Suicide

Suicide

Chapter Two - Entangled

Draco snorted into his porridge. Crabbe and Goyle had been trying all morning, and all of yesterday, to woo Millicent Bulstrode, after Draco had bet them a large box of sweets that they couldn't. Their latest overtures, which involved a heartfelt piece of prose from Goyle, had resulted in both boys getting punched in the nose. Draco felt that today's antics wouldn't be any more productive; his sweets were safe.

Pansy Parkinson sidled up to him. "So, Drakkie," she said in her most seductive voice, which sounded rather like nails on a blackboard, "Has your father sent you word yet?"

Draco sighed. He went through this entire routine every day. "No, Parkinson. I'd tell you if he had. Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying to have breakfast."

"That's no way to speak to the girl you're going to marry!" huffed Pansy.

Draco rolled his eyes. Of course, it all came back to the arranged marriage. His father had scanned the list of girls in his year on the first day, recognised Pansy as one of his best friends daughters, and immediately proposed an inter-family arrangement. Draco supposed that maybe it would have been different if he had grown up with Pansy, instead of being forced into her arms, until he realised he wouldn't have liked her anyway. It wasn't that she was unattractive; she had a hard-faced beauty to her, but there was no spark. Not like with Ginny Weasley, where one minute they were yelling and the next, snogging.

Well, at least Pansy was a Slytherin. Dumbledore had been the only teacher who had agreed with inter-house relations, and now that he was gone, the Malfoy-Weasley thing was generally frowned upon. So they'd broken up, and he suspected she'd gone snivelling back to Potter - who, being the cad he was, hadn't talked to her once throughout their entire relationship.

"Drakkie?"

"Are you still here? Look, why don't you go and do something useful, like pry Millicent off Vince. Then we can all have some peace and quiet."

Pansy pouted, but did as he said. She knew better than to argue with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Her breathing came hard and fast, her hands around his neck and his venturing wildly up her skirt and down her blouse and everywhere. He toyed with her nipples through her lacy bra, and she moaned with the pleasure and the wanton lust of it all. Wrapping a long leg around the back of his calves, she ran her fingers through his hair again and let his tongue entwine with hers, let him devour her wholly, first with gentle, playful licks to her face and tongue and then in an all-consuming kiss so powerful she wanted to have him right then and there...

Lavender awoke with a gasp, and fumbled for her bedside light for a few seconds before she realised she was at Hogwarts, and not at home with her parents and Violet. Lumos, she whispered to her wand, and a small light filled the tent of her heavy red curtains. She picked up the small hand mirror she kept on the bedside table, and studied her own face critically.

She was very pale, she decided, with big dark circles under her eyes and awful dimples in the corner of her mouth. And - when she peered very closely, holding the light right up to the mirror - she could see a tiny scattering of freckles. Pulling a face, she put the mirror aside and lay back on her cushions, leaving the wand lit.

It was frightening, her dreams about him. She knew she wasn't supposed to think about Professors that way, but he was so handsome, and incredibly charming, and she couldn't bear to actually confront him; what if he thought she was just another silly little girl?

She'd been having these dreams a lot lately. At first, she had been afraid. But after a long talk with Parvati, she'd realised that it was merely a portent of her Inner Eye, a way of expressing her true aura. She had consulted Professor Trelawney about this, and her mentor had agreed that not only was it a sign of her entrance to womanhood, but also a prediction of her life to come. So Parvati had tried to make her talk to him about it, and she'd refused of course; she may be divine, but she wasn't stupid.

Parvati, she suspected, was jealous of her sudden favour, as Lavender was getting much better marks than her in Divination, especially when they did tea-leaves. Personally, Lavender thought that it didn't help that she spent her entire time gazing adoringly at Harry and Ron - which she had, of course, stopped after Lavender's traumatising break-up - but Parvati was insulted that her best friend dared to beat her in her favourite subject, and had taken to spending her time with Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones, when she could. Lavender thought this was extremely un-chic, as they were Hufflepuffs, and she showed it by not telling Parvati about the exciting late-night Divination meeting for True Seers. Trelawney had asked her to, but Lavender didn't admire her teacher enough to let her advice overcome sweet revenge. Parvati hadn't turned up, and when questioned, Lavender merely replied that she couldn't come. Trelawney may have looked at her rather suspiciously, but as she could only see the future Lavender thought she was safe.

Well, safe from the wrath of Trelawney, anyway. She knew Parvati would find out about it and be furious. And then she wouldn't be able to tell Parvati about the dream. And she needed to tell someone about the dream.

If she had still been dating Ron, perhaps she would have confided in him. But now the thought just seemed embarrassing. She had more often than not found herself relieving their brief encounters in the Astronomy Tower, but replacing his face with another's. Usually during boring History of Magic lessons, when even Harry Potter fell into a stupor.

Harry! That was it! Harry knew him rather well, and would know the best way to approach the situation. Admittedly, she cringed inwardly at the thought of telling him the exact details of her dreams, but she knew he wouldn't tell anyone. Harry was a good confidante - she had told him when she'd had a crush on Ron, and he'd set them up on their first date. So she could be assured he would help her with this.

Satisfied, Lavender curled up, pulled the thick sheets tighter around her, and fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

"I have it."

Harry looked at the diary Ginny was supporting. It looked different to the way he remembered it; although there was still that whopping big hole in the middle, it seemed to have decreased in size. He motioned to one of the large armchairs in front of the fire, and they both seated themselves.

Ginny pulled out a quill from her satchel and opened the diary. Both heads, the fiery and the dark, bent over the ancient parchment. Ginny looked around cautiously, but Harry allayed her fears.

"It's midnight," he said, "Who on earth would be awake at this time of night?"

"I suppose," said Ginny hesitantly, dipping the quill in ink and touching it to the paper.

Tom, she wrote hastily, It's me. I told Harry. We had a long discussion. We think we should kill Voldemort ourselves...that is, if you'll tell us how.

Two pairs of eyes watched as the black ink soaked into the parchment. Then, just like in Harry's second year, green letters shaped themselves along the page.

Ginny, you mustn't. Please, love. Voldemort is my other half; that is how I sense him. I am his better half, his alter ego, something he dispelled to here the night he came back to life. But to kill him is to kill me, through our bond. So I beg of you, please, find another way.

Harry stared at it. "So he's not going to tell us?"

"I highly doubt it," said Ginny, "But what does it matter. He's right; we have to find another way."

"You must be joking, right? Voldemort is going to kill thousands of people, especially once he has all the Dementors on his side. He mightn't get the giants but fifty or so Dementors are already on the march, using their Kiss making innocent people suffer, and sucking out happiness. We knew last year, when Dumbledore was killed by Cornelius Fudge's impotence, that Voldemort would attack Hogwarts. And Sirius is convinced that he'll only attack once he can be sure of winning. That means the Dementors. So we should strike now, while we have the chance!"

Ginny looked at Harry with big, brown eyes. "He put his trust in me, a fragile trust, but trust nonetheless. I can't betray him that way. After all he's done for us...you still want to sacrifice him?"

Harry paused, and bit his lip. "Maybe we can find a way to get him out of the diary, and break the bond."

Ginny began to scribble again. Tom, I have Harry here with me. He wonders if we could somehow break the bond, and save you?

The reply came almost instantaneously. I highly doubt it. To break the bond would be advanced Dark Magic, and Voldemort would feel it keenly. Then he would realise what was going on, and move his base somewhere else. Then we would have lost him.

Ginny lowered her eyes. "Harry, I don't want to kill him. He's innocent in all of this; we can't do that."

Harry snatched the diary from her.

Tom, he scrawled, It's Harry. Ginny wants to save you, she says you are innocent, and would agree but for one thing. In my second year, you held her under a charm reminiscent of the Imperius, and opened the Chamber of Secrets. If we spare you, how can we be sure you won't just do that again?

There was a long pause as the words sank in. I suppose you can't. You would just have to trust me, strange as that may seem. But I can assure you that the person who opened the Chamber of Secrets was not me, in whole. It was the memory of Voldemort, a Voldemort who was both good and evil. I was there, yes, but so was he. But in this form, he is not. And that is all you can rely on.

Harry and Ginny gaped at the long message. Ginny could almost feel pricks of the tears that were gathering behind her eyes.

"What do we do?" she whispered to Harry.

"I have an idea, but this is too laborious," he said, motioning to the diary. Five years ago Tom was able to transport me inside the diary, into his memory. I was hoping perhaps he could do that now?

Ginny blushed. "Yes, he probably could," she reflected, pulling the diary towards her small lap. "I'll just ask."

Tom? Me again. Can you get both of us in there? Harry says we need to talk. Really talk.

I don't know if I can Ginny, but I'll try. It's hard enough transporting you through, but I think I might be able to do it. Prepare yourselves; hold onto one another. Oh, and if you get motion sickness it is recommended that you close you eyes...

Harry and Ginny clung to each other. They had both done this before, at different times, but they closed their eyes anyway. There was a faint pulling sensation, and then they were falling...

With a bump they hit the floor, Harry awkwardly landing on top of Ginny.

"A rather compromising position. Let me help you up, both of you."

The voice was silky and deep. It wasn't the voice of the boy Harry had encountered in the Chamber of Secrets some years ago, and nor was it the high-pitched rasp of the Dark Lord. Harry couldn't quite place where he'd heard it before, until he realised with a start that Tom sounded like him.

Harry scrambled hastily off Ginny, blushing rather profusely, and turned to greet a boy who was almost a mirror image of himself. He had vivid green eyes, though he didn't wear glasses, and his hair was black, although it was cut in an altogether different style. He wore a silver and green outfit akin to Hogwarts school robes, or what school robes might have looked like fifty years ago. But his mouth was pulled up in a smirk that reminded Harry so much of Malfoy that he was astonished.

"Well, well, well. Harry Potter. I've been waiting a long time for this."

Ginny smiled shyly at him, and he turned towards her.

"Ah yes, my Ginny. My sweet, darling Ginny. Come here," she ran obediently to his side, and he looked into Harry's eyes. "Do you not think we look fine together?" he draped a possessive arm about her, and a hard gleam came into his eyes. "You wished to speak with me about something?"

Harry nodded, uncomfortable in the face of their familiarity. What had Ginny been doing with Tom? "I was thinking that if we couldn't break the bond, then we could at least get you out of here."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I want to leave?" but then a pained expression crossed his face. "I take that back. I would like to get out. But how? I only managed to do so last time with the aid of a pure soul; it's part of the Relacio spell I used. And even then I would be but a ghost, a memory."

"Well, surely there's a different way to release you. I'll ask Hermione, she'll..." he trailed off at the look on both their faces. "What?"

"You'll ask Hermione?" echoed Ginny disbelievingly. "You can't tell anyone!"

Harry was downcast. "I just meant...that she could help us. She's very smart," he added lamely to Tom.

"I'm sure she is. And I'm sure she would be a valuable asset to our project, if you can manage to convince her logical mind that I am not the unholy being I once was. She will only see me as Voldemort, something I suppose I will have to get used to."

Harry sighed. Tom was right; Hermione would see it that way. If she accepted Tom, it would only be because she trusted Harry. So what about the rest of the school? The Slytherins would know he wasn't Voldemort, and all the other houses would think he was. With Dumbledore gone, the moment Tom showed his face it was possible he would be locked into Azkaban for life, and they'd throw away the key. Or perhaps they wouldn't even bother to do that, and they'd go straight for the Kiss.

"I suppose it wasn't a good idea, then?"

"Don't be silly, it was a wonderful idea," chirped Ginny brightly, "And I'm sure we'll be able to put it to good use later, once we get past some technicalities. But what did you have in mind, once we did get Tom back into the real world?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure. I supposed with him out of the diary we could break the bond easier, or when we were closer to Voldemort, or something."

"Closer to Voldemort? That's impossible. You can't take me near him; his connection to me is the same as mine to him. He knows where I am, and for now I have either escaped his attention or been disregarded. Either way, I think I shall be safe at Hogwarts for a while. But if I was to go anywhere near him, he would either destroy me or move. And considering the massing armies he controls, I can guess which option he would choose, can't you?" he eyed Harry. "Make no mistake, Potter, I'm still a Slytherin at heart. I'm putting my own life first. I am not going to go all noble and self-sacrificing on you. The only reason I gave away the Dark Lord's location was because of Ginny's persuasion."

Harry shut his eyes and put his head in his hands. "It's hopeless, then, isn't it? We might as well just sit here in the diary waiting for our destruction? What's the point of fighting if we're not going to win?"

Ginny rushed over to him. "Don't you talk like that, Harry Potter! You, who have chanced the terrible odds and come out on top more times than I can count? You are losing hope? And if you lose hope, then the world is doomed. It's not as if...as if someone like Ron is going to stand up and save the world!"

Harry removed his hands from his face and stared at her in surprise. "You think so?" he asked.

"I know so. We can defeat him. We can. But first, we will get Tom out of the diary."

"And before that," drawled Tom, "I'll send you back to your own world. You two are missing breakfast, and if you're not careful someone will discover the diary."

Ginny gasped, and Harry took her hand.

"Back we go, then," he said firmly. And with a flourish of Tom's wand and a jerk just behind their navels, they went.