Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, I'd be off to travel the world or write more side-books for HP, not waste my time by writing fanfiction. Besides she has money. But I don't. So I'm not her. Sad, I know. Quote provided by Paulo Coelho.

A/N: Wow, a sorta-dark fic. I actually wrote one, eh? I think it's quite good for a first one. Not really good, but not that bad, either. I've been working on this for sometime (that is, whenever I have actual free time and don't have to do schoolwork or study.) so I hope I did well. It's not beta-ed, so there might be a lot of mistakes, I apologize for all of them. I hope everyone is in character. The pairings here are Ginny/Harry and a little Ginny/Tom Riddle Jr. Hope you like it. Don't forget to review!

Shattered

"What is insanity, anyway? Is it when you scream and everyone else whispers...?"

Ginny is terrified.

She won't deny it as she would have had it been a few days ago (she is not sure how much time has passed, though she guesses it cannot be longer than a few days, a week at most), but now she is so afraid that she doesn't care. All she wants is out: Out of this cell, out of this place, out, out, out… But how to get out? There's no escape from here, he said so. He said he would never let her go, never, ever…

He has her in his clutches now and Ginny knows he doesn't let go of his possessions. Ginny is nothing but a mere possession to him, a prize, and a thing that symbolizes his victory over Harry Potter aka The Boy Who Lived. She is no one, nothing to him besides that. No one. Nothing.

And now she relives what has happened today maybe minutes, maybe hours ago. She remembers his ruthless expression as he casts the Cruciatus Curse on her, she remembers the humiliation she has to endure when they strip her of her clothes to proceed with what he has in store for her, she remembers the cruel laughs of his crones as she lies half-naked on the stone-cold ground, she remembers… everything. And she is simply terrified. Of him. Of them. But mostly of him and what he's capable of.

Of him.

---

Ginny is terrified and he knows this.

He likes to shove this... this abominable truth to her face, to see her in such a vulnerable state. He enjoys her fear, takes pleasure in seeing her pain and plays with her like a toy. It's a daily routine now: He orders his Death Eaters to bring her to the large, dim room lightened with tall white candles ablaze by magic and his oh-so-very faithful servants drop her to the rough ground. Then he stands up, walks away from his enormous throne filled with ancient-looking carvings. Wearing that trademark long black robe, he approaches her fear-stricken form with glee – that's when he asks the question:

"Will you join me?"

The answer is the same every day:

"Never."

He leans over her, tilts his head to right, stares at her coldly with his lips curved in a mocking smile. Her answer amuses him; that much is apparent. As to whether he feels or seems amused; she is not sure – she can never be sure what he is thinking, although she has her own guesses. She thinks that his cold, calculating mind might be planning how to torment her the following day. He uses different tactics for her each day, says she is special and must be treated that way. She is very well aware of the irony in his words – another part of him once said the same words to her, and she had thought he had meant it at that time (it had been just to manipulate her, as she had learned much later, still…). And she wonders if 'this he' knows all the things his other self (Was the one she had met his other self? Is that what she should call him? She is not sure, not anymore) told him. She really can't help but wonder. Like it would have made any difference. She snorts inwardly.

His attention is still on her. Bellatrix must be enraged. The thought makes her smirk, or rather, try to smirk. The sides of her mouth hurt too much to be formed into a smile or any other expression. His eyebrows rise as he sees her pathetic attempt at a smirk and he sends a questioning glance at her.

"What is so amusing, you little blood traitor? Is it amusing that my Death Eaters have taken you right under your beloved Potter's-" He spits the word. "-unbelievably big nose? Is it amusing that I will make you watch your family's suffering when I capture them, too? Is it amusing that you now see the very same face that has haunted you for years now? Say, had my Horcrux been gentle to you? Or had he been a tormentor who forced you to do his bidding? Hmm?"

She tries to think happier things and ignore his words filled with venom when his white, long, spidery fingers touch her skin and set it on fire. She tries not to be distracted by his grey eyes in which lie an intensity she dare not look at. She tries not to look at his now young and handsome face – the face that has decorated her nightmares for the past six years. She tries, hard, not to feel the familiar tingling on her skin when she hears his seductive voice. Yet, like her very own Phantom, he manages to draw her to himself, his voice softer than silk and his eyes redder than blood.

He knows he has her in his clutches and he doesn't let go of his possessions. She belongs to him.

And he is very intent on making sure she will never forget that fact.

With a wave of his wand, she is on fire – agony, pure agony coursing through her body, layers of her defences gradually crumbling beneath his ruthless stare as she is writhing in white-hot pain, her eyes pleading for the mercy that will never come. Then, after what feels like an eternity to her, she is free of the bloody curse. She keeps lying there, no longer caring about her dignity. What's left of her dignity anymore? It feels hardly important at all. They can all stand there and watch her trembling from the after-effects of the Unforgivable Curse for all she cares. She doesn't give a damn. What the hell is it that they expect from her – a demonstration of just how bad she feels? Some sort of plea, a sight of proud Ginny Weasley begging on her knees, kissing the hem of his robes like his so-called Death Eaters?

"More like Dumb Eaters, those asses." She mutters, her eyes barely open and her body loudly protesting against her desperate attempts to lift herself up to sit. She hears a chuckle – his chuckle – echoing inside the large room.

"I have forgotten how amusing and spirited you are said to be, young Ginny. However, you shall not make fun of my Death Eaters again, they might hold a grudge against you and a time when they can have their revenge might come. We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

She grimaces through the remains of the pain his last torture session brought upon her. He speaks with her like she is still a child – and while she might not be of age yet, she definitely is not a child. She'll show him, who does he think he is? What power, what right does he hold to be able to ridicule her like this? He is not the boss of her!

That's when she realizes that she is thinking all these about the most feared man in the Wizarding Community. This is the man, no, monster, who has killed hundreds, thousands and is ready to kill just for fun. And she is thinking about him like he is her older brother or something – has she gone nuts?! Does he hear her thoughts? Is there more torture to come for her 'insolent and juvenile behaviour'? He may hold no right to humiliate her in such a manner, yet he is the most powerful man in the world – and powerful men always get what they want. The thought chills her to the bone. He'll surely end her life for all the things that has gone through her mind.

As he lifts her chin to make her look at his eyes, however, she doesn't see any spark of anger in there. Frankly, there is nothing in his eyes; they look like they are dead, save for the occasional flicker of pleasure that crosses them whenever he is torturing someone or is pleased by watching them cry out in pain. Nevertheless, he surely heard what has been going on in her mind, so why doesn't he make her suffer for it? What is it that he wants?

"Listen to me, Ginevra." The way he utters her name is so sensual that she thinks she'll either throw up or end up kissing him full on his mouth. She doesn't know which is worse. "I have plans for you, big plans – I sense darkness in you, a darkness that feeds on anger. You will be one of my servants in no time, Ginevra, I assure you. Moreover, you will learn to obey me. My torturing sessions apparently haven't taught you your lesson, so we'll try some new methods. Just for you, and you only, my dear Ginevra. You'll be my big surprise to your dearest Potter."

Again, he spits his name as if it is a curse; as if the name is so rotten that it does not belong anywhere near his reach. It's him who's really rotten, she thinks, yet she cannot bring herself to say it. And from the ugly look in his eyes that causes his dead eyes to appear livelier now, she can easily figure out how angry he has just gotten. She's not surprised when his grip on her chin tightens and he sharply turns her head so he can stare directly into her brown eyes with his grey ones.

"You shall do as I say, Ginevra, or I will not hold back – it is you whose life and loved ones are in danger. I will personally make sure all your remaining family members are taken care of if you do not obey. Is this the motivation you needed, you wretched girl? A threat? If it is so, then here it is. Your family's life spared in exchange for your obedience. You shall succumb to my will, girl."

When he lets go of her and pushes her back to the floor, he doesn't realize that she is shaking with anger and hate towards him. He is using her concern for her family as a tool to threaten her with. That's his style – threaten the victim with the lives of loved ones. Love, the emotion he despises the most, as a weapon to hurt his enemies. Harry had warned her, she knows what he thinks of such emotions. He loathes them, for he has never been shown any of them – according to Harry, that is. Riddle is an idiot. An idiot who managed to get his old body back somehow. She has to warn Harry, she has to tell him that he is probably much more powerful now, she has to-

Ah, damn. I'm an idiot. He's even more of an idiot.

He appears as though he hasn't heard her last thought – but appearances can be deceptive. She has learned that the hard way when she was brought here with Malfoy in disguise as Harry. She still shudders whenever that thought comes to her mind. How had Malfoy been able to act so well, anyway? He was too good of an actor. And she hadn't realized. How could she have been so stupid?

She closes her eyes in frustration. She needs to get out of here, fast. She has to escape his presence, it's too intoxicating. She needs distraction, anything… Her hatred towards Malfoy is a good one. She simply despises that little blond freak, he's a lying and cheating bastard, she's looking forward to kicking his ass again like she did countless times before, she'll shove his arrogant face up his arse the next time she sees him–

"Your head seems so full of mixed thoughts, Ginevra. Let me clean the unnecessary parts for you."

Her head spins with fear. She hates that part of the torture. He might change his tactics every day, yet this is always a part of it, he enjoys this too much to give up. Messing with her mind must be too exciting for him to ever forget.

Here it goes.

She screams her head off as he gets into her mind, breaking all her mental defenses at once. She cannot feel anything besides the agonizing ripping on her mind, her thoughts torn away from her, her memories tainted by his mental touch and eventually, the shame of her reluctant retreat. It's done, he beats her will in merely a few seconds, throws her weakness in her face while grinning in triumph. He has his way once again, and one by one, tears make their way through her face. She's too weak to stay strong now, not after this. Even though he only stays in her mind for maybe ten seconds, she feels exhausted than ever. The physical torture is nothing compared to this, she doesn't have enough willpower to resist him. Harry would be stronger. Harry would save her. Harry, Harry...

Where are you, Harry? Where is Mum and Dad? Why aren't they saving me yet?

Tears spill down faster and she cannot hold back the sobs anymore. She cries openly, content in the knowledge that everyone except him and Bellatrix are afraid that what is happening to her might happen to them one day. She cries harder, knowing that Harry can't be her knight-in-shining-armour this time; he has more pressing business to attend to. She wishes he would come and rescue in true Harry Potter fashion, like he did when she was a mere first grader at Hogwarts. She knows he can't, he mustn't sacrifice himself for her. He has to be the Chosen One now, not Ginny's rescuer - he has a lot of burdens to carry already, how can she expect him to save her from this monster's clutches as well? Unable to answer her own question, she lets her tears and sobs and disappointment and fear out.

"You are weak, Ginevra, like the rest of your friends and your family. You have always been weak, and I could easily teach you to be stronger like me, like my Death Eaters on whom I have shared my knowledge and power. Do you know why those fools haven't been able to beat me yet? Because, little girl, Dark Arts is more powerful than that idiotic feeling called 'love', despite whatever that old fool claims."

His face is warped with an intense hatred, and Ginny quickly looks away; she doesn't want to see such a scary and strong hatred on his face, especially when it's directed at a person she respects very much.

"The old fool thinks the boy will beat me again. Has he ever beaten me truly? Have I not come back from Death to accomplish my goal?" He pauses, then turns to Bellatrix. He leans over her and with a crooked smile, he grasps her chin strongly and asks.

"Have I not promised you immortality, Bella?"

Bellatrix Lestrange, that fucking bitch! Ginny thinks with malice, her tears are forgotten in the face of her hatred towards the woman. Immortality? He's promised her immortality? That is ridiculous. He wouldn't share his power, Harry had said so. The whole thing is absolutely ludicrous. He's got to be kidding me.

Her disgust is multiplied ten times when she sees the look of adoration on the bitch's face.

"Yes, my Lord. You have said that I would be able to learn the secret to immortality one day, as you have. My faith has never wavered my Lord, never. I'm honored to have your trust." There's such a strong, such an intense admiration in her voice that Ginny wants to throw up or at least spit in that bitch's face. Trust, she says. Bullshit! Ginny thinks viciously. He would never trust anyone. She smirks. And to her and everyone else's shock, she speaks with a croaked voice.

"This monster doesn't have the capacity to trust, to hold human feelings. I don't care if you're bloody immortal, Riddle. Harry will beat you. And that's my faith in Harry, you bitch."

Tom Riddle, no, Lord Voldemort lets go of Bellatrix' chin and turns to face his prisoner. There's no fury or malice on his face, just a thoughtful look.

"So you have this much faith in him, little Ginny? Then pray tell, if you trust him this much, why doesn't he trust you with the knowledge of what he is after? He left you, hasn't he? He left you behind, alone; so you wouldn't be a hindrance to him anymore. Isn't he smitten with the Mudblood?"

With a flick of the dearest Lord's wand, one of the Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy, has his face revealed. Malfoy's face seems impassive, but Ginny clearly sees the confusion in his eyes, she has known her enemy for a long time and knows him very well by now. Had it not been for his betrayal, Ginny would have actually felt sorry for him to be divulged and humiliated in front of this gang of cowardly monsters. She certainly doesn't now.

"He seemed to care a lot about her, didn't he, Draco?"

Riddle's lips form the word so mockingly that she feels sick. She isn't the only one. Etched onto now maskless Malfoy's face is an expression Ginny knows well: A calm, serene mask covering the petrified look in his eyes. She sees the same expression one everybody save for him and that whore of his. Those two don't have anything to be afraid of, after all; whereas Malfoy has quite good reasons to be terrified after his father's failures. Despite what she was thinking a few seconds earlier, she allows herself to symphatize with him. She might hate Malfoy's guts, but he is human either, so she can feel a tiny bit of pity for him. The smallest weed of pity, that is. She won't be going soft on him now, not after what he did to her. It's his fault she is here, in his presence, reliving a nightmare she had been trying to forget all these years. His fault. She is going to kill him if that's the last thing she'll ever do.

The blond is staring at her with a look of disinterest on his face now, unaware of the murderous thoughts in her head, and he speaks with the well-known Malfoy drawl.

"I wouldn't know, my Lord, for Potter has more than his fair share of girls. The Mudlood seems his number one, though, despite the fact that Weaselette here was seen with him quite a lot. Potter's got his hands on even Loony Lovegood, daughter of the barking mad owner of the rubbish he calls The Quibbler. You see, my Lord, that worthless piece of junk is quite the ladies man, probably due to his fame. So the Weaselette here shouldn't have her hopes so high up."

His sneer is easily distinguished in his voice and it's a good disguise for the tinge of fear he feels, Ginny reluctantly admits. To hear him speak like this about Harry (How dare he?!) is infuriating, but what can she do at this situation? She has nowhere to hide, to escape.

Nowhere.

She has to deal with this. How can she deal with this, dammit?!

On the verge of breaking down, she tries pulling herself together before another Cruciatus Curse is cast on her. She needs to keep speaking, keep stalling them. Harry must be looking for her. He must be. He wouldn't forget Ginny. He loves her.

Does he really?

She shakes her head to disperse the doubts in her mind. Of course he does. That's why she is here, because she is the one Harry loves. That's why they captured her and not Hermione, not Luna, not Cho or anyone else. They captured Ginny because she is important to Harry, more important than anyone else. One might think that this is a selfish thought; however, the only way to suppress the wave of that sneaky, grimy spark of jealousy goes through selfishness.

"...well, then we'll have to wait, won't we? Take her to the dungeons after I'm done with her, young Malfoy. Our guest of honour deserves a bit respect, does she not? I'm in a generous mood today, I'll be forgiving and let her get away with her insolent remarks. Others, leave the room. We need some privacy with young Ginny now. Crucio!"

Her scream reverberates throughout the cold hallways of the enormous Malfoy Manor. It's heart-wrenching, yet to him it feels like a song of best quality. A classic, something that he will never find boring. A smirk comes to rest on his lips.

He'll never let go of her. She is his. She has always been and will always be.

She is his.

---

Ginny is calm.

She feels as if she's drifting in water. But no, there is no water- This is a strange, beautiful place. She can't help but feel a surge of peace passing through her veins. It's so... So heartbreakingly beautiful, this place is. A real paradise. And she is free of pain here. There is no worrying, no fear, no pain, nothing, nothing bad in this place. She is safe. This brings a geniune smile to her face. She has nothing to be scared of.

She is happy. She is calm. She is... at pea--

"Ginny!"

She turns around to see him. His jet-black hair, his beautiful eyes, his warm presence, his captivating gaze... Oh, how much she has missed him! She runs toward him, almost flying, and is caught in a loving embrace. She actually is in his arms. It's real. She's not hallucinating. She touches his cheek, cups his face with her shaking hands and feels the warm flesh under her fingers. It's true: She's not hallucinating. He's real. She can't believe it! After all this time... He is here. With her. For real. They will always be together, starting now. She'll never let him go.

Never.

"Ginny..."

He speaks her name and she is over the clouds. Tears of gratitude are flowing down her cheeks and she feels like dancing like a little girl who got her birthday wish. She has missed everything about him. Her smile widens as his lips capture hers in a passionate kiss. She returns it, her face still wet with tears. His hands cup her face, subsequently wiping her tears.

"I've missed you." She whispers after they pull away.

"And I have missed you, Ginevra."

She freezes. Ginevra? He doesn't call her "Ginevra". She is Ginny to him, not Ginevra, never Ginevra. There are only two people in the face of this world who call her Ginevra: Her mother and-

"No!"

Her scream shatters the make-believe world. It wasn't real, after all. What she feels now, her fear and disappointment and anguish are real, though. And she is pressed to his chest and can't save herself from his crushing grip and she wants out, oh, all she wants is out, out, out...

Just as the world goes down like the pieces of a broken mirror, she feels his breath on her ear, offering her a tickling sensation. She feels like throwing up, or dying a second death.

"You are mine, Ginevra. I will never let you go."

She doesn't have any strength left to scream.

Everything has shattered.