Em, I blame you for this.
Word count: 333
what comes next
Tom is dead. Tom possessed her and tried to kill her. Tom was her friend and confident and he betrayed her, and Ginny would hate him if it didn't hurt so much.
She's fine, Mrs. Pomphrey herself told her so. Whatever twisted dark magic Tom had used on her, it didn't leave any lingering effects.
So why does she feel so unbalanced, so dirty? Why does she still feel like there are ants beneath her skin, a darkness burned right into her mind that she can't get out.
(why can't she sleep?!)
Mrs. Pomphrey frowns when Ginny tells her this, not in worry but in sympathy, and she casts her diagnosis spells again. When they show nothing but slight exhaustion, Ginny wishes she could feel relief instead of disappointment. At least if there had been something, she'd have had something to fight, something more concrete than the dark corners of her own mind.
"It'll pass," the nurse tells her kindly, and Ginny forces a smile on her lips in answer. "I can prescribe you some Dreamless Sleep, though, if you need it, but you'd have to spend the night here."
For a moment, Ginny yearns so badly she almost says yes—to have one entire night of sleep, of restful sleep? She's not sure she remembers what that's like.
But it'd mean giving up the warm comfort of the Gryffindor towers, of her brothers' presence, and trade it for the cold emptiness of the Healing Wing. Even for a full night of sleep, this isn't a trade she'd make, so instead of saying yes, she bites her lips down hard, and tastes blood. This, at least, still feels real.
"I'm fine, thank you."
"Alright, but if you ever change your mind…"
"I won't," Ginny replies, and for the first time in months, she feels like herself again, resolve burning hot in her veins. It doesn't last, but it's enough. For a start—for a glimpse at an after—it's enough.