FIC + ART: Ill Wind (Of Fire And Fog) [Draco/Ginny; Charlie/Ginny]
*Mod Note: Art is NSFW*
Title: Ill Wind (Of Fire And Fog)
Author/Artist: candamira & shiftylinguini
Prompt: # 72: "It's an ill wind that blows" by rzzmg
Pairing(s): Draco/Ginny, implied Charlie/Ginny
Word Count/Art Medium: ~ 6,2k / pencil on paper
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): AU (very non-canon), Veela!Draco, (major!)character deaths, dub-con
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Dear Prompter, I tried to meet your wishes concerning the cast, but it just wouldn't work out. Ginny firmly claimed the role of the protagonist here, and she brought all her brothers. So I surrendered and went with my muse, hoping you'll like what I wrote for your prompt anyway. :)
Both my betas did an outstanding job and I can't thank them enough for their help and encouragement! <333 All remaining mistakes are mine. And, of course, a very big and shiny thank you to our awesome mod digthewriter for running this fest!
Summary: The rules demand that when the ill wind blows, a virgin bride, ready to conceive, must wait in the stone circle for Veela!king Draco to take her home to his island kingdom beyond the fog. When Ginny Weasley gets designated as the bride, her brothers are determined not to let that happen.
Ill Wind (Of Fire And Fog)
Bride
An ill wind was blowing, and I had been waiting for midwife Gunilda to ring the bell since breakfast. Tension was palpable, a strange stillness had settled over our village. The wind blew around corners and down alleys, stirring up hay and dust, but any other activity seemed to have died down. No clucking of chickens was to be heard, no noises from the forge disturbed the silence.
When the single chime eventually rang, goosebumps ran down my arms as I put the fork aside, allowing the horse droppings to roll back into place.
My mother was already waiting for me. "Hurry, dear," she said, hugging me like she would never let me go. I inhaled her fresh scent of verbena and lavender and buried my face in the soft wool of her scarf, until she lifted my head with both hands to kiss my forehead. Knowing I would start to cry if I wouldn't go now, I gathered my skirts and was glad for my dragonhide boots - a gift from my brother Charlie - when I ran through the dirty alleyways to midwife Gunilda's hut.
The old witch was waiting at the door, and I shuddered again at the sight of her sparsely toothed grin and her long, bony fingers. But I smiled, bending my head to enter the hut through the low door. Most of the other girls were already there, the small ones whose moon-blood had started to flow not long ago as well as the older ones like me, up to the age of eighteen. When Gunilda closed the door, we stumbled around in the darkness to form a line, from the youngest girl to the oldest.
My friend Romilda, who was a year younger, stood beside me, and her hand was clammy when she grabbed mine. "I'm so afraid, Gin. You're lucky, you'll turn eighteen in summer."
I swallowed. Romilda was right, I had been lucky for years now, but I had counted the days since my last moon-blood and had a bad feeling in my gut about today.
Gunilda lit some candle stumps on a table in a corner of the room, and in the flickering light our shadows danced across the walls like demons, their limbs too thin and long and the movements interrupted and unnatural. She started the song which always accompanied the procedure. I hated every note and syllable.
The first girl in the row, the youngest, lifted her skirts, and Gunilda reached between her legs. Coming up, she turned towards the light and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, testing the sticky liquid. The girl sunk to the ground sobbing with relief when Gunilda dismissed her with a careless wave of her other hand.
The air in the hut got hot and stifling, and it seemed to last forever, until Gunilda's lashless eyes pierced mine. It cost me all my self-restraint not to shy away from her rotten breath; her touch made my skin crawl. I bit my lip as she probed me with two of her knobbly fingers, pushing them up inside of me, rude and uncaring for the tight resistance of my flesh. I clenched my teeth and balled my fists and prayed for it to be over, the bitter pre-taste of bile flooding my mouth.
Like so many times before, Gunilda turned to the light to rub and sniff her fingers. I was about to sigh in relief, when I realised that she didn't wave for me to sit down, but for the others to leave. My luck had finally run out.
Now it was me who grabbed Romilda's hand. "Tell my mother," I hissed, angry because I couldn't stop the tears welling up in my eyes and running down my cheeks. Romilda nearly choked on her sobs when she hugged me. I shoved her away, towards the door.
"Run!"
XX
I stood naked in front of the fire. Gunilda was washing me with a rough cloth and an herbal draught, when my mother burst through the door. Giving one of her nearly toothless grins, Gunilda stepped back. Mum took the cloth from her hand, dipped it into the bowl and though it was still the same rough thing, she made it feel like velvet.
While my skin dried, she took her time to brush my hair, smoothing out the tangle caused by the ever present wind. Flowing down my shoulders and over my breasts it looked like a twin to the flame in the grate.
Mum used to say that my hair was of that special flaming red because I was born under the sign of fire. Of all my six brothers, only Charlie's was of the same colour. Charlie… My heart skipped a beat. If only Charlie was here, he would find a way to save me. He'd probably bring a dragon from Romania, where he was working as a dragon tamer, to fight the evil that would come to take me away.
A hiccoughing sob escaped my throat at the thought of never seeing Charlie again. My mother's eyes were wet, too, when she turned me around to wipe the tears from my face with warm fingers calloused from hard work. Then she kissed her thumb and drew little runes on my forehead, my mouth and my chest, right across my heart: strength, love, fire.
"May the goddess bless you," she whispered. "Be strong. Your brothers will come."
Gunilda appeared out of a dark corner in the back of the hut, our time was up. Mum's eyes never left mine until the door closed behind her. I was alone with Gunilda again.
The knotted witch summoned a small jar from a shelf beside the fireplace and scooped up a generous blob with two fingers. I had no idea what it was for, but its purpose became clear when she made me put a foot up onto a small stool and slicked me up between the legs.
Though I hated her bony fingers pushing up inside of me, something strange happened while she scissored them to spread the oily mass. There was a pulling, a new need I couldn't define, and as much as I wanted to flee her intrusive touch, it made me wonder what those fingers would have done to me had Gunilda continued.
When I reached for my dress, the midwife shook her head and handed me a woollen blanket. I cloaked myself and put on my boots. After the heat in the hut, the cold was a slap in the face as I stepped out of Gunilda's home. The wind tore at my hair, and I didn't have enough hands to keep the blanket wrapped around me. My nipples hardened, and when the old witch saw it she reached out to cup my breast and brush the nipple with her thumb. It hardened further, and again there was this strange pulling inside of me. It made me think of Gunilda's long fingers probing me, slicking me up, and I shivered, disgusted by my weird reaction.
Without a word, the midwife led the way to our holy place. Gathering her black skirts, she hurried up the hill to the stone circle at a quick pace that one wouldn't expect from a woman her age. How often I had run up that path, laughing and light-footed, to play hide and seek between the huge stones with my friends and brothers. Incredible, how long and grim it stretched before me today.
Brushing aside the high grown marram grass, we climbed up the last steep yards and entered the stone circle. I adjusted my blanket and leaned against the nearest menhir, soaking up its warmth, but I wasn't granted a break.
Gunilda took my hand and lead me to the centre of the place, where she ripped the blanket off my body and spread it on the ground. I braced myself for the cold to hit me with force, and was surprised to discover that, inside the circle, the wind was only a soft breeze. The sunlight was warm on my skin, and I closed my eyes to turn my face to the sun and enjoy the breeze playing with my hair.
The midwife tugged at my hand and told me to lie down on my back. "They like to see what they get," she said, and arranged my limbs in a way that made me feel utterly exposed. I had to spread my legs and bent my knees, allowing the breeze and the sun to caress the part of me Gunilda had violated earlier with her rude probing. Then I had to prop myself up on my elbows and tilt my head back. My nipples greeted the sun, still hard, and the old witch raked her fingers through my hair, fanning it out behind me and pulling some strands over my shoulders.
"It won't be long now." She squinted against the sun. "I better go. And I'll take these with me." With a swift movement she pulled the boots from my feet, turned and left the stone circle. Soon I couldn't see or hear her anymore. I was alone, naked and defenceless. I wouldn't even be able to run away, the sharp blades of the marram grass would turn the soles of my feet into a bleeding mess in no time.
I scanned the sky, shadowing my eyes with my hand against the blinding glow outlining the bloody bank of fog hiding the horizon from my view. My brothers and I, we had never seen a sunrise. Mum used to say that it looked like the sky was set on fire, that it didn't look any different than the sunset, but we couldn't choke that longing in our hearts.
I sat up and kissed the small rune dangling between my breasts. Whatever fate had planned for me today, I was Ginevra Weasley, born in the sign of fire, and blessed by my mother. Nothing could change that, and I wouldn't give up without fighting. I fumbled around with my other hand until I found a perfectly sized, egg-shaped stone. Weighing it in my hand, I lay down to wait.
The waves crashed against the cliff in a monotone rhythm, the seagulls cried and crossed the sky, and a strange peace came over me. My heart beat steady, my breathing was even. It wouldn't be me who would die today. My brothers would come and save me.
"Gin! Gin, are you there?" My eldest brother's voice wafted up the hill.
I dropped the stone, got up and wrapped the blanket around me again. "Bill! Here, I'm here!"
One by one, they entered the stone circle, and I had never loved them more. Bill, his strawberry-red hair bound into a bun, hugged me tight. "Thank Merlin, you're still here!"
A voice I hadn't heard for a long time replied, "Yes, she's still here, but we don't have much time left, I guess."
I couldn't believe my ears and craned my neck to check if it was true. It was. Charlie winked at me and smiled the special smile he reserved for me. I would have loved nothing more than to fly into his arms and forget my misery in his embrace. While we had never done anything a brother and a sister shouldn't do, there had always been more, a secret message in our words, our touches and the glances we exchanged. I desperately searched for a sign telling me that things were still the same between us.
"Let's get ready," he said, as he put down a huge bag and started handing out weapons. "Ron, Percy, crossbows for you. Fred, George, you throw the nets. Longbows for Bill and me. Set your arrows on fire before you let them fly. May the bastard burn!"
"What about me?" I asked. "I want a crossbow, too!"
"No, no weapon for you," Charlie said. "He would see it from afar and get suspicious. But I brought your wand." He gave it to me, and I held his hand for longer than was necessary to take it, pressing it to the blanket covering my chest. My heart raced, I longed for his touch, and there was that need again, that rhythmic pulling between my legs. He must have noticed, because a flush stained his freckled cheeks. As our eyes met, I knew his love was still strong. Relieved, I let go and, though naked underneath my blanket and barefoot, I felt much less vulnerable with my wand in my hand surrounded by my armed brothers.
"Remember, wands are melee weapons. Taking him down when he's still in the air is the safest option, but don't hesitate to use magic when he's within reach." Charlie looked us all in the eye, and we nodded. "Let's try to catch him alive. How many girls have these beasts already stolen for the sake of peace? Five hundred? More, even? I'm sure the villagers would love to know who is responsible for their grief. If they don't want to see him burning at the stake, we may sell him to a menagerie or something."
We nodded again. Some extra Galleons were always appreciated.
"Gin, do exactly what the midwife told you. Nothing will happen to you, I promise. We'll hide behind the menhirs and get him down before he knows what's going on." Charlie helped me spread the blanket in the centre, and I lay down with my legs apart and my nipples facing the blue sky. I caught Charlie's eyes, shining bright like sapphires in his tanned face. He nodded, between us we had never needed words. When this would be over, he would take me with him. We would be together and everything would be fine.
We waited.
Flight
Draco folded his wings and crouched on his favourite merlon of his father's stronghold's highest tower. The morning was still young and pale, as he waited for the sun to complete her slow rise behind him and tried to catch a glimpse of the mainland.
Thick clouds of billowing greyness blocked his view. Draco knew that the magically conjured belt of fog enclosing the island was necessary to protect their kingdom from whoever might bring evil, but he cursed it from the bottom of his heart. He'd never been allowed to see more of the outside world than the churning waters of the sea, licking the wide curve of the pebble beach, cold and dark like the stone he was digging his toes into.
The wind tore at Draco's hair, turning it into a matted mass, and gnawed mercilessly at the withered walls. But the fortress had been built to last for eternity by his ancestors, and his heart swelled with pride from the knowledge that Malfoy Manor would house another hundreds more generations of Veela princes. Princes, as women of Veelan blood bore only males. He had studied the family tree carved into the western wall of the dinner hall often enough to know that pureblood females had always been rare and that the last one had died five hundred and seventeen years ago.
The family tree got very confusing from there, its branches covering the whole width of the wall. But though it looked chaotic, not a single name of the many brides from the mainland had been forgotten. Whenever the ill wind blew, the king would fly to the coast and bring home another, whose only purpose was to give birth to a daughter within a year. And every following year.
But Draco's father wouldn't fly with the ill wind ever again. He had died three days ago, and shrill wailing had been sounding off the harem wing since. Even now, Draco heard it over the roaring of the wind, but tried to ignore it. As the new king, he had to concentrate on the task lying before him.
The ill wind was blowing, and though Draco wished he would have had more time to grow into the position, he was excited at the prospect of siring his first child and bringing home his first queen. She would wait for him in the stone circle on the mainland, beautiful and ready to conceive. Those were the rules, and the mainlanders knew better than to break them.
Draco spread his wings and checked the wind. Strong and offshore it almost blew him from his perch, carrying unknown, alluring scents. Draco smiled. The storm was perfect to help him carry his bride after the mating they would perform surrounded by the huge menhirs, which had been witness to the siring of royal offspring for centuries.
Draco's shadow grew shorter and shorter the higher the sun crept up into the sky, but it still looked like a giant demon when he unfolded his wings and leaped up into the air. For the first time, the fog would allow him to fly through to the other side, instead of misleading him until he gave up.
The crushing of the waves beneath him and the cries of the seagulls were reduced to muffled sounds as he entered the dense fog, and he couldn't see as far as to the tips of his wings. He closed his eyes and flew by instinct, relying on the magic of the protective spell to guide him through. It was harder than he thought it would be. He had to fight the full force of the storm, which blew into his face, and the moisture soaked his wings faster than any rainstorm. They got heavier with every beat. Soon, Draco's muscles burned, and he was panting, gulping down the wet air.
Just when he was pondering giving up, brightness penetrated his eyelids, and his lungs filled with fresh, salty air. As he opened his eyes, he saw his shadow gliding over the whitecaps and took in the sight of the mainland for the first time.
Softly curved pebble beaches turned into high dunes covered with grey-green tussocks of marram grass. Further in the distance, the roofs of a small village ducked into the hills, and small figures toiled on the fields. Orchard slopes showed an outburst of white and pink blossoms, and then light green speckles dusted the fields.
Draco scanned the panorama, watching out for the stone circle. His breathing grew faster again, when he sighted it on top of the cliff emerging from the dunes. Withered stones, scarred by wind and sun and salt, stood upright in a wide circle.
The holy place emitted powerful vibes which ruffled Draco's feathers and sent shivers down his spine. Ancient magic was at work, and he wasn't sure if it was welcoming him. But it was his right to claim his bride and sire a child there, so he doubled his efforts to reach the coast.
His shadow had just crossed the ever changing line separating the land from the sea, when fire shot up at him from the stones.
Sight
Charlie's sister lay naked before his eyes, and he was shocked by how beautiful she had become during the year he had spent in Romania. Her skin was white and smooth, except for the small freckles sprinkled over her cheeks and arms. She was a woman now, the soft curve of her hips holding a promise he wanted to keep, her breasts would be a perfect fit to his cupped hand.
Her hair was of the same colour as his, but while he bound his in a ponytail at his nape, hers spread wavy across the ground. As children they had plaited their hair into a thick, single braid and pretended to be one person. Now he had other dreams of their hair tying them together. He pictured them panting and sweating, limbs entangled and connected in the most intimate way.
It was wrong to think of her that way, he knew that. He had hoped the adventure of hunting and taming dragons in Romania would be what he needed to forget her, but nothing had changed. He still wanted her to be his, and would kill anybody who would try to keep them apart.
"Charlie!" His brother Fred's voice was a loud whisper, causing Charlie to tear his eyes away from Ginny and lift them up to the eastern sky. A white figure was approaching the coast, still not more than a blur of fast moving wings.
"He's coming," George added. Fred and George sounded so alike, Charlie was surprised that he was still able to tell his twin brothers apart. They peeked around the stones they were hiding behind, and he nodded his thanks. "Keep the nets ready!"
"Listen, all of you," he said into the tense silence. "Bill, you go for the right wing. I'll do the left!"
Bill's head appeared from behind the menhir next to Fred's and he winked at Charlie.
"Percy, Ron, have your arrows ready and aim for his legs!"
Ron's freckles stood dark against his pale face when he showed his crossbow and nocked an arrow. Of Percy, Charlie only saw a fist holding a wand. While he well and truly relied on Bill's sure hand and sharp eye and on the twins' skills in throwing the nets, Percy and Ron where the brothers he never really knew what to expect of.
Ron was more of a strategic nature, good at planning ahead, but always a bit frightened when actually confronted with action; Percy was an outright coward who preferred gathering and analysing information. But Charlie had trained them both and had seen their arrows hit a hare on the run straight in the eye.
He picked up his own longbow and held his wand ready to set the first arrow on fire. The winged beast was near now, his shadow had already crossed the beach and was crawling over the edge of the cliff like a black hand reaching for Ginny.
"Incendio!" The tip of Charlie's arrow lit up, he pulled the string and followed the trajectory of the white bastard, calculating the speed of the wind and the rhythm of his wing beats. Charlie stopped breathing to steady his hand and let the arrow fly. It shot up, a small flame against the endless sky. He watched its progress while knocking the next one.
He didn't need it. A scream of pain escaped the creature as its left wing flared up. The sound was ugly, like a wordless curse promising doom, and Charlie's blood froze in his veins.
A second trail of smoke crossed the blue sky, and another wail of pain echoed through the stone circle. Bill had aimed well.
The Veela's desperate, erratic flapping wasn't enough to keep him airborne. Charlie's cock stirred, his fists clenched, there was a raw and disturbing beauty in the flames blazing from the large wings and the smoke billowing up from them in elegant waves. Even trundling down ungracefully, the bastard was an intoxicating sight.
Charlie couldn't look away.
Fight
Ginny stood wide-eyed, her back pressed against a menhir, staring at the flying beast going down. His wings were fully on fire, each desperate stroke sent a rain of sparks and ash at her.
He hit the ground right where she had lain just moments ago, setting the blanket she had forgotten in her panic ablaze. Crouching, he spread the remnants of his wings wide, showing the damage the flames had caused. The tips were still burning brightly, but large parts were reduced to blackened bones and smouldering clusters of muscles and feathers. Then he stilled, eyes closed like in deep concentration, and silence fell.
Ginny lifted her wand and opened her mouth. "Petri-"
His head shot up. Silver-grey eyes found hers, and everything changed in a heartbeat.
All her thoughts and memories fell away, shoved aside by an overwhelming desire. Impossible, that she had been able to survive for so long with that aching love tearing her apart. Still caught in his gaze, she took a hesitant step towards him.
"No, Ginny, nooo!"
She knew the voice calling for her to stop, but she couldn't remember the name of the man. He ran to her, calling her name again and again. "Ginny, please. Stay where you are."
His hair was red like hers, but his face didn't mean anything to her, and she didn't like the pleading tone in his voice. He should leave her alone, she wanted to enjoy the spreading warmth in her loins, the slick desire for something still unfathomable.
She broke into a run, only half-aware of the red cuts the marram grass left on her shins and soles. It didn't matter. Every fibre of her longed for the white man with the silver eyes, everything would be fine as soon as she flung herself in his arms.
She had almost reached him, already the heat of his still glowing wings was singeing her nostrils. Squinting to protect her eyes, she didn't see the red-haired man running full speed at her until he knocked her down. Wriggling under his weight, his handsome face only inches from hers, she fought with teeth and claws to get him off her. She let out a scream of frustration when he pinned her arms down with his knees.
Staring into her eyes, his of a familiar, clear blue, he spoke her name. "Ginny." Calming, soothing, his deep voice triggered a memory, but it was elusive and her whirring mind couldn't grab it.
"Ginny, it's me. Charlie."
She stilled, checking his eyes and face again, but the faint memory didn't come back. Instead, a yearning clawed at her heart, she couldn't waste time with this stranger. With desperate force she tried to push him off her, but he wouldn't let her go.
"What did the bastard do to you?" His eyes flicked between her and the smoking figure waiting at the edge of her vision. A small eternity later, he returned his gaze to her. The sympathy in his eyes had died, his voice grew cold and mean, matching the furious twist of his mouth. "Ah, I understand. You want him for yourself, right? Forget it. He's mine!" Piercing her with narrowed eyes, he slapped her in the face. A shriek erupted from her throat, and again she put all her power into an effort to free her arms.
"Stupefy!" The spell bounced between the stones, yelled by two voices which sounded almost alike. Ginny froze, unable to move, no matter how badly she wanted to. All she could do was breathe and watch. The only good thing was that her attacker got stunned too, his hand hovering in the air on its way down to her face for another slap.
Two identical looking young men stormed towards her and the stranger sitting on top of her. "What's wrong with you two? Have you both gone mental?" The first of the two stared down at them with disbelief written all over his face. The second one appeared in sight a split-second later. "What's going on here?" he demanded to know. But, of course, neither Ginny nor the handsome man weighing her down were able to give an answer.
"Maybe, we should take care of him first?" asked one of the twins, pointing at the winged creature with his chin while exchanging a glance with his brother.
"You're right. Let these two here cool down for a while," said the other, pointing his wand at the white man. "Stu-"
Ginny waited for the spell to hit. She breathed and stared, the sun shone down hot on her bare skin, and the sky was of a blinding bright blue. Seagulls cried, the ugly sound drowning in the thudding of her heart. Nothing happened.
The wand sank down, the twin who had started to say the spell turned slowly towards his brother. "No," he said. "I don't want to hurt him. He's beautiful…" Blinking like he needed to clear his head, he stepped back from his twin and pointed at him with his wand. "Don't even think about it. I can see it in your eyes. You want him, too. But, he's mine. He belongs to me! Do you hear me? To me!"
"Fred, what-" The twin without a name reached out for his brother, brows risen and voice tinged with confusion.
The man called Fred didn't allow him to finish his sentence. "Petrificus totalus!" he yelled, and the other one fell like he was dead.
Ginny's eyes darted to the pale, winged man as he looked away from them to meet hers again. A knowing smile lingered on his lips, while he sat motionless, smoke still curling from the black stumps which had been his wings not long ago. Her heart went out to him, she'd rather die than wait one second longer to feel his skin against hers. Tears welled up in her eyes when her desire didn't vanish the spell that was binding her. She blinked, if she couldn't touch him, she at least wanted to look at him. He winked at her, and she thought she heard a voice inside her head. "You're mine," it whispered. "You're mine."
The sound of footsteps caught her attention. Two other red-haired young men entered the scene. "Are you all crazy?" one shouted, while the other mumbled, "I should have known that this would end in disaster."
The one who had shouted grabbed one of the nets the twins had brought along and aimed it at the white man. It was flying towards him, and would have probably caught him, when the red-haired boy whipped out his wand. "Incendio," he yelled, and the net went down in flames, while he ran to the man with his arms stretched out towards him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you. You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life. Forgive me, forgive me, forgi-"
He stumbled, and squirmed on the ground. The other red-haired man strolled by, grinning and nudging him with his foot. "Look at what a nice Locomotor Wibbly can do, and you don't even have to shout it," he said with malice in his voice.
"Right," the one on the ground said, and pointing his wand at the other man, he whispered, "Incarcerous". Thick ropes appeared out of thin air and attacked the last upright man like angry snakes, winding around him until he couldn't move a finger. He fell down across his brother's upper body, disabling him completely.
Alight
Draco hadn't been sure if he would be able to get them all down. The pain in his wings had exhausted him. Otherwise they would have killed each other by now instead of only hexing one another.
He got up and wandered along the line of his fallen enemies. Taking his time, he looked each of them in the eye and granted them a friendly smile. They had fallen for him, like everyone fell for him. Stupid mainlanders. They knew nothing. He was a Veela, nobody withstood his charm.
When he reached his bride, he went down beside her and kissed her lips. A Veela kiss was a counter curse to nearly any hex or jinx, and it worked on this one, too. He took her hands and helped her to free herself from her brother's stiff weight. She was a beauty, just like his father had promised. He led her to a pitch of soft green grass.
Her lips were warm and willing when he kissed her again, and she pressed her groin against his as he ran his hands down her back and cupped her buttocks. A coral flush painted her cheeks, and her breathing went fast. Her nipples hardened against his skin when he kissed her again. He didn't have to look into her darkened eyes to know she wouldn't need much more preparation. As if it had been the sign for his body to wake from its healing trance, his cock sprang to life. He kissed her with more force, opening her lips with his tongue.
He took her right there, before the eyes of her brothers, with the menhirs standing witness. She was a fascinating mixture of strong muscles under soft skin, of hot slickness and eager uncertainty. His father had told him to be careful, but she seemed to like it wild and rough, their hips slamming together in the rhythm of their panting.
She was even more beautiful when they were finished, radiating a glow he couldn't fathom, which made her eyes shine and her smile bright. He had sired his first child, and hoped it would be a girl as beautiful as her mother.
He stood up and searched for her wand. Closing her fist around it, he said, "You know it has to be done." Her nod was solemn, her eyes calm and focused.
With measured steps she walked to the brother lying nearest, the mumbler. Dropping to her knees, she pointed at his head with her wand. His eyes went wide, and he struggled to free himself from the ropes. "Ginny, no, what are you-"
She pressed a forefinger to his lips, but he wouldn't be still. "Ginny, please." Draco watched her eyes flare up in fury.
Avada Kedavra!"
Green light flashed, and the life in her brother's eyes was gone.
Six times she spoke the dark words, six times the green flash made the sun appear dull. Draco stood in awe at the power of his Veela charm while he watched her killing brother after brother. None of their deaths was as impressive as the first one as they were all unable to move or speak, but still.
When she returned to him, her eyes searched his for approval. He kissed her long and deep and sat down with her in his lap. They watched the fog billowing at the horizon, the crushing of the waves the only sound to disturb the silence. The sky was wide and empty, no clouds were to be seen and even the seagulls had disappeared. Her skin was warm and smooth as Draco wound her hair around his fingers. She played with a small golden rune hanging from a delicate chain around her neck.
After a while, she shifted in his lap and looked up at him. "Will you show me a sunrise?"
"I will," he said. "They say it looks like the sky is on fire."
Her eyes grew alert. "I was born under the sign of fire," she whispered, and her fist closed tightly around the rune. She sat up and took in her surroundings like she saw them for the first time.
"Ron, Bill… Charlie? What happened? Who are you?"
Draco saw the terror in her eyes and tried to kiss her, but she shied away from him. "You!" she hissed, and out of nowhere the tip of her wand was pressed at his chest. "You made me kill them, you did that to us! You, you-"
He caught her wrists and looked into her eyes, willing her under his Veela charm again. Yet, it didn't work. Her left hand still clutched the rune, and the other one held the wand steady.
"Don't," he said. "I'll show you a sunrise, I promise."
XX
I pressed my wand's tip at his heart, pulse pumping at my temples and hate churning in my gut. Though blessed by my good mother, I had burdened myself with sin and guilt. For my fellow villagers I would always be the bride who had killed all her brothers, I couldn't go back. My life as I had loved it was over. I had no choice. Longing for some comfort and reassurance, I kissed the warm metal of the rune in my hand. Fire.
"A sunrise?" I asked. "That would be nice." I put my arms around him and buried my face in the hollow between his shoulder and his neck.
"Incarcerous!" Fast as lightning, tighter than a lover's embrace, the ropes bound us together. He gasped in shock.
"What are you doing?" His voice was high pitched, his muscles flexed against my skin and the cords. The strange peace came over me again.
I was Ginevra Weasley, daughter of fire.
"Incendio!"
Title: Ill Wind (Of Fire And Fog)
Author/Artist: candamira & shiftylinguini
Prompt: # 72: "It's an ill wind that blows" by rzzmg
Pairing(s): Draco/Ginny, implied Charlie/Ginny
Word Count/Art Medium: ~ 6,2k / pencil on paper
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): AU (very non-canon), Veela!Draco, (major!)character deaths, dub-con
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Dear Prompter, I tried to meet your wishes concerning the cast, but it just wouldn't work out. Ginny firmly claimed the role of the protagonist here, and she brought all her brothers. So I surrendered and went with my muse, hoping you'll like what I wrote for your prompt anyway. :)
Both my betas did an outstanding job and I can't thank them enough for their help and encouragement! <333 All remaining mistakes are mine. And, of course, a very big and shiny thank you to our awesome mod digthewriter for running this fest!
Summary: The rules demand that when the ill wind blows, a virgin bride, ready to conceive, must wait in the stone circle for Veela!king Draco to take her home to his island kingdom beyond the fog. When Ginny Weasley gets designated as the bride, her brothers are determined not to let that happen.
Ill Wind (Of Fire And Fog)
Bride
An ill wind was blowing, and I had been waiting for midwife Gunilda to ring the bell since breakfast. Tension was palpable, a strange stillness had settled over our village. The wind blew around corners and down alleys, stirring up hay and dust, but any other activity seemed to have died down. No clucking of chickens was to be heard, no noises from the forge disturbed the silence.
When the single chime eventually rang, goosebumps ran down my arms as I put the fork aside, allowing the horse droppings to roll back into place.
My mother was already waiting for me. "Hurry, dear," she said, hugging me like she would never let me go. I inhaled her fresh scent of verbena and lavender and buried my face in the soft wool of her scarf, until she lifted my head with both hands to kiss my forehead. Knowing I would start to cry if I wouldn't go now, I gathered my skirts and was glad for my dragonhide boots - a gift from my brother Charlie - when I ran through the dirty alleyways to midwife Gunilda's hut.
The old witch was waiting at the door, and I shuddered again at the sight of her sparsely toothed grin and her long, bony fingers. But I smiled, bending my head to enter the hut through the low door. Most of the other girls were already there, the small ones whose moon-blood had started to flow not long ago as well as the older ones like me, up to the age of eighteen. When Gunilda closed the door, we stumbled around in the darkness to form a line, from the youngest girl to the oldest.
My friend Romilda, who was a year younger, stood beside me, and her hand was clammy when she grabbed mine. "I'm so afraid, Gin. You're lucky, you'll turn eighteen in summer."
I swallowed. Romilda was right, I had been lucky for years now, but I had counted the days since my last moon-blood and had a bad feeling in my gut about today.
Gunilda lit some candle stumps on a table in a corner of the room, and in the flickering light our shadows danced across the walls like demons, their limbs too thin and long and the movements interrupted and unnatural. She started the song which always accompanied the procedure. I hated every note and syllable.
The first girl in the row, the youngest, lifted her skirts, and Gunilda reached between her legs. Coming up, she turned towards the light and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, testing the sticky liquid. The girl sunk to the ground sobbing with relief when Gunilda dismissed her with a careless wave of her other hand.
The air in the hut got hot and stifling, and it seemed to last forever, until Gunilda's lashless eyes pierced mine. It cost me all my self-restraint not to shy away from her rotten breath; her touch made my skin crawl. I bit my lip as she probed me with two of her knobbly fingers, pushing them up inside of me, rude and uncaring for the tight resistance of my flesh. I clenched my teeth and balled my fists and prayed for it to be over, the bitter pre-taste of bile flooding my mouth.
Like so many times before, Gunilda turned to the light to rub and sniff her fingers. I was about to sigh in relief, when I realised that she didn't wave for me to sit down, but for the others to leave. My luck had finally run out.
Now it was me who grabbed Romilda's hand. "Tell my mother," I hissed, angry because I couldn't stop the tears welling up in my eyes and running down my cheeks. Romilda nearly choked on her sobs when she hugged me. I shoved her away, towards the door.
"Run!"
XX
I stood naked in front of the fire. Gunilda was washing me with a rough cloth and an herbal draught, when my mother burst through the door. Giving one of her nearly toothless grins, Gunilda stepped back. Mum took the cloth from her hand, dipped it into the bowl and though it was still the same rough thing, she made it feel like velvet.
While my skin dried, she took her time to brush my hair, smoothing out the tangle caused by the ever present wind. Flowing down my shoulders and over my breasts it looked like a twin to the flame in the grate.
Mum used to say that my hair was of that special flaming red because I was born under the sign of fire. Of all my six brothers, only Charlie's was of the same colour. Charlie… My heart skipped a beat. If only Charlie was here, he would find a way to save me. He'd probably bring a dragon from Romania, where he was working as a dragon tamer, to fight the evil that would come to take me away.
A hiccoughing sob escaped my throat at the thought of never seeing Charlie again. My mother's eyes were wet, too, when she turned me around to wipe the tears from my face with warm fingers calloused from hard work. Then she kissed her thumb and drew little runes on my forehead, my mouth and my chest, right across my heart: strength, love, fire.
"May the goddess bless you," she whispered. "Be strong. Your brothers will come."
Gunilda appeared out of a dark corner in the back of the hut, our time was up. Mum's eyes never left mine until the door closed behind her. I was alone with Gunilda again.
The knotted witch summoned a small jar from a shelf beside the fireplace and scooped up a generous blob with two fingers. I had no idea what it was for, but its purpose became clear when she made me put a foot up onto a small stool and slicked me up between the legs.
Though I hated her bony fingers pushing up inside of me, something strange happened while she scissored them to spread the oily mass. There was a pulling, a new need I couldn't define, and as much as I wanted to flee her intrusive touch, it made me wonder what those fingers would have done to me had Gunilda continued.
When I reached for my dress, the midwife shook her head and handed me a woollen blanket. I cloaked myself and put on my boots. After the heat in the hut, the cold was a slap in the face as I stepped out of Gunilda's home. The wind tore at my hair, and I didn't have enough hands to keep the blanket wrapped around me. My nipples hardened, and when the old witch saw it she reached out to cup my breast and brush the nipple with her thumb. It hardened further, and again there was this strange pulling inside of me. It made me think of Gunilda's long fingers probing me, slicking me up, and I shivered, disgusted by my weird reaction.
Without a word, the midwife led the way to our holy place. Gathering her black skirts, she hurried up the hill to the stone circle at a quick pace that one wouldn't expect from a woman her age. How often I had run up that path, laughing and light-footed, to play hide and seek between the huge stones with my friends and brothers. Incredible, how long and grim it stretched before me today.
Brushing aside the high grown marram grass, we climbed up the last steep yards and entered the stone circle. I adjusted my blanket and leaned against the nearest menhir, soaking up its warmth, but I wasn't granted a break.
Gunilda took my hand and lead me to the centre of the place, where she ripped the blanket off my body and spread it on the ground. I braced myself for the cold to hit me with force, and was surprised to discover that, inside the circle, the wind was only a soft breeze. The sunlight was warm on my skin, and I closed my eyes to turn my face to the sun and enjoy the breeze playing with my hair.
The midwife tugged at my hand and told me to lie down on my back. "They like to see what they get," she said, and arranged my limbs in a way that made me feel utterly exposed. I had to spread my legs and bent my knees, allowing the breeze and the sun to caress the part of me Gunilda had violated earlier with her rude probing. Then I had to prop myself up on my elbows and tilt my head back. My nipples greeted the sun, still hard, and the old witch raked her fingers through my hair, fanning it out behind me and pulling some strands over my shoulders.
"It won't be long now." She squinted against the sun. "I better go. And I'll take these with me." With a swift movement she pulled the boots from my feet, turned and left the stone circle. Soon I couldn't see or hear her anymore. I was alone, naked and defenceless. I wouldn't even be able to run away, the sharp blades of the marram grass would turn the soles of my feet into a bleeding mess in no time.
I scanned the sky, shadowing my eyes with my hand against the blinding glow outlining the bloody bank of fog hiding the horizon from my view. My brothers and I, we had never seen a sunrise. Mum used to say that it looked like the sky was set on fire, that it didn't look any different than the sunset, but we couldn't choke that longing in our hearts.
I sat up and kissed the small rune dangling between my breasts. Whatever fate had planned for me today, I was Ginevra Weasley, born in the sign of fire, and blessed by my mother. Nothing could change that, and I wouldn't give up without fighting. I fumbled around with my other hand until I found a perfectly sized, egg-shaped stone. Weighing it in my hand, I lay down to wait.
The waves crashed against the cliff in a monotone rhythm, the seagulls cried and crossed the sky, and a strange peace came over me. My heart beat steady, my breathing was even. It wouldn't be me who would die today. My brothers would come and save me.
"Gin! Gin, are you there?" My eldest brother's voice wafted up the hill.
I dropped the stone, got up and wrapped the blanket around me again. "Bill! Here, I'm here!"
One by one, they entered the stone circle, and I had never loved them more. Bill, his strawberry-red hair bound into a bun, hugged me tight. "Thank Merlin, you're still here!"
A voice I hadn't heard for a long time replied, "Yes, she's still here, but we don't have much time left, I guess."
I couldn't believe my ears and craned my neck to check if it was true. It was. Charlie winked at me and smiled the special smile he reserved for me. I would have loved nothing more than to fly into his arms and forget my misery in his embrace. While we had never done anything a brother and a sister shouldn't do, there had always been more, a secret message in our words, our touches and the glances we exchanged. I desperately searched for a sign telling me that things were still the same between us.
"Let's get ready," he said, as he put down a huge bag and started handing out weapons. "Ron, Percy, crossbows for you. Fred, George, you throw the nets. Longbows for Bill and me. Set your arrows on fire before you let them fly. May the bastard burn!"
"What about me?" I asked. "I want a crossbow, too!"
"No, no weapon for you," Charlie said. "He would see it from afar and get suspicious. But I brought your wand." He gave it to me, and I held his hand for longer than was necessary to take it, pressing it to the blanket covering my chest. My heart raced, I longed for his touch, and there was that need again, that rhythmic pulling between my legs. He must have noticed, because a flush stained his freckled cheeks. As our eyes met, I knew his love was still strong. Relieved, I let go and, though naked underneath my blanket and barefoot, I felt much less vulnerable with my wand in my hand surrounded by my armed brothers.
"Remember, wands are melee weapons. Taking him down when he's still in the air is the safest option, but don't hesitate to use magic when he's within reach." Charlie looked us all in the eye, and we nodded. "Let's try to catch him alive. How many girls have these beasts already stolen for the sake of peace? Five hundred? More, even? I'm sure the villagers would love to know who is responsible for their grief. If they don't want to see him burning at the stake, we may sell him to a menagerie or something."
We nodded again. Some extra Galleons were always appreciated.
"Gin, do exactly what the midwife told you. Nothing will happen to you, I promise. We'll hide behind the menhirs and get him down before he knows what's going on." Charlie helped me spread the blanket in the centre, and I lay down with my legs apart and my nipples facing the blue sky. I caught Charlie's eyes, shining bright like sapphires in his tanned face. He nodded, between us we had never needed words. When this would be over, he would take me with him. We would be together and everything would be fine.
We waited.
Flight
Draco folded his wings and crouched on his favourite merlon of his father's stronghold's highest tower. The morning was still young and pale, as he waited for the sun to complete her slow rise behind him and tried to catch a glimpse of the mainland.
Thick clouds of billowing greyness blocked his view. Draco knew that the magically conjured belt of fog enclosing the island was necessary to protect their kingdom from whoever might bring evil, but he cursed it from the bottom of his heart. He'd never been allowed to see more of the outside world than the churning waters of the sea, licking the wide curve of the pebble beach, cold and dark like the stone he was digging his toes into.
The wind tore at Draco's hair, turning it into a matted mass, and gnawed mercilessly at the withered walls. But the fortress had been built to last for eternity by his ancestors, and his heart swelled with pride from the knowledge that Malfoy Manor would house another hundreds more generations of Veela princes. Princes, as women of Veelan blood bore only males. He had studied the family tree carved into the western wall of the dinner hall often enough to know that pureblood females had always been rare and that the last one had died five hundred and seventeen years ago.
The family tree got very confusing from there, its branches covering the whole width of the wall. But though it looked chaotic, not a single name of the many brides from the mainland had been forgotten. Whenever the ill wind blew, the king would fly to the coast and bring home another, whose only purpose was to give birth to a daughter within a year. And every following year.
But Draco's father wouldn't fly with the ill wind ever again. He had died three days ago, and shrill wailing had been sounding off the harem wing since. Even now, Draco heard it over the roaring of the wind, but tried to ignore it. As the new king, he had to concentrate on the task lying before him.
The ill wind was blowing, and though Draco wished he would have had more time to grow into the position, he was excited at the prospect of siring his first child and bringing home his first queen. She would wait for him in the stone circle on the mainland, beautiful and ready to conceive. Those were the rules, and the mainlanders knew better than to break them.
Draco spread his wings and checked the wind. Strong and offshore it almost blew him from his perch, carrying unknown, alluring scents. Draco smiled. The storm was perfect to help him carry his bride after the mating they would perform surrounded by the huge menhirs, which had been witness to the siring of royal offspring for centuries.
Draco's shadow grew shorter and shorter the higher the sun crept up into the sky, but it still looked like a giant demon when he unfolded his wings and leaped up into the air. For the first time, the fog would allow him to fly through to the other side, instead of misleading him until he gave up.
The crushing of the waves beneath him and the cries of the seagulls were reduced to muffled sounds as he entered the dense fog, and he couldn't see as far as to the tips of his wings. He closed his eyes and flew by instinct, relying on the magic of the protective spell to guide him through. It was harder than he thought it would be. He had to fight the full force of the storm, which blew into his face, and the moisture soaked his wings faster than any rainstorm. They got heavier with every beat. Soon, Draco's muscles burned, and he was panting, gulping down the wet air.
Just when he was pondering giving up, brightness penetrated his eyelids, and his lungs filled with fresh, salty air. As he opened his eyes, he saw his shadow gliding over the whitecaps and took in the sight of the mainland for the first time.
Softly curved pebble beaches turned into high dunes covered with grey-green tussocks of marram grass. Further in the distance, the roofs of a small village ducked into the hills, and small figures toiled on the fields. Orchard slopes showed an outburst of white and pink blossoms, and then light green speckles dusted the fields.
Draco scanned the panorama, watching out for the stone circle. His breathing grew faster again, when he sighted it on top of the cliff emerging from the dunes. Withered stones, scarred by wind and sun and salt, stood upright in a wide circle.
The holy place emitted powerful vibes which ruffled Draco's feathers and sent shivers down his spine. Ancient magic was at work, and he wasn't sure if it was welcoming him. But it was his right to claim his bride and sire a child there, so he doubled his efforts to reach the coast.
His shadow had just crossed the ever changing line separating the land from the sea, when fire shot up at him from the stones.
Sight
Charlie's sister lay naked before his eyes, and he was shocked by how beautiful she had become during the year he had spent in Romania. Her skin was white and smooth, except for the small freckles sprinkled over her cheeks and arms. She was a woman now, the soft curve of her hips holding a promise he wanted to keep, her breasts would be a perfect fit to his cupped hand.
Her hair was of the same colour as his, but while he bound his in a ponytail at his nape, hers spread wavy across the ground. As children they had plaited their hair into a thick, single braid and pretended to be one person. Now he had other dreams of their hair tying them together. He pictured them panting and sweating, limbs entangled and connected in the most intimate way.
It was wrong to think of her that way, he knew that. He had hoped the adventure of hunting and taming dragons in Romania would be what he needed to forget her, but nothing had changed. He still wanted her to be his, and would kill anybody who would try to keep them apart.
"Charlie!" His brother Fred's voice was a loud whisper, causing Charlie to tear his eyes away from Ginny and lift them up to the eastern sky. A white figure was approaching the coast, still not more than a blur of fast moving wings.
"He's coming," George added. Fred and George sounded so alike, Charlie was surprised that he was still able to tell his twin brothers apart. They peeked around the stones they were hiding behind, and he nodded his thanks. "Keep the nets ready!"
"Listen, all of you," he said into the tense silence. "Bill, you go for the right wing. I'll do the left!"
Bill's head appeared from behind the menhir next to Fred's and he winked at Charlie.
"Percy, Ron, have your arrows ready and aim for his legs!"
Ron's freckles stood dark against his pale face when he showed his crossbow and nocked an arrow. Of Percy, Charlie only saw a fist holding a wand. While he well and truly relied on Bill's sure hand and sharp eye and on the twins' skills in throwing the nets, Percy and Ron where the brothers he never really knew what to expect of.
Ron was more of a strategic nature, good at planning ahead, but always a bit frightened when actually confronted with action; Percy was an outright coward who preferred gathering and analysing information. But Charlie had trained them both and had seen their arrows hit a hare on the run straight in the eye.
He picked up his own longbow and held his wand ready to set the first arrow on fire. The winged beast was near now, his shadow had already crossed the beach and was crawling over the edge of the cliff like a black hand reaching for Ginny.
"Incendio!" The tip of Charlie's arrow lit up, he pulled the string and followed the trajectory of the white bastard, calculating the speed of the wind and the rhythm of his wing beats. Charlie stopped breathing to steady his hand and let the arrow fly. It shot up, a small flame against the endless sky. He watched its progress while knocking the next one.
He didn't need it. A scream of pain escaped the creature as its left wing flared up. The sound was ugly, like a wordless curse promising doom, and Charlie's blood froze in his veins.
A second trail of smoke crossed the blue sky, and another wail of pain echoed through the stone circle. Bill had aimed well.
The Veela's desperate, erratic flapping wasn't enough to keep him airborne. Charlie's cock stirred, his fists clenched, there was a raw and disturbing beauty in the flames blazing from the large wings and the smoke billowing up from them in elegant waves. Even trundling down ungracefully, the bastard was an intoxicating sight.
Charlie couldn't look away.
Fight
Ginny stood wide-eyed, her back pressed against a menhir, staring at the flying beast going down. His wings were fully on fire, each desperate stroke sent a rain of sparks and ash at her.
He hit the ground right where she had lain just moments ago, setting the blanket she had forgotten in her panic ablaze. Crouching, he spread the remnants of his wings wide, showing the damage the flames had caused. The tips were still burning brightly, but large parts were reduced to blackened bones and smouldering clusters of muscles and feathers. Then he stilled, eyes closed like in deep concentration, and silence fell.
Ginny lifted her wand and opened her mouth. "Petri-"
His head shot up. Silver-grey eyes found hers, and everything changed in a heartbeat.
All her thoughts and memories fell away, shoved aside by an overwhelming desire. Impossible, that she had been able to survive for so long with that aching love tearing her apart. Still caught in his gaze, she took a hesitant step towards him.
"No, Ginny, nooo!"
She knew the voice calling for her to stop, but she couldn't remember the name of the man. He ran to her, calling her name again and again. "Ginny, please. Stay where you are."
His hair was red like hers, but his face didn't mean anything to her, and she didn't like the pleading tone in his voice. He should leave her alone, she wanted to enjoy the spreading warmth in her loins, the slick desire for something still unfathomable.
She broke into a run, only half-aware of the red cuts the marram grass left on her shins and soles. It didn't matter. Every fibre of her longed for the white man with the silver eyes, everything would be fine as soon as she flung herself in his arms.
She had almost reached him, already the heat of his still glowing wings was singeing her nostrils. Squinting to protect her eyes, she didn't see the red-haired man running full speed at her until he knocked her down. Wriggling under his weight, his handsome face only inches from hers, she fought with teeth and claws to get him off her. She let out a scream of frustration when he pinned her arms down with his knees.
Staring into her eyes, his of a familiar, clear blue, he spoke her name. "Ginny." Calming, soothing, his deep voice triggered a memory, but it was elusive and her whirring mind couldn't grab it.
"Ginny, it's me. Charlie."
She stilled, checking his eyes and face again, but the faint memory didn't come back. Instead, a yearning clawed at her heart, she couldn't waste time with this stranger. With desperate force she tried to push him off her, but he wouldn't let her go.
"What did the bastard do to you?" His eyes flicked between her and the smoking figure waiting at the edge of her vision. A small eternity later, he returned his gaze to her. The sympathy in his eyes had died, his voice grew cold and mean, matching the furious twist of his mouth. "Ah, I understand. You want him for yourself, right? Forget it. He's mine!" Piercing her with narrowed eyes, he slapped her in the face. A shriek erupted from her throat, and again she put all her power into an effort to free her arms.
"Stupefy!" The spell bounced between the stones, yelled by two voices which sounded almost alike. Ginny froze, unable to move, no matter how badly she wanted to. All she could do was breathe and watch. The only good thing was that her attacker got stunned too, his hand hovering in the air on its way down to her face for another slap.
Two identical looking young men stormed towards her and the stranger sitting on top of her. "What's wrong with you two? Have you both gone mental?" The first of the two stared down at them with disbelief written all over his face. The second one appeared in sight a split-second later. "What's going on here?" he demanded to know. But, of course, neither Ginny nor the handsome man weighing her down were able to give an answer.
"Maybe, we should take care of him first?" asked one of the twins, pointing at the winged creature with his chin while exchanging a glance with his brother.
"You're right. Let these two here cool down for a while," said the other, pointing his wand at the white man. "Stu-"
Ginny waited for the spell to hit. She breathed and stared, the sun shone down hot on her bare skin, and the sky was of a blinding bright blue. Seagulls cried, the ugly sound drowning in the thudding of her heart. Nothing happened.
The wand sank down, the twin who had started to say the spell turned slowly towards his brother. "No," he said. "I don't want to hurt him. He's beautiful…" Blinking like he needed to clear his head, he stepped back from his twin and pointed at him with his wand. "Don't even think about it. I can see it in your eyes. You want him, too. But, he's mine. He belongs to me! Do you hear me? To me!"
"Fred, what-" The twin without a name reached out for his brother, brows risen and voice tinged with confusion.
The man called Fred didn't allow him to finish his sentence. "Petrificus totalus!" he yelled, and the other one fell like he was dead.
Ginny's eyes darted to the pale, winged man as he looked away from them to meet hers again. A knowing smile lingered on his lips, while he sat motionless, smoke still curling from the black stumps which had been his wings not long ago. Her heart went out to him, she'd rather die than wait one second longer to feel his skin against hers. Tears welled up in her eyes when her desire didn't vanish the spell that was binding her. She blinked, if she couldn't touch him, she at least wanted to look at him. He winked at her, and she thought she heard a voice inside her head. "You're mine," it whispered. "You're mine."
The sound of footsteps caught her attention. Two other red-haired young men entered the scene. "Are you all crazy?" one shouted, while the other mumbled, "I should have known that this would end in disaster."
The one who had shouted grabbed one of the nets the twins had brought along and aimed it at the white man. It was flying towards him, and would have probably caught him, when the red-haired boy whipped out his wand. "Incendio," he yelled, and the net went down in flames, while he ran to the man with his arms stretched out towards him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you. You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life. Forgive me, forgive me, forgi-"
He stumbled, and squirmed on the ground. The other red-haired man strolled by, grinning and nudging him with his foot. "Look at what a nice Locomotor Wibbly can do, and you don't even have to shout it," he said with malice in his voice.
"Right," the one on the ground said, and pointing his wand at the other man, he whispered, "Incarcerous". Thick ropes appeared out of thin air and attacked the last upright man like angry snakes, winding around him until he couldn't move a finger. He fell down across his brother's upper body, disabling him completely.
Alight
Draco hadn't been sure if he would be able to get them all down. The pain in his wings had exhausted him. Otherwise they would have killed each other by now instead of only hexing one another.
He got up and wandered along the line of his fallen enemies. Taking his time, he looked each of them in the eye and granted them a friendly smile. They had fallen for him, like everyone fell for him. Stupid mainlanders. They knew nothing. He was a Veela, nobody withstood his charm.
When he reached his bride, he went down beside her and kissed her lips. A Veela kiss was a counter curse to nearly any hex or jinx, and it worked on this one, too. He took her hands and helped her to free herself from her brother's stiff weight. She was a beauty, just like his father had promised. He led her to a pitch of soft green grass.
Her lips were warm and willing when he kissed her again, and she pressed her groin against his as he ran his hands down her back and cupped her buttocks. A coral flush painted her cheeks, and her breathing went fast. Her nipples hardened against his skin when he kissed her again. He didn't have to look into her darkened eyes to know she wouldn't need much more preparation. As if it had been the sign for his body to wake from its healing trance, his cock sprang to life. He kissed her with more force, opening her lips with his tongue.
He took her right there, before the eyes of her brothers, with the menhirs standing witness. She was a fascinating mixture of strong muscles under soft skin, of hot slickness and eager uncertainty. His father had told him to be careful, but she seemed to like it wild and rough, their hips slamming together in the rhythm of their panting.
She was even more beautiful when they were finished, radiating a glow he couldn't fathom, which made her eyes shine and her smile bright. He had sired his first child, and hoped it would be a girl as beautiful as her mother.
He stood up and searched for her wand. Closing her fist around it, he said, "You know it has to be done." Her nod was solemn, her eyes calm and focused.
With measured steps she walked to the brother lying nearest, the mumbler. Dropping to her knees, she pointed at his head with her wand. His eyes went wide, and he struggled to free himself from the ropes. "Ginny, no, what are you-"
She pressed a forefinger to his lips, but he wouldn't be still. "Ginny, please." Draco watched her eyes flare up in fury.
Avada Kedavra!"
Green light flashed, and the life in her brother's eyes was gone.
Six times she spoke the dark words, six times the green flash made the sun appear dull. Draco stood in awe at the power of his Veela charm while he watched her killing brother after brother. None of their deaths was as impressive as the first one as they were all unable to move or speak, but still.
When she returned to him, her eyes searched his for approval. He kissed her long and deep and sat down with her in his lap. They watched the fog billowing at the horizon, the crushing of the waves the only sound to disturb the silence. The sky was wide and empty, no clouds were to be seen and even the seagulls had disappeared. Her skin was warm and smooth as Draco wound her hair around his fingers. She played with a small golden rune hanging from a delicate chain around her neck.
After a while, she shifted in his lap and looked up at him. "Will you show me a sunrise?"
"I will," he said. "They say it looks like the sky is on fire."
Her eyes grew alert. "I was born under the sign of fire," she whispered, and her fist closed tightly around the rune. She sat up and took in her surroundings like she saw them for the first time.
"Ron, Bill… Charlie? What happened? Who are you?"
Draco saw the terror in her eyes and tried to kiss her, but she shied away from him. "You!" she hissed, and out of nowhere the tip of her wand was pressed at his chest. "You made me kill them, you did that to us! You, you-"
He caught her wrists and looked into her eyes, willing her under his Veela charm again. Yet, it didn't work. Her left hand still clutched the rune, and the other one held the wand steady.
"Don't," he said. "I'll show you a sunrise, I promise."
XX
I pressed my wand's tip at his heart, pulse pumping at my temples and hate churning in my gut. Though blessed by my good mother, I had burdened myself with sin and guilt. For my fellow villagers I would always be the bride who had killed all her brothers, I couldn't go back. My life as I had loved it was over. I had no choice. Longing for some comfort and reassurance, I kissed the warm metal of the rune in my hand. Fire.
"A sunrise?" I asked. "That would be nice." I put my arms around him and buried my face in the hollow between his shoulder and his neck.
"Incarcerous!" Fast as lightning, tighter than a lover's embrace, the ropes bound us together. He gasped in shock.
"What are you doing?" His voice was high pitched, his muscles flexed against my skin and the cords. The strange peace came over me again.
I was Ginevra Weasley, daughter of fire.
"Incendio!"