Fall on your Knees

snakes in the grass

chapter two

you take me in, no questions asked
you strip away the ugliness that surrounds me
are you an angel
am I already that gone
I only hope that I won't disappoint you
when I'm down here
on my knees...

Ginny's thin fingers grasped the bed covers, gathering them around herself, as if it were some kind of protection from ...him. But with another closer glance and a collection of flashbacks, she realised that it couldn't have possibly been the Tom she knew. The Tom she knew was sixteen. This boy looked no more than eight or nine.

“You're....you can't...I don't remember you like this. What are you?”

“I'm what happens when an ex-Dark Lord wants something bad enough,” he said in a barely audible voice, yet handling himself in such a Tom-like way; his hands together, his dark blue eyes staring up at hers piercingly, and his posture straight and proper.

“Voldemort never knew about you,” she said with some doubt, her fingers letting go of the covers slowly. “Never, ever...the diary...it was destroyed...but Tom...I always wondered—how you could've—“

A snake, not unlike the one Ginny had seen in her dream, entwined itself around Tom and an obvious magical form transformed Tom into the one she knew...the Tom she had poured her heart out to...the Tom that had saved her...made her open her eyes...

“Don't think I don't remember what you did afterwards, Ginny. I'm there. I'm watching you all the time. I was a free spirit, just without proper ways of communication...but I'm always there. Watching. Observing.” Tom got up and breathed in with a hiss. “I'm in your dreams, Ginny. Every time you dream about snakes. Diaries. I'm there. That's how I've talked to you for the last few years...have you ever wondered why you always seem dream about snakes slithering in the grass?”

Ginny shuddered...the snake that had entwined itself around her, and poked its tongue out at her cheek. The same old memorable and creepy feeling shivered down her spine again, and prickled her fingers, turning them ice-cold. She felt as if she were a puppet that was made only for the purposes of the owner...and she slowly succumbed to her puppet master.

“What are you here for?” she gulped, squeezing her eyes shut and then easing a smile on her face. “Tom, if you've been watching me...then you know how much you've taught me. I hope you know.”

Tom turned to face Ginny, and a flash the diary memories seemed to ease the pain that was visible through his eyes. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know. What ....what you didn't know until now was that I never disappeared at all. I was always there. When Harry destroyed the diary, my home may have been gone...but my body and soul never were. That's because I was living inside of you, Ginny. I couldn't bear to watch you lie to Dumbledore afterwards...you can imagine how hard it was being inside you but not being able to do anything.”

So he had been there all that while. She wondered why she had never felt alone in her life after she had met Tom...he was always there. He would always be there. Never leaving, never gone...this was better than a boyfriend or a confidante. She thought about it happily; Tom would never die, never disappoint her, and never let her down...after all, he was a spirit. He was everything that Ginny wanted. That Ginny needed.

“Are you....still a spirit?” she asked, anxious to confirm. “Or are you human? Can I touch you?”

“I'm human,” Tom said, reaching out a finger, caressing Ginny's cheek. The moment his cold finger touched her scar, she felt her whole body tingle. “My heart and soul will never die, Ginny. This new body is like your new diary...spill everything out to me...trust me...I won't ever hurt you.” He looked at the scar, and whispered, “I'm sorry I had to do that....it's only a mark...a mark of purity.”

At the mention of the diary and the whole chamber fiasco, Ginny's shoulder stiffened. “You never explained, Tom...yet...yet I believed you with my whole heart.”

“I know you want me to explain to you, Ginny,” Tom said, sighing with his eyes. “You want to know why it was so important that Harry Potter be gone. It's only a matter of time, though. I promise you.” He picked up Ginny's hands, which were cold to the touch, and squeezed them tightly in his own hands.

Ginny wasn't used to Tom's touch; coldness, solacing, and filled with a porcelain-like quality all in its own. Tom stared up into her eyes, making her shiver all over.

“We can't be like we used to be, Ginny,” he said. “But we're grown. More mature. And there are no ulterior motives anymore...no more of the bullshit that you had to go through. Not anymore. Now it's just us...and...”

He looked at Ginny's face again, and smiled. It was amazing how someone could change so dramatically -- physically and mentally as well, in such a small period of time. Once a bubbly-looking girl, she was now a full-figured...woman. Her freckles had faded, and she had tightened up her once loose and wavy curls. Her eyes were more intense than they would ever be, with the help of mascara and colour-contacts.

Ginny froze under Tom's touch and gaze, hardly daring to breathe. Tom's fingers swept by her elbow, and he was now holding her by the elbows, his breath showering her skin with sensations and tingles...he looked up, and lined his nose against hers. Their faces were now only inches apart.

For a moment—only for a few seconds—Ginny had the strangest suspicion that Tom was about to kiss her. They were close, very close in her first year, but she had never thought about Tom as a ...boy, even though he was unimaginably beautiful, now that they were so physically close.

She closed her eyes, and prepared herself, but just as she did so, Tom released her. With some disappointment, she looked up at him again, and felt her heart sigh. His lips formed an ulterior smile, and he vanished again into thin air, with a final, cold touch of Ginny's cheek.

She was unable to sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, a shiver ran down her spine and the eerie image of Tom's face floated into her mind. She clasped her covers protectively, as if she were expecting him to appear any minute, ready to strike.

She knew she shouldn't be scared...he had been her confidante, and he was the only one she could possibly trust. Then just why was she feeling so doubtful, like she was being stalked? No, she decided, it wasn't Tom that made her feel so uneasy. It was the feeling of being so close to him, to feel his skin against hers, to be entwined with him an embrace, to feel his breath and to put her hand where his chest moving up and down and all that she had never been able to do...

She slipped out of bed, feeling sweat beginning to drench her hair but also feeling so unbelievably cold. Enticingly, she walked to the full-length window and spread apart the curtains, letting the transparent and pale moonlight stream in, casting shadows over her bedroom. “Tom,” she whispered under her breath.

She felt like she was casting a spell as she opened the window and a breeze cast in, sweeping in the smell of rain and wetness. Something was about to happen. She could feel it in the small of her back.

Surrender.

She shook her head, burying herself in her hands, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over her. I can't, Tom. What about everything else? I want to have a life now. I'm starting over. I like what I've become.

What we've become. I've come back now, Ginny. You needn't to ever suffer again. Together, we can become one. We can become the ultimate power, the greatest thing in this world...the thing they thought you'd never be. Wouldn't you want to surprise them all, Ginny? See the look on your brother's face as you blast his best friend—

Stop it, Tom. Stop it stop it stop it stop it. You've taught me so much and I love you for that...and I need you for that...but ... my...life...everything else...I've started over. I thought you were gone.

I never was.

I can't come back now.

Yes, yes you can. When you're with me, you won't ever feel the need for another drink. I can see what it's done to you. I'm with you. I feel you, remember? Surrender to me, and together we'll rise...I've promised you things in the past. They haven't happened, but Ginny...you remember. You trust me.

I don't remember you. You've been here and I've felt you and you know how much I've learned...not to let others push me around...get what I want...power...the needs...but Tom. I didn't like what it was doing to me...I stopped. You know.

You're not that far gone yet, Ginny. I know you want to spite them. Spite Hermione, for all that grief she caused you, Harry, for never responding...say, Ginny, you want to see your mother again, don't you?

Oh Tom, I don't know how much longer I can continue being a part of them. Yes, I want to see my mother again...but Tom...Tom...are you still there? ...come back...

Ginny had fallen asleep on the couch and the last thing she remembered was having a conversation with the voices in her head. That couldn't have possibly been...Tom. Yet he was always there. She knew. She took some comfort in it and went to take a cold shower.

She hummed as she slipped on her underwear, a lacy little number from Victoria's Magic Secrets. She rubbed her tired legs and felt a bumpy little thing run down the side of her right leg and all the way down to her ankle. Another scar, exactly like the one she already had on her scar. Curious, she ran a finger down where the scar on her face used to be, and it had disappeared, overnight.

The feeling, the vulnerability of the previous night of conversation with Tom all suddenly came rushing back, like the floodgates being opened. She pressed her knees to her chest and made some small promises to herself.

She would not be the Ginny Weasley she was back in Hogwarts again, small and vulnerable.

She would not beg anymore. She would get what she wanted. No one would say no to her. No one would resist her.

She would become independent, meaning she would have a steady source of income...no matter what the resort was. Going back to the Burrow, to ask for more money, seeing that look on her father's face....no more, she couldn't handle it anymore...the feeling of submission and weakness dominated her all too often, especially when she had just gotten out of Hogwarts, but never again...

Her fingers treaded up and down the scar, and she smiled, like the scar were a symbol of her promise. To keep her remembering, to keep her on task, to keep her sane...had Tom had been there the whole time...but nobody noticed. Nobody else saw him. Did he really exist at all? She had touched him, but he still felt so unreal, so ethereal. Ginny shook her head, trying to press out the feeling she was going crazy.

Crazy was worse than weak.

Snakes...snakes...snakes, they were everywhere....simply a blur of colours, green, red, gold, brown, black...every colour. Oh God, they were climbing up her legs now, and she could feel it hissing—it bit, and she screamed....

Hermione, startled, rose up in the bed, and covered her mouth, uncertain if she had really screamed or not. The breeze that came in from the open window chilled her neck and calmed her down slightly, but the sensation of thousands of snakes climbing up her leg couldn't be forgotten that easily.

She could feel someone stirring to the left of her. Her heart skipped a beat, then she realised that yes, Harry had gone home that night. She calmed down, and flipped the covers open. Ron, beside her, turned around and muttered something in his sleep, but hadn't seemed to hear Hermione screaming.

And she was glad...Ron was every bit as scared of snakes as he was of spiders, even though he wouldn't admit it. She really didn't need another person screaming his head off just as she was trying to calm herself down. She skimmed the carpet over to the balcony, where she wandered over to, barefoot.

The wind skimmed over her mahogany curls, rustling them gently, as if it had something it was dying to whisper in her ear. Even with the wind, Hermione felt sticky and uncomfortable. She knew it wasn't because of the typical stuffiness of London at this time of the year, but it was the discomfort that she felt when she was with Ron.

She was never very good at lying. When she was five, she had accidentally broken a cherished porcelain figure. She was asked what happened to it, and she replied nervously, “A kitty ran up the table and knocked it over.” They had lived in a pet-free neighbourhood.

Her fingers grasped the railing and closed her eyes, trying to smile weakly. She wouldn't tell Ron now...no. He was not a morning person. They would go shopping and have lunch first, and then she would talk to him over a cup of tea.

Her hands danced nervously, and the ring suddenly slipped off her finger and down into the night. She heard a light cling as it fell onto the soft ground. Shit! Her heart wrenched and she stole a glance back at Ron, who was still sleeping soundly. The ring was encrusted with tiny diamonds and rubies, with one especially big diamond sparkling in the middle. She knew it had taken at least a month for Ron to save up for it.

She sighed and turned away, not wanting to deal with it...not now. She rubbed her left hand, especially the ring finger that was still marked with a band of white of where the ring had been. Turning back, she shut the door quietly and slipped into bed, feeling scared.

Tom moved quickly in the musky library, for he hated the smell of the old library and the fact that so much dust had accumulated in the time that he'd been gone. He hated that these ridiculous people had let such an astonishing and beautiful thing go to waste like this.

He brushed a strand of hair aside, and quickly flipped through the volume of text he was holding with quick, slim fingers. He was flicking through the pages quickly until he had caught a glimpse of his finger, stopped, and examined it.

...he was fading. He tried not to look at his frail hands too carefully, and concentrated wholly on the text he was reading. His mission now was so much more important than looking at his hands. They were still solid, weren't they?

The frail, tall boy looked like he was about to scream out in anger, if not for the strained calmness in his eyes. You know what you are looking for; breaking out in anger is only a sign of weakness. If you are ever to become of anything, you must conduct yourself with discipline...

His eyes glowed eerily as his fingers gracefully picked up a leather-bound book from the shelf; he drew in a deep breath. If it hadn't for that it looked like he was drawing warmness and happiness from the air like a Dementor, one could say that Tom Riddle was actually surprised.

He sat down and flipped it open, stilling his breath. His fingers weakly flipped it open to the table of contents, where his eyes seem to lighten up. He'd been waiting for this for so long...ever since he had come out of the dreaded orphanage and started to work on his fervour—his passion, full-time...

He looked down at his hands again, which were now almost transparent. He smirked. The sensation of being almost transparent was something he had gotten use to for quite a while now; in the chamber; roaming Hogwarts by himself, casting all those spells, and then roving in Ginny's head, unnoticed.

He smiled. None of that mattered now...His eyes scanned the pages of the book gleefully, like he had just killed his most hated enemy. He may have only been a recreation, but his soul, fuelled by Ginny's restless and troubled spirit, was strong enough to create a body for itself. The fading—he had gotten use to it by now. Ginny's trust in him was constantly wavering then regaining, and it seemed as if she had some doubts after his after-dark talk with her.

He needed her to be aware of the awesome power that he -- no, they could attain together. That she, another underestimated person like he, could be something with him, be something that would carve and scar the wizarding world's history forever. It would run down the veins of history like poison runs through blood...no person would ever forget, even for a moment...they would stand in awe, with their eyes open, shivering with fear.

The sensation he got from just thinking about it was overwhelming, especially with the Dark Materials right in front of him. It was simply irresistible; he looked up and took a deep breath, feeling his body solidifying again. He smiled. Ginny was faithful, unwavering...he had taken her over when she was young and pure, and he had been there to make sure she was never poisoned with the impurities—but he couldn't be there forever—if he could, he would have certainly stopped her from drinking so much. He could see that it had dulled her, subdued and made her submissive and bitter.

Well, that would soon change. He would make her pure again, he would make her his and they would rule the world...

Harry was numb. It felt like someone was banging him very harshly with a hammer, internally, not unlike how the Greek goddess Athena had came to be. Harry doubted that his skull would crack open and a little woman would come springing out, but he felt some sympathy for Zeus.

His eyes darted nervously, almost like he was aware that someone or something was looking at him. He raised his hands defensively, and turned around, sniffing the air that was filled with the mysterious smell of—

Cookies. One of his house-elves, well not really his, carried a tray full of chocolate chip cookies. Bonchie flinched at the site of her “master” with his hands raised defensively and his eyes bloodshot. “Here are Master's cookies,” she said hurriedly, not wishing to stay long in his presence when he was like that. “Muggle ones, just like you like them...”

With that, she hurried off.

Harry sighed, and pushed the tray away. Ever since news had spread about his nervous “breakdown”, the Ministry of Magic seemed intent on making sure he didn't have to lift a finger, even at his own damn flat. He tried to fire them, but they refused to go.

The breakdown...his fingers ran nervously over his hair again, trying to make it flat. A habit he had picked up from his childhood years. The breakdown...hmm....he hadn't thought about it a long time, not ever since Ron did the worst possible thing—proposing to Hermione...

Oh. That was last night.

In more ways than one, Harry felt like Ron was his brother. The way his family had so eagerly adopted him as one of his own, the way they were so defiantly loyal to each other-- well, there was an oxymoron, right there. Harry knew Ron would never intentionally hurt him, but then again, Ron wasn't aware of what his intentions were. That made it all the harder.

He knew Hermione hadn't meant to hurt him, either; but the way she looked at Ron when he handed her the ring—Harry was certain that Hermione would call the affair off and get married to Ron. He was sure that Hermione would pretend the whole thing never happened, and say that she loved Ron with her whole heart and her soul, thus feeling nothing for Harry.

He could tell that Hermione was hurt, too. Right after the look in her eye, she turned around and winced at Harry, like she knew how Harry was feeling. Hermione had that effect on him; he felt like Hermione possessed psychic powers—every time he was close to her, he could feel Hermione reading his mind. Responding without words. Healing.

...and Ginny. What to say of her? He certainly felt like she had been isolated for too long; she didn't look like a Weasley anymore, she didn't dress like one, she didn't even talk like one. Maybe she wasn't a Weasley anymore. He could see the pained look in Ron's eyes as he looked upon to his younger sister.

Harry didn't like this. He didn't like feeling so uptight over something he really had no control over; that he was feeling resentment towards his two best friends. They were the only people he had left in the world.

Without them, what did he have left?

His fame, his fans, the cameras flashing at his every move, reporters pounding on his door, the feeling of being tapped in his own mind.

...he couldn't bear to lose his friends.

Ginny felt like she was caught up in a whole world of smoke clouds, booze, and flesh protruding from flashy materials. A wizard in his late thirties gave Ginny a cocky grin, and sat down beside her. The loud, electronic music barely allowed her to hear him properly, but that didn't affect her understanding of what he wanted much.

With one hand on her leg, another on her hand, the man licked his lips exotically and hissed.

She was beginning to wish she hadn't wore something that showed such large patches of skin. This bar was the only place she had left to go and she really didn't feel like getting hit on by middle-age men who were cheating on their wives.

Surprise. She grimaced and pulled herself away from him. “Sorry sir, I'm waiting for someone.”

“Why don't you have some fun while you wait?” He asked, obviously very drunk.

She scowled and moved to another seat, closer to the bartender. The bartender, a muscle-bound blonde man who reminded her very much of Draco gave her a smile and handed her a free Bloody Sky without a word.

She didn't touch the drink. Her throat tightened at the mention of booze—another surprise and her fingers trembled when the drink swerved. Touching her leg nervously, she felt the scar and was again reminded of her promise.

What the damn god is wrong with me? I come to the bar, I don't say anything to the type of wizard I would usually go home with, and now I'm touching my leg instead of somebody else.

Scowling, she put on a seductive smile and pouted at no one in particular. Another wizard came and sat beside her, blonde, muscular and all. He wasn't very handsome, average-looking at the very least. She smiled at him and put a hand on his leg, in a vain attempt to convince herself—

...that nothing was wrong?

Ah, bloody lies.

Here before me lies the road I shall take a step unto; it will lead me to greatness, to fate, to Ginny, to everything that I deserve in this world. Nothing stands in my way except my own reflection...the one I never expected to be obstructing...my own downfall...

Well, if I can't kill him, but....

He can kill himself.

So long I have waited.

....the final step....

curly hair,

thin red eyes

and a smile as wide as the sky

green and gold were the colours of your day

you said today was a good day to die
and I remember these things about you...