Don't Like Mondays

Her footsteps pounded on the dormitory stairs as she entered the common room. Three fifth years were seated at the fire, desperately trying to finish their weekend homework. They didn't even glance up at her, their eyes solely on the parchment. Their lips were moving silently as they tried to learn the work. Ginny stepped away from them; flashes of anger sparking across her as she passed.

Out in the corridor she leant against a wall, catching her breath and steadying herself. She mustn't loose control.

"Ginny!" She looked up, her eyes hooded lazily by her eyelashes. The Creevey brothers stood in front of her; they both had cameras and looked positively delighted about something. "What's up?"

She flounced past them, so they only caught part of her answer, "... like Mondays."

Confused, they stared at each other and then back to her, but she had already turned a corner.

"What's wrong with her?" asked the younger brother.

Colin pondered it, then twisted his finger next to his head. "She's just screwy, don't mind her. Comes from being obsessed with Harry," he scoffed.

As she entered the hall, her hand clenched into a fist as the Slytherins laughed particularly loud at one of Draco's comments. It went through her head, making her want to scream "SHUT UP!" but she stayed quiet, as she was expected to.

"Play the meek card just a little longer, otherwise they'll get suspicious," claimed the quiet voice inside of her. She placed a quiet smile as a mask over her features, then sat opposite Harry. He didn't look up from his conversation with Ron.

"Hey..." she tried, as she always did, to get at least nod of recognition.

"Shut up Ginny, we're trying to talk." Ron didn't even glance at her as he spoke, shielding the pair of them with "Spells to bug members of your family." Ginny sighed and reached for the mashed potatoes, she felt suddenly tired. The part that hadn't yet been numbed down by years of acting, yelled at her.

"Don't be tired, be pissed off, why do you put with them." But she shook her head, which was hurting from the constant arguments within her mind.

"It is the only way... if they knew what I was really like... they wouldn't understand." A hand on her shoulder made her jump, but it shut up the angry voice inside.

"Ginny? Are you ok?" Hermione, having just sat down, was looking concerned.

Ron pushed the book away, the talk finished. "She's fine Hermione, just pissed we didn't notice her." He started to laugh along with Harry and Hermione. Ginny was forced to join in, for Ginny with her sweet nature, never got pissed. Like the time that Fred had spilt invisible ink all over her homework, or when Harry had ripped her robes when he put them on for a dare, she hadn't even frowned. Yes she, or rather, the girl they claimed to know, never got angry and never saw red.

However, beneath her laughing guise something was changing and the real Ginny, powered by the anger of the past incidents gradually took hold and took over. She stopped laughing.

Without a sound, she rose from her seat and slipped from the room. Her mind was a whirl of evil laughter, new thoughts and...anger. She'd never experienced it, but now she seemed to understand everything about the confusing place she lived in. She didn't need Harry's love, Hermione's smiles, her mother; she needed only herself and this new power, to wreak vengeance on anyone who made her stay in her shell.

"You sound so familiar to someone..." the meek Ginny spoke up gently.

"Who?" inquired the angry Ginny, cautiously.

"Tom Riddle."

Anger flared again. How dare she be ever be compared to that monster, who took everything...

"Awww, do you miss your virginity?" She could hear his drawl now; it still had the effect to frighten her.

"STOP IT, I'm in control now," and with that the meek Ginny spluttered, and died.

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That night, with the moon shining in through the cracks of her four-poster, Ginny felt giddy. She had never felt like this before, this numbness towards any nasty thing she did or said. However, she realized that simple snide remarks were not enough. She needed to escape from every nice, simpering thing she had ever the unfortunate faith to perform. She needed to rid herself of the meek Ginny who, although was dead, would haunt her forever. She wanted to show everyone that not only was she strong, she had power crackling under her fingertips. Tomorrow was Monday. Tomorrow she would show them.

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The corridor outside the Charm's classroom echoed with the heels of her new dragon hide boots. Her hair swished loosely round her face, hiding black mascara and a devil's stare. Ginny was ready to show the world her true being.

As she turned the polished door handle, her long silk sleeves flowed gracefully over her hands. She could hear laughter coming out of the door, the sweet innocent laughter of her classmates. She grinned at how they would whisper at her, how shocked they would be. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the dark ebony door.

Silenced stalked around the room as every eye turned to face her.

"Is that..." A single voice broke the silence, "Ginny?"

"Hah" a snigger, hidden behind the well-manicured hand of Driocht Caraway, fashion queen extraordinaire. She never bothered Ginny, who couldn't fit in with her crowd, however... it had been a laugh.

The silicon chip inside her head
gets switched to overload

It burned through Ginny's ears into the knot of anger that had remained closed for so long, however it was open now and in control. She spun to stare at Driocht who went a little pale at the sight of Ginny's wand encased in her shaking hand.

"Don't you ever laugh at me, I have the power now, you have..." the wand in her hand leapt and sparked at the anger in her voice. She raised it and it surged, exploding with a huge spray of black sparks, which landed on top of Driocht, who fell off her chair, hair scorched and smoldering. Ginny looked at her in disgust.

"...nothing"

The classroom was deathly still, and then someone started to scream.

And nobody's gonna go to school today
She's gonna make them stay at home.

Colin stood carefully up from his desk.

"Gin, I don't know what's wrong with you... but you're acting crazy." He spoke like he was calming a frightened beast.

She stared at him and he was shocked by the numbness in her eyes. "You never knew me. And my name isn't Gin, it's Virginia, hope you'll remember it." Again the wand crackled and Colin fell amongst the ashes of his burnt desk. "It'll be the last you hear."

Inside she felt satisfied and it scared her. I'm not evil... am I?

"Of course not my child, of course not," Tom's voice again. But it didn't scare her anymore and she allowed herself a quiet giggle at the site of Colin shaking ash as he tried to stand, then fall with a sickening thud.

Behind the fog of her thoughts, someone sobbed.

Then suddenly, like a clear thought amongst a thousand muddy suggestions, the scene became visible, not warped like before. She saw Driocht's cronies standing and kneeling beside her, raising their heavily manicured fingers to their faces. She saw Colin's prone body, black from the soot. She turned terrified and saw McGonagal, her eyes were hooded and Ginny's second sense made her duck as "Stupefy" whooshed beside her head. It was enough to make everything real again and Ginny smiled as McGonagal fell to her power. She stepped over her body and walked off. People ran past her as her classmates wailed and screeched in the class. No-one paid her any heed, and she shook her head thoughtfully.

"If they wanted to catch me, why not find out who, instead of running to where I was and hope that I would stay put, perhaps it's good I did that, put the idiots on their guard if good old Voldie was to ever strike." She mused to herself as two prefects raced in the opposite direction. However she knew it would only be a matter of time before they found out whom, and she walked quickly down the passage and out the door. She was unsure of where she was going, but she knew she couldn't stay in Hogwarts anymore.

"GINNY," someone yelled and she turned, cloak and robes flowing in the breeze. It was Ron, his face was red from running and he grabbed her arm when he reached her. "Ginny, they said you had... that it was you who..." He looked up at her, and she just stood there watching, her eyes unblinking. He dropped her arm. "It was you, wasn't it."

Ginny felt no immediate need to answer him; she was amused watching all the emotions flash across his face as his brain twisted with the new concept.

"Why?" he croaked out, swaying a little. Ginny smiled.

"Please brother, they deserved it. Worthless little minions, living their entire lives in the shadows of others. McGonagal for instance, could never stand up to Dumbledore. I was doing them a favor." But he didn't seem to accept it; his eyes had a strange glint in them. "Ron, that's life, we all must survive whatever way we can. There is no good and bad, just power and those too blind to see it."

He just stared at her, then; "Do you know where I last heard that? It was off Harry... when he was telling me about Tom Riddle. Can't you see Gin? You're sick, he must have done something, a time-release spell, let me take you back to the school. Dumbledore can help, he'll find a way to..." But Ginny had stopped listening.

"My names Virginia and I'm not your little sister anymore; there is no need to protect me," She placed her hand on his cheek, and her wand against his stomach, "My darling older brother, do not worry, this won't hurt," Ron crumpled against her, "Much."

She let him slide down, until he lay in a pile on the grass.

Did that feel good? You see how wonderful it was as he lay against you, completely in your power. You should have waited a few more seconds; he might have even wet himself.

But Ginny paid little heed to the voice. There were a great number of people racing down towards her, and she didn't have the strength to deal with them all. She had very little resistance to the energy drain black magic inflicted on the caster's body. Oh well, there was always time to learn. She faced the attackers with barely a flicker of fatigue. Unfortunately, she hadn't the time to realize what happened, as her world spiraled to darkness.

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And her Daddy doesn't understand it,
He always said she was good as gold.

"Enervate"

Ginny blearily opened her eyes and quickly registered the situation. Her hands and arms were bound with thick leather straps, her wand appeared to be nowhere in sight. She still felt the drain of the spells and there was at least five or six people crowding around her, including her father. She would be hard pressed to get out of this one. Then again, they still believed she was sweet innocent Ginny, who would never even think about that kind of a thing, she might have a shot. She stirred a little, then made her voice sickeningly sweet.

"Wha...what am I doing here? Why am I tied down?" She looked questioningly at Dumbledore, who appeared. He leant closer; blocking Cornelius Fudge, who looked flustered and kept squeezing his bowler hat.

Can you remember what happened, my dear?" Dumbledore's concern sounded false, but then so was hers.

"She better remember," cut in Fudge, who glared daggers at her. In return she smirked at him, then quickly changed her expression as he seemed to jump with fright.

"You attacked two of your classmates and your brother Ron, as well as Professor McGonagal, can you remember?" said Dumbledore ignoring Fudge's protests. Ginny just shook her head and stayed dumb, if she opened her mouth she might laugh, a suicidal act.

"Are you sure? Can you remember anything of yesterday, or the night before?" Her father intervened as Fudge began to yell in fury.

"I cannot, father," she couldn't resist watching his face as it grimaced at the extremely formal word. "My mind is a blank..."

Her brain was working at top speed as she registered the information they were slowly leaking her. She'd been out cold since yesterday, probably to give them time to take care of the parents that were after her blood. She had no idea if any of her victims were dead, or if they just had any serious injuries. It might be because they were worried about the stress it would invoke in her, if she realized she had killed anyone. But as she was not SicklySweet!Ginny anymore, she wished to know.

"Professor, I'm afraid to ask but..." She gulped to play on the headmaster's feelings, "Did I... kill any of the people?"

The professor's face was grave as he spoke. "Yes, I'm afraid your class mate, Miss Driocht Caraway died instantly from the curse you preformed. Luckily your brother, Professor McGonagal, and Mr. Colin Creevey survived, but are all in a serious condition." His latest tactic appeared to shock her into realization, or even try to wean a confession out of her, but she was having none of it.

"Oh..." Her voice trailed off, in the hope that it was convincing enough. With everyone staring at her the slightest hint that she was enjoying herself could wreck everything. Inside she was seething with joy and satisfaction, oh Driocht had learned who really was in charge of the class. However there were bigger things to deal with, before she could relax in that knowledge. Her father was picking at her silk robes, and staring at her dragon hide boots.

"Gin?" She cringed inwardly, "Where did you get these? I'm sure your mother never bought them, and where did you get the mascara that is piled around your eyes?"

"I... I don't know, I can't remember where they came from..." But she did, that memory was still like a shard of ice at the back of her mind. He had given them to her, paraded her around his cavern, and made her do such disgusting things in it. When he tired of it, she had pulled her usual robes around her body and lay down. She had kept them, and the boots, which she had found later in her trunk, a farewell present from Tom. She had no idea why she had put them on, only that they were the most expensive things she had ever owned. Perhaps they had been a perfect example of change. No more poverty; she was destined for great things.

Her father just nodded, but still looked suspiciously at the boots. Fudge meanwhile was having a meltdown.

Funny, you'd think that the Minister of Magic would be paranoid enough to hold conversations away from possible teenage assassins.

"Albus, I refuse to let your good nature interfere with this. The girl is obviously a dangerous spy for Voldemort. The Carawys are very valuable supporters for, ahem, the good fight. I must be seen to do something."

"Please Cornelius, see sense. She is 15 years of age. To send her to Azkaban would be criminal. Besides, I am not sure if she is working of her own free will..."

"Isn't this the child that was involved with the Chamber Affair? I think that is solid enough proof." He seemed satisfied, smiling like a pig in a particularly putrid pile of mud. Dumbledore looked exasperated.

"That matter was cleared up on Harry Potter's evidence," Fudge snorted, but the professor continued, "And this is the Weasleys we're talking about. Pure bloods, and as good a family as you are ever likely to count on." Dumbledore seemed to be playing on Fudge's attitude towards mudbloods, yet the pompous git was firm.

"There's a bad sheep in every family, I've always said it."

"Listen," Dumbledore almost sneered. Almost. "If we loose the Weasley's support, we have nothing. Do you understand me? Not only will the entire family drop out of the fight and Charlie is one of the more prominent Aurors I believe, but also anyone in any connection to Arthur will cease to have any dealings with us. We might as well extend the invitation to Voldemort, and swear him in legally as Minister of Magic," Fudge paled at this remark, and seemed to visibly shrink.

"You said she wasn't acting of her own free will?" The conversation became hushed after that, and Ginny was unable to hear anything. Her father was at a desk in the classroom they had put her in, scribbling away on some parchment, so she had time to reflect on her own thoughts, and pry out any information that was useful.

Charlie-that was interesting-, she had no idea... She wondered at the amount of her mother's knowledge. Probably nothing. There had been riots when Bill suggested it as a possible career. That was valuable at any rate, as well as the Weasley's connections. Perhaps being a poverty stricken red head does have it's up side. however, there was still the matter of Dumbledore's thought that she was possessed. Could she play on that in any way? It might be a way to at least get home, to claim that it was Tom who had infected her. Yet, she had no idea how to fake this. Any test done, would immediately place the blame squarely on her shoulders and she would be sent to Azkaban for sure. Her mind was becoming fogged, and it was becoming more dangerous as she was finding it hard to keep the act up. She decided sleep was the easiest thing, because then when she was clear, she could focus more logically on what lay ahead.

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And he can see no reasons,
Cause there are no reasons,

What reasons do you need to die?

"It just doesn't make any sense, Harry, this is Ginny we're talking about, not some Death Eater on pixie-dust."

Ginny awoke quickly to the voices floating beside her bed.

Harry, and Hermione... they didn't seem at all mad, just concerned... Snap out of it! These people treated you like dirt, are you going to go crawling back to them?

"I'm sure it was Tom, that's what Ron mumbled , she must have said something." Through the crack in her eyes, Ginny could make out Harry clenching his fists. "If he hurt her, I'll kill him. Older or younger form, someone is going to pay."

Oh someone's going to pay, my darling, but I doubt that someone is the pitiful dark lord, at least not by your hand.

"Harry... Harry, has Ron woken up yet? They won't let me up and... and I..." A sob, then another, as Harry placed his arm around her.

"I'm sorry Hermione."

She's crying, why is she crying? She shouldn't cry, they we're always arguing. Wait... I wonder if they're...

Ginny almost laughed with glee what a wonderful discovery. She hates him, yet she loves him!

If Ginny could think clearly, she might think it weird that she was thinking this way. Her anger was not against these people, it was for Tom alone. Yet they had never realized. Just assumed she was ok; they never even tried to care. And besides, Tom was dead. She would have to wait to get Voldemort later. For now, they would have to do.

"Harry? Why don't you get some sleep... if Ginny wakes up I'll call, I mean..." Hermione had recovered, although her voice seemed choked.

"Nah, it's ok. I'm used to going without sleep,"

All night, he stayed all night? I wonder...

Ginny began to stir, then called out. "Harry..." a single word, but it produced a flurry of movement as somebody knelt by her bedside.

"Ginny? Are you ok? How are you feeling?" She had to marvel at his stupidity. What kind of question was that. Sheesh, she had wasted the best years of her life on him. Good thing she hadn't gotten to the slaving over the stove yet.

"I'm all right I guess, just shocked. I..." She sobbed, just a little one, and very obviously]faked to experienced ears. However to an overly emotional teenager; it was an invitation. Harry swept his arms around her as much as he could due to her trapped position, and she was brought close to his chest. The over powering smell of cheap after-shave hit her, and memories of Tom and his cruel embrace shocked her senses.

He broke the embrace, but stayed on her bed, clasping her hand and just watching her. Ginny glanced quickly around the room and noticed she was completely alone with Harry, Hermione having left quietly earlier. She smiled inwardly; it couldn't have been much better if she had planned it.

"Harry, do you believe I attacked those people?" She tilted her head like a frightened deer and waited for his reaction. It was immediate.

"Of course not, it's just like the last time. We beat it before Ginny, we'll beat it again." He moved closer and brushed her hair back off her face. Ginny began to gag at the three pimples protruding from his nose. She felt like retching, she wasn't sure if it was his aftershave, or cheesy comments.

"Can you loosen these straps? They're cutting into my wrists." He barely hesitated, before ripping them open so they lay torn on the ground. The lust in his eyes disgusted Ginny, she knew what he wanted, so she obliged like it was an annoying chore. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down on top of her so they both lay on the bed. Then she kissed him forcefully, like the way Tom had taught her. When he went up for breath, she could see his red face and lusting body.

Time to end this little charade.

She reached for his hand and placed it on her chest. He looked startled, then eager. Suddenly, she pulled it down hard, until old tears in the robes were released and Harry lay there with scraps of clothing in his fist. She grinned at him, but it was icy cold. She reached into his pocket, grabbed his wand and placed it against his temple. She watched his eyes as it suddenly dawned on him. Ginny kept smiling as he crumpled down onto the bed, the fragments of her clothes still clutched in his fist. She plucked a hairpin out and proceeded to slice her hand. With great relish she let the blood stain the sheets. She kissed him on the forehead, then left the door open as she escaped through the castle and out into the open air.

The End.

Epilogue:

Jet-black tresses hung down her back as she languished in the early morning sunlight that flooded the train station. She crossed her slim brown legs, shook open a paper and began to read, ignorant of the thunder of wheels rattling on tracks. She glanced, smiling, at the main page and traced the outline of the moving figures with one blood red fingernail. The picture suddenly jerked and she was filled with a confusing sense of remorse that made her glance hurriedly through the two huge doors that were the main entrance to the station. She almost got up to dart out them until a sharp blast of a whistle brought her to her senses. Now calm, she reached underneath the bench at which she sat and drew out a black leather rucksack. Then with one last brush at the dust on her boots she rose and joined the masses pushing towards the train.

The paper, left alone on the bench, began to flutter in the light breeze; the magic already fading as the pictures stopped moving. The headline, black and bold , screamed from the crumpled pages.

THE-BOY-WHO-LIVED IN SEX ASSAULT SCANDAL.

In her carriage, Virginia allowed herself a short giggle.