kinda dark fic, just as a warning. my first tom/ginny story, but i was just kinda inspired. their relationship was so...sick and wrong and unhealthy, and i just wanted to get my thoughts out onto paper. she's contemplating this before she is completely possessed and banished to the Chamber of Secrets.
He wasn't even there with her, at least not physically manifested. The diary lay alone on her night stand, a deep crimson. Blood...Ginny shook her head quickly, tendrils of fiery red hair escaping as she did so.
Wrong. She knew it was wrong, it had taken awhile to make this discovery, for Ginny Weasley had been too blinded by her adoration of the phantom in her diary to see the truth, who he was, what he was.
He loves me...but she knew better. A sweet, beautiful lie was a lie all the same. He was using her to escape the papery confines of his prison. It's an inanimate object. And it thinks. Why had she not seen the oddity in this before? There were jinxed artifacts which could respond to writing and such, but for months straight?
I am a fool, no, was. But her mind was beginning to float away, the way it always did before she blacked out. Ginny clutched her bedspread with all of her might, as though hoping that doing so would ground herself, keep her in the world of the conscious.
I won't let him win. But she knew what he was, not specifically who, but she knew that he was no one to be trifled with. Powerful. But he had such a beautiful mind. He was so kind...but he wants to kill Harry. Her mind rationalized, and that seemed enough to keep her on that specific plain for the time being.
Harry, oh Harry! He was special, he was wonderful and a hero. And she was eleven years old. She knew that the darkness was beautiful, she had been embraced by it before, and it was surprisingly warm and comfortable, not dank and cold.
I'm not his. But she could feel herself weakening. I'm mine. I'm not Tom's. Tom is a monster. I won't let him hurt me...or Harry. "Leave me alone." She mumbled, hoping that somehow the diary would hear her, though she knew it was unlikely. The only way she could speak to him was through the quill, but she lacked the strength nor will to do such a thing.
I don't belong to him. He thinks I do, he thinks that I'm weak. But I'm NOT. Even as she thought this she could feel herself slipping. "Harry, Harry, help me." If there was a person standing directly above her they could not have heard her weak, raspy words.
She felt the loss of control set in, and she struggled aimlessly. Her strength could not rival his. I don't want to. I want to stay here. Don't take me. I'm not yours. You're stealing. You can get arrested for that...but blackness mercilessly swept over her.
She was his.
kinda short, a wee bit dark, but you know what happens from here, so it's not a sad ending.