Hello! Just to quickly say there will be a character death in this and so if you hate that kind of thing turn and run. This fic is a bit dark as well to just let you know and it's not one of my best but I loved writing it.
When you find out you're dying, it comes as a bit of a shock to your system. I guess it's because nobody spends the day preparing to hear the news that they will die within three months. Especially when you've just spent a several years fighting off one of the darkest wizards in the world.
But Tom, being Tom had to make sure he had a hold of me even in his death.
I could never escape him.
I don't know what his obsession with me was. At first he had just been prying on an easy target, and easy I was. It took me what? A matter of days before I had poured my everything into that diary. Now I know that when people heard of what had happened to me they had scoffed and claimed that they would never have let that happen to them.
Well they obviously had never met Tom. He was someone you could never say no to, his charming words and winning smile had made sure of that.
He had made me feel special and loved and understood. Just as he had done to people like Bellatrix, fortunately for me, I had been stopped from loving Tom at exactly the right moment. I think, in fact I know, that if I had been left to carry on; whispering my heart out to him through the pages then I would probably have been so taken in by him that it would be me that looked at Tom with sickening adoration, stronger love for him than perhaps even Bellatrix.
But after a while I stopped becoming a target and instead became his toy, a toy that he held a very strong fascination and obsession for.
Because at night when I went to write in my diary, he stopped giving me advice and murmuring sympathetic words and instead starting asking questions. Questions about me. My likes, my dislikes, my hates, my hobbies, my type of music, my dress sense, what I looked like, who my friends were, what my friends were like, did I have a boyfriend, did I want a boyfriend, when my birthday was, who my parents were, did I have a pet, did I plan to get a pet, who my favourite teacher was, my favourite colour, my favourite book, my favourite author, the exact colour of my hair.
It probably seems as though he was just asking me those things to try and possess me, which he did manage. But it was more than that, because the words would arrive hungrily on the page. Asking me question after question.
He became angry at me for the love that even then I carried for Harry, and his hatred for Harry grew. At first he had just hated Harry for what he had managed to do, but through me he started to hate Harry for who he was.
For making me love him.
I remember the war, thinking that Harry had died was the most painful experience I'd ever been through. It was like a blow to the stomach and it a matter of seconds before I was bawling my eyes out. I refused to believe it, but when they carried his body into the hall. It was like a part of me had died.
But of course that part of me was resurrected when Harry threw off the act. But it did almost die again when Harry decided to duel Tom on his own.
I still haven't forgiven him for that.
But in that moment, in that spilt second before his death , Tom looked at me. Right in the eye.
And his own eyes glinted with the sadistic pleasure I had seen plastered on his face many times before.
In that moment, I think I knew it was over. I knew that he had done something and that I was to die. I knew it but refused to accept it. I didn't want to believe.
So I did what everyone else did. I celebrated, I laughed, I cried, I mourned, I kissed, I sung, I was happy.
But in literally weeks after, I felt the pain. The headaches in the morning and the constant dizziness. My bones began to ache, and it hurt to open my eyes. Sleep was peaceful and sleep was all I wanted to do.
I became so weak that I could barely lift my own arm up, so when I by accident knocked the glass to the floor it was a huge achievement.
Even more so when I found I was able to lean down out of bed and try to pick the glass up, only to feel a strong force push my hand towards a shard of glass and slice it along the edge, a faint pink line running across the palm of my right hand.
The blood began to run, except it wasn't blood anymore. It was ink.
Thick, black ink.
Ink that I would know anywhere. It was the ink from the diary. The ink that was Tom himself.
Lord Voldemort was running through my veins and that alone made me vomit.
Harry's eyes became worried. I hated that. For the briefest of moments his eyes were content. Those were the moments after the death of Tom, when the war was over and it seemed as if everything was tinted with a beautiful glow.
But when I started to get ill, when the poison had started to work its way through my body his eyes changed to ones that I had seen during the war. Worried.
Nobody knew what was wrong with me, the Healers at St Mungo's couldn't figure it out, because technically there was nothing wrong with me. There was nothing wrong with any of the tests that had been run, according to logic I was as healthy as ever.
But I wasn't. Because I had become thinner, losing weight every day no matter how much food they gave me. On some days my vision was awful and I was scared that I was going blind.
But I can still remember that day, that awful day.
Harry never left my bedside at St Mungo's. Maybe he went out when I was asleep, I don't know but every time I awoke he was there, gripping onto my hand or stroking my cheek tenderly. He never cried in my presence or gave me any indication that he was sad and upset and I knew he was trying to be strong for my sake and it made me love him even more.
And so, when I awoke, there he was smiling gently at me, his hand playing with strands of, what I was sure was my greasy hair.
He showed me the flowers that Luna had bought for me, grown from her own garden. The flowers were, for Luna, incredibly normal. They were beautiful and exotic and I loved them. I tried to smile but it hurt the muscles in my face and I reluctantly stopped. A tear fell down my cheek and my shoulders slumped in defeat.
I was done.
I was done trying. I closed my eyes against the light and felt as Harry moved beside me. His hand slid down to my cheek and then down my neck, his fingers searched for the spot just below my ear where I knew my pulse point was.
I sighed softly and opened my eyes to see Harry leaning his forehead against mine, so gently that I could barely feel it.
He brushed his lips against mine, not waiting for my reaction, as he knew I couldn't give one.
"It'll all be okay love," he whispered "It'll all be okay,"
My doctor, Healer Jackson, cleared his throat awkwardly and Harry snapped away from me and back into the chair at the side of my bed.
"Ginerva, how are you feeling?" he asked me, his eyes running over my face and arms which were exposed.
I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of the question and Harry chuckled next to me.
"Like poo," I whispered and the doctor nodded almost sadly.
"Ginny I'm afraid I have some bad news," he began, taking a deep breath and looking up from the clipboard he was gripping onto tightly.
"We can't figure out what it is that currently has such a tight hold over your immune system, and well, your whole body. According to our stats you are in perfect health. Except you're obviously not. So we went back to basics and did the run again and came up with some more figures." He paused here and took a deep breath before continuing, his eyes flickering anxiously to Harry. "We believe that unless this, whatever it is, that is poisoning you so bad lets go of your body and you make a miraculous recovery within two weeks, you will, um, pass away within the next three months," he finished off bluntly, with a sudden fascination with the cards and chocolates at the foot of my bed.
"No." Harry said harshly after a few seconds of silence.
"I'm sorry?" Healer Jackson asked.
"I said no," Harry repeated his eyes flashing dangerously and I let my shoulders slump back into the pillows as Harry started to shout at the doctor.
"Outside Mr Potter," Healer Jackson said professionally, seeming to have suddenly grown some balls as he dragged Harry out of my room.
A deep sigh left my lips and I stared up at the ceiling and into the whiteness.
"You win Tom. You win," I said and his face had flashed across my mind before it had all gone black.
And that is how I had woken up here. In the very chamber where I had almost died the last time.
The cold and damp seeps into the hospital gown, but I daren't move.
"Why not?" His voice asks and I shut my eyes to block him out. His voice is like chocolate, a poisoned chocolate, deep and smooth but with the tinge of a malice and evil that I can't deny.
I open my eyes and there he stands. Not the snake like 'thing' he was when I saw him last, but the young handsome man who used to fill me with such hope and such lies.
"I think you'll find, Ginerva, that if you do try to move that you can," he drawls at me, his eyes bored and uncaring but I still shiver at the sound.
I glance down and find that my body isn't the frail and disgusting one I had left behind, but it's the soft and full of life one that I used to own so long ago.
I stare up at him and he offers a hand down to me to help me. I scoff at him and push myself up on my own, the coldness now stabbing at my bare feet.
"You can't call me that," I scowl at him and look at him directly in the eye, determined not to be afraid.
"Oh but you are afraid Ginerva, you are so afraid," he hisses at me, taking a step forward as I unconsciously take a step back.
"It's Ginny to you. You are no one special, in fact you are nothing special. You have no right to use my name, you have no right to even look at me," I snarl at him and he stares at me amused.
"So feisty aren't you. I see that hasn't changed," he comments as he circles me.
"We would have been such a good team Ginerva, we would have been so powerful. If you had just let yourself fall that little bit more in love with me, we could have been atomic,"
"I was never in love with you. You disgust me," I bite back at him and he raises his eyebrows at me.
"Oh really," he replies "So that's why you used to simper at me, telling me how amazing I was and lucky you were to have me and that you would never let me go," he says in a crude imitation of me.
"No, I'm afraid you must have got it wrong. I used to do that because I wanted comfort, comfort which you so willingly supplied. And why did I want comfort. I'll tell you why, Tom," I hiss as he and his face turns into an ugly snarl at the use of his name.
"It was because I was so ridiculously in love with Harry," I finish off with a smug smile as he lunges towards me and closes one of his hands around my neck.
I grab at his arm but he just smirks at me in reply, before his face turns dangerous.
"Don't mention him to me. Don't ever mention him to me," he growls and I let out a choked laugh.
"Why? Because he beat you in every way he possibly could?" I rasp out and the hand tightens around my neck.
He slowly lifts one of his fingers and traces a light up and down my neck, all the while mesmorizing me with his stare.
He lowers his head to my ear and I feel myself shudder at the contact.
"Don't make me kill you, Ginerva. It would be such a shame," he whispers smoothly and I'm taken aback back the gentleness of his voice. It's caress.
"I thought you were going to do that anyway," I breathe out, still scrambling at her hand which is still around my neck.
He notices that lack of oxygen that's entering my body and drops his arm away from my neck suddenly, so that I kneel over and gasp. My breaths coming out in pants as I massage my neck.
"Yes, so did I. But you know Ginerva, I could make it stop. The pain, the dizziness. I could make it all go away if you wanted," he says thoughtfully with his back to me.
I stand up straight and stare at him suspiciously.
"What's the catch?"
"Catch? Oh no catch, more of an agreement," he replies
"And what is that agreement?" I ask knowing that whatever it is I won't like it.
"That you leave him," He answers, turning around and staring at me, his eyes filled with an emotion I had never seen before.
"Leave him?" I repeat, my eyes widening.
"Yes. Mr Potter. Break his heart, clean in two. Destroy him," he explains for me.
"No," I reply, shaking my head. "No I won't,"
"Fine, it's going to happen anyway," he says casually, walking away further into the chamber.
"What do you mean?" I call after him, but he continues walking.
"Tom!" I yell, hoping to stop him but he continues. "Stop ignoring me damn it," I run after him and grab his arm and turn him around to face me.
"What do you mean?" I say breathlessly and he smirks at me.
"He has lost everything," Tom murmurs and I shake my head.
"No, he hasn't," I say firmly.
"Really?" Tom asks, his eyebrows raised. "He has lost friends, his parents, his godfather, the werewolf, comrades, all because of this war. The only thing he has left essentially, is you and the two other friends. Now the two of them have coupled up, they won't be spending as much time with him will they Ginerva? And you," he whispers leaning down close to my face "You are going to die"
"And once you do, his heart will break, whether you want it to or not, and the one beautiful thing he had to live for will be gone," he smiles and strokes away some strands of hair from my face, I jerk away from him and he chuckles.
"Well then I'll have to give him three months he'll never forget," I snarl and Tom laughs.
"And how do you plan to do that? Your condition prevents you from even lifting your arm up," he replies and I turn and walk away from him.
"I'll find a way," I mutter and I feel as he grabs my arm and yanks me around to face to him.
He leans forward so our faces are incredibly close and I flinch away, but he grabs the back and my waist and holds me there.
"Is this what it is to love?" he whispers.
"No Tom, this is what it is to obsess," I reply, my jaw locked in hatred.
He lets go of my arm as if I'm the poison and I smirk at him, before a familiar feeling of weakness washes through my body, I gasp and stumble backwards.
"What did you do to me Tom?" I whisper.
"I poisoned you." He replies, his expression once again bored.
"With what?"
He looks at me then, almost curiously and I stare right back, clutching at my stomach, trying desperately to dizziness that is clouding my vision.
"With myself," he answers and turns away and for once I don't question him, I just cry softly to myself.
"Let me go back," I beg and he turns to me coldly.
"As you wish," he inclines his head and the blackness starts to creep in, enclosing me, tugging me away from him.
"Just remember this Ginerva," he says firmly "I'll be waiting for you," A laugh escapes his lips and I find myself screaming.
"Ginny, Ginny sweetheart it's fine, Ginny wake up, please. Please wake up!" Harry's voice breaks through and my eyes shoot open to find Harry's concerned face staring back at me.
"You were dreaming," he states and I nod, relief washes over his features and I lean back against the pillows.
I stare at him as he obviously fights back the tears that have been building up since the beginning of this fucked up nightmare.
With every bit of energy I can muster, I reach my hand across to him and stroke his cheek. And that's it.
That one touch is the drop of rain that broke the dam. The tears flow from him as he cries for everything that he has lost or is going to lose, I stroke away the tears as the run over my fingers and cheek. My arm begins to ache and my breaths become pants but I won't pull away from him, he needs this and I will not take it away from him.
When his tears finally come to a slow, he tries to regain his composure before he shoots me a watery smile and catches my hand which is still resting on his cheek, my arm is shaking with the effort of holding it there.
He gently takes my hand away and kisses the inside of my wrist with such love that it makes me want to scream from the unfairness of it all. He places my arm back on the bed and I find my eyes drooping shut. I'm too exhausted to fight it, so with Harry's soft murmurings in my ear I slowly drift away.
XXXXXXXX
I know it's today.
I know it, Healer Jackson knows it, my whole family knows it, Hermione knows it, even Neville know it.
Harry knows it, he knows it but he won't accept it.
I can barely keep my eyes open and Harry's tears sound like a lullaby.
I force my eyes to stare around at the people who have been my stability in the times when I truly feared for my sanity.
I've said my goodbyes to everyone separately and now all we can do is wait. The beeping on the monitor next to me is slow and faint and I smile sadly at it.
Hermione is sobbing steadily onto Ron, who is staring at me with a sort of refusal.
"Mum," I wheeze out. She pushes her way forward through the crowd of people that seem to have gathered for my parting, though she is careful to leave Harry where he is.
"Yes my darling?" she replies, her eyes filled with yet more tears.
"I might see Fred," I lie and a small smile crosses her features and everyone else takes comfort from the knowledge that yes, I might indeed see my older and probably my favourite brother again.
Mum nods and strokes my leg, her eyes scanning my face hungrily.
I turn my head to Harry, whose watching me, shaking his head as his tears fall faster than ever.
I reach out and he leans forward into my palm, closing his eyes at the touch as if he wishes to block everything out.
"No more now, no more tears," I whisper to him and he shakes his head again, his hair laying for once, flat on his head.
"Please," I murmur and he looks at me with a pleading expression but he slams his eyes shut and shudders from the effort of trying to stop the tears.
One lone tear escapes and he opens his eyes and looks at me, and I have never seen so much heartbreak and pain in a human's eyes before. I catch the tear of the pad of my finger and bring the finger up to my lips.
I kiss the tear and taste the salty essence of Harry.
He watches me curiously for a moment before whispering.
"Why did you do that?"
"Because you always kiss the things that are precious to you," I answer him and his eyes widen a moment before he brings his lips to mine and I force my head to meet his, despite the sharp pain in my neck.
His kiss is desperate and hungry, pleading and begging and yet it is the most tender and the loving kiss I have ever received. I smile against his lips and he cups my cheeks, pulling away from me and staring at me.
I feel as my body starts to stop and a gasp escapes my lips.
"It's happening," I shudder and I hear as a sob is broken from Hermione.
I tell everyone how much I love them and will miss them and then focus on Harry.
I stare at the one person who I know will always have a piece of my heart.
"I love you," I whisper as Tom finally manages, after years of trying, to take my body, heart and soul.
I drift into what I know must be Hell and Tom's waiting, laughing face is the last thing I see as I squeeze my eyes shut and scream.
My heart pumps the poison draught of you.