Title: Slytherin's Circus
Summary: Tom Riddle is the ringmaster of a circus with a dark secret, one that Ginny finds herself trapped by. Gin' n Tonic.
Rated: T
Warnings: Unhealthy relationship. Dark. Imprisonment. Love-hate relationship.
(A/N) I've never written for this ship. This first chapter is pretty much me testing the waters. This story is a wizarding circus AU.
Slytherin's Circus
A marvellous show by a marvellous man! - The Daily Prophet
Fantastic! An A-class performance! - The Wizarding World News
Ringmaster Riddle is a charming young man, a credit to the wizarding world. Audiences can be guaranteed up close and personal experiences with beasts they otherwise would never chance to see. Gryphons, mermaids, acromantula and much more! - The Wizard's Voice
Ink-stained pages crumpled under pale fingers, green eyes narrowing and bright with irritation. She wanted to be mad, to scorn the reporters and journalists who flocked to the circus for the chance of an interview with the great Tom Marvolo Riddle, gushing him with praise and adoration. She wanted to brand them fools riddled with naivety.
But how could she when not long ago she too had been like them and the masses who revered the enigmatic ringmaster?
He was good at what he did, very good. Deceiving others was as natural as breathing to him, his silver tongue and golden charms able to lure even the most stubborn of souls. If only they knew of the monster that lurked below his handsomeness and charisma, the cold-hearted serpent with no remorse and who saw people as nothing but pawns to further his own gain.
He had them all fooled; just like he had once fooled her.
Never again.
Ginny sighed and shoved aside the stack of newspapers. It was almost self-inflicted torture reading them. Her jaw clenched, breath quickened and cheeks flushed red with every beaming review she read. It was a necessary pain. Every day she searched for some sign that someone (anyone) was beginning to realise the true nature of the man they praised. Every day her heart broke a little more and disappointment reigned supreme. Hope seemed like a folly.
Riddle was too clever to slip up - not twice. He had already made that mistake with her.
"Ginevra."
Speak of the devil...
"Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for the show?"
His voice was cool and smooth like ice, the words slithering off his tongue with graceful ease.
He emerged from the shadows, the heels of his boots clicking against the wooden floorboards. He was already dressed for his night time show. He wore his freshly pressed, emerald tailcoat jacket with its silver trimming and silver snakes embroiled around the cuffs, waist and collar; a white shirt with a green caveat; and black trousers with dark grey boots pulled over them, reaching his knees. He was handsome as ever, his face sharp and smirking, green eyes watching her with mild amusement.
Ginny glanced away, refusing to look at him.
I will not let you charm me again, she thought, closing her eyes.
"I'll get ready soon," Ginny said, her words clipped.
"You'll get ready now," Riddle replied, straightening his leather gloves. "I won't have time to deal with the technicalities of your act later, so everything has to be ready early."
Ginny bristled, bitterness curving her mouth down. She tried to put the 'technicalities' as far from her mind as possible. It was infuriating as it was sickening. He gave her the power to destroy him only to steal it away before she could use it.
"Why don't you have time later?" Ginny asked tiredly. She didn't want to get ready, not yet - not ever.
"I have a few errands to run."
That only deepened her concern. Riddle didn't run errands. Whatever he was referring to could be nothing good. She could only hope that it didn't relate to herself.
Riddle stood next to her, a wisp of a smile playing on his lips as he looked at the newspapers and magazines littering the table. Sometimes she wondered if he knew the real reason why she read through them all every day. Not for curiousness in the happenings of the world she was kept captive from or habit from her old profession as a journalist for the Quibbler; but a desperate, pitiful need to know that somewhere, someone knew the truth, knew that the real monster was not the beasts in Riddle's cages, but the ringmaster who kept them caged.
Riddle offered her his arm. She ignored it, pushed out her chair and made to brush past him. He didn't allow it.
"Now, now, Ginevra, where are your manners?"
Riddle clicked his tongue, giving her a scolding look before forcibly looping their arms. Ginny repressed a shudder at being so close to him, at being able to feel his body pressed against her. Riddle held no such qualms - if anything he seemed to enjoy her nearness, or more likely her discomfort.
He led her outside her personal tent, walking with deliberate slowness through the little community of tents of every shade, size and pattern. Around them, the performers and workers of the circus busied themselves with getting ready for the show. Empty, enchanted cages rolled alongside them without aid, heading to the top hat. Ginny scowled at them, hating them and what they represented to her and those who lived and worked in this forsaken place.
"You know, Ginevra, there's supposed to be a meteorite shower in a few nights," Riddle said casually, glancing down at her.
She quirked an eyebrow, giving him a bland look. "What of it?"
"The best place to see it would be the shoreline, further away from the town where there's less light pollution. I wondered if you'll accompany me?"
Instinctively, she wanted to reject his offer with a heated growl; traitorously, she couldn't help ponder over it. It would mean getting away (if only for a while) from the circus, to go further than the terminus curse allowed. She was tired of seeing these tents and cages every day, tired of not being able to leave the compound boundary defined by a white line in the soil. She wanted freedom, even if it was fleeting and an illusion like so many things in this hell.
But it would mean enduring Riddle's company, with no one else there. Pretty illusions and rare shooting stars weren't worth that risk. He might decide he had finally had enough of her. That she wasn't worth the trouble she so often stirred.
I'd rather rot in Azkaban, she thought. Instead, she said, "I'll think about it."
An outright rejection would only antagonize him. She wasn't in the mood to deal with his irk; she was still recovering from the last time she had pricked his temper. She shuddered at the memory of cold bars, frozen waters and monstrous red eyes glowing in the dark.
A short distance ahead, Ginny could make out the top hat. Her stomach churned with dread.
The canvas tent was deceptively small, striped in various shades of green, the entrance flanked by a silver arch with a black snake coiling around it, slithering around it in a never-ending loop. As they passed the snake hissed, its forked tongue darting out of its fanged mouth.
The inside of the top hat wasn't what one would expect. It wasn't like another circus, instead, the inside was like a beautiful, detailed theatre, with towers of marble balconies encircling a large, circle performance area. Weaving across the balconies were jade, silk streamers and draping banners with an emblem of a twisted serpent sewn onto it. There was a green, fabric canopy high above them, lights hidden among them.
The first time Ginny had come through that entrance and gazed upon the wonder inside, her eyes had widened in amazement, her breath catching in her throat. Now, she looked upon it with silent resentment and anxiousness, a deep, searing desire burning her heart, hissing at her to tear it apart, to find her stolen wand and obliterate it.
One day, she told herself. One day, I will.
And Riddle would follow after. She would destroy his home as he had destroyed hers. Then, she would destroy him.
Brights halos of light snapped on above them, highlighting a path directly to the centre of the top hat. At the end, under a dark blue spotlight, Ginny saw what she feared most.
The tank.
It was an enormous, glass bauble filled with water, perched on a stone stand carved with different seafaring creatures and plants. The whole set piece resembled a crystal ball. Beside it was a wooden staircase and platform on wheels that allowed entrance to the open top. It was beautiful as it was eerie, strangely serene in the magnificence of the top hat.
"Have you decided what you'll wear for tonight's show?"
"No, I haven't," Ginny said as she shook her head. She never thought about it, to do so would imply she cared.
Riddle pulled her over to a table that had been set up beside the tank. Laid upon it were some of her performance attire. Bodices with shimmering scales, hair pieces and necklaces made of shells and pearls, arm gauntlets of seaweed, and plain leggings.
"How about this one?" Riddle suggested with a drawl, fingers trailing down a bodice of green scales, adorned with pearls - his favourite one, she had come to realize.
Ginny ignored him and picked the red bodice. It was the plainest of all the selection, with only a single, white shell perched just below the collarbone. She grabbed the matching amber gauntlets and black leggings, then slipped behind the changing screen which stood beside the table.
When she emerged dressed in her outfit, she found Riddle leaning against the staircase, eyes already watching her. At one point this had been her least favorite part. Approaching Riddle who then lead her by the hand up the platform, then helped lower her into the waters of the tank. The waters were always chilling and made it hard to breathe. Riddle always let her adjust, a tiny mercy if it could be cold that. She shivered violently, her teeth chattering as she clutched onto the edge of the glass tank, her legs gently kicking under the water to stop them from numbing.
Riddle crouched on the platform, one hand reaching out to trace Ginny's cheek. She pulled away, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Just get it over with," Ginny muttered.
Riddle pulled his wand from his coat and pointed it at her heart. Without a word, and with a few flicks and twists of his wand, the spell which she loathed almost as much as him, was cast. A wave of blue light hit her and a stinging pain overwhelmed her senses.
Ginny gritted her teeth, trying not to cry out but it did little good.
The skin between her fingers lengthened, creating translucent webs that reached her knuckles. Patches of scales jutted out from the skin on her arms and belly. At either side of her throat, gills formed. Her legs (which was the most painful part) stuck together as though by glue and scales exploded across the skin on her legs. Within a matter of seconds, her legs were gone, replaced with a long tail. It glimmering scales were the colours of sunsets and faded to a more subdued honey color at the tins of the long fins.
What a pretty little mermaid you make, Riddle had teased the first time he had done this to her.
She was no mermaid. Mermaids of muggle lore would not harm a soul, content to laze upon the rocks, comb their hair and watch the shoreline. Some were even known to help sailors, guiding them through the mists, safely avoiding shallow water and treacherous rocks.
Sirens on the other hand...
Ginny opened her mouth, summoning her voice, wanting desperately to ensnare Riddle in her siren's spell. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, pull him willing into the frozen waters and watch as the color slowly drained from his face, as his last gulp of hair rushed to the surface in frantic bubbles.
Such dark thoughts did not sit well with her, but siren's thoughts were seldom as pretty as their appearance.
Quick as the snakes he loved, Riddle's hand shot out, gripping her by the hair and yanking her forward. Ginny cried out, her eyes clenched shut as Riddle's mouth descended upon hers, stopping her deadly song before it begun. His kiss was bruising and hard, a punishment for trying to go against him. When his lips left hers they took with them her ability to speak, a silent silencio spell binding her voice and song.
Damn it, Ginny thought with a snarl. Another night, another wasted opportunity for freedom.
"I can't be beat, Ginevra." He spoke softly wtih a chiding tone. "The faster you learn that the faster you may begin to enjoy your new life. You can be so much more than what you once were."
Never... never... never, Ginny glared at him, clutching the edges of the tank tightly.
One day he would slip up, he would bite off more than he could chew and she would be ready, waiting to take advantage. She just had to be patient, no matter how loudly her pride shrieked, her heart ached and her soul wailed for release. She would stop Tom Riddle and free everyone that he had cursed, condemning them this humiliating life of servitude.
Riddle smirked, probably guessing her thoughts. He pulled her forward once more, placing a kiss upon her forehead before releasing her hair. Ginny pushed herself away from the platform, backing away to the other side of the tank - she wanted to get as far away from Riddle as she could.
"I'll see you at the show," Riddle said, rising to his feet.
Ginny watched his retreating form with hate-filled eyes.
(A/N) I know HP has there own versions of mermaids, but there is a reason I'm using this type of mermaid and not the ones in canon. It'll be explained later. Please let me know what you think.