All You Need Is Love

Chapter Six

Through Sickness and in Health

“She may die,” Ginny’s mother, the queen, declared gently at dinner that night.

Draco looked up from his soup. HeÂ’d been half listening to the conversation between the queen and his father. She was telling him GinnyÂ’s condition, and she was making it seem a lot worse than it really was.

“I told you we should have had more children, Robert,” the queen commented quietly. She hadn’t raised her voice much louder than a throaty whisper all evening. “If Ginny dies than who will take over for me as queen? I won’t be able to retire as soon as I’d hoped.”

“You were right, dear,” her husband replied absently, clearly barely paying attention.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the woman. She was really bothering him. She tried to pretend like she was concerned for Ginny, but all she was honestly worried about was being able to retire. Yet what irritated him most was that he was actually annoyed with her because she wasnÂ’t afraid for Ginny. Why should it bother him anyway? Why did he find himself so angry? He wasnÂ’t even sure whom or what he was angry at anymore.

“What did the doctor say this morning, then?” Draco’s father asked suddenly.

Doctor, Draco thought. DidnÂ’t Elle say that Dumbledore is a doctor?

For some reason, heÂ’d forgotten all about the mention of Dumbledore. But it wasnÂ’t like he could help anyway. He was still in Wales, wasnÂ’t he?

“He says he gave her something to drink and it may bring the fever down,” the queen whispered. “He’s been checking on her periodically all day and tells me she’s been sleeping soundly, though she’s still very warm.”

“So why hasn’t the boy joined us for any meals today?” Ginny’s father demanded. “Too busy checking on our sleeping daughter to do anything else?”

“Boy?” Draco blurted, drawing himself stares. He ignored them. Weren’t doctors supposed to be men?

“He can’t be older than twenty-one,” Robert answered gruffly, looking annoyed. Draco didn’t know with whom.

“He was out this afternoon in town,” the queen said softly. “He had to visit another patient. And I believe now he’s up checking on Ginny. Am I right, Maria?”

Draco turned and saw Maria standing by the door to the kitchen, waiting to be given a task to do. She nodded once. “Yes, Majesty, that is correct.”

“Will you please tell him to come and join us?” the queen asked.

Maria curtsied her answer and left the dinning hall.

The doctor didnÂ’t come down for something to eat. Maria reported that he said he wasnÂ’t hungry at the moment and would come down to the kitchens when he was.

As Draco and Elle left the table later, she asked him eagerly, “Want to play outside in the snow?”

Draco almost answered no since he wanted to go and check on Ginny. But as he stared down into ElleÂ’s excited face, he relented and said yes. Besides, Ginny was probably still sleeping. And why would he want to go through another awkward scene like the night before?

The sun was down, and it was cold. But they stuck close to the castle, so that light would spill from the windows. The moon was bright as well and they were able to see what they needed to.

Draco knew he was being mean and that he was hurting ElleÂ’s feelings, but he refused to make a snowman with her, or to make snow angels. He hadnÂ’t done that since he was ten and he didnÂ’t plan on doing it now. It was way too childish and embarrassing, even if no one would see and it would please Elle.

“You’re no fun, Draco,” Elle huffed, and stalked a few steps away before falling into the snow and making angels by herself.

Draco leaned back against the castle wall, his arms crossed, and kept an eye on her. After about fifteen minutes she became cold and bored and wanted to go back inside. He knew she wouldnÂ’t last long.

As they walked back into the castle, Elle let out a huge yawn. Draco figured it was probably time for her to go to bed. “Change out of those wet clothes,” he told her, “and go to bed. I don’t want you to get sick like Wea – Ginny.”

“Wea – Ginny?” Elle repeated, giving him a very Malfoyish smirk. She stopped walking and planted her hands on her hips. Draco paused and looked down at her. “Did you almost call her Weasley?”

“Nothing gets by you,” he muttered.

“I guess that doesn’t really matter. But how do you know it was the cold that got Ginny sick?”

“I don’t,” he said, almost truthfully. “I’m just guessing.”

“Have you met the doctor yet? He’s really handsome.”

“That was a rather abrupt change of subject,” Draco sneered. “Are you just stalling so you won’t have to go to bed?”

“No,” she said, jutting out her lower lip in a pout. Then she brightened (Draco thought she changed emotions more than a woman who was pregnant). “Will you tuck me in?”

He stared blankly at her. No one had ever asked him that before. For some reason it made him feel a bit warm on the inside. “Can’t you do it yourself?” he asked, still sneering.

She didn’t look upset at his teasing. “Yes. But I want you to do it. You haven’t done it in a while and I don’t want to ask Father. He always says no anyway.”

Draco felt a little bad for her. She was, in a way, a lot like him. Not just because they looked similar. Because she, like Draco, had a cold father, and she had no mother. DracoÂ’s mother had barely any backbone and never helped her son out. It was as if she were dead. He honestly wouldnÂ’t mind if she was.

“All right,” Draco agreed with a sigh. She grinned her delight and grabbed his hand, leading him to her room.

One of the servants dressed her into her nightgown. Draco was beyond relieved that he didnÂ’t have to do it. Then the servant left and Elle jumped into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Draco made it as brief as possible. He blew out all the candles hurriedly and carried the final one over to her bedside. “Goodnight, Elle,” he said, quickly running his hand over her silky hair. He turned to leave when she called out to him.

“Wait, Draco. Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?”

He cringed inwardly. Well, he thought, at least she didn’t ask for a story. He faced her again and leaned down, kissing her forehead hurriedly and straightening. “Goodnight,” he repeated, and once again started to leave.

“Gosh, Draco, you’re lips are so cold,” she called after him, as if it were his fault.

He didnÂ’t reply, shutting the door firmly behind him. Since candles lighted the hall already, he blew the one out that was in his hand. For some reason, he couldnÂ’t get ElleÂ’s words out of his mind. His lips werenÂ’t that cold, were they?

Does it matter? he asked himself, and, as he rounded a corner, threw the candle with its holder at the wall. He watched it bounce off to the floor with a clatter, the candle snapping in half and the holder rolling away. ThatÂ’s what servants are for anyway, he thought, to clean up after me.

Since he was busy looking at where the candle had fallen, he did not see the other person directly in front of him who was also turning the corner. Draco jumped a bit when he smacked into something and bounced back slightly, surprised at the sudden barrier.

“I am very sorry,” apologized a sincere sounding voice. “I did not see you.”

“Well, no shit,” Draco retorted. He, being sort of short for someone his age, had to look up to see the person’s face. It was a young man, probably not many years older than himself, with black hair and dark blue eyes. Draco thought he looked rather familiar, but couldn’t put a finger on where he’d seen him. “You should watch where you’re going next time.”

The man didn’t look angry, but there was a menacing look in his eyes as he stared down at Draco with a forced smile. “Forgive me, Draco,” he said, and started to walk on.

Draco turned and watched him leave. “Draco?” he called after him. “Aren’t you supposed to be calling me Highness?”

The man rotated and walked slowly backwards so he could face Draco. “Doctors call people by their first names,” he said with a hint of amusement, “royalty or no.”

Doctor? he thought. How could he be a doctor when he hardly looked much older than Draco? And why does he look so familiar? Where have I seen him before? Is he from the future, maybe, and I just can’t remember where I’ve met him? “So you’re the doctor,” Draco said, smirking. “Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you,” he ordered while the doctor continued to move.

He stopped abruptly. “As you wish,” he said quietly, his voice laced with ice and venom. Draco was slightly annoyed. Who did this doctor think he was, acting as though he were the prince?

Draco stepped slowly towards him, watching as he crossed his arms slowly and waited. He couldn’t help but notice that the man had long fingers. “What illness does Ginny have?” Draco demanded suddenly, stopping in front of him.

“I cannot tell,” the man replied smoothly. “I gave her something to drink this morning that will hopefully have her well soon. Now, if you do not mind, Draco, I am hungry, being that I have not eaten all day. May I leave?”

“One more question.” Draco was enjoying the irritated look on the doctor’s face very much. Why does he look more and more like someone I know when he gets that expression? he wondered, then asked, “What’s you’re name?”

“Thomas Riddle,” he answered, almost quickly. “Good night,” he added, bowing shortly, then turned and walked away.

Draco forced his eyebrows together in confusion. “Thomas Riddle?” he echoed to no one. That was certainly the last person he’d expected to smack in to. Well, maybe not, considering Tom Riddle was a young Voldemort, and it would almost make sense.

No it doesnÂ’t, he suddenly realized. VoldemortÂ’s dead. The great and wonderful Potter defeated him. ThereÂ’s no way he couldÂ’ve been able to send Ginny and me, along with a younger version of himself, back in time to an alternate world if heÂ’s dead. Is there?

Draco slowly began to walk down the corridor, heading towards his room. Thomas Riddle’s arrival only made things more difficult to understand. Was it the real Riddle? A younger Lord Voldemort? Or a real doctor from this time who unfortunately was cursed with that name and resembled someone –

Potter, Draco realized in an instant. ThatÂ’s who Riddle reminds me of. Potter.

The more he tried to sort things out in his mind, the more confused he became. He had no idea what Tom Riddle looked like – the Riddle from the future. And it could be just a coincidence that this doctor had the last name Riddle, being that his first name was not Tom . . . But then again Tom is short for Thomas, he realized. And if it is a coincidence then why does he look like Harry? Another coincidence?

At that point, Draco was almost willing to believe anything was possible. After all, heÂ’d never thought in his wildest dreams that heÂ’d wake up a prince nearly four hundred years in the past. Yet here he was, a prince in the seventeenth century. So why the hell couldnÂ’t it be a coincidence that the doctor had the same name as the darkest and most evil wizard from the future and just happened to look like Harry?

Draco sighed, stopping in mid walk and shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Maybe heÂ’d just go see Ginny. HadnÂ’t she been through a major ordeal with Tom Riddle during her first year at Hogwarts?

Maybe she knew what he looked like.

Draco found himself hurrying to GinnyÂ’s room. When he got there he found Maria outside the door in a chair, her head tilted back against the wall, snoring rather loudly. He was aware that it was getting a bit late, and that all chances were that Ginny was still sound asleep. But he didnÂ’t care; heÂ’d wake her up. He wanted to know what she thought of the whole doctor situation, being that she had probably already had a run-in with Thomas Riddle by now.

He pushed the door open and stepped in. Maria slept on, even though he shut the door behind him rather loudly.

A few candles on the candelabra dimly lit the room. Draco crossed to the bed and paused before he shook Ginny awake; something made him stop. He could barely see her in the shadows, just a lump in the covers, her mass of red hair spilling over the pillows. Everything seemed still and quiet.

Frowning for some reason he couldn’t describe, he stepped over to the table and grabbed the candelabra, returning to the bedside. He couldn’t see her very clearly – she was under what seemed like piles of blankets and her hair seemed to be everywhere, covering her face. Why did he need to see her anyway? He came here to ask her questions, not to stare at her while she slept.

He set the candles back down on the bedside table. Then he reached out and gently prodded her. “Ginny,” he said quietly. She didn’t move at all, not so much as a moan or a stir. Sighing, he leaned farther over and gripped her by the shoulders. He shook her harder than he intended to. “Ginny!” he repeated sharply, feeling annoyed.

It was as though she snapped awake. One moment she was still and limp, the next she let out a hoarse shriek and was thrashing about under his grasp.

“Leave me alone!” she cried. Draco released her and straightened, surprised at her sudden viciousness. He watched, halfway between shocked and amused, as she struggled to sit up in a hurry, trying to get her wild hair out of her face so she could see. Her eyes finally settled on him and she let out what sounded like a relieved breath, slumping back against the headboard of the bed. “It’s only you,” she whispered, her breathing ragged from effort.

“Damn, Ginny, who’d you think it was?” Draco demanded. “Were you having a nightmare or something?”

She stared up at him, her dark eyes bleak. Then she laughed hollowly. “This whole thing is a nightmare,” she said, running a hand over her forehead. “I don’t need to be asleep to witness it.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. He wanted to change the subject to why he came. He honestly didn’t want to sit and hear her whine about how terrible everything was in this world. “I assume you’ve met the doctor, right?” he asked after a second passed.

“Have you?” she shot back, looking interested in his reaction.

“Yes. You know what his name is?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, though not in an angry manner. As if she were trying to figure something out. Then she leaned forward and said quietly, “I can tell you his entire name, his birthday, his grade average throughout his years at Hogwarts, and his favorite and least favorite professors during his time.”

Draco met her gaze for a long time before speaking again, trying to word his thoughts. “Are you sure its Riddle as in Lord Voldemort Riddle?” he asked, absently getting onto his knees so he could be closer to her level, resting his elbows on the mattress. “The Dark Lord is dead. How could he have sent his real self, from many years ago, into the past along with the both of us -?”

“He’s Voldemort, Draco,” she interrupted dully. “He can accomplish most things most can’t, even in death.”

A bit ruffled at being cut off, he continued coldly, “Not everyone here is as they are from our time. Potter isn’t. And unless Dumbledore’s been keeping secrets about being a doctor, which is very unlike him to do, then I’d have to say he was different as well –“

“Wait. Dumbledore?” Ginny looked puzzled. Draco noted that her eyes were focusing a little better and had a slight sparkle back in them. Was it because she was getting better?

He nodded once, distracted. “Chances are that this Riddle isn’t like the one from the future –“

“Dumbledore’s here?” Ginny cut in, lowering her voice to a raspy whisper.

“Elle mentioned him the first day at breakfast,” Draco told her briefly, wanting to get back to explaining his reasoning.

“And he’s a doctor?” she went on before he could say anything else.

“Does it matter?” Draco asked, letting his annoyance show.

“Yes!” she exploded angrily. She sat up straighter and suddenly seemed to tower over him. He got to his feet, feeling he should be the taller one. “Dammit, Draco, Dumbledore’s been here the entire time and you haven’t told me?”

“He’s in Wales,” Draco explained monotonously, bored. “I’ve never seen him but Elle says he’s there. Not to mention I forgot about him –”

But Ginny was no longer listening. “He’s been here,” she was muttering, and Draco figured she was talking to herself, “the whole time. He’s a doctor and I’m sick. And instead of someone I trust looking over me,” she hissed, glancing up and meeting him square the in eyes, showing that she was indeed speaking to him, “I get the one person who I’m absolutely terrified of. All because you fucking forgot about him?”

Draco hadn’t expected Ginny to get so mad. Especially when the day before she’d looked sick enough to pass out if she so much as raised her voice. “Listen, Weasley –“ he started, glaring at her.

“No, you listen, Draco,” she snapped harshly. It was amazing how intimidating she looked seated amongst frilly white pillows and mounds of velvet blankets. “I can put up with some things you do. I can put up with how you put down me and my family. I can put up with how you hate me. I can put up with how you treat me. I can even put up with the bastard person you are. But this . . . this I can’t put up with.”

Draco stared at her, unable to believe what she just said. “What?” he shouted. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You knew that Dumbledore was a doctor and he was here!” she retorted. “I don’t care if you forgot about him; the instant you heard I was sick you should have requested him!”

“I didn’t –“ he started, trying to defend himself.

“You don’t know what it was like,” she went on, oblivious to what he was saying. “You don’t know what it was like to have him in here, flesh and blood, real and in person. I could feel him, I could smell him, I could hear him . . . it was ten times worse than what happened in my first year. I know that once you heard about how your father so innocently dropped Tom’s diary into one of my old books and I used it, you laughed for days, but it was hard for me. You don’t know what the feeling is like knowing that something’s terribly wrong with you, that you’re doing terrible things to students and you don’t know how. And imagine the shock I got –“

“Ginny, I don’t care!” Draco exploded, throwing his hands up. “I just don’t care! So you don’t have to tell me about it!”

“Of course you don’t care!” she screamed back, starting to go red in the face. If she doesn’t calm down she might really hurt herself, Draco thought, and found that he was glad. Then maybe she’d shut up and leave him alone. But she didn’t shut up. “You don’t care about anything! You know why? It’s because your family sucks, you’ve never had any friends, and nobody cares about you!”

He clenched his hands into his fists at his sides, never wanting to hit someone so badly. Though he forced himself not to – he’d regret it later, and he couldn’t hit a girl, especially a sick one. He couldn’t ever hit something that couldn’t fight back.

And Ginny still wasn’t through. “You wonder why no one gives a shit about you, right, Malfoy?” she taunted. “It’s because you’re a terrible person! It hurts, does it, Malfoy, to be told the truth? I’m sure you lie awake every night and wonder about what it would be like if your life was different, about what you can do to change it! But you know something? Even in a totally different world you’re still an ass, and nobody likes you -!”

He could tell that she was just shouting stuff at him to hurt him. Yet it wasn’t hurting him – it was just annoying him. Would she ever shut up? Her voice was giving him a headache. He closed his eyes and tried to have patience.

“The worst thing is, though, Malfoy, is that –“

“Oh, will you shut up?!” He couldn’t take anymore.

“No! I’m not done yet!” she yelled. “You’re only human, Malfoy . . . or maybe you aren’t –“

She was driving him insane. And if he didnÂ’t do anything else, heÂ’d hit her. So, without a word, he sat down on her bedside and placed both of his hands over her ears.

“What are you doing -?” she started to ask, but was cut off when he yanked her face towards his and placed his mouth on hers.

HeÂ’d just done it so sheÂ’d be quiet, just so he wouldnÂ’t have to listen to her voice anymore. It was the first thing that came to his mind, and it was stupid. Because as soon as he touched her, it was like an eruption between them.

Every previous annoyance flew from DracoÂ’s mind at that moment. There was a little warning in the back of his head, like a very faint red light, reminding him of how he shouldnÂ’t be doing this, and not only because she was sick. It was because, even though he hadnÂ’t realized it before, heÂ’d wanted to kiss her for a long time. And he shouldnÂ’t be kissing her, it was wrong and it shouldnÂ’t be . . .

Her lips were surprisingly soft. The moment the kiss began she responded immediately, as though sheÂ’d been expecting it. She wrapped her arms around his neck to try and pull him closer. The way she clung to him, the way her lips worked . . . it was like she needed him, that he was the only thing keeping her sane. Which seemed very ironic, since he thought he was the one thing that drove her out of her mind.

I shouldnÂ’t be doing this, he thought. He could feel the nape of her neck, could feel the sweat on her skin, dampening her hair. He could even taste the saltiness on her mouth. SheÂ’s sick, I could catch it . . . not to mention this is Ginny Weasley IÂ’m snogging . . .

He continued to ignore his voice of reason, just because he didnÂ’t want to stop. It felt surprisingly wonderful to kiss her, to feel her skin underneath his fingers. By the way she was running her hands through his hair and kissing him back with force, he could tell that she mustÂ’ve been enjoying it as much as he was.

He finally came to his senses at that, dropping his hands down to his sides and breaking away. Ginny seemed to hold her arms around his neck for a bit longer than necessary, until she realized he wanted to pull away from her, and she removed them. He watched her face, almost smirking at the brilliant color red she was turning.

There was a long, awkward silence. Draco didnÂ’t know if he should leave or not. Half of him just wanted to kiss her again. And that half is wrong, he thought. I will not kiss her again.

He still wanted to.

“Draco,” she finally said, looking down at the comforter and picking at an imaginary thread. “I’m sorry about those things I just said to you.”

“I don’t care,” he told her truthfully.

He saw her staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to meet her gaze. Oh, wonderful, now sheÂ’ll start yelling again, he figured, standing up and preparing to leave.

“Where are you going?” she asked instead of starting off about how he didn’t care about anything again.

“To bed,” he answered curtly. Then he stopped suddenly, remembering something. He whirled and leaned back down over Ginny, placing one hand on the bedpost to keep his balance. “Can I ask you something?”

She looked a little surprise at how close his face was. “You just did,” she said.

He gave her an impatient look, and proceeded to ask his question. “Are my lips cold?”

She blinked, then stared into his eyes, as if trying to read his mind. For a long time she didn’t reply, until she opened her mouth slowly and whispered, “No, they’re really warm, actually.”

Draco jerked up instantly, surprised at her response. An unknown feeling shivered through him, and he broke his gaze from hers and spun around. He forced himself to calmly, as though nothing was wrong, walk to the door and leave, closing it casually behind him.

He ran a hand through his hair and thought shakily, I need something cold to drink.

* * *

Ginny was feeling better.

She’d felt better the moment Draco had shaken her awake. Oh, the fever was still there, and her throat still felt raw and sore, but she could definitely hint a change. She didn’t seem to be sweating as much – at least, she didn’t once Draco left.

She sat in her bed for a long time after he exited the room, her mind running over what had just happened between them. HeÂ’d kissed her. HeÂ’d willingly kissed her. As if he had wanted to.

Had he? Or had he just done it to get her to stop talking? Even if he had, he didnÂ’t have to keep it going so long, or return it so fiercely.

She moaned and buried her hot face in her hands. Things just kept getting more complicated. One second she was worrying about Harry, the next about Tom Riddle, and the next about why Draco kissed her.

IÂ’d give anything to wake up back at Hogwarts and have schoolwork the only thing thatÂ’s bothering me, she thought, grabbing a pillow and wrapping her arms around it, resting her chin on the top. Why has this happened to me? Will it ever end?

At that point, she didnÂ’t even care that Harry was better off. She wanted things back the way they were. They werenÂ’t so bad for the future Harry, anyway, were they? He had friends, he had money . . . he wasnÂ’t completely miserable, as she was in this world. HeÂ’d survive, while if she continued staying here, sheÂ’s surely go mad and kill herself.

Draco didnÂ’t know it, but heÂ’d only worsened things when he kissed her. ItÂ’d been wonderful when itÂ’d happened, she couldnÂ’t deny that. HeÂ’d been surprisingly gentle, though she was aware of a sense of passion deep within him. While it had been amazing then, that sense scared her now, looking back on it. Draco, having passion for her? When not ten minutes ago theyÂ’d been fighting and shouting at each other?

Now she was just confused. The kiss had probably meant nothing. SheÂ’d most likely misinterpreted it. HeÂ’d just done it to quit her shrieking, and itÂ’d served its purpose perfectly.

Only itÂ’d made GinnyÂ’s princess life, however low itÂ’d been before, a lot more difficult.

* * *

The next morning, Maria came in, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks. She tended to Ginny for nearly five minutes, patting her forehead with a cool wet cloth, before Ginny couldnÂ’t take it anymore.

“What happened?” she asked, and then gave a brief cough.

“Something terrible,” Maria sniffled. “Another family has been murdered.”

Ginny sat up straighter. She pushed Maria’s hand away, not wanting to be bothered with the wet cloth anymore. Besides, she was feeling somewhat cooler since the night before. “How many people?” she breathed.

“Eight,” she replied, swallowing. “The youngest was only an infant.”

It’s Tom! she thought instantly. Tom’s been doing this! I know he has! Only he would do something so terrible, so awful . . . “Does anyone have a clue as to who it is that’s doing the killing?” Ginny demanded shrilly.

“No,” Maria said, reaching into one of her apron’s pockets and producing a hankie. She blew her nose loudly. “No one has any idea. Your parents have been gone all night, trying to get to the bottom of this tragedy. They may not be back for another few hours.”

Oh, boo-hoo, Ginny thought, far more concerned about the poor murdered family. She had no idea what sort of technology they had in this time, had no idea if they had any means of finding criminals besides witnessing them committing the crime. It was frustrating, too, because she knew that no one would believe that the great and wonderful Doctor Thomas Riddle was the one killing these innocent people.

Maybe Maria will, she realized, watching her maid as she bustled about the room, cleaning imaginary dust from the furniture, sniffing occasionally. Maria trusts me, doesnÂ’t she? Just because she thinks IÂ’m spoiled doesnÂ’t mean that she wonÂ’t believe me.

In her heart she seriously doubted that Maria would even begin to consider the possibility of “Thomas” being a murderer. She’d been furious when Ginny had insulted him – how would she react when she accused him of killing?

“D’you . . .” Ginny began carefully. Maria stopped moving and turned to face her.

“Do I what, dear?” she asked with forced brightness, giving a small smile, her cheeks glistening with tears. It encouraged Ginny to keep going.

“D’you think it’s possible that . . . that, well, that Doctor Thomas could be killing these people?”

Maria gasped so greatly that Ginny was amazed at how much breath she inhaled into her lungs. Throwing a hand over her heart, she quickly said, “Highness Virginia! I cannot believe you! Doctor Thomas gives life, he does not take it!”

Shoulda kept my mouth shut, Ginny figured. “I know, you’re right,” she hurriedly admitted.

Maria relaxed slightly, but stared sternly at Ginny. “I know you do not like Thomas very much,” she said. “Lord knows you don’t like any good man very well –” If she’s also referring to Draco, strike me dead now, Ginny thought dryly. “ – But he would not commit a murder. He has absolutely no reason to – he’s successful, well-liked, attractive, rich . . . he would not do anything so terrible.”

“Okay, forget I said anything,” Ginny snapped.

Maria appeared not to have heard her. “Doctor Thomas is the most gentle man I’ve ever encountered in my life. He certainly is not the type who would murder pointlessly.”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Ginny muttered under her breath.

“What?” Maria cocked her head to one side, as if it would help her hear better.

“Never mind!” Ginny cried. “I just want to go to sleep!”

“Of course you do,” Maria said, in a gentler tone. “I’m sorry for yelling, Highness. But Thomas will be returning shortly to –”

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Maria told the person to enter, and Riddle stepped in, holding a silver goblet. He nodded politely with a smile in MariaÂ’s direction, and then settled his dark blue eyes on Ginny.

The minute she locked gazes with him, she blinked. Her entire body seemed to jerk. Blinking again, she found a picture printed on the back of her eyelids.

What is this? she thought, her heard suddenly thudding loudly in her chest. WhatÂ’s going on?

Her eyes closed firmly; a scene was beginning to unfold before her. She was suddenly standing in a rather plain room, though in actuality she knew she wasn’t – she could feel herself still seated firmly on her bed. And yet she could see Tom, a few feet away, no longer standing in the doorway of her bedroom, but in the middle of the much barer room. The look on his face was horrifying – it was a mad, almost gleeful expression. He was smiling down at a little boy on the floor, who was raising his arms over his face to protect himself.

It was as though she were there, as though she was standing right in the midst of it. But how could she be, when she could feel her body still sitting in her bed?

The colors were of everything in the room, the Tom and the boy included, were off, and everything seemed slanted and bigger than usual. The vision was slightly blurred on the edges, proving that it had to be some sort of dream and wasnÂ’t real.

But the fear was real. And the sounds. And the smell . . .

“Please,” the young boy was now whispering up at Tom, flinching slightly as Tom leaned forward on one foot, closer to him. “Please, mister, don’t hurt me.”

GinnyÂ’s hand fluttered up to her mouth, and she looked down and noticed the long dagger in TomÂ’s hand. The silver of the blade was stained with red blood, still wet, still cooling . . .

Her heart seemed to contract in her chest, but she was unable to make any sounds. She wanted nothing more than to stop what was about to come, but she wasnÂ’t even really there. How could she prevent it?

Suddenly, the view seemed to change – Ginny now got a good look at the entire room. Then she could make noises; she couldn’t stop the strangled cry that came from her throat. Though if Tom heard it, he made no signs to acknowledge it. If I’m not here, then there’s no way he could hear me, she thought. Or, more like prayed.

The room was clearly small, simple, with dirt for flooring. It seemed like itÂ’d been pleasant and cozy at one point, but not anymore. There was blood everywhere . . . on the table, on the tools that hung on the walls, on the ground, mingling with the dirt . . .

There were also limp bodies everywhere. Frighteningly, most of them were children, two of them adults, their throats slashed. Various places on their bodies oozed blood as well. What was more terrifying was they all had his or her eyes open, staring vacantly at the ceiling, or at the wall. Staring, but never to see again.

The sound of a wailing baby filled Ginny’s ears. She moved her eyes under their lids and saw a wooden cradle in the corner. Clearly there was a baby in it, screaming, its hands waving in the air, its feet kicking up. It seemed to be the only living thing left except for the boy and Tom. But then –

“Tom, hurry up,” came a scruffy sounding voice. In the doorway to another room, an unidentifiable head stuck peeked in. “This kid won’t stay still.”

Kid? What kid? Ginny wondered, absolutely mortified. She didnÂ’t know what was happening. She wanted it to end. Her stomach was rumbling, and she felt as though she were going to vomit. All the blood . . . she could smell it, nearly taste it . . . how could she not be there and yet experience it as though she were?

“Bring her in here,” Tom said slowly, never taking his stare from the cowering little boy on the ground before him. “So she can watch what I’m doing to her brother.”

The personÂ’s head disappeared for a moment into the darkness of the next room. Then, grunting, the figure returned, except this time with another, smaller person. He held a young girl, probably only a little older than the boy on the floor, with golden curls and a tear-streaked face. She struggled with her captor, trying to free herself, but the short and stout man, who wore dark robes, gripped her upper arms hard and kept a good hold.

“Quit moving, stupid,” the man hissed at her, nudging her from behind.

“I wouldn’t try to escape if I were you,” Tom said, finally looking over his shoulder at them. “Watch what I’m doing to your little brother here . . . I’ll be doing it to you in a moment.”

Then he spun around without warning and reached down, getting a handful of the boyÂ’s hair. He yanked the sobbing and screeching boy, who could be no older than five, into the air and held him high. The poor boy kicked and struggled in vain to free himself.

Ginny watched in horror, terror freezing her body in place, as Tom stretched his arm back, the hand gripping the dagger tightly. In one swift movement, to the sound of the girlÂ’s loud scream, he swung his arm forward and dug the dagger deep into the side of the boyÂ’s throat.

It had to be the worst thing Ginny had ever experienced. Her heart seemed to cry out along with the girl, and she wanted nothing more than to run from the room. She’d seen enough, she didn’t need anymore . . . she couldn’t stomach anymore. But her eyes couldn’t obey her command – they were glued to what was unfolding before her.

The boy tensed as soon as the dagger penetrated his throat. Then, his eyes opened wide, staring at the ceiling, he relaxed, his arms dropping with almost slowly to his sides. Then he hung limply, dead.

If Ginny couldÂ’ve screamed like some uncontrollable banshee, she would have. Though the girl was shrieking loud enough for the both of them, as she jerked and pulled and tried to get out of the manÂ’s grasp.

And still, Tom was not done. The boy was already dead, but he tore the blade all the way around the boyÂ’s throat, digging so deeply he nearly decapitated him. It made a horrible ripping noise as the sharp end sliced through, like the sound of someone gutting a fish.

At this, Ginny opened her mouth and let out a long, loud wail. She didnÂ’t care how much noise she was making, even if she was still back in her bedroom and causing Maria to wonder what was wrong with her. It was just so horrible . . .

Then there was more blood. Blood pouring from the boy’s open neck, spilling onto the floor, spurting onto Tom’s clothing and the occasional drip on his face. He seemed not to even notice – he was still smiling with satisfaction.

He released the boyÂ’s hair, dropping him to the floor in a heap of blood and flesh. Then he turned, the dagger once again by his side, and faced the girl. SheÂ’d been yelling and crying up until that point, when she just went slack and stared up at him. Tears poured down her face without her even sobbing, and Ginny could tell she was so frightened she couldnÂ’t make a sound.

“You’re next, my dear,” Tom said in a terribly pleasant voice.

No! Ginny wanted to scream. No more! I canÂ’t take it! Get me out of here!

She forced her eyes open and heave to the side. Blinking several times, she noted with immense relief that she was back in her room, sitting in her bed, no blood anywhere. Sweat was pouring down her face, and her heart was thudding so hard she was nearly afraid it would burst from her chest.

Maria was beside her, one hand on her arm. “Highness? Highness, are you all right? You were screaming!”

Ginny took on look at her, and her stomach convulsed. She leaned over the side of the bed and dry heaved, unable to vomit anything of material. Even though she was back, safe, in her room, she couldnÂ’t get the images out of her mind . . . couldnÂ’t get the girlÂ’s screams out of her ears, couldnÂ’t stop seeing the boyÂ’s neck be ripped apart by the dagger, couldnÂ’t stop thinking about it . . .

“Let me have a look at her,” Tom’s calm voice said, sounding far away. Ginny suddenly remembered he was there, and sat up straight, the earlier relief of being back in her room vanishing from her bones. She instantly tensed.

“No,” she whispered. “No, I’m fine.”

“You are not fine!” Maria cried vehemently. “You closed your eyes and went rigid, and started screaming as though someone was ripping you from limb to limb!”

“Honestly, I’m fine,” Ginny insisted hoarsely, staring at Tom warily. He had stopped walking towards them and was now standing in the middle of the room, looking unsure if he should continue or stay where he was. Stay, her mind pleaded. Don’t move any closer to me.

“Doctor, is she all right?” Maria asked, twisting at the waist to glance at him.

“If she says she is . . .” Tom trailed off, frowning. Ginny stared hard at him. She knew what he really was. She’d witnessed how cold-hearted he was, how he murdered that unfortunate little boy, and had probably done the same thing to the entire family. How could he look so different now? How could he act so casual? Why was he even pretending to be concerned for her? “But you did look a fright, Ginny,” he added after a moment.

“I’m telling you, I’m all right,” Ginny gritted out through clenched teeth. She didn’t realize she had grabbed Maria’s hand until she gave a little squeak of pain, signaling that Ginny was squeezing her fingers too hard. She loosened her grip but did not let go. “I just need some sleep,” she continued.

Tom’s mouth settled into a gentle smile. “Just take this first,” he told her, holding out the goblet as he crossed to the bed. Now he was standing right beside her, and she forced herself not to shake. She narrowed her eyes at the cup, then at him, knowing very well he wanted her to grab it from him. It must be more of that pink potion stuff he gave me yesterday, she realized when the scent hit her nostrils. It clearly wasn’t poison, or I’d be dead . . . Yet she knew there was still a strong possibility it was poison, and it would just take a few days to settle into her system.

He probably wants to kill me slowly and painfully, she thought, her imagination running away with her. So heÂ’ll poison me bit by bit, letting me die in agony . . .

“If I take it,” Ginny finally said, “then will you never step foot out of this castle without my permission?”

Maria gave a fluttering, nervous laugh, clearly embarrassed at Ginny’s request. She tried to pat Ginny’s knee, but missed and got her shin instead, being her legs were hidden under the blankets. “All right, Highness, just drink it. Then you can sleep.”

Ginny just didnÂ’t want any more murders while she slept. And she was deathly terrified that if there were more killings that sheÂ’d witness them again, through the same strange vision. For the moment she didnÂ’t really care that sheÂ’d demanded Tom Riddle stay within the walls of the same house with her, only a scream away. She just did not want him leaving and killing another family.

“Promise me,” she said fervently, “that you won’t leave, at least until I wake up. Promise –”

“Highness, you are being ridiculous,” Maria interrupted, flashing her a stern look with her black eyes. “Just drink and sleep.”

Ginny could see there was no room for argument. Both Tom and Maria were staring at her, waiting for her to drink it. She felt her shoulders loosen up and she sighed in defeat. It wasn’t her problem anyway – she’d worry about it once she was well.

She grabbed the goblet a bit more violently than necessary and drank from it.