All You Need Is Love

Doctor Thomas

When Ginny woke up, it took her a moment to realize where she was. At first, when she saw the blurred figure hovering above her, a cool damp rag being patted against her burning face, she thought it was her mother, and she was home in bed. But she blinked several times, the room coming into focus, the sounds of voices becoming clearer, and realized she wasn't at home.

She tried to sit up quickly. "Mum?" she said thickly, though gentle hands were attempting to push her back down. "Where am I?"

"Your mother's asleep, darling," came a familiar voice, and once again the cool rag was pressed against her forehead. "It's the middle of the night."

It was Maria. Everything came rushing back to Ginny, and with a groan of despair she dropped back to the bed. Her head pounded, her body ached with fever, and her skin burned. When she attempted to speak again, she was overpowered by a coughing fit. It killed her throat, which was already incredibly sore, but she couldn't help it. She was most relieved when it passed, lowering her hands from her mouth, though it seemed to drain strength from her.

"What's wrong with me?" she croaked.

Maria smiled gently at her, her dark eyes troubled. She paused to dunk the rag into a basin of cold water on the table beside the bed, wrung it out, and returned it to Ginny's skin. "We're not really sure, dear," she replied.

Not sure? Ginny gaped at her for a moment, but the air must've irritated her throat, and she began coughing again. A sudden chill washed over her, causing her to shiver, but an instant later she was back to feeling scorching.

A cough . . . chills . . . sore throat . . . fever, Ginny ticked off in her head. It sounded sort of like the flu, but she'd had influenza before, and it hadn't felt quite like this.

She quit worrying about it for a moment, and focused her eyes on Maria. "Am I going to die?" she rasped.

Maria's concern vanished from her face and she grew indignant. "Certainly not!" she declared hotly. "I will not let you die, Highness. That is a promise." She squeezed Ginny's hand briefly before standing up and walking towards the door. "I'll be back in a moment with something warm for your throat," she said over her shoulder, and gave her one final tiny smile before leaving.

Ginny moaned slightly and let her head fall back on the pillow. She didn't want something warm - she was already burning up as it was. Kicking the sheets off her, she laid still and tried to ignore the misery her body was in.

Maria's promise hadn't really made her feel much better. It was a kind gesture, of course, but Ginny wasn't an idiot. She knew they didn't have good medical care in the seventeenth century. People could die from something as simple as a cold, and this was a lot worse.

She closed her eyes and licked her dry lips, trying to imagine herself at home in her own bed. Whenever she was sick, her mother would stay by her bedside most of the time, and when she couldn't, her father or one of her brothers was there. Ginny knew she was spoiled when it came to family - often, though, it got irritating, always being watched by an older brother. Although she was always appreciative when she was sick, and grateful that she wouldn't have to lie there by herself.

Now, she was alone, and the silence of the house rang in her ears. She was uncomfortably hot, obviously with fever, and her throat felt raw and dry. It hurt to swallow, and of course when she focused on not swallowing, she had to. Several times she had to cough, not as viciously as before, but it still hurt nonetheless.

She felt exhausted, but fought to stay awake. It wasn't like she wanted to stay awake for Maria to return with food, because she wasn't hungry at all. The reason was because she wanted to ask about Draco.

Ginny could remember talking to him in the hall, and then she'd collapsed. She could vaguely remember him touching her face, but then again, that could've just been a dream.

That was where she wasn't sure if she wanted it to be a dream or not. She couldn't figure out which was more disturbing - having a dream of Draco touching her, or him really touching her in actuality. It wasn't that it hadn't been nice, for the feeling of his cool hand against her skin had been rather wonderful, and she was sure if she hadn't been sick then she might've felt something between them. Thank God I was sick, she thought gratefully.

But what had he done when she'd fallen? Had he left her there and gotten help, or had he carried her somewhere? She found herself wishing for the latter, though she knew she shouldn't be. The typical Draco Malfoy would've left her there even if she were dying just to get help so he wouldn't have to deal with it himself.

* * *

Draco wasn't sure why he was having trouble falling asleep. But he'd been tossing and turning all night, wide-awake. There was a nagging in the pit of his stomach, and though his thoughts were never on Ginny, he knew it was because of her.

He'd been sure to think of everything but her, but finally he just gave up and had to admit that he was worried about her. She was really ill, and when he'd checked with Maria just before he'd gone to bed, she'd reported that her skin was scalding. That must've meant she had a high fever. From her other symptoms Draco guessed that she had pneumonia, which he'd had twice himself from being locked in the cold dungeons several times in his pajamas and nothing else, and knew what to look for.

He had a hunch, though, that these people had no clue how to treat pneumonia patients. They weren't the most advanced in medical science. Ginny was possibly in danger of dying.

Now why that bothered him so much he couldn't fathom. It kept him tossing and turning until finally, with a loud and irritated sigh, he shoved the covers off of him and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Maybe if I go for a walk, he thought, frowning in anger at his inability to fall asleep, it'll help clear my mind.

Since his eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, he was able to move about without hitting anything. He found a velvet robe, which was neatly placed away in the wardrobe by one of the servants who'd unpacked for him, and some thick socks, putting them on. A few minutes later he left his room, shutting his door quietly behind him.

He really couldn't stand the castle at night. Flickering candles that barely added any warmth to the cold stone walls and floor dimly lit the corridors. Draco couldn't help but feel at any moment a vampire was going to jump out at him, or a black cat run across his path. It didn't frighten him, because his own house had somewhat the same feel to it, but it still annoyed him slightly.

Draco wasn't sure where he was going - just for a walk, he decided, but somehow found himself walking towards Ginny's room.

He stopped short when he realized it, cursing under his breath. What was wrong with him? Ginny wasn't dead yet. He could wait until morning to see her. Besides, he remembered with an unpleasant lurch, when I saw her earlier today she looked terrible. I really don't want to see her like that again.

If there was one thing Draco didn't like, it was helplessness. He couldn't stand to see people look so lost, so helpless, like Ginny had when he'd went against all his Malfoy instincts and checked on her earlier that afternoon. She'd been asleep, moaning under her breath, shivering one moment despite her sweat, and then kicking off the sheets pitifully. She hadn't even been awake and he hadn't been able to bear really to look at her.

"Highness?" came a timid voice.

Draco spun around, startled, and saw Maria bustling towards him. She had a tray balanced on one hand with a bowl of something steaming placed on it. As she drew closer Draco noticed the exhaustion etched in her face, realizing that this woman probably had been hurrying about all day with barely any rest.

She stopped before him, tilting her head back so she could meet his eyes. "Is there something you are requiring, Highness?" she asked, her tone weary.

"No," Draco answered. "Just . . . I was just going for a walk."

Maria pressed her lips in a thin line, and then smiled weakly at him. "I suggest not wandering around too late, Highness. You need your rest."

"And you don't?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

She took it the wrong way, because she hurried to explain. "Oh no, Highness, I didn't mean it like that. It's just I wouldn't you to be tired tomorrow and I was merely suggesting that you -"

"No, I think you misunderstood me," he interrupted. "I was just stating that it looks as though you need rest yourself. That's all."

For a moment, she goggled at him. Then she closed her mouth and seemed to remember what she was out to do. "If you'll excuse me, Highness, I need to bring this broth for Highness Ginny."

She stepped around him and started to walk the length of the hall to where Ginny's room was. Draco blurted out before he could stop himself, "She's awake?"

Maria paused before going into the room, glancing over at Draco. "Yes, she woke a few minutes ago."

Draco's legs had a mind of their own because a moment later he was beside Maria at the doorway. "Does that mean she's getting better?"

"I should hope so, Highness," replied Maria with a slight frown of worry. "I've never seen an illness quite like this before."

That makes sense, Draco realized. They probably don't know what pneumonia is now . . . or back then. He figured since Ginny was from the future, had the body of someone nearly four hundred years in the future, that she had caught it when no one else now could.

"Would you like to visit her?"

Maria's somewhat wary tone cut into Draco's mind, and he snapped his eyes on her. She looked slightly afraid that he would yell at her for suggesting such a thing.

But did he want to see her? Yes, he knew he did. There was no denying that. And somehow he felt he should be the one who was there with her. He couldn't really explain the feeling - though he desperately wished it didn't exist - of why he felt that she needed him more than anyone else. Maybe it was because they both knew they were from the future.

Then he shook the absurd thoughts from his head. He was making something out of nothing. Ginny hated his guts - plain and simple. She threw tantrums nearly every time he was around. She was never happy when she spoke to him. Their conversations always ended up full-blown rows - shouting, screaming, the whole bit. Not to mention that Draco could barely stand being around Ginny because she grated his nerves to no end. Just because she was pleasant to look at didn't mean anything. And now she wouldn't be pleasant to look at, because she'd be deathly sick.

"Highness -?" Maria asked again when Draco didn't reply.

"I'll see her," Draco answered before she had even finished her question.

* * *

Ginny fought to stay awake, just because she found that she wanted the comfort of knowing someone was nearby, and she wanted to wait for Maria. Her eyelids fought against her decision, sliding shut every so often since they felt so heavy. She let out a small sigh of gratitude when her bedroom door finally opened.

Maria came in with a tray of steaming broth. But Draco was just behind her.

At first Ginny thought she was hallucinating. She watched as Maria crossed the room and helped her into a sitting position, putting pillows behind her and then placing the tray on her lap. Draco stood back by the doorway, his arms crossed, watching with a blank face.

Maria turned and then started back towards the door. She paused by Draco and said quietly, "Only a few minutes, Highness. She is more exhausted than I realized."

Draco nodded shortly, and Maria left, shutting the door firmly behind her. Ginny met Draco's eyes for a moment, then lowered her head to spoon in the tasteless yet warm broth, which she had no appetite for.

Ginny almost wished Draco hadn't come. She knew she must look terrible. Her hair stuck to her damp forehead and the back of her neck, and her thick cotton nightgown clung to her body because of the sweat. Licking the back of her silver spoon clean, she glanced in it at her reflection for a second. Her image was slightly tilted, but she could still see the dark circles under her sunken eyes and the pasty appearance her skin had taken on.

But despite how embarrassed and awkward she was feeling, a little part of her couldn't help but feel relieved. Why on earth Draco Malfoy would be the one to make her feel relieved she didn't know. Glancing up at him again, she saw he was still staring at her with that blank expression. Why does he always have to look so perfect? she wondered. Since he looks so good it makes me seem ten times worse than I am.

As if reading her mind, he opened his mouth and drawled, "You look like shit."

Ginny narrowed her eyes in surprise for a moment. Then she laughed. It wasn't really a laugh, since it sounded scratchy and ended up as a cough, but she smiled. It seemed to get rid of all the tension that she'd felt between them, and suddenly she felt really at ease with him despite how terrible her body felt.

"Would you like to sit down?" Ginny asked, pointing over at a chair with her spoon. She hated how her voice was - rough and hoarse, like she had a cold and was loosing it - but she couldn't really help it. "Pull up a chair."

Draco stared at her for a moment longer as if contemplating. Then he shrugged slightly and uncrossed his arms, went over to grab a chair, and pulled it up beside the bed just like Ginny had suggested. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and templing his fingers in front of his mouth, and was silent a few moments before speaking. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "this is the only time you've been nice to me, and you just happen to be sick and, most likely, delirious."

"I'm not delirious," Ginny replied defensively, her coarse voice squeaking. "And I'd be nicer to you a lot often if you were nice to me."

"That's the thing you need to understand, Weasley," Draco said, looking at her intensely. She wasn't sure why his strong gaze made her heart flop oddly. "I'm not a nice person. I'm only being myself around you."

Ginny stared back for a long moment before returning to her broth. What could she say to that? It was the truth. Draco Malfoy was naturally a mean and nasty person, and nothing would change that. She understood that the way he acted towards her wasn't just an act for her benefit - or to see her get angry. It was the way he generally reacted with everyone.

But he's probably extra nasty to Weasleys, Ginny couldn't help but think.

There was a long stretch of quiet, the only noise being Ginny slurping her water-like broth. It was really too warm considering that the sweat was nearly pouring off her face. What she wouldn't give for a Chilling Spell at that moment.

When Ginny couldn't take anymore of the broth, she removed the tray from her lap and set it on the bed beside her. Then she didn't know what to do or say. She didn't feel comfortable staring at him without talking, so instead she looked her hands.

A question popped into her mind, and before she could think twice she blurted it. "Why did you come? It's nearly four in the morning."

"I'm an early riser."

Ginny looked up at him rather slowly, considering any jerky movements seemed terribly painful and exhausting to her right then. His expression, once again, was unreadable. "Has anyone told you," she asked huskily, "that you're weird?"

He smirked then, amusement surfacing in his steel eyes. "No, you're the first one."

"I don't understand you," Ginny went on, encouraged by his light response. "One minute I think you hate me and the next you do something like this."

That did it. The emotion fell off his face like someone had dropped a curtain over his feelings. "Something like what?" he asked tonelessly.

She frowned, her head pounding. She'd lost her train of thought. Suddenly, all she wanted once again was to sleep. "I dunno," she mumbled. "Visit me, I guess. I don't understand you."

"You said that already."

"Sorry. But I really don't."

"I don't want you to understand me," he replied, the corner of his mouths drooping. "You're the last person I want to understand me."

If she hadn't felt so exhausted she would've been angry. Instead, she said thickly, "Okay. Then I won't try."

"Are you tired?"

"No, I'm all right," she lied. She wasn't sure why she said that. Maybe it was because she didn't want him to leave.

He smirked. "All right like you were earlier today when you passed out?"

"I didn't pass out . . ." She blinked. "I just . . . fainted. Sort of."

"Same thing."

"Are you really an early riser, or did you visit me for a reason?"

He clearly hadn't been expecting that question, because he looked startled. Ginny ordered her eyes to focus on him and fought to keep her eyelids open. "I was just curious," he finally said quietly, "as to what sickness you had. I wanted to see for myself and see if I could decide."

"Have you?" Ginny asked.

He hesitated. "Pneumonia," he finally replied.

"Oh. That's good. People survive pneumonia," she said. Her tongue felt very heavy and lazy, and she knew she was slurring.

Draco frowned. "Um, yeah, I guess." He gave her a sidelong look. "Maybe I should go." He started to stand.

"No," Ginny found herself protesting. She reached out and grabbed his arm. "No, don't go. Please." Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

Surprise reflected in his eyes as he stared down at her. He glanced at her hands wrapped around his arm then back at her, clearly indicating he wanted her to let go. But she didn't.

"Stay," she pleaded, "until I fall asleep."

He seemed to be considering it, and for a moment Ginny knew he would agree. His eyes searched her face as if she held the answers. Then he spoke. "You're not thinking properly," he muttered. "Maria will be back shortly."

He pried her fingers off his arm. In a few strides he'd reached the door and without glancing back left, not bothering to shut it behind him.

Ginny stared at the open doorway for a moment, trying to figure out what just happened. She'd begged him to stay and he hadn't. And she was thinking properly . . . wasn't she?

Will I regret this later? she wondered. Sliding down into a lying position, her eyes fell shut. Even though she was nearly asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, she had time to think about how much she had wanted him to stay. Why? she thought. Why when all I've done my whole life is hate him?

A second later, she drifted into a merciful sleep.

* * *

When Draco stumbled out into the hall, feeling as though he couldn't get out of Ginny's room quick enough, he nearly collided with Maria. She'd been standing near the doorway, and, Draco had a sneaky suspicion, had been listening in on the conversation.

It annoyed him, but not enough to stop and ask questions. Instead he breezed past her, heard her sharp intake of breath at his haste, and rounded the corner, feeling her black eyes staring after him.

What was his problem? It seemed he couldn't have gotten out of Ginny's room fast enough. That's what he couldn't figure out. What had made him want to leave so quickly?

I'm being a complete idiot, he thought, though if he could've done that scene between him and Ginny just now over again, he wouldn't have done anything different. Except perhaps leave earlier so she wouldn't have had the chance to ask him to stay.

She really hadn't been thinking about what she was asking, Draco knew. She'd just been so desperate to have someone stay with her she didn't care that it was him. When she came to her senses she'd be completely embarrassed, and then she'd be the one feeling like a moron.

But that still didn't explain why he'd run from her room as if he were being chased by a pack of werewolves. And he knew the exact reason it was.

He'd wanted to stay with her.

There was no denying it. He had nearly said yes to her, and that's what scared him. His feelings were all mixed up inside because they changed so much around her. Most of the time she annoyed him and angered him. Most times. But there were some times when he found himself staring at her, filled with a strange longing that he couldn't describe. He refused to believe it was because he wanted her - he did not want Ginny Weasley. It had to be some sort of lusting, some sort of feeling that she was the only one who really understood that they were in deep shit and that she was really the only person he knew, period.

Draco walked slowly back to his room and he could feel a splitting headache coming on. It must've been all the confusion about what he felt for Ginny and lack of sleep combined.

Still, he wanted to figure it all out. What exactly did he feel for her? He didn't exactly loath her anymore, that was for sure. He was feeling guilty because she was so sick, though why he should feel guilty about that was unclear to him.

Don't feel bad, he told himself, smirking, because once she recovers she'll be back to her annoying self and begin yelling at you again.

That slightly cheered him up. Maybe he was just taking this all the wrong way. Maybe he felt nothing for Ginny except guilt - the guilt of how much pain she was going through and how there was a slight possibility she could die. That's probably why he'd wanted to stay with her.

But that still didn't tell him why in the world he would feel bad for her, when he'd never felt bad for anyone in his life. When he'd heard about Cedric Diggory and his untimely death, he felt nothing. When he'd heard about the dangerous way Harry had defeated Voldemort seventh year and nearly lost his life, he felt nothing. He'd never felt anything for anybody before, and now all the sudden he was feeling guilty, as in it-feels-like-my-fault guilty, about Ginny Weasley?

Draco reached his room and went in. This time he barely had any trouble falling asleep, because exhaustion settled in and he went out just after his head hit the pillow, silencing off all further thoughts.



* * *



"Ginny," a faraway sounding voice came. "Ginny, dear, wake up."

Ginny clung to sleep, not wanting to get up and feel the pain of her sickness, moaning slightly and hugging her pillow tighter. "Go ‘way, Ron," she mumbled.

"Ron?" came the same voice, this time confused. Then she was being shaken by her shoulders. "Virginia, wake up this instant. Must I have Thomas pour cold water over your head?"

Mmm, Ginny thought, feeling the sweat that covered her body, that would be perfect.

But the shaking continued, and she became more and more awake. Finally, she opened her heavy eyelids to see not Maria, but the queen sitting beside her on the bed and trying to wake her.

Somehow Ginny remembered, even through her sickness and fatigue, what this woman had done to Harry's mum. And all she could think as she slowly rolled onto her back to see her better was that she was an evil, evil person and deserved to die for what she'd done.

"Finally," the queen said, pressing her lips in a thin line. "Thomas is here to see you. He's just outside the door."

"Thomas?" Ginny croaked.

"Yes." When she stared blankly, her mother sighed and elaborated. "Thomas, one of the best doctors in the world? We managed to get him to come and check on you. Fortunately he's been staying in London for the past few days."

"Oh." Ginny wasn't sure what else to say.

The queen frowned. "I do hope you're not coming down with something contagious. A disease breakout would be most unfortunate right now . . ."

Her own daughter is in danger of dying, Ginny thought, gaping at her, and all she can think about is how unfortunate the timing would be?

"Quit staring at me like that," she snapped at Ginny. There was a slight pause before she stood up and started towards the door. "I'll just send Thomas in then." Then, she stopped at the doorway and turned back. "Who is Ron, would you care to enlighten me?"

Ginny was sure her already sweaty, red face turned several shades pinker. She'd been half asleep and hadn't really been thinking about what she was saying when she'd blurted that out. "Who?" she asked weakly.

The queen pursed her lips and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. "Sometimes," she said snottily, "I do wonder about you."

Ginny couldn't resist sticking up her middle finger at the queen's retreating back. She moved into a sitting position and let her head fall back, listening to the voices of the doctor and her mother out in the hallway. She couldn't understand the words, but she had a feeling the queen was saying bad things about her.

Thomas entered so silently Ginny didn't know he had until he was right by her bedside. He must've moved quieter than a cat for she hadn't heard a single thing. Her eyes had been closed, waiting for him to lumber in, beer belly and greasy hair and all, carrying a black leather case full of the things he'd need, when suddenly an oddly familiar voice filled her ears.

"Virginia."

He didn't call her Highness or anything. Just her name. Ginny thought she must have been imagining it, for she hadn't heard him enter, so she opened her eyes. He was standing there, smiling slightly down at her, tall and slender. His hair was black, making his already pale skin seem even whiter. His eyes were a shade of brilliant blue, the color of sapphires, and they seemed to twinkle with some deep, dark, knowing secret he possessed. He had his arms crossed, though his white fingers gripping his elbows, contrasting with his dark ensemble. Ginny's mouth had gone cotton dry and she stared at those fingers . . . those spider-like hands with uncommonly long fingers . . .

Then she managed to move her eyes up to meet his again, and they locked gazes. Oh God, she thought, this can't be happening . . . it just can't be, I must be hallucinating or dreaming . . .

But she wasn't. No matter how hard she prayed and wished, this man would not disappear.

Tom Riddle still stood beside her and still smiled chillingly at her. He was there, and he wasn't going away.

"Hello, Virginia," he said. "How are we feeling?"

That voice . . . it brought make an onrush of memories. Her horrible first year, being controlled by him, being forced to do things she would never have done otherwise. And it was such a nice voice, deep and throaty. But if one listened hard enough one could hint the icy malice in it, the deliberate evil that was very subtle.

Ginny felt like her heart had jumped into her throat. She was no longer hot - her blood seemed to have frozen in her veins. The only thing that hinted it was still coursing through her was her pounding heart, so loud, thumping like a drum.

He was still smiling at her. Smiling as if he didn't notice how terrified Ginny was, or how the color had faded from her face. Smiling like all was right in the world, as if everything was how it should be.

Ginny could scarcely breath, much less talk. So many things flashed through her mind at that moment. Had Tom Riddle brought her and Draco here? Was he the one that had killed that family of ten? Was he going to kill her now? Did he know very well that she was from the future?

"Don't look at me like that, Virginia," Tom Riddle chuckled, amusement clearly obvious. "I'm not very famous . . . don't let me intimidate you."

If she hadn't been so terribly frightened, so terribly afraid to move or let out one tiny squeak, she would've laughed. He thought he merely intimidated her! And only because he was a famous "doctor"! It had to be an act. He had to know the reaction he was getting from her. He had to know how evil he was.

Ginny studied him. He looked no older than twenty - how could he possibly be a doctor, and a famous one at that? The resemblance of his features and Harry's were uncanny: the eyes held the same brilliant sparkle, the hair was the same dark black . . . even the way they moved their mouth was similar.

He didn't become Voldemort until well after he was a teenager, Ginny realized. Yet that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. Tom Riddle had been full of suppressed anger since he was very young, and it had built up through his teenage years until finally, when he was an adult, he had taken matters into his own hands and used his anger in a terrible way.

He's dangerous now. He might kill me here and at this very moment.

She found she wanted to call out for help. But she couldn't make her lips move to form the words. Couldn't find her voice. Instead she began to tremble, afraid of what was going to happen to her.

When she glanced up at Tom Riddle again, his face had folded into a look of concern. "Are you trembling from your illness?" he inquired rather gently. And he uncrossed his arms, reaching for her. Ginny cringed away from him, unable to tear her eyes from his fingers. Oh, how she hated those fingers . . . "I won't hurt you. I'm here to help you, Virginia," he said softly and reassuringly.

"Don't touch me," Ginny whispered. Yet it didn't come out with as much feeling as she'd hoped - it just sounded as though she were scared out of her wits of being touched while sick. And that wasn't it, oh that was definitely far from the truth.

"Virginia, I must," Tom Riddle replied. "If you hope to live this unusual sickness you must let me touch you."

Never, Ginny swore in her mind. But rather than saying that out loud she said hoarsely, "It's pneumonia."

"I beg your pardon?"

Ginny had curled up into a ball, lying on her side, trying not to look at him. "Pneumonia," she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut in attempt not to cry. "I have pneumonia."

"Oh really?" Once again he sounded amused, and she just had to look up at him. He was once again smiling, though it was a normal smile. "I've never heard of such a disease. Did you just make that up?"

Ginny bit her lower lip hard. He had to know that she was from the future - he just had to. It must be him who'd brought Draco and her back in time. He was the only one capable of such power. Somehow, his spirit must live on, perhaps in another diary. Just because he was defeated in the future, nearly four hundred years from now, didn't mean that he couldn't have done this. Knowing him he'd probably had a million backup plans, just in case he ever did die.

This is his doing. He is the reason we're back here in this alternate world. It has to be him.

"My dear, I promise I won't hurt you." The kind and gentle tone of his voice seemed to attract Ginny's eyes to his, and for a moment she was lost in their blue depths. Her mind went blank, and when she finally seemed to snap out of it, she was furious with herself.

He's playing with you, she told herself. You know you have to be careful around him. He's dangerous and powerful. Just because this is the seventeenth century doesn't mean -

Ginny's whole body went rigid when she felt him touch her. He had grabbed her arms, which were linked over her legs and hugging them to her chest, and was gently prying them apart. His touch was ice cold, but it felt so good against her blazing skin she didn't struggle - instead, her body went limp and she allowed him to position her as he wished. It had to be the longest minute of her life. She was terrified, and that combined with how crappy she was feeling made her want to vomit. Since she hadn't eaten anything solid in a while, though, she managed to keep what was left in her stomach down.

"Do you always have a racing heartbeat with this illness," Tom Riddle began, and she could feel his eyes trying to find hers, though she kept them shut tightly, "or is it just because I'm touching you?"

She couldn't answer. She couldn't. Her heart seemed to beat even faster at that, and she had trouble breathing properly.

"I'm going to be touching you quite a bit," he said gently. "I need to feel for anything unusual. Is that all right with you?"

Was that all right with her? No, it wasn't! He was not going to put his spidery hands on her and feel her. He was not going to put his longer-than-normal fingers on her skin and give her goosebumps. No matter what she was not going to let him -

But he already was. He hadn't even waited for her answer. First he pressed his palms to her cheeks, his icy skin feeling surprisingly refreshing against her warm flesh. Then he felt her forehead. Ginny's eyes flew open and she found he was leaning over her, his face surprisingly close to hers. But he didn't seem to notice for he had a professional look about him. He appeared to be absorbed in what he was doing, not in her.

He really was good-looking. Almost more so than Draco. She somehow managed to swallow around the large lump in her throat.

"You have a high fever," he murmured, frowning and not looking in her eyes. He was already looking at the side of her head into her ears. "Have you experienced any chills lately?"

Yes, but since you arrived I seem to be having them a lot more, she thought. But she opened her dry mouth and croaked out, "Yes."

"Open up," he said, and tapped his fingertips to her lips. She jumped nearly to the ceiling, but Tom pretended not to notice. After a moment when she didn't obey he sighed. "You can make this easy or hard, Virginia. I don't want to force you but you are very ill, perhaps even close to death, so I'll do what I have to."

Liar, she thought. You want to kill me yourself. You would love to force me to do stuff - after all, you didn't seem to have a problem forcing me to open the Chamber of Secrets, did you?

When she didn't reply he sighed again, then grabbed her chin and forced her jaw down. He had surprising strength, plus she hadn't really been ready for it. Lowering his head so he could see into her mouth, he once again wore that professional look. Ginny remained absolutely still, trying to ignore the fact that one of his hands was holding on firmly to underneath her chin, the other placed on the top of her hair so he could tilt her head in any direction he wanted. His touch was so cold, and yet she found herself not loathing it all that much.

Oh, God, I need to stop thinking, she thought, mad that she wasn't one hundred percent horrified at the feeling of his skin against hers.

"Your throat is very red," he declared after a moment, dropping her jaw and removing his hand from her head. "You've been coughing a lot, haven't you?"

Numbly Ginny nodded.

He nodded, too, and looked troubled. Wow, he makes one hell of an actor, she couldn't help but think. If I didn't know who he was I would've actually believed he was worried about me.

"Well," Tom said, sighing again, "I'm not sure what to make of it all. I'm going to need to check you some more, all right?"

He sat up so he wasn't leaning over her anymore, and since he was looking away he didn't see her shake her head in protest. No, no more, just leave me alone, she wanted to say, but somehow couldn't form the words.

Then, without warning, he placed each hand on both of her sides where her ribs were. She let out a surprised shriek, feeling the coolness of his skin even through her thick nightgown, and squirmed. He held on firmly but gave her a look that made him seem he felt guilty about it.

"Let me go," she insisted, grabbing each of his hands at the wrists and trying to pry them off. "Don't you dare touch me, you -"

He recoiled and held his hands up, his expression shocked, then melting into a defensive look. "I'm sorry, Virginia," he said angrily, his eyes darkening. "Your mother insisted that I inspect you as to find what is wrong with you."

Inspect her? What was she, a broomstick? She didn't need to be "inspected" - she knew very well what was wrong with her!

"I have god. Damn. Pneumonia," she said loudly and slowly.

He frowned, still looking slightly angry. "There's no such thing," he snapped, though there was a hint of patience. "I'm the doctor here, not you, Virginia. So just lie back and -"

"Let you put your spidery hands on me? I don't think so!" Ginny shot back. Somehow she'd found the courage to speak to him in such a manner, but as soon as the words left her mouth she wished she hadn't said them. She was sure to enrage him, and then she could say bye-bye to her wonderful life as a princess. Or as anything, for that matter.

Tom glanced down at his hands for a moment, as if offended by how she'd called them "spidery", and then raised his head to look heatedly at her. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he said coolly, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "But I am going to do as your mother wishes. And you will let me."

Ginny felt a wave of fresh fear wash over her, and she swallowed thickly. She'd just dug herself into a hole. Now she felt so terribly tired and worn-out, knowing that she was out of options. If she tried to run he would both catch up with her before she reached the door and throw her back to the bed, or she'd run around the castle for a little while before passing out again.

But she couldn't just let him feel her! She wouldn't feel comfortable having a real doctor touch her like that, much less Tom Riddle.

What was she going to do? There was nothing to do. Swallowing again, she nodded once and squeezed her eyes shut, praying it would be over soon.

It wasn't all that bad. He just put pressure on her stomach and squeezed her sides, which normally tickled her but for some reason when he did it it only made her wince. Then he checked her pulse, pulled back her nightgown sleeves and inspected her arms closely. As if there would be anything wrong with my arms, she thought dryly.

The worst of it was when he pulled up the bottom of her nightgown to see her legs. He didn't go higher than mid-thigh, but it still had to be the most humiliating moments of her entire life.

Finally, he pulled her nightgown back down and stood up with another sigh. "I don't know what to tell you, Virginia," he said, all pervious anger at her forgotten and the "doctor" tone back in place. "I've never seen anything like it."

Ginny opened her eyes to look up at him. She just managed to bite her tongue and keep from telling him once again she knew what she had. He caught her gaze and smiled.

How can he hide his evil so well? she wondered, unable to look away. How, when it scars his very soul, and contaminates him like a poison?

His smile was assuring and gentle, but Ginny could've sworn that for just an instant, something flashed in his eyes. Something dark and dangerous, something that hinted who he really was, what he would become. Yet it was gone in a moment, and if Ginny hadn't known him than she would've thought she'd imagined it. It was there, she thought. I know it was.

"I might have something to help you," Tom said after the long moment when they just stared at each other. "I'll send your servant up with it shortly. Do try and get some more rest."

He showed his back to her and looked as though he were going to leave. But as he took the first step he stopped short and turned on his heels. Ginny's breath caught in her throat when she realized he was reaching a hand down to touch her again.

She squeezed her eyes shut, which it seemed she'd been doing a lot in the past half hour with him nearby. Then she felt his soft yet freezing fingers brush against her forehead, wiping a strand of damp sweaty hair off. Surprised, her eyelids flew up, and she saw him looking at her in the similar manner as an animal might look at its prey. It took all her strength not to scream out for help. Biting down on her lower lip she shut her eyes again, willing him to go away.

Just leave me alone! she screamed in her mind. I know who you are and I know what you're going to do. That's all I need to know. So just leave!

Several moments passed and Ginny kept her eyes closed. Then she felt a cool breeze across her face and slowly opened them, raising herself up on her elbow. The door was open, letting in a cold draft from the hallway, and her room was empty. Tom Riddle had gone.

She breathed out a trembling sigh of relief and fell back onto her pillows. Now that he was gone she could think clearly again. All her sickness pains came back since she didn't have the fear to focus on, and almost immediately she could feel beads of sweat run down her face.

She replayed his visit in her mind. Oh, God, she'd acted like such a baby! She thought of a million things she could've done differently, of how she could've handled the situation much more like an adult. But she'd cringed like a frightened animal. He must think her weak - he probably thought he could make her do whatever she wished. She should've fought more when he'd told her that he was going to inspect her. She shouldn't have just laid down and taken it.

Of course, I'm only thinking this now that the danger is passed, she thought, breaking out into a coughing fit. I'm sure I'll always act as I had when he's around.

And honestly, though she was ashamed of it, she couldn't really blame herself for being so terrified. She'd always felt a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach whenever someone mentioned Voldemort, even if they just called him You-Know-Who. And it hadn't been Voldemort that had been a threat to her - it'd been Tom Riddle. The young Tom Riddle, before he'd taken so many transformations and become the hideous Dark Lord.

Even before he'd transformed, though, he'd been powerful enough to preserve himself in a diary, preserve himself enough to take over Ginny's body and make her do what he wanted. That showed how much power he had, and how evil he was even when he was young.

So just because he didn't look like Voldemort, and he clearly wasn't Voldemort yet, that didn't mean he wasn't capable of harming her.

The more she thought about it, the more questions she had. The better part of her, the more hopeful part of her, kept wondering if he was really dangerous or not. After all, this was an alternate world. Harry, who had been a pretty powerful wizard himself, wasn't the same at all. He didn't have his powers and he didn't seem like himself. Of course, that was partly because his mother had been murdered much more brutally than she had been by Voldemort and he still had his father.

So did that mean that Tom Riddle was just a normal, everyday doctor? He'd sure acted like it.

Except for at some points, when he'd let some of his anger show. Then she'd been absolutely terrified of him.

The other, more realistic part of her felt strongly that it was the same Tom Riddle that existed in the future. During first year, when she was beginning to suspect that perhaps it was him who was controlling her and making her do those horrible things, she'd felt oddly when she wrote to him in the diary. It felt as if someone was repeatedly rolling an ice cube down her spine, and her stomach had felt uneasy. That was exactly how she'd felt when he'd entered the room, except for quite a few more side effects, such as her throat closing off and wanting to throw up.

Ginny let her eyes fall closed and tried to shut off her thoughts, wanting nothing more than to sleep and forget about everything. But Maria came in a few minutes later, holding a silver goblet. She gently prodded Ginny awake.

"Just drink this, my dear, and then you can sleep," Maria said soothingly. Ginny cut off a moan by sealing her lips and fought to sit up. Maria helped her and waited for her to get settled, then handed her the goblet.

Ginny raised it to her mouth to begin drinking, but got a whiff of it. Making a face, and quickly lowered the goblet. "Oh, gross," she muttered. "What is this stuff?"

Maria gave her a small smile. "Thomas prepared it for you. He said it well help you get better."

Ginny was incredibly slow, for it took her a moment to realize who Thomas was. Then she blurted, "You mean Tom Riddle?"

Maria looked slightly confused and said slowly, "Yes, Thomas Riddle."

"His name is Tom," Ginny murmured under her breath, glancing down at the pinkish liquid in the goblet. She remembered how Harry had once told her that when he rearranged his name, Tom Marvolo Riddle, it became I Am Lord Voldemort. If his name was Thomas that wouldn't work correctly.

Maria opened her mouth as if she wanted to contradict, then thought better of it.

Ginny started to hand the goblet back to her. There was no way she was drinking something Tom Riddle had concocted. It was probably poisoned. Though, no matter how hard she racked her brain for all the information she'd learned about poisoned potions in Professor Snape's class, she couldn't remember ever hearing of a poison that looked like the substance in the goblet did.

This is an alternate world, she reminded herself. Plus Tom Riddle is more powerful than the average wizard. He can make whatever poison he wants. Besides, it doesn't even have to be a potion - he could've just put rat poison in it or something and managed to dissolve it using magic.

Then another thought struck her. Was this Tom magical? She had no idea. But her only guess was that yes, he probably was.

"Drink it, Highness," Maria insisted gently, ignoring how Ginny was holding it out to her.

"I won't drink it." Then Ginny started coughing suddenly, and it caused her body to convulse. Some of the pink liquid sloshed out of the side of the goblet and ran down her hand onto the bedspread.

Maria jumped up to find a rag to wipe it up. While she did, she scowled. Ginny realized she'd somehow angered her.

I didn't think she'd get mad over a simple thing like spilled . . . whatever this is, she thought, puzzled.

"Thomas told us how you reacted to him," Maria started, concentrating too hard on wiping the comforter clean. She rubbed in vigorously. "Said you snapped at him and wouldn't let him touch you."

Ginny's eyes widened. "I didn't snap at him," she cried. "And besides, I didn't want him touching me -"

"He's a doctor, for Heaven's sake, Ginny," Maria hissed, jerking her head up to meet Ginny's eyes. "He's one of the best doctors this world has ever known. You should be grateful that you get such care. If there is a way for you to get better, Thomas will find it."

Ginny swallowed, taken by surprise at Maria's harsh tone.

"Forgive me for saying so, Highness," she continued, "and I know I will regret saying this one day for it may cost me my job. But you are the most spoiled person I've ever met in my entire lifetime. Just when you started acting rather normal for a few days, and I thought perhaps you were changing, you go and make a scene in front of one of the most highly respected and needed doctors in the world. You go and yell at him, tell him not to touch you, insult his hands!"

Ginny could not stop the bitter laugh that escaped her lips. "His hands?" she repeated incredulously. "You're mad at me because I insulted his bloody hands? I can't believe he even told you that!"

Something flashed through Maria's eyes before she looked back down and started to scrub the bed again. "He did not tell me," she said softly, clearly ashamed. "I was listening right outside the door."

Ginny blinked, unsure if she heard correctly. Maria could be fired for that! And she'd actually told Ginny?

She swallowed, trying to rid the lump in her throat. "Okay," she said simply, uncertain of what else to say.

"Please forgive me, Highness," Maria whispered. "Your mother requested it. She wanted to be sure you did not embarrass her in front of such an important guest."

"Well, I guess I did," Ginny said flatly. "So you've gone and snitched to her all the stuff I said to Thomas?"

Maria's head flew up again. "No, I did not. I haven't had the chance."

"Stop that," Ginny said irritably, gently pushing Maria's hand and rag away from the bedspread. Then she sighed heavily. "Well, I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep so I can have at least a few minutes peace before the que - uh, my mother comes in and screams herself hoarse at me."

She held out the goblet again for Maria to take, but she still refused to take it. "Drink it, please," she said firmly. "I trust Thomas - this will make you better."

The old warm sparkle was back in Maria's eyes, and Ginny felt relieved that she was no longer angry with her. But she was still slightly annoyed that she was going to go off and tell her mother all the things she'd said about Tom Riddle.

"I'm not leaving until you drink it," Maria said, crossing her arms and pretending to prepare for a long wait.

Ginny thought a moment. She really wanted to go to sleep and not be disturbed. Then she wouldn't have to worry about anything.

Besides, she was nearly ready to pass out. She really was being too active for someone who had pneumonia.

"How about this," she said sleepily. "I drink this and you don't tell Mother about all that stuff I said to the doctor."

Maria blinked. "Of course I won't tell her," she promised.

Ginny nodded, satisfied. Now she was just going to drink the blasted liquid so she could sleep. So what if she would never wake up again? It would be such a relief. Everything was going wrong in this life . . .

She tilted the goblet to her lips and drank, warily and slowly at first. The substance was deliciously cool and tasted like cherries - or strawberries, she could never tell the difference. It slid down her throat wonderfully and instantly she felt a bit cooler, as if she weren't sweating as much.

She drank all of it then handed the empty goblet to Maria. Then she laid her head down, barely hearing Maria leave the room.

Well, if it was poison, she thought dreamily, then I'll probably never wake up.

This thought did not keep her awake. Instead, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.