Wanting It

Wanting It

A figment of imagination, a ghost of a young man with dark hair and handsome, classically cut features strolled through the arbor, enjoying the freedom of a warm summer day. As he walked, he caught sight of another, close by and coming closer. It was a young woman, no more than twenty years old, carrying a bundle of orange blossoms and a battered and ruined black book. The figure was familiar to him from a haunting, desperate memory that he could not quite grasp and he followed her, wanting to know more, wanting just to be close to her. She didn't see him, but he watched her attentively and as he watched, the young redheaded woman knelt in the freshly cut grass beneath one of the many large, stately maple trees. Her white linen sundress billowed softly around her, teased by the gentle summer breeze and nothing he had ever seen had ever looked more beautiful. The mound of earth she knelt beside was quickly covering with grass, but he could still tell it was a grave. A secret unmarked grave, just like the man to whom it belonged. She alone knew who's it was, for she alone had carried him here to rest. He knew now who this young woman was and wondered that he could ever possibly forget her. As she rested the fragrant, graceful orange blossoms against the sturdy trunk of the tree, she began to cry. The memory that had previously been unattainable suddenly flashed through his brain like a lightning bolt, jolting his senses and making him want to scream out against the injustice of it all.

~&~

She came here every day, and everyday she cried. Her tears poured out onto the newly seeded mound uncontrollably and she thought bitterly about the irony of her tears watering the grass that grew over the grave she didn't want to be there. Why did it have to be him? It was a question that she asked herself repeatedly. For his death there was only rejoicing and celebration. There had been no one there, save her, when he drew his last breath and her name was the last word uttered from his lips. They had decided the Killing Curse was too good for him. They had to make his death slow and painful. Oh, how she hated them, all of them. They had taken away the one good thing in her life, the only person who had ever brought her joy. The person who had been her light, leading her path and her heart. It was strange that someone that everyone said was so dark had been such a constant source of light for her. She was the only one who saw that inner light that shone so brightly. Others looked at him and saw only darkness and evil, but she saw him as he truly was. Brilliant.

~&~

His heart ached as he saw her crying. He had done this to her, caused her so much pain. He wanted to go to her and hold her in his arms, but that was not possible. They were separated now by more than family, names, and alliances. She was everything to him, from the first time he had ever met her. It was not by chance that she had been given his diary. He saw something in her that everyone else refused to see. To them, she was a naïve little girl. How could they not see this beautiful, intelligent, powerful young woman? She had so much grac and presence that his heart stopped every time she walked into a room. How could they be so blind? Why couldn't they see what was so plainly obvious? That was why she had come to him. They had both been placed in a world they didn't belong in.

~&~

Finally, her sobbing ceased and she sat quietly, thinking about him, absentmindedly turning the blank pages of the book she carried. The book that had brought her to him. Life had cut him such a raw deal; it was no wonder things had happened this way. She couldn't honestly say that she wouldn't have done the same in his place. He was so ambitious, so full of dreams and hopes. Where did it all go wrong? It had felt so right to her, but they all told her it was wrong. Who were they to judge? They had committed just as many sins. He had been born into a world that didn't want him from the very beginning. Muggles and wizards alike shunned him. Muggles hated him for his strange differences and the abilities that they didn't understand. And wizards hated him for his impure blood and dark heritage. He could not win this battle. So he had set about creating his own world, and he had brought her along, knowing that they were two of a feather. He knew her better than anyone, perhaps better than she knew herself. He had taught her things and shown her things that others could only imagine. He had loved her and accepted her just as she was. That was all he really wanted in the first place. He had been a young boy yearning for love and acceptance and he had been a man yearning for those same things. He was only human, despite their beliefs to the contrary.

~&~

She had given him so much and he had wronged her so badly. Where did this all go wrong? He had begun just wanting to create a place for himself and her, but somehow it had morphed into a quest for power and control and a thirst for revenge on those that had shunned him. When had he learned to hate so violently? He gazed at her longingly, though she still did not see him. She was the only one who understood him, the only one who loved and accepted him immediately, without conditions. That was one of the hardest lessons life had ever taught him. Everyone has an angle, even when it comes to love. Everyone but her. She had reciprocated his love before she even learned what love really was. He longed to teach this particular subject and she was his best pupil, his only pupil. Her youth, exuberance, and ambition had matched his own when they first met and had refreshed and enlivened him when they met again. She was like no one he had ever met before. She never did anything in half-measure and he admired her for that. For them, it was all or nothing and he was grateful that she had chosen all. He wished he could go back in time to the time they first met and maybe things would be different. Maybe there would be no Dark Lord. Maybe they would be together.

~&~

She missed him so much. She ached for the nights they spent in each other's arms, before the Dark Lord had created this wicked world. She wished she could undo all of this and rebuild it into what he had originally wanted. It was never meant to be like this. It was supposed to be a world where everything was perfect. Where no one could bother them, where they could be free and happy. Somewhere over the rainbow. Somehow, along the way, things had gotten terribly mixed up and this was the result. She still loved him, she always would. She would never love anyone like that again, she couldn't. She wanted only to be with him again, to see him one more time. Everyone said it was no loss, it was better that he was gone. What did they know? They didn't know anything. They saw only Lord Voldemort. She saw only her Tom. She knew that somewhere underneath that evil and cruel exterior, there lurked the boy he once had been. She brought that out and helped that boy to grow, but it was too late. The damage had been done and not even he could undo this tangled web of lies and treachery. Why did it have to end this way? She wanted him. She wanted her Tom to come and take care of her and tell her everything would be all right. She wanted him with all of her heart and mind. She wanted to be with him again.

~&~

She began to cry again, and he unconsciously moved closer to where she was. The hot summer sun beat down, making his image nearly invisible save for the shadow on the ground. He could almost feel her touch, even from this far away. He felt his heart hitch in his chest and only just remembered that he was a ghost and couldn't feel things like that. He wanted to touch her and hold her. To twine his fingers in her mass of curly red hair and kiss her once more. He wanted to be sixteen again. He wanted to be Tom Riddle, not Lord Voldemort. Honestly, he didn't care who he was as long as he could be with her again. He stepped even closer to her.

~&~

Someone once said that in death we all take our true forms and that our spirits are truly revealed, for better or for worse. True love can cross all barriers. Perhaps the great magicians of the universe sometimes listen and take pity on us poor humans. Perhaps when you want something enough and someone else wants the same thing and you're both hoping and wishing with all you've got, it might actually happen.

~&~

Suddenly, someone appeared in front of her. She could just see the brown shoes through her tears. She wiped her eyes and they traveled upwards. Up and up they went, until they reached the one face she had wanted to see for so long. "Tom," she whispered, her breath catching in the back of her throat. She was imagining things. He was dead and he had died as Lord Voldemort, not as Tom Riddle. Yet, this man standing in front of her looked exactly as she had remembered her Tom to look.

He knelt next to her, amazed at what had just happened. "Ginny." He took her face in his hands and kissed her with all the passion he had. He drank her in like she was oxygen and she returned his kiss just as emotionally. They finally broke apart and just stared at each other, unwilling to look away in case this was a dream.

"What- how did this happen?" she asked, breathlessly, still staring into the depths of his dark eyes. She scanned his face, committing it to memory once more.

"I don't know. I just wanted to be with you and I was," he replied, just as breathless. He couldn't help it; he needed to touch her again. He cupped her chin in his hands and just gazed at her in wonder, still not believing that this was real.

She went to bring her hand up to his face and it brushed against something hard lying next to her. She reluctantly tore her eyes away from him and exclaimed, "The diary! We must have both been wanting it to happen at the same time." She held it up for him to see. He looked at it a moment and then burst into laughter. She smiled and threw her arms around him and they both tumbled to the ground, a tangled mess of arms, legs, hair, and laughter.

When their laughter was spent, Ginny lay on top of him, her arms still around him. She looked into his eyes and said, "I love you, Tom Riddle. I missed you so much."

He kissed her gently and replied, "I love you too, Ginny Weasley. And you'll never miss me again."