Finding Color

Part Three

"Of course I don't," Ginny laughed. Then she slowly lifted her head to look at Voldemort and opened her eyes.

Voldemort gasped and bent forward in his chair. He reached out one finger and brushed it just under her eye. Ginny refused to flinch at the cold slimy sensation of Voldemort's finger touching her as he examined her blind eyes. She refused to let her magic zap the Dark creature touching her either.

"Your power removes your sight?" Voldemort guessed.

"I lost my sight a long time ago," Ginny disagreed. "My magic gives me back a semblance of sight. It's why dark magic can't touch me. What I want is my sight back."

"By taking your power I give you sight back?" Voldemort guessed again.

Ginny laughed. "No. You have in your employ a person whose presence negates my blindness. If you give me that person then I'll give you what knowledge I have left to give."

"A person?" Voldemort said skeptically.

"Yes," Ginny stood. She turned to the back of the room and looked directly at Lucius Malfoy as she said, "I want Draco Malfoy."

III

Draco was sleeping, dreaming about Ginny, when his arm began to burn. Voldemort was calling, but he was calling for his inner circle. Draco was not invited so he rolled back over and tried to go back to sleep.

Her eyes, once a dark brown but now a light tan color, looking after him as her father guided her out of the train station, haunted him. He wanted to go after her, tell her how much he missed her, but that was impossible. He wanted to spy as she had asked, but that was impossible as well. Instead he wallowed in misery, caught between his love for her and his duty to his father.

He was just drifting back off to sleep when the door to his room slammed open. His father stood in the doorway, looking incensed and worried.

"I don't know what you did to her, Draco," Lucius said as he ripped the covers off his son, "but she's requested your presence and the Dark Lord has seconded it. Hurry, and get dressed."

"Who wants me?" Draco asked, utterly confused, as he rushed to find clothing. His father didn't answer and instead focused his wand to fix Draco's sleep mussed hair.

When Draco was dressed, Lucius took his son's arm and Apparated them to Voldemort's meeting room in the old Riddle house.

"My Lord," Lucius stepped forward and bent into a bow. "I have brought him."

"Bring the boy forward," Voldemort snapped.

Draco couldn't stop the shiver that went down his back at that hateful voice. It was the same voice that had threatened the lives of his family if he didn't kill Dumbledore. It was the same voice that had punished him when Snape had to accomplish the task for him. Draco hated that voice as much as he had ever hated anything.

His father's strong hand on his arm was the only thing that got his feet moving. Draco shuffled forwards.

"Draco!"

Her voice rang through the room and Draco's head snapped up in absolute shock. What was she doing here? She was standing behind an armchair that had her magical signature all over it with Voldemort hovering menacingly over her.

She looked up at him with her eyes open and he gasped. They were milky white, all color leached from them, but as he neared, he, and everyone else watching her eyes, could see the pupil suddenly open, as if it had two lids to close itself with. Suddenly she had one small black spot at the center of each ball of white.