Ginerva, not Ginny (she despises that nickname), Weasley has known darkness. She has known hope, she has known love, she has known desperation, she has known control. Most of all, she has known desire.
Since the time before she could understand her family's financial situation, she has known desire for luxury. She wanted to be one of those pureblood girls with the diamond necklaces, designer brooms, and robes from the high-end stores. She didn't want her ratty clothes, her hand-me-down books, the slow-as-a-turtle family owl, she didn't want that at all.
Later, when she meets Harry, she desires his fame, to be looked on with awe by everyone in the wizarding world, to have her name in the history textbooks, to be known as the great Lady Ginerva, not little ol' dependable Ginny Weasley, little sister of Ron Weasley, the sidekick to the hero, Harry Potter.
So when she looks into the Mirror of Erised, she knows, she knows what exactly her desires are all symbolized in one figure: Tom Marvolo Riddle. Not the psychotic Lord Voldemort, but Tom. The boy who promised her greatness, the one who said she would she would be the greatest witch, bringing fame and fortune to the Weasley name - no, to her name, and her legacy.
She was so close that day in the Chamber. All she needed was for the ritual to be completed, and Tom would've been awakened, and they would've risen like the moon each starry night. She wouldn't die, she knew from her research, and from subtly veiled questions asked to Hermione and Percy. But Harry Potter had to be the hero, and desperate, she passed it off as the foolish naivety of an eleven-year old needing a friend and being taken control of by the soul in the diary.
But she's not eleven anymore, 10 years have passed, and she is now 21. The war ended years ago, what now feels like a lifetime, but she knows somewhere deep in her heart that the war was just the beginning.
Looking into the mirror one last time, she looks down at the ring in her hand, simplistic in design. a snake with onyx eyes twirling around the gold band. Harry was wrong, there were eight horcruxes. The ring, one he gave to Ginny, one she kept around on a thin gold chain, one of her mother's from her time raised as a pureblood. She should've destroyed it, she could've destroyed it. But did she?
No, she didn't, she still has a piece of his soul. Now, a she looks into the mirror, she can see her desired image wrapped in Tom's arms lovingly among a palace of luxury with everyone bowing down to her, even Tom, smiles - no smirks - at her. The smirk looks foreign on Ginerva's face, but oh so familiar, and it looks right.
She breathes in, and begins the first in a series of actions she will either regret - or will come to know as the time where she took her life and molded it in her hands.
And she begins her descent into darkness,
ascent into greatness
twirling pirouettes into the dark night,
and skipping in the pale sunlight
leaving behind pretty red blood
and black roses
Author's Note: Honestly don't know where the (kind of) Dark!Ginny bit came from, this was just supposed to be a Mirror of Erised fic and Ginny breaking the mirror into a gazillion shiny pieces. But, oh well, the pen [lol, the typing fingers] wants what it wants, and has written [typed].
The ring Ginny has in on my Tumblr, under the same name, so if curiosity strikes you go on [essthewriter. tumblr. com] (←-get rid of spaces from the url address)
Don't know whether I should add a chapter and make this into a two-shot or if the plot strikes me, a multi-chapter. Merlin knows that Tom/Ginny deserves more stories.
Reviews are the roses bathed in Nutella, favorites are the Nutella covered roses, and follows are the gold underneath your toes. :D