Crimson Ink

Dear Charlie,

I have made the stupidest mistake of my life. And I am going to make everything right again. No matter what the cost is.

I am going to tell Harry everything. I’m going to tell him about the things I’ve done, and the spells I’ve found. And then maybe he can help me destroy Tom.

And if he can’t, then I’m going to do it on my own.

I never should have let it go this far. I never should have tried to get him back. I was right in throwing him away, and I should have done it again once I figured out what he was up to.

I’ve brooded over this long enough. I know what I have to do now. And maybe, if I do manage to destroy him, everyone will find it in their hearts to forgive me.

I feel so horrible right now. I’ve done such a wretched thing and no one even knows I’ve done it. Perhaps it’s better this way, but I need someone to yell at me for it, punish me for it. I can’t stand all this guilt welling up inside of me.

Oh, who cares what I can and can’t stand! I’ve gotten myself into this mess because I was too worried about what I couldn’t stand! I gave into the pain of not having Tom with me by getting him back. I gave into the pain of fighting him and he ended up making me do something horrible.

Well, enough of that! I’m going to bear the pain. I’m going to be brave, like the Gryffindor I am. I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago.

I know I’m strong enough to do it. I was strong enough the first time. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get that strength, maybe thinking of you and Bill like I did the first time.

First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll find Harry at breakfast and tell him everything. I can only hope it’s not too late.

Love,

Ginny

~

Ginny burst into the Great Hall, hoping she didn’t look as horrible as she felt. She had been up all night, with Tom’s voice in her head. It was as if somehow he knew that she wasn’t truly loyal to him anymore, that she was plotting against him.

She had tossed and turned in her bed all night before getting up again at five with the realization that she just couldn’t fall asleep. As she had worked at the tangles in her hair, she had wondered how exactly she would break this to Harry.

She didn’t want him to be upset. She knew he would be when she told it all to him. How could he not be? But she didn’t want him to be upset, didn’t want him to feel that fear she felt, even now.

But she knew there wasn’t really any way around it.

She had worked on her appearance for hours, not because of Harry, but because she knew people would stare if they saw how disheveled her hair was, saw the dark rings under her eyes. She could already feel her eyes on her, hear the way they would surely talk about her, the rumours that would fly around the room, making her even more miserable.

"Ginny, how’ve you been?" called Delina, one of her friends as she passed. "I haven’t seen you in ages!"

Ginny waved back, helplessly mouthing the words sorry, can’t talk, as she hurried past. She could see an empty spot at the Gryffindor table, right next to Ron.

It was all working out perfectly. She could do this. And then everything would be all right again.

She took her spot in the chair, trying not to twist her hands in her lap. All of a sudden, her brain went completely empty, forgetting all the words that she had carefully rehearsed.

"What’s up?" said Ron as he spooned himself more porridge.

She glanced up and down the table, escaping from their questions, trying to remember, trying to get rid of her nervousness. She found herself rocking back and forth in her chair.

"I’ve got to tell you something," she mumbled at Harry, still trying to think. Might as well take it one step at a time.

"What is it?" he asked, sounding worried.

Ginny felt as if she would melt. He was worried about her! Except she hadn’t really gotten past the telling him she had something to tell him in her head, but she could do this. Couldn’t she?

"What?" asked Ron, and she felt a speck of annoyance that he was butting in.

She opened her mouth to answer, but found she couldn’t think of anything to say.

Harry leaned in towards her, speaking quietly. "Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"

She took a deep breath, finally finding the words. And that was when Percy rushed in, looking tired and ashen.

'If you've only finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny. I'm starving, I've only just came off patrol duty.'

She felt her heart quicken in fear as she looked up at him. There wasn’t any way she could say anything now. She had to leave. She jumped from her chair. In her haste to get away, she nearly tripped, and threw her hands in front of her to break her fall, but she never hit the ground. It was as if some invisible force had picked her up and set her upright again.

She could feel their eyes trained on her back as she hurried away. From the Slytherin table, she could hear someone call her name, perhaps one of the girls she had made friends on the way to the school, while riding in the boats, powered by magic, through the darkness of the lake. Waving back, she rushed out the door, feeling her heartbeat finally slow down to a purr as she slumped against a wall and began to sob helplessly.

~

Dear Charlie,

Why did Percy have to ruin everything? Now it’s just as bad as it was before, worse even, maybe. I doubt I’ll ever get a chance like that again. And with each day I wait, it gets worse.

Maybe it’s not that he gains more control on me, maybe it is. All I know is that my resolve to do this thing weakens as he tempts me with his lies, with his false promises. It all sounds so wonderful, but I know he’s just going to be his old horrible self again. And break my heart again.

I feel him all around me. When I fall asleep at night (if I fall asleep at night), I can feel his fingers tangled up in my hair, his low voice crooning a lullaby. When I wake up, I know he’s there, having watched me sleep all night. He’s there in my classes; he’s there when I eat. Even now, as I write this, I know he’s behind me, reading over my shoulder, watching my every move.

I no longer try to hide anything from him. It’s useless. No matter what I do, he’ll always find out if he wants to. If I have any secrets at all, it’s because he’s decided to give me that privacy.

God, listen to me. All this big words, all these analyses. It’s what I’ve been doing. Even as he watches me, I’ve been watching him, trying to figure out why he does the things he does. I can’t believe I haven’t realized it before now. Even when I’m writing to you, I’m doing this, trying to find out why he’s so horrible at times and so wonderfully angelic at others.

Sorry about the wrinkles. I’m writing this outside - under that willow tree by the lake, you know the one - and the wind keeps stealing this away from me. Out here because I’ve been practicing the spells.

You know those spells I was looking up? Well, I found some. And I really haven’t the slightest clue whether they’ll work on him or not, but it’s worth a shot at least. They should work, if he ever takes a human shape.

The only trouble is, they’re all advanced spells. None of them are really appropriate for the levels of a first year. Stunning spells, most of them, though there’s some immobilizing ones too. And the ones that I have found that are at my level aren’t all that powerful. He could reverse them in a heartbeat and then where would I be? It’d only make him madder and want to hurt me more.

Sometimes when I’m writing, it doesn’t really feel like I’m talking to you anymore. More like I’m babbling to myself, the way I used to babble to Tom. Won’t be much of a change, I suppose. No one in this family truly listens to me.

But anyways, back to the spells. I’ve been practicing them, as I’ve already said, out here, on whatever little bugs and things I happen to see. Sure it won’t do them all that much harm.

It’s just so hard! I try and I try and I try and there’s never any results! And just when I think I’ve got it finally, it doesn’t work and I’m right back where I started. Sure now that whenever it does work, it’s just a fluke.

Oh Charlie, I’m in over my head. Most of the good ones I’ve found are for fourth years or higher. There’s a few like Leg-Locker and Body Bind that I can do all right, but it’s not going to work, because I need him unconscious! Though I suppose if I can’t learn a stunning spell in time, I could always knock him over the head with a chair…

Just listen to me, thinking violent thoughts. All this has been an experience, to say at least. Pretty sure it’s a bad one, but there’s that tiny part of me that argues, and says it’s for my own good, think of all the things I learned.

All I’ve learned is that I can’t ever trust anyone again. The world is an awfully cruel place and I’m just not happy anymore, the way I used to be at least. Because I know things now. And while the thing most of us strive for is education, I just wish that I could be that carefree and naïve little girl, dancing in the rain.

Love,

Ginny

~

Ginny. Get up.

Ginny sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. "Tom, what is it?" she asked, grabbing her wand from her nightstand. "Is it really that important? Because I was kind of sleeping."

It’s very important, sweetie. We’re leaving.

"Leaving? To where?"

Away from this place. To the place of my ancestors.

"Your ancestors?"

The place the whole school’s been talking about.

"And where would that be?"

Really. Haven’t I given you enough clues?

"Well you’ll have to forgive me," she said, rather crossly. "I’ve been rather out of it lately, you know. Not exactly caught up with the current gossip."

The Chamber, sweetie. I’m taking you to my Chamber. The Chamber of Secrets.

"The Chamber of Secrets? Your Chamber? The place of your ancestors? But that must mean…" Ginny rubbed her eyes again, trying to get them to adjust to the darkness and clear her thought processes. "You’re Voldemort, aren’t you?"

He laughed.

How utterly clever of you. I must say, I didn’t really intend for you to find out this soon, it just sort of slipped out of me. But I am rather pleased you figured that out all by yourself. Will make my decision easier.

Ginny got off her bed and started pacing on the carpeted floor, though quietly so the other girls wouldn’t awaken. "It all makes sense now. Why you were always so interested in Harry. Why you always asked me about him, though sometimes I refused to answer. Why you wanted me to take you to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Why she was scared of you. Why you speak Parseltongue. Oh, I’m so stupid! I should have figured it out then. I had all the clues…"

She stopped. "What do you mean, your decision?"

He laughed again, not the crazy maniacal laugh that she had heard him laugh occasionally, but a soft laugh, an amused laugh.

That will all come later. I really am impressed with you. I never told you a thing about my childhood and you managed to figure it out. How did you figure it out, by the way? I would like to know.

"Why?" she asked coldly. "Are you surprised that there’s someone who surpasses your brilliance?"

He laughed yet again, and she could almost see the tears of mirth in his eyes.

Heavens no! He exclaimed. You, my dear, surpass my brilliance? Hardly. I admit I did underestimate you there, I should have been more careful, so very pleased with your success sweetie. Now do tell.

"Well, you know how I was interested in Voldemort this past summer?"

Truly? I had no idea.

"Right, you wouldn’t, that was before I came by you. Anyways, I asked Charlie-"

That brother of yours that you keep writing the letters to?

"Yes, him. I asked Charlie to get me some books on the subject so I could read up on it and such. It was always such a big deal in our world, and Mum and Dad were so overprotective, don’t know what they would have done if they found out. I just had to know, I couldn’t stand being uneducated about the matter."

Yes yes, you have that same thirst for information that I have. Now do carry on.

Ginny protested in her mind, that it was Hermione who devoured every book she came upon, not her. She only read about the subjects she was interested about, and there weren’t all that many of those.

Hermione? That one we petrified a while ago, with that girl with the mirror? So flattered that I actually caught your attention. Oh, our meeting was meant to be. I never dreamed it would come together this perfectly.

"This perfectly?"

Shhh, hush now, don’t ask questions, they’ll all be answered in time, and you won’t have any doubts again. Please continue.

"Myrtle was that girl you killed," she said. "The girl that you got someone else expelled for. It was in the book," she added.

Oh, you’re good, I did show Harry that memory and I’ll show you too, if you want to know, but not now, in time. There’ll be time for all that later.

"What time?" she scoffed. "I plan to destroy you."

He laughed again, his delighted laughter ringing in her ears. He was enjoying all this.

Are you still stuck with that delusion sweetie, that you can actually destroy me? Oh, you’re rich, you really are.

"What makes you think I can’t?"

His voice turned cold.

If you really think you can, Ginny Weasley, then you’re a fool. I’ve had years and years more experience than you, years and years reading every spell book I could get my hands on, years and years of practice. Do you really think that you, a little girl with her heads in the clouds, can actually destroy me?

Ginny plopped back down on her bed, his words having shattered all her hopes.

Now come. We’re leaving.

A whine of resistance escaped from her lips, and the moment she heard it, she knew it was loud enough to wake someone. In the bed across from her, Noelle twisted and turned in her bed, then fell still again. Ginny looked around further, to the beds at the windows, and saw Ivy sit up.

"Is something wrong?" she called.

Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but she felt an invisible hand clamp over her mouth, blocking any sounds she might make. She bit it, hard, and fell it drop instantly.

No more of your funny stuff. I’ve been being nice you know. If you don’t want to go along with it, there’s always a hard way. Now listen to me, and listen well. We’re leaving.

Ginny tried to plant her feet on the ground, resisting, but they moved of a will all their own, moving her down the stairs, into the common room, then through the portrait hole and down the halls.

He was truly scaring her. It was the air of utter lunacy that he possessed, the maniacal grin that she could almost see dancing on his lips. It was the excitement with which he talked, how hyperactive he was, almost like he was drunk on something. He seemed to be losing his grip on reality and she didn’t like it one bit.

It was frightening, that’s what it was. Never in all the time that she had known him had he ever lost his temper. He had always been calm and collected, no matter how mad she knew she had made him.

And now…he was hysterical. He was expressing his emotions. He was actually saying that he took delight in something.

An ironic smile played at her lips. You’re such a shrink, she said to herself. Even when you’re in mortal danger, all you can think about are the mental problems of others.

She saw herself walk down yet another flight of stairs, and then tiptoe along the tiled floor, where there was no carpet. Quietly, ever so quietly, so Filch and that annoying cat of his, Mrs. Norris wouldn’t hear her and catch her and lock her away in detention.

You don’t have to worry about that, came his smirk of a thought. Would I really let you get caught?

Then pushing through the doors, into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, flicking on the light so she wouldn’t trip over puddles and such, leaning over the sink just as she had done before. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, and gasped.

She looked so pale, when had she gotten so unhealthy? Even darker rings under her eyes, lips almost the colour of her skin, and a shadow of Tom’s face within hers. His blue eyes behind her brown ones, his black hair behind her red, a hint of his smirk and his glowering expression, all found there.

He laughed at her surprise. Haven’t you noticed, Ginny dear? I’ve been living within you this whole time. Ever since you were so kind as to give me a body that one time. Don’t you find yourself drifting away occasionally, only to awaken again hours later, wondering where you are? Haven't you noticed how worried your friends have been, how you’ve been avoiding them? When that Delina said she hadn’t seen you in ages, what did you think she was referring to?

"I hate you!" she spat.

Laughter again. Hate is an emotion of passion, just as love is. Very easy to confuse the two, it is. You know what they say, the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. Now be a good little girl and relax. I need you to speak again.

"I am not a little girl."

That’s hardly relaxing, now is it? You should know by now; if you don’t do what I tell you, I’ll make you do it. It’s just such a shame to hurt such a pretty little face.

"I’m not pretty either."

Of course you’re not. Now just relax.

Almost without willing it to, Ginny felt her jaw obey his instructions. His voice came out through her mouth, that slithering sound that still made her shiver with fright. To her surprise, the pipe in front of her grew until it was the size of a small doorway.

Now go in.

"What?" she asked, staring down into its slimy depths. "I can’t fit in there!"

You can, and you will. Now go.

She felt herself shudder involuntarily. "But it’s so slimy and gross! You can’t make me!"

Oh, can’t I?

And she felt her hands move to grasp the filthy edges, felt her feet move to step up. Her eyes welled up with tears. "No Tom, please don’t, really don’t, I can’t go down there, I can’t. Please don’t make me go"

Then came his voice, soothing and comforting. Hush now sweetie. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Don’t you think I know you’re claustrophobic? Trust me…

The tears came out faster than ever now, as she felt herself being seated at the edge, her hands clutching on to the bit of pipe overhead. "I can’t trust you!" she burst out angrily. "You say that to me every time, and whenever I do, you shatter my heart to bits! I’ve learned my lesson, I’m never trusting you again!"

Ginny…

"Don’t you ‘Ginny’ me." Her voice came out, low and calm, despite her desperate sobbing. "Because of you-"

And then her voice was cut off as she felt herself being propelled downwards, almost choking on the smell; eyes squeezed shut so she wouldn’t have to look. Tom was behind her all the time, his hands on her shoulders, murmuring comforting words in her ear. She felt a tiny bit better, knowing he was there.

The bottom of the pipes came with a sudden jolt and she found herself on a cold stone floor, with bruises on her backside. She gulped down a few breaths of fresh air, and opened her eyes slowly, only to find Tom standing in front of her.

Standing in front of her. She rubbed her eyes, partly from disbelief, partly from a sudden exhaustion that had just hit her. Since when had he gotten himself a physical body? At least he was fully clothed this time.

He had caught that last thought. "Just a few adjustments to the spell. Sorry you’re tired sweetie, I had to take a tad of your energy."

"B-b-but how?" she stammered.

"You wanted it," he said simply. "When we were travelling down that pipe, I could hear your thoughts. What you wanted most was to have me again." He smirked. "Wasn’t it."

"Was not!" she said hotly.

He shrugged. "If you say so."

"I still hate you, you know," she said in a rather small voice.

"And why would that be?" he asked, sitting down with her. "I do believe you were about to tell me just before we made our little journey."

His smugness made her want to hit him, and she did just that, thwaping him neatly on the head. He didn’t expect it at all, and by the time his reflexes took over, she was a safe distance away again.

His hand flew to his head, in the very spot in which she had hit him. He smiled slowly at her, and she shivered. A smile like that couldn’t mean anything good.

"Careful now, Ginny," he cautioned, rubbing his sore spot lightly. "I’m being nice to you here. Don’t make me regret it and really hurt you."

"Hurt me?" she managed. "I don’t think you would do that. Just moments ago, you were saying what a shame it would be to hurt me."

"That can all change."

Tears sprung to her eyes again, and she pushed them back fiercely. "I can’t believe you did that, after knowing how much I hate small places."

He shrugged. "But it didn’t do you a bit of harm. So what have we learned from all this?"

She paused a moment before answering, gathering her thoughts. "Because of you? Because of you, I’ve learned the world is a cruel place where everyone is out to get you. I’ve learned not to trust in the kindness of others, because there is always some other motive. I’ve learned that people do things for you only because they want something, not because they appreciate you. I’ve learned that people do whatever it takes to get what they want. No matter who they hurt."

She felt the tears come again and turned away from him, so he wouldn’t see her cry. Only he followed her there, and gently loped his arm around her shoulders.

"You’re not the only one who’s learned that lesson sweetie. I too know that bittersweet pain, and I was more hurt by it then you. I took more drastic measures."

"Are we talking now about your brief obsession with death?" she asked. "You never did tell me that story, no matter how much I asked."

"It was hardly fit for a bedtime story," he said quietly. "But I suppose I’ll tell it to you now. Not like we have anything better to do. It isn’t much of a story either. I got upset, I tried to kill myself, and it didn’t work."

"But what about the details?" she whispered, unconsciously snuggling deeper into his arms. "What lead you up to it? Why didn’t it work? Did that have anything to do with what you are now?"

"What I am now…" he muttered. "I know what you think I am now. A monster. And don’t try to deny it, I’ve heard your thoughts. I’ve felt the hatred you’ve projected at me."

"Maybe it wasn’t hatred. Maybe just indifference."

"You only say that now. I can tell, even now, you’re fascinated by me, but you really can’t stand the sight of me."

"Aren’t you a vain one? The world really doesn’t revolve around you."

He laughed. "What a pair we make, forever arguing and taunting and mocking and trying to provoke the other. But I will tell you. Maybe then it will make you understand. And I’ll finally have a person in this world who truly understands me."

"You must first understand about the time I grew up in. I was born just before the time of the Great Depression over in North America. The year I started Hogwarts was the year just before World War II started."

"I understand perfectly," said Ginny, his words ringing in her ears. Whatever could he have meant by I’ll finally have a person in this world who truly understands me?

"My incident, it occurred around the beginning of my fourth year at Hogwarts. The orphanage I was living in was located in London, a city that was being constantly bombed by Hitler’s planes. It was hellish."

"Already, I wasn’t very happy. I did have my friends among my year, but the majority of the older students didn’t like me. They didn’t like that fact that I was a mere halfblood, yet I still had the blood of Salazar Slytherin running through my veins. To make a long story short, they were rather awful to me."

Ginny nodded, taking in this new information.

"Well, when I went back to Hogwarts for my fourth year, I found out my friends had been killed by a bomb." His voice broke as he fought to continue. "They were all at Gilly’s house, that I remember. I couldn’t go because the orphanage wouldn’t let anyone out of their sight."

"Oh my God…" whispered Ginny.

"It was the most horrible feeling I had ever felt in my life. And the others were just as horrible to me as before. I guess everything just came rushing back to me, the way the kids had made fun of me at the orphanage, the way they made fun of me now, the fact that my only friends were dead."

She could see the tears in his eyes.

"I cast a spell to make myself look older, then went to the darkest and most shady bar in Hogsmeade. Ordered a bottle of vodka. The barkeep didn’t even look at me twice. Found myself a table, slit my wrists, and tried to drink myself into unconsciousness."

Ginny touched her hand to her face and found that she too was crying. "What happened?" she whispered, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his face.

"They happened," he said, a touch of bitterness in his voice. "Dippet and Dumbledore happened. I don’t know how they know or how they found out, but they came somehow, and when I woke up again, I was in the Hospital Wing, in a white gown and bound up in bandages."

"And then?"

"I hated them for not letting me die, for finding me there. All I knew was that I had never been happier than in those few moments when I thought I would be gone for good."

"And I used that hatred to my advantage. Being kind and virtuous had never done me an ounce of good, so I decided to turn the other way. I studied the Dark Arts, relishing in the power I knew they would give me, knowing that with this power, I would never be looked down upon again."

He looked up, wetness on his long eyelashes. "And you know the rest."

Ginny sniffled. "That is the single saddest thing I’ve ever heard," she whispered. And it was true. All her life, she had been protected as much as possible, from anything sad. They hated to see her cry.

Yet this story…he was right, it did make her understand. His story had wrung a deep protectiveness from her, and she didn’t know why. She didn’t want anyone to hurt him.

He got up suddenly, glaring down at her, because he had fallen down since she had been leaning on him and was now curled up in a heap on the floor. "Why did I just tell you all that?"

"I don’t know," she said in a small voice.

He began to pace, waving his arms about angrily. "Why do I let you do this to me? It’s like you’re casting some sort of spell over me, I look into those sickeningly sweet brown eyes of yours and I’m caught!"

"You are?"

"Yes!" He glowered at her. "I’ve kept you here for far too long, you’re doing things to my sanity now! What spell is this? I just feel compelled to tell you things! I don’t like this one bit, no not at all. This could get to be dangerous."

Ginny felt in her sleeve for her wand, grasping the end in her fingers. As much as she hated to hurt him, she knew she would have to. The spells were all printed firmly in her head, so she could try and cast them whenever he wasn’t paying attention to her. But only…would they actually work?

"No, they won’t," came his voice. He seemed to have gotten himself under control again.

She looked up and found that he was watching her.

"It’s not going to work," came his words again, this time in a singsong voice.

"What’s not going to work?" she asked, playing the innocent.

His eyes narrowed. "Don’t think of me as stupid. I’ve been with you for a loooong time sweetie. I know you inside and out, perhaps better than even you know yourself. Now don’t you think I know you’re trying to cast some funny little spell on me and knock me out?"

Ginny gulped.

He sat down again, wrapping his arms around her, and all that she could think of in that moment was how comfortable she felt then, how right it felt.

"I know you want to cry," he said, softer this time. "Just let it out. Let me play the psychiatrist this time, like you’re always trying to play to me. Let it all out."

"Why are you being so nice right now?" she managed.

"When haven’t I been nice?" He caught the look on her face. "Don’t answer that. And really, I am nice to you most of the time. I don’t yell, I don’t scream, I haven’t given away a thing. What makes you hate me so?"

"I think you know the answer to that," she answered, refusing to look at him.

"That I do, sweetie. But I really don’t understand it. You say I broke your heart…"

The tears came yet again, and this time, she didn’t care. It just didn’t matter anymore. None of it mattered anymore. She knew her entire future depended on what would happen, but she felt herself drifting away from it just the same.

"That’s just it," she said, when she had managed to calm herself down enough to speak. "You say you don’t understand, but you do, you really do, I know it, and I can prove it from what you’ve told me today. Heartbreak. Can you truthfully tell me that that wasn’t what you were suffering from when your friends died? When you made that decision that you didn’t want to live anymore?"

His face darkened at her words, but she pressed on.

"I know you know what heartbreak feels like. I know you know what it feels like when someone hurts you to that extent, when someone breaks you so much that you don’t want to live anymore. We’re all fragile inside Tom. Don’t deny it anymore. You have a heart. I know you do. You’ve shown that to me."

"I…I…I…"

"You have a heart. You have feelings. You feel for people. It’s only human," she crooned, stepping closer to him. By this time, he had backed away from her, hating the words she was saying.

"No!" he cried, bring his hand back, then forwards again to meet her cheek in a forceful slap. She felt her body being propelled backwards, then hitting the floor with a painful crash and slipping backwards, her hands bleeding from skidding on the stone floor. She winced with pain and wiped the blood off on her clothing.

"Emotion is only a weakness!" he screamed at her. But she could see the tears in his eyes and she knew she was getting through to him.

"Oh, but Tom, it’s not," she said, ignoring the agony in her limbs. "It’s not a weakness at all. If anything, it makes you strong. You’re nothing if you haven’t experience emotion. It’s the feelings that make us human."

He walked back towards her silently, and knelt down beside her, picking up one of her hands and staring at it. Reaching into her sleeve and pulling out her wand, he waved it and muttered a few words. She felt the pain diminish.

"Why do I let you do this to me?" he whispered, returning her wand to its original place and cupping her chin with his other hand. "Why do I let you get to me? Why does it somehow kill me whenever you get hurt?"

"Tom…" she started, but didn’t get to finish, because in that moment, his lips were placed on hers and she couldn’t remember a word she was going to say.

Being kissed by Tom…how could she describe it? It was longing and it was ecstasy and it was loneliness and grief and happiness and cheerfulness all mixed into one. She could feel his hurt as surely as he could feel hers, and she could feel her tears coming for him, because he had been hurt so very badly, mingling with his tears for her. It was exhilarating and it was enchanting and delectable and bittersweet and it sent her soaring up to the clouds and plunging back down again. It was pain and it was healing and it made her heart ache with delight and the minute it was over she knew she would never have another like it.

"Tom…" she whispered again when he finally pulled away. He put a finger to her lips to stop her from saying more.

"This doesn’t mean I’m not going to kill you. I have to. I’m sorry for it sweetie, but I really do. You know too much. It’s just that…" and here he sighed, "I couldn’t kill you without you ever knowing your first kiss."

"Tom," she said yet again, wanting to say what it was like, wanting to ask if he had felt the same things she had.

He muttered a few words. She felt so tired that she welcomed the darkness.