Much thanks to my beta, Empress Malfoy!
Ginny walked slowly through the slick floors that had appeared to her in dreams so many times before. Slime covered the walls and if one looked past that pipe, there would be a snake skin, shed by what must have been an unusually large snake. She felt nervous, but she had been here so many times that it almost felt like home.
There he was again. Tom Riddle, bane of her existence and he who troubled her every thought, was leaning against a pillar in the Chamber of Secrets.
“Ginny, darling,” he drawled, “can’t we just talk?” He smiled, and it was very handsome indeed, and Ginny was feeling fairly trusting. Tom sauntered towards her, finally standing very near her body. He grasped a strand of her red hair and twirled it between his fingers. “Always loved the hair, Gin,” he murmured.
She simply stood, slightly shaking. Even though he was only playing with her hair, she felt somehow violated. Ginny felt hatred like no other for him, yet he was somehow allowed to stroke her hair—she was far too terrified to fight back. He met her eyes, his face an inch away from hers. His lovely brow was wrinkled.
“Darling, are you frightened?”
She shook her head slowly, mesmerized by his hypnotic turquoise eyes. He smirked.
“That’s my girl.”
He leaned in, breathing softly on her neck. Ginny thought she might pass out with the strange combination of emotions she was feeling—lust, suspicion, anger, and deep, deep anxiety. Her eyelids fluttered, and with that, he plunged the dagger into her chest. She left out a gentle gasp, falling. He held her close and twisted it a little deeper. As Ginny’s form fell to the ground, Tom spat on her. His lips twisted into what could have been considered a grin.
“You’re mine, Ginevra.”
Ginny woke with a gasp, frantically patting her chest. She looked down—no blood, no dagger, no Tom. Still breathing quite heavily, she leaned back against her pillow and curled into a ball. This was the third dream—no, nightmare this week. Ginny fell asleep quickly after, forgetting about the dream, just as she had the ones before it. Nonetheless, spellbinding eyes and gruesome daggers disturbed her with each blink of an eye.
Someone was shaking her. Ginny slowly opened an eyelid and, from her position on her stomach, looked up at the culprit. Annabelle Marquis was an overachiever that seemed to be competing for Hermione Granger’s legacy, as far as being a goodie-two-shoes was concerned.
“Weasley, you need to wake up.”
Shifting her head into her pillow, Ginny moaned.
“We’ll lose house points, Ginevra.” At that note, she opted to awaken, if only to make Annabelle annoy someone elsewhere. Ginny tumbled out of bed, giving her a glare.
“Happy now?” Ginny asked with a scowl.
Annabelle gave her a tight smile. “That’s my girl.”
Ginny’s back stiffened, and her eyes darted toward Annabelle, who was straightening her tie. Why had that phrase given her such a chill?
“What did you just say?”
She rolled her eyes. “Blimey, Ginny, you’re the crankiest, weirdest person in the morning I’ve ever known since Seamus Finnegan.”
Ginny muttered an apology.
“No matter, I’m very accepting. Oh, and your friend Loony—I mean, Luna, her owl kept pecking me this morning with a message for you.” She practically chucked the rolled-up parchment at Ginny. “I am going to breakfast, you may follow.” Annabelle turned up her nose and strode out the door.
Ginny was bewildered, but didn’t think much of it. Unrolling the mail, she read the message.
Meet me in the library before breakfast. Need to tell you something.
-Luna
She stuffed the note in her pocket and hastily put on her clothes, brushed her teeth and hair, and walked out of the dormitory, where her boyfriend Dean Thomas was waiting for her.
He smiled. “Fancy seeing you here!” He kissed her cheek and held her hand, bouncing it around. “Are we going to breakfast or not?”
Ginny couldn’t help but grin. That was the general effect Dean had on her. He was sweet, and it was admittedly nice to have a companion, someone expected to put his arms around her shoulders and be hers.
As they walked to the Common Room, Dean was distracted by Seamus, who simply insisted on showing him something or another, and Ginny was left to walk to breakfast by herself.
She clutched her satchel, pretending it was a shield against whatever seemed to be troubling her subconscious. She could have sworn that a big, black shape seemed to be following her. Ginny checked behind and saw nothing, but she could feel a presence. Whether it was her overactive imagination or a shadowy stalker, whatever it was made her walk so quickly that she almost ran over someone. That someone happened to drop their books. She knelt down to help when she noticed silvery blond hair. Bollocks.
“Watch where you’re going, Weasley. Or should I say Virginia?”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “My name’s not Virginia, you idiot. It’s Ginevra, actually.”
Malfoy shrugged. “Same difference. Filth like you doesn’t deserve a name anyway.”
Like a true Weasley, Ginny acted before she thought about it later. She punched Malfoy on the arm. Hard.
“Fuck!” He rubbed his bicep. “You’ve got a sharp jab, Weasley. Better than your brother’s, anyway. But then again, I think that plant over there could fight better than him.”
She sighed. “You’re just bitter about your old man being thrown in Azkaban. How’s that going, by the way? Has he gone mad yet?”
Malfoy stopped what he was doing and looked her squarely in her eyes. “Don’t you say a bloody word about my family, Weasley. Not a word.”
“Aww, is somebody touchy?” And before they could get into a full-fledged fist fight, she started to leave.
There was a silent sort of fury on his face that seemed to scream, ‘How dare you leave me!’ “Darling,” he said with an icy sarcasm, “can’t we just talk?”
Ginny dropped her satchel. She turned around quickly and stared at him, clearly in a sort of trance. He shook his hand around several times.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Weasley? You’re acting like you did when you were strangling those bloody chickens. By the way, think you could show me the Chamber of Secrets someday? I’d love to take a trip.”
She turned sharply around. “How did you know about that?”
Malfoy shrugged. “Father knows best. He told me you’re the one you attacked all those people. I guess that’s why you put him away—hey, where are you going?”
Whatever Draco (or his father, for that matter) was saying didn’t matter to Ginny at that moment. She finally realized what was happening. Tom Riddle was back in her life. She walked away purposely, a goal in mind, knowing she had to investigate him once more. Why was he haunting her again? Was there some sort of connection that she didn’t know about?
Her pace sped up, and soon enough, she arrived in the library. Luna was sitting alone in a table towards the back, an uncommonly solemn look on her face. Ginny took a seat.
“What’s wrong, Luna?”
“I dreamt of my mother last night.”
Ginny gave a sympathetic glance. She covered Luna’s hand with her own.
“That’s not it.” Luna’s spooky, light blue eyes met hers. “You were in it. I mean, not directly, but there was this man. Our age, extraordinarily handsome, but there was something…off about him. And he—he kept saying these nasty, awful things about you, Ginny, but he said that you were the key. He kept mentioning the Chamber of Secrets. It’s all fuzzy, I can’t remember much.”
Ginny swallowed the overwhelming lump forming in her throat.
“His eyes…I remember his eyes in particular. They were this peculiar blue-green color, and they just oozed of power. He scared me so much…do you know him, Ginny? Who is that awful man? I mean, he accused you of my mother’s death, which can’t be true…what’s going on, Ginny?”
She licked her lips. “There is something I need to tell you, Luna.”
Ginny walked slowly through the slick floors that had appeared to her in dreams so many times before. Slime covered the walls and if one looked past that pipe, there would be a snake skin, shed by what must have been an unusually large snake. She felt nervous, but she had been here so many times that it almost felt like home.
There he was again. Tom Riddle, bane of her existence and he who troubled her every thought, was leaning against a pillar in the Chamber of Secrets.
“Ginny, darling,” he drawled, “can’t we just talk?” He smiled, and it was very handsome indeed, and Ginny was feeling fairly trusting. Tom sauntered towards her, finally standing very near her body. He grasped a strand of her red hair and twirled it between his fingers. “Always loved the hair, Gin,” he murmured.
She simply stood, slightly shaking. Even though he was only playing with her hair, she felt somehow violated. Ginny felt hatred like no other for him, yet he was somehow allowed to stroke her hair—she was far too terrified to fight back. He met her eyes, his face an inch away from hers. His lovely brow was wrinkled.
“Darling, are you frightened?”
She shook her head slowly, mesmerized by his hypnotic turquoise eyes. He smirked.
“That’s my girl.”
He leaned in, breathing softly on her neck. Ginny thought she might pass out with the strange combination of emotions she was feeling—lust, suspicion, anger, and deep, deep anxiety. Her eyelids fluttered, and with that, he plunged the dagger into her chest. She left out a gentle gasp, falling. He held her close and twisted it a little deeper. As Ginny’s form fell to the ground, Tom spat on her. His lips twisted into what could have been considered a grin.
“You’re mine, Ginevra.”
Ginny woke with a gasp, frantically patting her chest. She looked down—no blood, no dagger, no Tom. Still breathing quite heavily, she leaned back against her pillow and curled into a ball. This was the third dream—no, nightmare this week. Ginny fell asleep quickly after, forgetting about the dream, just as she had the ones before it. Nonetheless, spellbinding eyes and gruesome daggers disturbed her with each blink of an eye.
Someone was shaking her. Ginny slowly opened an eyelid and, from her position on her stomach, looked up at the culprit. Annabelle Marquis was an overachiever that seemed to be competing for Hermione Granger’s legacy, as far as being a goodie-two-shoes was concerned.
“Weasley, you need to wake up.”
Shifting her head into her pillow, Ginny moaned.
“We’ll lose house points, Ginevra.” At that note, she opted to awaken, if only to make Annabelle annoy someone elsewhere. Ginny tumbled out of bed, giving her a glare.
“Happy now?” Ginny asked with a scowl.
Annabelle gave her a tight smile. “That’s my girl.”
Ginny’s back stiffened, and her eyes darted toward Annabelle, who was straightening her tie. Why had that phrase given her such a chill?
“What did you just say?”
She rolled her eyes. “Blimey, Ginny, you’re the crankiest, weirdest person in the morning I’ve ever known since Seamus Finnegan.”
Ginny muttered an apology.
“No matter, I’m very accepting. Oh, and your friend Loony—I mean, Luna, her owl kept pecking me this morning with a message for you.” She practically chucked the rolled-up parchment at Ginny. “I am going to breakfast, you may follow.” Annabelle turned up her nose and strode out the door.
Ginny was bewildered, but didn’t think much of it. Unrolling the mail, she read the message.
Meet me in the library before breakfast. Need to tell you something.
-Luna
She stuffed the note in her pocket and hastily put on her clothes, brushed her teeth and hair, and walked out of the dormitory, where her boyfriend Dean Thomas was waiting for her.
He smiled. “Fancy seeing you here!” He kissed her cheek and held her hand, bouncing it around. “Are we going to breakfast or not?”
Ginny couldn’t help but grin. That was the general effect Dean had on her. He was sweet, and it was admittedly nice to have a companion, someone expected to put his arms around her shoulders and be hers.
As they walked to the Common Room, Dean was distracted by Seamus, who simply insisted on showing him something or another, and Ginny was left to walk to breakfast by herself.
She clutched her satchel, pretending it was a shield against whatever seemed to be troubling her subconscious. She could have sworn that a big, black shape seemed to be following her. Ginny checked behind and saw nothing, but she could feel a presence. Whether it was her overactive imagination or a shadowy stalker, whatever it was made her walk so quickly that she almost ran over someone. That someone happened to drop their books. She knelt down to help when she noticed silvery blond hair. Bollocks.
“Watch where you’re going, Weasley. Or should I say Virginia?”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “My name’s not Virginia, you idiot. It’s Ginevra, actually.”
Malfoy shrugged. “Same difference. Filth like you doesn’t deserve a name anyway.”
Like a true Weasley, Ginny acted before she thought about it later. She punched Malfoy on the arm. Hard.
“Fuck!” He rubbed his bicep. “You’ve got a sharp jab, Weasley. Better than your brother’s, anyway. But then again, I think that plant over there could fight better than him.”
She sighed. “You’re just bitter about your old man being thrown in Azkaban. How’s that going, by the way? Has he gone mad yet?”
Malfoy stopped what he was doing and looked her squarely in her eyes. “Don’t you say a bloody word about my family, Weasley. Not a word.”
“Aww, is somebody touchy?” And before they could get into a full-fledged fist fight, she started to leave.
There was a silent sort of fury on his face that seemed to scream, ‘How dare you leave me!’ “Darling,” he said with an icy sarcasm, “can’t we just talk?”
Ginny dropped her satchel. She turned around quickly and stared at him, clearly in a sort of trance. He shook his hand around several times.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Weasley? You’re acting like you did when you were strangling those bloody chickens. By the way, think you could show me the Chamber of Secrets someday? I’d love to take a trip.”
She turned sharply around. “How did you know about that?”
Malfoy shrugged. “Father knows best. He told me you’re the one you attacked all those people. I guess that’s why you put him away—hey, where are you going?”
Whatever Draco (or his father, for that matter) was saying didn’t matter to Ginny at that moment. She finally realized what was happening. Tom Riddle was back in her life. She walked away purposely, a goal in mind, knowing she had to investigate him once more. Why was he haunting her again? Was there some sort of connection that she didn’t know about?
Her pace sped up, and soon enough, she arrived in the library. Luna was sitting alone in a table towards the back, an uncommonly solemn look on her face. Ginny took a seat.
“What’s wrong, Luna?”
“I dreamt of my mother last night.”
Ginny gave a sympathetic glance. She covered Luna’s hand with her own.
“That’s not it.” Luna’s spooky, light blue eyes met hers. “You were in it. I mean, not directly, but there was this man. Our age, extraordinarily handsome, but there was something…off about him. And he—he kept saying these nasty, awful things about you, Ginny, but he said that you were the key. He kept mentioning the Chamber of Secrets. It’s all fuzzy, I can’t remember much.”
Ginny swallowed the overwhelming lump forming in her throat.
“His eyes…I remember his eyes in particular. They were this peculiar blue-green color, and they just oozed of power. He scared me so much…do you know him, Ginny? Who is that awful man? I mean, he accused you of my mother’s death, which can’t be true…what’s going on, Ginny?”
She licked her lips. “There is something I need to tell you, Luna.”
Leave a Review