck students. Apparently an idiocy virus was going around, and it was highly contagious. Fans were practically assaulting him, and acting stupider than anyone he'd met in his life, except perhaps Fred and George when they were really foxed.

"Excuse me, sir," said a skinny, pimply boy. "Are you-"

"Harry Potter," Harry finished. "Yes. Excuse me."

"Could you sign my broom?" he asked eagerly, thrusting the object at him.

Harry sighed and scribbled his signature. "There you go."

A girl tapped him on the shoulder. "Uh, sir? I was just wondering if-"

"Yes, Ginny Weasley and I are back together," Harry said shortly.

She looked crestfallen.

He couldn't keep aimlessly wandering the halls. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Ron or Hermione since arriving.

Ah, he thought. McGonagall would surely know.

"Professor McGonagall!" he called, entering her classroom.

She looked up from a stack of papers at her desk. "Mr. Potter, what a pleasant surprise." She almost sounded sincere.

He was warmed that she'd pretend he was more important than grading scrolls. Well, not really. He was really too infuriated to be much warmed by anything. "Do you know where Ron and Hermione are?"

She adjusted her glasses. "Cardiff, I believe."

Harry blinked. "Wales?"

"Might be Caerphilly," she mused. "Yes, I think it is Caerphilly. Why?"

"What the hell are they doing there?"

"I doubt that's any of our business, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said lightly, frowning a bit at his language. "This is a pressing matter, I gather?"

Harry shifted his gaze to the wall. "You could say that."

"They're staying in a rather nice hotel," Dumbledore said, suddenly appearing in the doorframe. "I could be persuaded to give you the name if you told me what this was about."

"Ginny's been kidnapped." His patience wore thin. "By Voldemort. I have to find her."

McGonagall's jaw dropped noticibly, but Dumbledore only raised an eyebrow. "Any clue why?"

"Me."

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully. "What are the terms of the ransom?"

"Ransom?"

"You know, 'give us five million galleons or else' written in magazine letters," Dumbledore said helpfully. "That sort of thing."

"There wasn't a ransom note," Harry said after running through the contents of Ginny's aparment in his mind.

Wait, he thought frantically. Why would Voldemort take her to capture me, but then neglect to leave a come-or-else note? That doesn't make any sense...

Unless this isn't about me at all.

"He's got something planned for her, doesn't he?" His voice rang out sharply.

Neither of his former instructors said anything.

Harry began to curse, and turned to leave.

"The Quinn Inn," Dumbledore said quietly.

He mustered up an abrupt "thank you."

A shiver tore through her like some erratic force of weakness. She fought it, roughly rubbing her arms. She'd come too far to be reduced to some pathetic, sniveling female.

At least she'd been in her clothes when she'd been nabbed. Not much of them, but she was decent. With disdain she glanced down at her camisole and boxers. They didn't do a whole hell of a lot against this damp, cold hellhole.

"Enjoying yourself, Weasley?"

"Oh, having loads of fun," she said acidly, glaring at the new arrival.

Draco Malfoy leaned against the bars of her cell, draping his arms in the cross sections. She wished she wasn't chained so that she could go over and slap the smirk off of his pale, pretty face.

She envisioned beating the snot out of him in graphic detail and felt much better.

"I've brought you your dinner," he said easily.

"With a nice, steaming cup of hemlock, I'm sure," she said sweetly. "No thanks."

He looked sorely tempted to do just that, then sighed and shook his head. "'Fraid it's water and gruel for you. The Master likes skinny, but he draws the line at gaunt." He fit a key into the lock and swung open the gate.

She wanted so badly to refuse the food, but she hadn't eaten since Friday night. The bastard had the gall to look amused as she slurped down the contents of the bowl and the glass.

"Your etiquette is appalling," he said with interest.

"The sooner I finish, the sooner you leave," she shot back.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." He took the two containers away and set them on a table outside.

Then he closed the distance between them and extended a long finger, stroking the underside of her chin slowly.

Revulsion filled her and she jerked away. She couldn't move her legs enough to knee him in the bollocks.

"You have some fire, do you?" he said with interest. "Maybe I'll try you out for the Master."

"You're disgusting," she said, and spat in his face.

Briefly anger flashed in his eyes. He wiped his the spit off and grasped her chin. "I'd slap you, but I fear your skin would bruise."

"Or maybe you're just too weak."

Malfoy shook his head and chuckled. "You're not helping yourself, Weasley."

Ginny stared defiantly into his cold, blue-grey eyes.

He brought his mouth down savagely against hers, overpowering her senses, slicing through her common sense. It was horrifying and passionate, all at the same time. This has to stop, she thought desperately, and bit down on his lip with a vicious intensity.

He drew back, running a finger over the blood. "It's such a shame," he said softly. "You'll be so boring once you've been broken."

He locked the cell behind him, and she was alone again.

She glanced at the clock. It was only half-past ten. "Far too early to be sleeping," she murmured, but that was only part of the reason.

For some vision to nab him so quickly, it had to be bad.

Sometimes he worried her, she thought as she dropped kisses on his chest. His gift could consume if he wasn't careful.

"'Mione?" he mumbled.

She continued demonstrating her affections in a slow, relaxed pace. He responded in kind, and the love was languid and just as powerful as earlier.

As they settled in each other's arms, the door burst open.

"What the hell?" Ron growled, squinting at the light.

Hermione focused her heavy-lidded eyes. "'Lo, Harry."

Their best friend looked fairly bewildered. "What are you doing?"

"We just got married. What do you think we're doing?" Ron said irritably.

Harry flushed a deep scarlet. "I thought you were getting married in a couple months."

"We decided to elope," Hermione said.

"But why?"

"So that we can make mad, passionate love without worrying about people interfering," Ron said darkly.

He didn't seem to be catching the go away hint. "Congratulations?"

"Thank you," Hermione said graciously, and decided to make things clear for the poor, baffled boy. "Now could you leave us alone?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Ron's head snapped up. "It's Ginny, isn't it?"

Harry took a shaky breath. "Abducted."

"By who?" Hermione asked.

"Voldemort." Ron's voice was quiet. "For him, at least. He wants an heir."

"What?" demanded Hermione, thrusting the sheets aside and sitting up. "We have to find her."

"That's the general idea," Ron said. He gathered up the sheets and wrapped them around her. "Keep your eyes of my wife, Potter."

"Twenty minutes, downstairs. Get some clothes on," Harry suggested, and closed the door.

The task he'd been given by Voldemort was not terribly exciting. The rewards were lousy, the dungeon smelled of dung and mold- and mold on dung, and most of all, he was a damn babysitter.

Not that one could call Ginny Weasley a baby. But wretched-future-child-bearer-of-the-Dark-Lord-sitter didn't have quite the same ring to it.

She'd been chosen because of her previous susceptibility. She'd been Voldemort's tool for the Chamber of Secrets. And now she would be the tool for giving him firmer ties to the mortal realm and allowing him to come back into power.

It was probably a bonus for old Voldie that she was Potter's, through and through. But he'd had her picked out long before she was even with Potter.

His eyes darted into the cell where she sat, her face set like flint. She was strong now, but soon she would weep. It might take longer with her than most.

If he doesn't show up soon, I will break her myself.

His mouth curved in satisfaction.

Now, that was an excellent diversion.

"Aren't you going to wait for me?" she asked, dressing as well.

Ron regarded her curiously. "You're not going," he said as if it were obvious.

She planted her hands on her hips. "What do you mean, I'm not going?"

"You're pregnant."

"So I'm suddenly useless?" Her voice was rapidly jumping octaves.

"No," he said hastily, "just that-"

"I'll have you know, Ronald Weasley, that my elevated level of hormones has not significantly affected my magical abilities!" she flared. "Especially that of turning you into a toad!"

Lamely, he said, "I just want you two to be safe."

"In the event where I cannot protect myself, you are perfectly capable of doing so." She dusted off her sleeve. "Shall we?"

Ron sighed and escorted his wife downstairs. Note to self: don't argue with her. You're not going to win.

"What's she doing here?" Harry's voice was quiet and intense.

"Watch it," he warned Harry under his breath. "She's moody."

"Where shall we start?" Hermione said brightly.