Pedigree
"It was brilliant, My Lord. The screams, the gore- when I arrived back at headquarters and took off my hood, there was actually a piece of his-"
"I want a pet."
Macnair gave Voldemort a puzzled glance. "Beg pardon? Erm, My Lord?"
Voldemort shifted in his throne. "A pet. I need a pet!"
"Well, you do have Nagini-"
Voldemort glared. "She's my familiar! Or, mascot. I don't know. She won't cuddle."
"Cuddle?" Macnair echoed faintly.
Malfoy cleared his throat. "My Wise and Wicked sovereign, if I might suggest one possibility- I know where I could lay my hands upon a splendid white ferret-"
Voldemort pouted. "No."
Pettigrew raised his magic hand. "I could transform, My Lord. The Weasleys thought I was a lovely pet. Very cuddly."
Voldemort examined his nails. "Ferret, rat, weasel- what makes you all think I want some scurrying rodent?"
Pettigrew turned away, hoping the hurt wasn't too apparent on his face. "Not weasel, Weasley. The muggle-lovers."
Voldemort sat up suddenly. "Wait a moment- Weasley! As in...Ginny Weasley!"
Peter looked up in confusion. "Well, yes, but I'm more acquainted with her brothers-"
Voldemort bounced a bit. "No, she was the one who had my diary, right Lucius?"
Malfoy nodded. "Ah, yes. Again, My Lord, I must offer my humblest apologies- that dratted Potter had to ruin everything-"
"Grovel later, please- I'm thinking. Yes, I think we'd get on well. She's very red- liven the place up a bit. I'd like that very much."
Dolohov leered. "Yes, I'm certain we would all like that very much."
Voldemort glared. "No! Not like that! I'll use Crucio on anyone who tries it."
Rookwood rolled his eyes. "You use Crucio on all of us anyway."
Voldemort drummed his fingers on the armrest of his throne. "True. Alright, I'll close the offshore accounts of anyone who lays a finger on her!"
There were horrified murmurs amongst the blackhearted flock, and their Master grinned. "Excellent! Alright, now I'll need a team to fetch her and bring her here alive and unharmed. Now, Lucius- do you think 'Cissa could provide her with a wardrobe?"
**
Ginny rolled out of her wrought iron bed with a sigh, padding over to the cedar wardrobe with just a taste, a flicker of hope as she opened the doors-
No. Still all pink. And frilly! She had been on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team, playing hard in the rain and mud and now she was expected to dress up in pink ruffles and be cuddled by the Dark Lord every morning.
She wiggled into her dress, heaving another sigh.
**
Storming into the Hall of Darkness, Ginny ran up to Voldemort without heeding the impressive speech Malfoy was giving. "Tom! Tommy, someone has been in my room and going through my things. This has to stop!"
Voldemort glared at his Death Eaters as he ruffled Ginny's hair. "Is this true? I must say, I find that most disappointing. What did they take, darling?"
"Someone stole a pair of my knickers!"
Immediately, every minion in the hall fell prostrate before their Lord. Ginny snorted. "Honestly, you are all so pathetic. How do you sign on for a lifetime of servitude to an accomplished Legilimens and think you'll get away with this nonsense? Please!"
Voldemort clucked in agreement. "Quite right, pet. What day is today?"
"Tuesday, but I was wearing Thursday. Your evil house elves don't seem to be very literate- Hermione would have something to say about that."
Voldemort gave her a look of reproof. "Don't speak of that Mudblood girl to me! Here- Accio Thursday knickers!"
Ginny glared back as her pants sped into The Dark Lord's hand. "Shut up, Tom! She might have Muggle parents, but at least she knows the days of the week, which is more than I can say of your house elves or half your evil army! Besides, her parents help people take care of their teeth. You needn't be such a prat about them not having magic."
Hurling a distracted Avada Kedavra in the direction of one Mr. Gustave Denoir, Voldemort turned back to his argument with alacrity. "Ginny, love, that's sort of the crux of my movement. Down with Mudbloods. Death to Mudbloods. Mudbloods- grr. You see?"
She jutted her chin out defiantly. "I don't see why. All the Muggle-borns I know are loads better than all your pervy, knicker-stealing purebloods like Denoir. Smarter and better looking and more interested in magical theory-"
"Better looking?!" Malfoy exclaimed indignantly. "I beg your pardon!"
"-and they dress better. And know better jokes! None of your Death Eaters has yet to make me snort pumpkin juice out my nose the way Seamus used to."
"That could be arranged," Rookwood hissed, cracking his knuckles. Ginny rolled her eyes for the forty-seventh time that day, and considered the idea that being an utter prat was actually higher on the list of Death Eater requirements than pureblood.
"Very threatening. Or, I could tell Tom about your recent experience on the London Underground. Hmm?"
Rookwood paled, darting a nervous glance at Voldemort's interested gaze. "Ehm, ha, just joking, pet."
Voldemort tapped his wand menacingly. "Royal Pet, you mean."
Rookwood nodded frantically. "Yes! Royal Pet, only having a bit of fun, you know." He lowered his voice to a whisper as Voldemort discovered Bellatrix crouching behind his throne, a sketchbook clutched in her trembling hands. "How did you know about that?!"
Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "The walls have ears, and you lot are terrible at keeping secrets. Well, Wormtail excluded, of course."
Voldemort tried to swat at the swatches of fabric Madame Lestrange kept dropping in his lap. "No, Bella, get off! No, you may not have a new mask when your old one is perfectly serviceable. No, I don't think sequins would make a charming addition!"
Snape chose that moment to sweep in, his dark eyes flickering over the assembly before kneeling at Voldemort's feet. "My Lord, your plan has worked. Hogwarts is still in an uproar over the girl's disappearance."
Ginny sighed, then raised her voice plaintively. "Oh, Professor. Won't you please help me. Woe, woe. I miss my family and friends and you should protect me as a guardian of my well-being...et cetera."
Voldemort frowned. "Pet, that just hurts my feelings."
Snape glared in Ginny's direction, clearly displeased with her lackluster performance. "Foolish girl! I would never betray my Lord to help you, and you should feel yourself fortunate as one who has garnered his favour!"
Ginny shrugged, then retrieved a paperback she had stowed underneath the throne. "Whatever."
Snape rolled his eyes then, and Ginny felt a rush of relief that she wasn't the only person addicted to that activity. Composing himself, Snape cleared his throat. "My Lord, what would you have me do to make this worse for them? Shall I tell them of rumors you are torturing her?"
Ginny snorted. "Well, he sort of is! Have you seen these clothes?"
Malfoy huffed indignantly. "MY wife picked those out, you ingrate!" Ginny sniffed. "I wouldn't brag about that, if I were you."
Voldemort shushed Malfoy, then turned back to Snape. "Hmm- yes, let them know she is writhing in agony without ceasing, I think. After all, exams are coming up- it will ruin their concentration! Ha HA!"
Ginny tugged at the hem of his robe. "Tom, you might want to be careful. You know very well that end of term is always when Harry thwarts your plans, and if he thinks you're being terrible to me, he'll be even angrier than usual. And he's angry all the time anyway."
Voldemort nodded thoughtfully. "True. Why is he so angry, by the way?"
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Um, you murdered his parents, his godfather, and keep making his life unbearably miserable."
"Hm. I was wondering if he might have a chemical imbalance. All right then, Severus, let them know that she is well guarded but almost unharmed- if you don't count the brand I have seared into her soft flesh!"
Ginny shook her head. "Nope. Mum won't let me get a tattoo."
"Ooh- forgot. Alright- just locked up then. With nothing to eat but bread and water!"
"Won't do. Mum doesn't hold with fad diets."
Voldemort slumped in his throne. "Um- healthy, balanced meals but no sweets of any kind?"
Ginny gasped. "You beast! It will do. Oh, that reminds me- Professor Snape?"
He handed her a bag filled with Chocolate Frogs and notes from her friends and family. The security at the lair was appalling, really. "So long, Professor. Give Harry a detention for me."
Snape harrumphed and swept out, and Ginny squeezed Voldemort's knee. "Tom, may I go open these in my room? I want to add the new wizard cards to my collection."
He patted her head fondly. "Certainly, dear. I think I'll do some torture while you're out, but I'll see you at dinner. We're having shepherd's pie!"
**
Most of the letters contained gossip and jokes, but Harry went into histrionics (again) about his plans to rescue her, with or without Dumbledore's assistance. She wrote a reply on the ensorcelled paper which duplicated the message in Harry's Charms notebook.
Dear Harry-
Don't be a git. I'm fine here, and trying to
do things your way has not been going so well
lately. Besides, I could probably ask Tom to
let me go back to school and he'd agree as long
as I spend every other weekend at the lair and
tell everyone he's treating me horribly.
No sense- so you have that in common with him.
Must go- almost time for dinner. Last week we
had a food fight, and watching Lucius pick
potatoes out of his hair kept me giggling for
hours.
Don't do anything too stupid!
-GinnySigning off, Ginny sighed. Her advice would almost certainly be ignored.