Over My Head

Chapter 8: Killer in Me

"The trick is to keep breathing"-Garbage

The first dim streaks of morning light came through the curtains and had me running.

I hadn't meant to fall asleep in Blaise's room, but somehow it had happened. So when I woke up, I ran. I ran back into my dorm and closed the door as fast as I could. I peered into Hermione's room and found that she was, blissfully, still asleep. Collapsing on my bed, I stared at the clock, trying to force my mind to make sense of the numbers on it as a memory of a dream began to flash in my head.

"Hallo Ginny."

"Tom. What are you doing here?"

Eventually I figured out that it was around five in the morning. I tore off my clothes and pulled one of my bigger shirts over my head, but just as I was falling back into bed, Hermione entered.

The basilisk's skeleton was half in, half out of the water. Its flesh had been rotting away for five years, and there was not much left...

"Ginny," she whispered frantically, running to me. "Ginny, are you up?"

"Really wishing I weren't, but yeah..."

"You're really just like him, you know," Tom Riddle whispered in his trademark deadly whisper.

"You mean Salazar Slytherin?"

"You were in the dream, right? I mean, you were there with me, in that big room with the statues...I think it was the chamber where you...Ginny?"

"I'm gaining lucidity every second."

"You killed me, Ginny."

"You're full of shit, Tom."

"Oh that's right. You still think that Harry killed me, don't you?" His little grin of menace...the slightest hint of something similar to sorrow. "But you killed me. Every day you kill me. All because you won't admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That you love me."

"Ginny, where was that? Was that the Chamber? Was that the Chamber of Secrets?" Her face swam into view again, close to mine, with a worried expression etched on it.

"Yes. That dream, or vision, or whatever the hell it was, was in the Chamber of Secrets."

"Love you? How could I ever love you? Kill you, I could do. But I could never love you. Just as I could never truly hate you either."

"You loved me once. You thought you did anyway. And you see Salazar here? He loved a certain Miss Ravenclaw. He loved her, and he killed her."

"I don't understand what it meant," Hermione said, her hands on my shoulders, staring intently into my eyes. "You have to explain it to me. Please."

"What did you see? Did you see all of the dream?" The thought occurred that I might want to tell her I had just come from Blaise's room. The further thought occurred that I was quite possibly insane.

"I saw all of it. What was he talking about?" Her hands dropped from my shoulders suddenly, and her eyes dropped from my face. "You're going to have to tell me about what happened that year. What went on between you and Tom Riddle. I think you're going to have to tell me everything that I don't already know. Whatever it is..." She looked back up at me again. "Whatever it is that you've been hiding all this time."

"Well you have to understand, I was only twelve-"

"I thought you were eleven."

"No, actually. Twelve. Ron was thirteen."

"I never knew..."

"Oh, it was just mum, wanted to keep us at home an extra year, you know..."

"I suppose." A clouded look overcame her eyes for a brief second. "Well, you should continue now."

"Right. I was twelve. And he was a boy. And...erm...yes..."

"Still working on that lucidity thing?"

"A little bit." I leaned back and closed my eyes once more.

"Ginny, please."

"I've never told anyone the things that I keep finding myself telling you."

"Maybe you should have told someone before."

"Or maybe I shouldn't tell you at all. There's a reason that no one's ever been close to me, Hermione. There's a reason I've never let anyone."

"You can't stay so alone forever. Nobody can."

"Watch me." I turned over, away from her.

"Why? Why haven't you ever told anyone about these things? About Lucius Malfoy...about Tom Riddle. Why have you kept it within you?"

"It's volatile. Most people couldn't handle it."

"I'm not most people." I turned around again, stared at her for a moment. I could see in her eyes that there was something more than her thirst for knowledge which drove her on. "It's important that you tell me. I need to know. Whatever it is, I know that I can handle it."

"Just like you could handle it last night." I stood up and moved away from her. "You already know so much more about me than anyone ever has...fine. You want to know, I'll tell you."

"I do."

"I was young." I took a breath, hoping she might change her mind at the last minute. "I had a crush on Luna Lovegood. I couldn't really recognize it as a crush at the time, but I knew she made my stomach feel strange. And my instincts told me that girls weren't supposed to make me feel that way. So the first time I saw Tom, I decided that I could learn to love him. I thought that maybe that would make things better. In retrospect, I could have avoided a lot of trouble by just asking Luna out." Hermione giggled a little bit, allowing me to smile. "So obviously, that choice didn't go so well. He was very convincing, you know." I walked over to my closet, ran my hand over the wood. "I'd been talking to him through the diary for a while before he actually showed himself to me." Another pause. I turned back to her. "He explained to me that my hero-worship of Harry was a good thing. That if I kept it up, no one would know about how I felt about Luna. He clarified for me that I shouldn't have felt that about her." I glanced at the floor for a moment, closing my eyes. "When he became more solid, he kissed me once. I remember being surprised that it didn't do anything to my stomach."

"Your liking Luna...is that why you tore Harry's dorm apart?"

"Bravo."

"You...you said it was because you didn't want Harry to know you liked him. You told me that for years."

"What was I supposed to say? That I didn't want my friend who lived in a diary to divulge the fact that I wanted to shag girls? I was twelve." I opened my eyes for a moment to see her expression. Her face was blank.

"You keep reasserting that you were twelve."

"Well...it's just that...he brainwashed me. It's not my favorite memory."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not my least favorite, actually. Funny thing about encounters with Lucius Malfoy..."

"Oh god...he gave you the diary..."

"Yes he did. He's got this thing with off-handedly destroying my shreds of sanity."

"I'm so sorry, Ginny."

"Don't be. It's not all that important anymore." I looked up at her again. "I learned a long time ago not to dwell on things you can't change."

"Why did he say that you were like Salazar Slytherin?"

"I suppose he meant my tendency to go off on a murderous rampage through randomly selected villages, all the while wishing I could knock off my ex-girlfriend."

"What?" Her face turned to horror.

"There's a little thing called humor, Herm. You might want to try it some time." I opened up my closest and selected a pair of pants for the day. Not that it really mattered. There wasn't much a selection. My wardrobe was entirely black and skin-tight. I was really just choosing between leather and regular.

"I should get dressed..."

"Why bother? It's only five thirty." I pulled on the pants and began rifling through the school robes' half of the closet.

"Then why are you dressing?"

"For one, I know I won't be able to get back to sleep." I took off my shirt and put on the school vest." "Plus, I think I want to finish breakfast today before the crowds stream in." I slipped into the robes, then stood, staring into the space they left in the closet. "You see, I like the quiet."

"You never wear the skirt, do you?" I turned back around to face her.

"No. I haven't worn it in a while. I don't wear skirts."

"My mother liked skirts. She didn't wear them very often because she said they were impractical, but she loved them." Her far-off look was returning slowly. "My parents used to go to dances on Saturday nights."

Without thinking about it, I reached my left hand toward my desk, and willed my wand into it. Within a second, I was holding it. I looked into my hand, then back to the desk. I hadn't said anything at all...

"Dear god," I whispered. Hermione stared up at me, pulled out of her reverie.

"You have powers, forces within you that you've never even noticed before." He smiled. "But your time is coming, and you will see them."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You'll understand when you need to."

"Oh lord," Hermione cried, getting up from my bed and coming over to me. "Did you...did you say anything just now?"

"Not a thing."

"And you didn't have your wand?"

"No."

"Oh my. Ginny-"

I heard a tap at the window. We both looked over and saw an owl, banging it's beak against the glass. Hermione ran over to let it in.

"Hallo," I said as it dropped a letter on the floor and flew out again. "Well that was lovely. Wonder why it didn't stay any longer." I leaned over and picked up the letter. It was from my father. I scanned it quickly, not truly caring.

"Who is it from? What does it say?"

"It's from my father." I looked it over again, just to be certain. "It says that Dumbledore wrote him about my possibly having demon heritage, and that I shouldn't worry about it because there are no demons in the family. Oh, and to say 'hi' to Ron."

"Well that's good, isn't it?"

"I suppose."

***

I sat in the Great Hall, blissfully and completely alone. I wasn't extraordinarily hungry, but I had fun willing things toward me. I also began to try to will them away, but unfortunately I was only able to will the top of the pumpkin juice pitcher away from me, causing its contents to spill all over the table.

"There are things coming that you'll never forget."

Tom had always enjoyed being cryptic. He told me once that he liked to watch people squirm under his gaze. He said that it was comforting.

"He loved her, and he killed her. He killed her because he loved her. In the end, she was the only thing left within him that still resembled humanity."

As I was about to go back to my dorm, the second owl of the morning dropped a letter on my plate. It was from my mother.

***

"Hermione," I said as I entered her room.

"Hey Gin. I was just doing some-"

"Homework?"

"Yes." She looked up from her desk, straight at me. "Did you get another letter?"

"This one's from Mum."

"What does it say?"

"A lot of things. Can I sit down?" She nodded, and I walked over to her bed, where I remained standing. "You know, some information you'd assume would be considered vital to a person's existence. You'd think that maybe someone, somewhere along the line would tell you. But no. You see, that might actually make sense."

"May I see it?" She stood up and took the letter out of my hands.

"It isn't even that big of a thing. It's just...it would have been nice to know."

"You will come to see things you never wished to know..."

"'Dear Virginia, I am sorry to tell you that your father's previous letter is incorrect.' She sounds rather odd, don't you think? She doesn't usually speak so precisely."

"Read on."

"Oh my," Hermione whispered as her eyes traveled down the page.

"That's right. I'm not a Weasley. I'm not even human. If you notice, she also asks me to say hello to Ron."

"Fucking hell..."

***

Friday night. Days later, and I still hadn't processed my mother's letter. Nor had I replied, so I certain that she would swoop down upon the school any second. So naturally, I decided to stay out of the school. Having beheaded all of the vampires I'd found on the campus, I decided to check Hogsmeade.

The town was anything but quiet. There were drunken boys from school running across the street, playing some sort of tag game. I noticed that they were mostly Gryffindors. One Ravenclaw, who ran into me and tried to take my shirt off. His suddenly broken nose seemed to scare the rest of them away from me.

It was dark out. There were candles in most of the windows, and the early December cold had frosted the glass. I noticed that the club I'd gone to with Hermione had no windows and only one door, on the side. Somehow, I'd never truly seen this before.

For a moment, I stared into the Three Broomsticks. Everyone inside was smiling and laughing...I envied them more than I could ever say.

I walked on. I passed my former yoga building. Former because the teacher had run out of town two days before, with no explanation and no warning. Not that it mattered much. I wouldn't have had time for the class anymore anyway. In fact, the next day I was going to hand in my resignation at Hogshead.

"Weasley!" I winced, despite it being Draco's voice that was following me.

"Draco," I reply softly, turning around to face him.

"You alright, pet?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as he came up beside me.

"I'm fine. Just...family issues."

"That thing with your dad not being your dad?" I looked up at him, surprised.

"How do you know about that?"

"Well, I am God, after all. I have to know these things." I began to walk again, and he followed me. "Yes, I am the god of overhearing you and Hermione talking."

"How wonderful."

"I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be."

"Actually, to tell you the truth, I don't think I really am." I stopped to look at him. "Oh, come one. In my situation, would you be truly sorry?"

"Fair enough." I began to walk again, heading slowly toward the Shrieking Shack.

"But...er...if you want, we could talk about it or something. Blaise said that most girls like to talk about things that upset them."

"Since when am I among the group of 'most girls'?"

"I'll take that as a 'no thanks" then." He considered a moment before continuing, "Is that all that's wrong?"

"Well, I'm a little perturbed about Hati leaving so quickly."

"Hati was the person who taught that class you took, right?"

"Yes."

"I never was clear on why you took it in the first place. Or what it was, really."

"It was just a thing. It was all about keeping your inner cool, your inner peace. Handling your emotions well. I'm not a fan of emotions."

"I noticed."

I turned around to look at him again.

"Draco, you might want to go."

"Why?"

"Because I'm doing this thing...and I don't think you want to know about it." I stopped talking a moment and closed my eyes. "If I promise to tell you later, will you go?"

I felt his eyes on me, watching as I breathed in and out, with no idea that I was wondering what my father looked like.

"Of course," he replied softly, as if he had some external knowledge which enabled him to understand to some degree what I was feeling. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yes," I whispered, listening as he walked away.

There was one vampire at the Shrieking Shack. He seemed to be waiting for something, and he was facing the other way when I came up and killed him. Somehow, it seemed like such a small, normal thing to do this. After all, he was just another demon, another monster, another bump in the night.

I leaned against the rail he had previously occupied, curious as to what my father did to make a living, what his hobbies were...whether he was even still alive.

In my dream, Tom had told me that a demon had defeated Salazar Slytherin. He said that the other three founders had come together to harness an ancient, potent power. He said the demon was the only one strong enough to hold it within, and that it died defeating Slytherin.

"They performed the ritual sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"

"The sacrifice of something pure born of something evil. It came in the form of Slytherin's own daughter."

I wondered for a moment whether my father's blood was red. Mine was, but I figured that was no way to tell. My mother had written in her letter that she had done certain spells to keep from discovering my heritage, my nature. I thought that she might have somehow hidden the color of my own blood from me.

I looked up at the stars, thinking that maybe Hermione had a point about them. Space was so vast, meaningless and endless. I'd been told since I was child that God looked down from there, looked over all beings and all that happened on earth, and that death was not a real thing, because it only meant moving on to your eternal life. But I'd also been told that monsters weren't real, and that I certainly wasn't one of them.

In the end, I knew that nothing was sacred. It had been years since I had thought about God with complete, unquestionable faith. It had been a while since I had believed in an all-powerful being at all.

I suppose Hermione was simply more curious about things than I was. I had wondered, in passing, a few times about the meaning of existence. Maybe it was just because of the loss of her parents that she was interested. Of course, maybe her interest was nothing more than incoherent ramblings. I don't know why, but for some reason I refused to believe that.

I hadn't been leaning against the fence for long when I heard something behind me. Turning around, I saw my favorite surprise of the week.

"Professor Lupin?"