Obsession

Obsession

By Rhianna

 

Ginny's cold feet fell onto the thickly carpeted floor with a soft thud. Her heart was heavy with depression. The whole world was a horribly cruel dream she could never wake up from.

They were at war. The amount of casualties was enormous. Everyone in her family was involved and most of them were hurt horribly.

Voldemort had attacked, right when they weren’t expecting it. After his rebirth, he hadn’t been seen for a few years, so everyone assumed that he was gone.

That was a big mistake.

He had attacked, with thousands in his army, all people he had brainwashed to follow his orders.

The world hadn’t a chance.

She slung her bookbag over her shoulder and headed to the hospital wing. Ron had been terribly injured in an attack that had occurred just yesterday. It was actually because of Ginny that he was. He had dived in front of the beam of light to save her, and now he was in the hospital wing. No one knew whether he would survive.

It's all my fault, Ginny repeated in her head as she walked through the empty corridors. All my fault. If it weren't for me, he'd still be here with me. Unhurt.

The hospital wing was a blinding sea of white. A patient occupied every bed. Ginny tiptoed through the maze of beds until she came to her brother. He was still asleep.

"Oh Ron," she whispered, seating herself in a chair beside his bed.

Charlie and Fred had paid the ultimate price: their lives. George had gone insane with depression and he mourned for his twin. She knew it was like a part of himself had been killed; they were that close. It was practically impossible to think of her fun-loving brother as insanely depressed. From what Percy told her in his letters, he was refusing to eat.

Percy did research for the Ministry, finding out whatever he could about the opposing force. He had asked specifically for the job so he could stay home and take care of George.

Bill was also suffering from insanity from all the battles, and had been imprisoned in one of the many dungeons at their base, along with a hundred other wizards. She hadn't heard from him in at least a month.

Her poor mother was crazed with all the injuries that had befallen her sons. She began to see images of Voldemort and Death Eaters everywhere. Last week, when she was shopping in Diagon Alley, the pictures had come to her and she had attacked some innocent bystanders.

Ron groaned and twitched in his bed. Ginny ran her icy cold fingers through his hair comfortingly. He flinched at her touch. His forehead was burning hot. She wasn't sure whether it was because he was feverish, or because her hand was too cold.

She planted a kiss on his forehead, her cracked lips meeting warm skin. "I'll be back to see you later," she whispered. She stood up and headed to the Great Hall, her footsteps echoing throughout the empty halls.

There weren't enough students for proper classes anymore, as most of them had gone to fight, and the few that were left assembled there every morning for medical lessons. She pulled a sheet of parchment and a quill out of her bag, as Professor McGonagall appeared on the platform, ready to teach the day's lesson. It wasn't just a way to keep the students occupied for the day. Hogwarts was in great need of skilled nurses, since most of the injured gathered there for treatment. The little hospital wing was already overcrowded.

All thoughts were driven from her mind as they paired up and began a demonstration on how they would treat internal bleeding.

By dinnertime, Ginny had learned how to treat mental instability, broken bones, most spells gone wrong, and internal bleeding. She was pale with exhaustion. She managed to shove down five bites of her food, and stumbled back upstairs to visit Ron.

There was a line of all the students who had come to see injured siblings inside the hospital wing. Ginny sat herself down by the door, glad to finally get off her feet. Horrible sounds of war rang inside her head.

Then the door burst open and two students carrying an unconscious Colin Creevey ran in. They dumped the limp boy in Ginny's arms and continued running.

"Just hold him for a second, will you?" one called as they scanned the room for Madam Pomfrey.

Ginny cradled Colin in her arms, her mind completely blank. She had forgotten every single bit of her medical training; except for the fact that she was supposed to grab his tongue so he wouldn't swallow it and choke. She grabbed the shawl that she had draped around her neck and shoved a wad of it into his mouth.

Reddish foam began to form at his lips and she wiped it away, scared. Then he began to shake in her arms, twitching uncontrollably. Horrible animal sounds began to burst from his mouth and she tightened her arms around him, so he wouldn't hit his head on the floor.

She looked around frantically. His two friends were nowhere to be seen.

His body felt heavy in her arms. Somehow, the shawl had fallen out of his mouth. Both it and his faced were flecked with little red dots of blood. His face was deathly pale. She heard cries of help coming from somewhere. It took her a minute to realize that it was her who was shouting.

And then the weight of his body lightened. She stared at it, her mouth slowly closing, knowing what had happened but not wanting to believe it.

Madam Pomfrey rushed up, and her fingers immediately flew to the spot on his wrist where his pulse should have been. She stayed there for five, ten seconds. And then her fingers fell away. She picked the body up from Ginny's arms. Her face was grim; her eyes saddened. No tears came, for she had encountered this sort of situations hundreds of times before.

But Ginny hadn't. And inside, she screamed.

She stumbled blindly to her room, forgetting all about Ron. A group of girls were huddled by the portrait but she pushed them apart impatiently. Their eyes widened as they felt her hands on their shoulders. She could imagine how she must have looked, just another person who had gone crazy from the war.

She tripped going up the stairs, but she just pulled herself back up again, barely feeling the bruises. It was such a minor hurt compared to what she was feeling at the moment. She stumbled into her bed, crumpled up the sheets.

And the darkness took her.

 

When she awoke again it was dark outside. The memories came flooding back and she sank onto her knees, deep in despair. She had held death in her hands. She was still holding death, even now.

Her gaze fell on her robes and the shawl, and she ripped them off savagely. Frantically, she shoved them into the dying fire, and watched in satisfaction as the flames devoured it.

She ran into the showers, letting the hot water pound all the pain away. But even water wouldn't wash away the stench of death. She pulled on a clean robe. All the energy drained from her now, she crawled upstairs breathlessly. On her way back to her bed, she tripped over her trunk. She fell to the floor, a searing pain in her leg.

She was tired of this life. Maybe death would be better than all this. She was tired of waking up every morning, knowing there was no hope. She was tired of seeing battles played again and again in her head. And most of all, she was tired of seeing people she loved get hurt.

And she had no one to talk to about her troubles.

No one...at all?

An idea began to form in her head as her drifting eyes fell on the trunk. Of course! She knew now. She did have someone to talk to.

She dug through her trunk like a frenzied animal, tossing clothing and books into the air. Finally, she found what she was looking for. An old, very battered diary, with a few ripped pages.

The diary where the sixteen-year-old spirit of Tom Riddle lived.

 

When Harry had given the diary to Lucius Malfoy at the end of her first year, it didn't go as far away as some might have hoped. While Headmaster Dumbledore was talking to Harry alone, Ginny had managed to slip away and find Mr. Malfoy.

She asked him for the diary.

The slow, sinister grin he smiled had sent shivers down her back, but she had stood her ground and refused to budge. He had waved his wand over the diary, and a dark glow had appeared around the diary, fixing the hole Harry had made with his sword.

And then he had handed it to her, still smiling. She felt a jolt of power as she closed her hand around the book.

That and the look he was giving her had scared her so much that she ran away.

 

Ginny's shaking fingers flicked on the lamp on her bedside table. There wasn't anyone else in her dorm, so she didn't have to worrying about waking someone else up. She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of ink and a quill.

She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she didn't care. None of the rules applied when the world was so chaotic.

Tom? she wrote shakingingly, the ink being instantly soaked into the thick paper. Are you there?

Hesitation hit her as she placed down her quill. Could she really trust him? After all, he had manipulated her and almost caused her death a few years ago.

The writing she knew so well appeared before her, as fluid as water. Ginny? Why, I haven't heard from you in ages!

With those words, all her worries flooded away, and everything she had felt when she was younger came back. She felt like she was eleven again, writing to her best friend Tom in her secret diary, hoping, daring to hope that he might like her.

Tom, she wrote, I'm scared.

Why?

The world’s such a mess. I just don’t know what to do. My family’s all hurt and broken apart. And someone died in my arms today, Tom. I held death in my arms.

Oh, poor poor Ginny. You sound like you need a hug.

I wish you were here with me Tom. I wish you could help me. I’m in such pain.

Maybe…maybe there is a way.

To bring you back to life? Really Tom? Tell me! What is it?

I’ve read about this one spell…I’m pretty sure it’ll work. But I’ll need you to help me.

I’ll do anything to have you back.

That’s sweet of you Ginny. I’ll need you to drip three drops of your blood into this diary. I’ll receive them, and conduct the spell from there.

Ginny paled. Blood? Is that really necessary?

Yes. Blood seals everything you know. When people want to make sure that a spell can’t be reversed, they use blood. Though this one won’t be permanent.

Oh, All right then. Don’t worry Tom, I’ll be right back.

Ginny dug into her trunk again, this time coming out with a small dagger. Its hilt was a navy blue, its blade a shiny silver. She had found it a year ago under her mattress at Hogwarts, and thought it looked like something from the mystical battles of the past. And she was very interested in history.

She wrapped her shaking fingers around the hilt and traced a light line down her arm. She then dug against it again, harder this time. The sharp blade pressed a cut down the inside of her arm. Blood dripped neatly from it into the diary.

I’ve done it Tom, she wrote with her other hand.

The little diary jumped off the table and began to shake with a force she hadn’t thought possible. The covers jumped apart and the pages waved, even though there was no wind.

Then it stopped again, and the diary drifted back down to the table, neatly opened right down the middle.

And Tom floated out.

There wasn’t much to him. He was deathly pale and looked like a wraith, if you passed your hand through him, you wouldn’t expect to hit anything.

None of that mattered to Ginny, however. She was just glad to see her Tom again.

"Tom?" she breathed, looking up at the floating figure in awe.

Slowly, Tom floated down to the floor, landing as gracefully as a cat. He dusted himself off, still slowly. And then, finally, he lifted his face to Ginny, his pale blue eyes meeting her warm brown ones. He smiled.

"Ginny?" he asked, his voice soft, as if he wasn’t used to speaking. He looked around him, at the room filled with empty beds. "Ginny," he said again, this time with more certainty, his eyes flitting back to the girl before him.

Ginny couldn’t contain herself any longer. "Oh Tom," she whispered, rushing forward and hugging him. He patted her on the back awkwardly. "I can’t believe you’re really here."

"You mean you didn’t believe me when I told you the spell would work?" he asked with a sly smile.

She smiled too, though weakly. "Tom, I have so much to tell you. You wouldn’t believe what’s been going on around here. I’m so scared."

"I know Ginny, I know."

His already ghost-like image began to tremble. Ginny stared at him, confused.

"Tom, what’s happening?"

He looked down at his wavering form, and his voice was calm. "I’m too weak to stay here. I’m being sucked back into my diary."

Ginny’s voice was desperate. "But you haven’t been here long at all!"

He looked at her sadly. "I know. Write me again tomorrow night. I have to make some changes to that spell. Until then, I have to go."

"But I don’t want you to go!" Ginny wailed.

He bent over and kissed her gently on her forehead. "I know. Be brave, Ginny. I’ll be back soon."

And then he faded away, his spirit having been sucked back into the diary.

"Goodbye Tom," Ginny whispered to the empty room. But she felt better. When she fell asleep, her thoughts were blissful.

He kissed me, she thought. He actually kissed me!

 

An eleven-year-old Ginny tiptoed to her bed, careful not to wake the other girls. Under the safety of her covers, she lit her wand and opened the little diary.

Hi Tom, she wrote.

Tom’s reply sounded joyful. Why Ginny, you’re back!

I’ve missed you so, she wrote.

I’m missed you too. It’s awful lonely in here.

Ginny’s heart went out to him. Don’t you have anyone else to talk to in there?

No. I’m all alone.

Tom, that’s so sad! Want to know a secret?

Of course, Ginny. Don’t I always listen to what you tell me?

I’m lonely too. I don’t have many friends. All the girls in my year think I’m odd. They say I look so pale every day, lifeless even. I think they might be scared of me.

That’s horribly rude of them.

Tom?

Yes?

Don’t ever leave me.

I never would, sweetie. Just you don’t ever leave me.

I wouldn’t dream of it.

Ginny closed the diary with a smile. His words were the last thing on her mind as she fell asleep.

He called me sweetie! Did he really mean it? Oh, I wish he felt the same way about me as I do about him.

 

When Ginny returned to her room again that night, she felt depressed again. The world was really too much for her. She hated all the fighting, she hated all the injuries, and she hated all the death.

Tom, I’m back, she wrote, her letters shaky again.

Ginny, I’m so glad to see you!

Instantly, she felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from her chest. I need someone to talk to.

You know I’m always here, listening.

Have you done things to the spell? I would rather tell you this in person.

Whatever you want. You’ll have to give me more of your blood though.

Anything. I’m aching to see you again.

Can you spare five drops?

Five? It was only three last time.

It’s necessary if you want me to stay longer.

Yes, yes! I do!

Ginny’s fingers found her dagger once more. Clasping it in one hand, she made another slit on her arm, parallel to the one from the night before. Again, she watched the droplets of blood drip into the diary.

When Tom appeared, she wasn’t as surprised as she had been. She was so upset she almost didn’t see him. Blindly, she reached for his hand, and her icy cold fingers met his.

He flinched. "Ginny!" he said, sounding worried. "Why are you colder than usual?"

She huddled against him, tears glistening on her long lashes running down her face. He hugged her with one arm and used the other to pull the covers around her. Gradually, she stopped shivering.

"Now tell me what’s wrong," he commanded.

Hiccups had snuck in with her sobs. "I can’t do this," she wept, staring down at her bed.

He gently lifted her head so she was looking at him. "Can’t do what, sweetie?"

Ginny’s heart leapt. He had called her sweetie again.

"Can’t do what?" he repeated, his voice softer this time.

"I can’t live in this world!" she wailed. He jumped at her sudden outburst. "Why are we so cruel? Why do we insist on fighting when we could be living peacefully?"

The fact that the whole war had been started by an older version of her Tom didn’t even enter her mind.

"It’s the way people are," Tom answered. "There’s much power in this world. Those who want it, seize it. And when there’s more than one person who wants it, there’s war."

"I wish it didn’t have to be this way," she whispered.

"I know you do," he replied. "But not everyone’s as sweet as you. Some people live to hurt. And it’s always the wonderful ones like you who are the ones they attack."

He had said she was wonderful. Implied it, at least.

"Tom," she started. She never got to finish. Her words were muffled when his lips met hers.

When he pulled away, her eyes were shining with happiness. "Tom?"

"I love you Ginny. You should know that."

She did now. And she was made so extraordinarily ecstatic by his kiss that she didn’t even protest when he faded away.

 

Tom was happy too.

This was easier than he had thought. Even in his wildest dreams, he had never guessed that Ginny Weasley would still be so wonderfully naïve.

When she was younger, he had guessed that she had had a bit of a crush on him. But to find out that that bit still existed, and had grown stronger even…

It was perfect.

He had hoped that there would be a time when she would be so deeply in despair, that she would turn to her old friend Tom, forgetting all the warnings her meddling parents had given her.

That time was now.

He would be careful with this chance he was given. He thanked Fate that his older self was still alive and had gained enough power to attack the world.

It was his calling. He would drain little Ginny of her soul, just as he had done before, and with her spirit, create himself another body and join his older self in world domination. One Tom Riddle was strong; two would be invincible.

It was almost too easy.

 

Ginny didn’t suspect a thing. In that time of darkness, she was just glad she had a bit of light to turn too. He was the bit of light to give her hope, to give her warmth and love.

Too bad she didn’t realize that her bit of light was darker than even the darkest shadow.

 

With each night that she called her Tom, the amount of her blood required grew. She noticed, sometimes, but she couldn’t do a thing. She was in too deep now. She relied on Tom too much now. It was just like it was before.

He knew perfectly well of this, and used it to his advantage.

She began wearing a skintight black shirt underneath her robes, paranoid that someone would notice all the cuts that she had made on her arms. She grew paler and paler, weaker and weaker. She began to stop attending the classes because her mind was in such a jumble; she couldn’t remember a word anyone had said.

She thought she was most alive when she was with her Tom at night, but truthfully, that was when she was the weakest. Her friends worried about her, but she pushed them all away. Tom was her life.

"Tom, I love you" she told him one night.

"I know," he replied, stroking her hair gently. "I love you too. You know that."

"Tell me the truth about this one thing."

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Why what, sweetie?"

"Why are we like this?"

"Who is we? Just people in general?"

"Yeah."

"Why are we like what, Ginny? I don’t really understand."

"Why do we live on hatred and revenge? Why do we kill people for the pleasure of killing? Why isn’t medical technology advanced enough to save the ones we love? Why do we do things even though we know it’s going to end up destroying us?"

"Oh sweetie, I don’t know. You’re questioning human nature. Nobody knows the answers to all those questions."

"I want to know."

"So does the rest of the world."

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"Is it really worth it to be alive?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I want to die."

"What?"

"I want to die. I can’t stand all this unhappiness. It’s tearing me up from inside."

"Oh Gin, this world isn’t meant for the innocent and gentle ones like you. I wish I could do something to help you."

"You can."

"What?"

"Kill me."

"Oh sweetie, you know there’s no way I’m going to do that." His body was beginning to fade. "Bring me back tomorrow. We’ll talk. And don’t do anything drastic until then."

 

Now this was something that Tom hadn’t predicted. He had expected that she would be the same old Ginny, the Ginny who loved life and everything about it.

She obviously wasn’t.

She had obviously changed drastically in these past few years.

And for once, he had no idea what he was going to do about this.

 

Somewhere along the line, when she had been thinking about people and life, Ginny had realized something. She didn’t really love Tom, at least, not like the love in the books she had read, when people would die because they loved each other so much.

Not that she wouldn’t die for him.

She just didn’t think it would be because of love.

No, it was more of an obsession. She was obsessed about him, and about him loving her, because she didn’t know for sure if he loved her. Sure, he had said he did, but words didn’t mean much to her anymore. Lies were easy enough to tell.

And she didn’t know what to do with this new information.

She was tired of life, as she had told him, tired of living. Somehow, this information had gotten her to think so much clearer. She could see that her life revolved around him. She was obsessed with trying to make him love her.

She was in too deep now. She couldn’t change a thing now.

Was there someone else maybe? He seemed to adore her, but she knew he was a very good actor. What if he was actually in love with another person? Jealousy welled up in her. She wouldn’t allow it. He had to love her, and only her. If he didn’t, she would make sure someone paid.

She was so deeply involved in her vengeful thoughts that she didn’t realize she was gaining the very qualities she hated so much.

Tom could sense that there was something different about her when she brought him back again. There was an uneasy rage that surrounded her. She just didn’t seem to be herself.

"Is something wrong, Ginny?" he asked.

Her eyes were smouldering coals as she turned to him. "Do you love me?"

He was startled. "Of course I do!"

Her voice was low, angry. "Tell me the truth!"

He had never seen her like this before. "Sweetie, I am. Why would you ever think otherwise?"

She sounded tired, hurt. "I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore!" Tears glimmered in her eyes and her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

He held her as she wept. "Ginny, you don’t ever need to doubt me."

Their lips met in a hungry kiss.

 

Tom had an obsession too, though it was much darker than Ginny’s. His obsession was to rule the world and eliminate it of Mudbloods.

But something had happened to him while he had spent all that time with Ginny. It might have been her personality; it might have been the fact that he was being brought to life by her blood.

Whatever it was, he now wanted her to rule by his side.

He didn’t like the fact that he was getting so attached to someone he was going to eventually have to kill.

 

"But, why do they have to do that?" wailed an eleven-year-old Tom to Genevie, the lady who ran an ice cream shop across the street. She was his only friend that lived even remotely near to the orphanage.

"It’s all right," she murmured comfortingly, letting his tears seep into her apron, as she had done so many times before in his childhood. She led him to one of the red stools by the counter. "Here, let me make you a shake. On the house, as always."

Minutes later, the chocolate had been absorbed into his system, and he was feeling slightly better. "Why do people have to be so mean?" he asked between sucks of his chocolate milkshake. "It’s not fair!"

"The world’s not fair, hon," she pointed out as she ran a wet rag along the counter, cleaning off all the ice cream people had dripped onto it. "That’s the way life is."

Tom set his glass onto the table with a bang. "Well I hate them!" he announced passionately. "I hate them all!"

"Good," she said, plopping down beside him with a glass of cherry cola.

"Good?" Tom asked in amazement. It was the last thing he had expected to hear her say.

"Hatred makes you strong," she explained, sipping lightly at her drink. "It gives you the strength to do things you wouldn’t have thought possible of yourself."

"Really? How?"

"Take myself, for instance."

"You?"

"Yes, me. My parents were absolutely horrible to me, just because I was a girl. They had wanted a boy to help out with the farm and all, but instead they got me." She laughed bitterly. "This was about twenty years back, during the Great War, and they relied on their farming completely to get them the necessities needed."

"So what did you do?"

"Me? Well one day, I just got tired of it all. I hated them so much for not wanting me, for not being happy with me, for giving me all the hardest work – the work they would happen given their son if they had had one – and letting my sisters do practically nothing. I was so furious with them that I ran away, to here."

"How come they didn’t catch you?"

"Oh, because I was all the way in England. I used to live in Ireland, hon," she added, seeing the bewildered look on Tom’s face. "I got a few odd jobs, working here and there as a waitress. It wasn’t much, and I lived a though life, but my hatred kept me going. In the end, I got this place. I used to waitress here, and the owner liked me so much that he gave me the place when he retired."

"I’m glad," laughed Tom. "Otherwise, who would give me free ice cream?"

"Oh you," she laughed along with him. She reached over to ruffle his hair, and he tried to duck away from her hand, without much success. "Now run along. I’m opening again in half an hour, and I haven’t even got the tables wiped. Don’t forget what I told you."

"I won’t Gen. Thanks for the ice cream!"

 

Maybe that was his problem, Tom pondered as the memory faded away. He didn’t hate Ginny like he had all his other victims.

 

November soon faded into December, and Ginny got more lifeless and corrupted, while Tom began to feel guilty about manipulating someone for the first time in decades. Each day he was given a body, he felt more and more ashamed that he dared to lead her on like this. And then he would shake himself out of it and stare at the wall in shock, because he had done this sort of thing thousands of times before and it had never ever been anything like this.

Ginny was overwhelmed by jealousy; some nagging little voice in the back of her mind kept telling her that Tom didn’t love her, and as much as she tried to block it out, she couldn’t help but listen.

It was as if their positions had been reversed.

Tom was tired of feeling so innocent. Ginny had been giving him her blood now for almost two months. And each time they talked, unbeknownst to her, he took just a little bit more of her life. He was ready.

He decided to end it, once and for all, before she corrupted him further.

After that Friday, Ginny would cease to exist.

 

He had collected enough power to summon himself up a body. He would need a bit more energy to make it permanent. Ginny was lying in bed, doing her homework, when appeared in the dorm that night.

"What are you doing here?" she asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowed at him.

He laughed. "Only to see you, sweetie."

She flipped herself into a sitting position at the sound of the familiar words, the full seriousness of his being there finally reaching her. "But I didn’t bring you back."

He shook his head. "No, you didn’t."

Her face took on a look of delight. "You mean you can come now without my help? Tom, that’s wonderful!"

He smiled again, the corners of his mouth twitching with a sneer. "Wonderful for me. Not quite so wonderful for you."

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Tom, whatever do you mean?"

The sneer appeared now. "You heard me, sweetie. This isn’t wonderful for you at all. I don’t need you anymore. And do you know what I do with people I don’t need? I kill them."

She fell over in shock. "You’re going to kill me?"

He nodded, slowly, as if talking to a young child.

She dropped her eyes from his gaze, and was silent for a moment. When she looked at him again, her brown eyes were blazing, and her mouth was set in a grim line. "You can’t kill me." Her voice was angry and determined.

He laughed, and twirled his wand in his longer fingers. "And just why not?"

Her voice broke. "I love you."

He knelt down until his face was leveled to hers. "Well guess what, sweetie? I don’t love you."

A sharp noise was heard as Ginny’s palm met his cheek and the next thing he knew he was sprawled on the floor, clutching his face in pain. Ginny stood over him, eyes burning with rage.

"You don’t love me? You have to love me. You don’t have a choice on this."

Now this was something he definitely hadn’t expected. When had she become so strong? Why hadn’t he noticed this before? He had to treat this carefully now, to make sure he wouldn’t make a mistake.

He felt a sharp tugging in the back of his mind that he was sure was guilt, as he acknowledged the fact that perhaps he had made her this way.

But then she was down on her knees beside him, soft hands prying his away from his face, gently examining the red mark on his face. "Oh Tom," she whispered. "I’m so sorry."

Sorry? She was sorry? Sorry for what? For hitting him after he said he was going to kill her? He stifled a laugh. She was so silly sometimes. But it didn’t matter. It was all working out to his advantage.

"Oh, sweetie, don’t you worry," he said, his voice as sugary as cotton candy. He took her into his arms and watched with disgust as she threw her arms around his neck and began weeping.

"There, there, it’s all right," he murmured as he held her with one hand. With the other hand, he reached towards his leg, where he had a dagger hidden under his robes.

He unsheathed it hurriedly, and wrapped his hand around it. He brought his arm back up and in one swift motion, dug it into her side. She gasped as it sank into her flesh.

He looped her arms around his neck and picked her up as easily as if she were a baby. Kicking open the door, he began to make his way down to the grounds. It wouldn’t do to cause suspicion by dripping blood all over the floor. No, it was best if no one ever found out about it, if they all wondered how it happened when he returned to the world in triumph.

 

The sudden coldness made Ginny breathe sharply, in shallow, quick gasps. She couldn’t remember a thing that happened. There was a biting pain in her middle, but she couldn’t get herself turned around enough to get a good look. She let herself relax again, and found herself looking up at Tom.

Oh good, it’s Tom, she thought with relief. He’ll take care of me.

And then it entered her mind that he was the one who had done this to her in the first place.

She groaned.

He looked down at her, apparently shocked that she was still alive.

"Tom?" she asked, surprised at how weak her voice was. "Why?"

It seemed to her like she had been asking that question the entire time they had been together.

 

As his feet sank into the deep snow, Tom supposed that things didn’t always go the way one wanted them to go.

It was just that it had never been like that for him before.

He was used to having luck on his side.

But evidently, luck had decided to abandon him this one time.

"Tom?" Ginny whispered again. Her voice was raspy.

He sighed. He knew he’d have to answer her. And eventually, he would end up explaining the whole thing to her. "Yes?"

"Why did you do this?"

He really didn’t want to answer that question. It was just all so complicated…how could he make her understand things from his point of view? Most people just didn’t understand the way he thought; they thought he was crazy, attempting a thing like world domination. But they didn’t know how good it felt to know that you were powerful, and that people would obey your every command.

The feeling was intoxicating.

"Tom?"

He sighed again. "Sweetie, how can I make you understand?" Why did he feel the sudden urge to justify his actions? Why didn’t he just end her life, then and there?

"Just try."

Her voice was so sweet, so trusting. How could he have corrupted such an innocent person?

"Sweetie, I can’t."

His head began to ache. It was just like the last time that he had done this; her innocence had corrupted him so much that he almost couldn’t do it.

 

An eleven-year-old Ginny looked up at her surroundings groggily. The floor beneath her was hard and cold. She felt a pebble digging into her back.

"Where am I?" she asked.

Tom looked down at her, amazed that she was still conscious. "Ginny?" he asked.

"Tom? I thought you lived in the diary."

"I did. But you brought me back."

He thought it easiest to stay as close to the facts as possible.

"I brought you back?" A happy smile made its way onto her face. "Tom, that’s great! Now you can come to school with me!"

There it was again. The guilt that kept creeping up on him. He hated the feeling. It had never bothered him before; it had only begun with this little redheaded child.

"Tom?" she asked softly.

That voice, why did it have to be so innocent? Why did she have to be so trusting? It would have been so much easier to kill her if she had been hateful and manipulative.

"Tom?" she asked again.

He took a deep shuddering breath. He would do it now, before her naiveté poisoned him further. With his wand in one hand, he advanced towards her, grinning.

"Tom…" she whispered. She didn’t get a chance to go any further. With one wave of his wand, he drained her of her remaining energy. It glowed with an eerie golden light as it descended into him.

Ginny slumped onto the floor, unconscious.

And that was how Harry found her, when he had rushed in minutes later.

 

He had managed to overcome it last time; he would do it again.

Sometime, in the past few minutes while he had been battling with himself, he had loosened his hold on Ginny and she had fallen to the ground. Now, her blood spread onto the snow, staining it with crimson.

As he knelt down beside her, she winced with pain.

"Sweetie, I’m going to have to kill you."

"Good."

"What?"

"Put me out of my suffering, my misery. I asked you ages ago to kill me. You said you wouldn’t then. But I promised myself I’d make you do it somehow, sometime. And now, you’re going to."

Tom cursed himself inwardly. How could he have let himself get manipulated by her? "I won’t kill you then."

She laughed, but her laughter turned into a hacking cough. When she finally caught her breath again, there were spots of blood by her mouth.

"You can’t stop it. You’ve already killed me, in a way. There’s no way I can live through this. The wound’s too deep." Even in death, her eyes managed to twinkle. "There’s no denying it, Tom. I’ve tricked you and you don’t like it one bit."

Tom closed his eyes and rubbed at them with his hands. She was right; every word she spoke was the truth.

"But you know," she continued, "even after you’ve done all that – you did what I wanted by killing me, but you did it for your own reasons, not for me – I still love you. At least, I think I do. I’m somewhat obsessed with you, anyway."

He bent over and kissed her, hard. He hated her for being so forgiving.

"Bye Tom," she said softly as she broke away. "Remember me."

She went limp in his arms and he knew all the life had gone out of her.

He felt strangely empty. There was an ache in his heart that hadn’t been there before. Maybe he did love her, with a strange sort of obsessive love.

Not that any of that really mattered anymore. She had given him a body, and he was grateful for it.

But he would do something for her. Reaching into his robes, he picked out his diary, which he had pocketed back in the dorm. Muttering words, he waved his wand, thinking pictures in his head.

He thought of Ginny, with her fiery hair and her luminous eyes, with her innocence and her jealousy and her radiant spirit. He thought of her forgiving nature, her clever tricks, and the way she blushed every time he kissed her. And most of all, he thought of how she had loved him like no one else.

As he thought, a dazzling light poured from both his wand and her body into the tiny diary. It shook with all the power it was now holding, then fell to the snow with a thump.

Picking it up, he inscribed something on the first page with his wand.

Here lies the spirit of Ginny Beth Weasley

And then he pocketed it and walked away, into the black and shadowy night.

 

As the sun rose over Hogwarts, the only evidence of a death was the three drops of red blood on the snow.

The body had disappeared.