These Dark And Hollow Nights

Chapter Thirty: Covert

Readers, I deeply apologize for the extremely long wait. This winter has been very hard on my health, and I have, in result, lost inspiration. I  guess you can say I was going through a true writer's block for the last several weeks (months?). I apologize for keeping you waiting, and thank you for being so patient. I would love to know what you guys think, though, so please keep commenting! A huge thank you to everyone who's read this story!! :) 

Chapter Thirty: Covert   

Ginny’s POV

It was starting to warm up in her dungeon, but it was still cold enough that Ginny felt like an ice-cube from head to toe. She had a threadbare blanket, but it wasn’t enough to keep her even somewhat warm. It was useless.

For the most part, though, she was able to tell what time it was based on the temperature. It was always warmest in the afternoon, when her shivering wasn’t so bad and she could actually breathe normally. It was harder to tell in the mornings, because it was still just as cold as it was at night, but she had started hearing birds chirping outside, which gave her a sense of what time of day it was. It was coldest at night, when she was shivering so badly her teeth chattered and her heart was pounding in her chest, and she wondered why she hadn’t died of frostbite yet. Probably this was another form of Griselda’s torture. She was probably making sure she didn’t die of frostbite.

‘Weasley,’ someone hissed in the darkness. ‘Weasley, stop shivering for five seconds, would you?’

She stopped shivering, bracing herself for more torture. ‘W-what d-do you want?’ She stuttered.

‘Be quiet. I’m not supposed to be in here,’ the voice hissed. 

It took her a minute to recognise the voice, and surprised would be an understatement compared to what she felt. ‘Goyle?’ She whispered.

‘Shh,’ Goyle hissed again, annoyance creeping into his tone. ‘Calor.’

She was about to ask what the unfamiliar word was, when the threadbare blanket at her feet suddenly warmed, as did the mattress under her, and she realised that it was a spell. She hadn’t studied heating spells much, but she was sure she’d never heard of this one before. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

Goyle muttered the silencing charm under his breath. She felt him sit down on the bed next to her. The mattress sunk under his weight. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘Potter saved my life once. I figured I owe it to him to keep you alive.’

‘You don’t happen to have any food, do you?’ She asked. ‘Or water? I’m starving. I’ve had nothing but bread crusts for who knows how many days.’

He chuckled, and she felt him press something into her hand. Her fingers wrapped around it, and she held the cup to her lips. She downed the water in seconds, and gave the cup back. He then handed her something else, and she realized it was more bread. But rather than the crusts she’d been fed, it was a sandwich, complete with cheese and lettuce and mustard and ham. It wasn’t her mother’s food, but it was food, and at this point, she’d take anything.

‘You’ve been in here since August. It’s April now,’ said Goyle. ‘I can’t tell you much, but I’ve been working undercover for the Order since July, when they started planning your abduction and Potter’s downfall. People know where you are. We’re just waiting until it’s safe to get you out of here.’

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Goyle, working for the Order? It was unbelievable. And yet… what a perfect spy. No one would suspect him, not after he stood with the Death Eaters. ‘It’s April? Has Easter happened yet?’ She asked.