Warnings: Language, Violence, Dark themes.

Alternative categories: Angst, Suspense

Chapter 1

She was going to be late. Well, this is what you get for sleeping in, damnit. Her inner mind snapped as she opened the door quickly and slipped inside. More then twenty pairs of eyes locked with hers and she shifted nervously as his lip curled at the interruption. He rose slowly from his chair and loomed over her, his eyes hard, and his voice lazy. "Miss Weasley, care to explain your lateness, as well as the interruption you felt so comfortable bringing into my classroom?" He eyed her intently.

"Please, sir, I overslept," Ginny said lightly.

"Did you? 10 points from Gryffindor for your stupidity, girl. Now sit down." The glare he gave her could have halted a group of raging Hippogriffs. A distant murmur caused her to look over at her brother and his friends; they were sneering at Professor Snape particularly hard.

The bell rang, it seemed, as soon as she had sat down. Students filed out to their next class as she was stopped by his icy tone, "You are not to leave, it seems we have much to discuss." She turned slowly and met his gance with a cool manner.

"Yes?" she couldn't held the bitterness that was evident.

"As you are my student, you will address me as a teaching official, is that clear?" His bettle black eyes never left her brown ones for an instant. "You will of course be given a detention which we will talk about tomorrow. Good day."

"Good day, Professor," she murmured softly before exiting. She was immediately cornered by the Trio.

"Well..." Ron said with a raised brow.

"He gave me a detention," she shrugged and swept past them, to go to the Great Hall. She could faintly hear Ron shouting about something as she sat down and blinked. Something was slowly breaking inside of her and had been for the past six years, but just what it was, she did not know. Her dreams had become stronger now, stronger form, clearer perception, the only thing not understandable was the reasoning behind it.

Her eyes adjusted to the sight before her and she stepped back, terrified. He stepped forward and produced, from his jacket pocket, a most rusted knife, which he pressed against her cheek. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it?" he whispered before running his hot wet tongue along her jawline. Feeling repulsed and disgusted she jerked away and wiped the saliva from her face.

"No," she stared at him flatly. "I want you to stop hurting me because you hurt. It's not fair."

"That's quite an assumption for such a little girl, don't you think?" He held the dagger a bit lighter now.

"I am assuming nothing. You are destroying me in hopes it will make yourself feel better."

"Is that what you think, Ginevra? That I could sacrifice you for my own selfish purposes?" He placed the weapon by his foot and smiled sardonically. "I'd never be able to harm you."

"You never could lie well," she sighed and frowned, trying to figure out whether to believe him or not. "you're a lot like me in that respect."

"Like you?" He looked preplexed at her before he stood directly in front of her, his eyes gleaming slightly as the moonlight devoured their bodies. "That is impossible." He seemed to be having a time finding any truth in her statement. "I am nothing like you."

"You may not be a witch, or even a Weasley, but you are looking for acceptance, where ever that may be."

"Who do you think you are to tell me that? You don't know me."

"Yes, I do."

"Shut your mouth. Why are you here? I'm doing my job, damn you! Get away from me!" He did all but physically shove her back.

"I won't," she frowned and knelt down beside her lover's body. "I will not allow you to hurt him."

"Then you shall die as well." He raised the knife above his head and she cried out.

Several people choked and looked up. They saw her hunched over her dinner plate, white-faced, and holding her throat, eyes wide.

"What's going on?" the voice was a murmur in her ear. Finally she felt herself fall back as she hit the stone cold floor. Shadows loomed over her and urgent voices spoke.

"She's-"

"We need to get her out of here. Mr-" the rest of the sentence was cut as she blacked out.

It was much later that night when she stirred, her eyeslids fluttered before opening, and she sat up groggily. It took her moments to realize where she was. What was she doing here? There was a sliver of light sneaking its way into the room, and onto the figure against the wall. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Someone was definitely there watching her. No, not watching, sleeping. She could hear the low breathing.

"Excuse me?" she needed to be polite as possible if she wanted to get out of here tonight.

No response.

Curiously, Ginny got up and stepped lightly to the frame against the wall. "Hello?" She prodded the boy with her finger and he grunted but did not wake. "I'd like to get out of here, if you could just tell me how." She stood on her tiptoes and peered into his face. He was pale with aristocratic features, a decent built, and a firm grip on her arm, as she noticed when she gazed down. His eyes flashed and she tried to step back.

"What are you doing up?" He didn't sound vicious like he normally would have. "I'm to keep watch on you until the morning, Weasley."

"I feel better. But can you answer something for me?"

"Hm?"

"What am I doing in your chambers?"

"I'm just following instructions. I don't know why you're here either."

She nodded firmly and went to go sit by the door. It was clear he did not want anyone here and she felt the same way. With her back pressed against the wall she pulled her knees up and laid her head on them before whispering, "What happened to me?"

"That's difficult to explain," his voice drifted to her from the bed, she eyed him there lounging, and she felt somewhat guilty for taking his spot for so many hours. "Professor Dumbledore had not clue what to say when he saw you withering on the ground. Snape looked about ten times paler and Mc Gonagall was crying. They asked me and Granger to come and get you but your friend was too scared, so I had to carry you. I brought you here and you've been sleeping ever since."

"You," she stopped speaking and frowned. "took care of me?"

"I had to, as much as I hated it." He cringed in the dark and ran a hand through his hair.

"Did they request to see me?" She asked and found her voice sounded dreadfully strained.

"Snape said he'd stop by later. In the meanwhile I have class. Will you...be okay by yourself?" He could hardly believe he was asking her that. "Oh, and don't touch any of my stuff when I leave."

"I'm fine. Thank you for taking care of me. And I won't touch any of your stuff."

He growled in response, obviously not wanting to acknowledge the fact that she had said anything.

For now, she needed to find out what was going on with her.

"Am I interrupting?" Severus asked gently as he entered the boy's quarters to find the girl on his bed. He frowned delicately and closed the door behind himself and sat on the chair by the Slytherin's writing desk. He leaned back slightly and kept a cool gaze on her.

She shook her head lightly and said, "No, it's alright. He told me that you were coming by." He nodded gently and sat up a bit straighter.

"How are you feeling, Miss Weasley?" He inclined his head slightly.

"As well as can be expected, sir. Have you figured out what caused my-"

"Episode, no. Headmaster Dumbledore is looking into it."

"How is Professor Mc Gonagall taking it? Malfoy said she was crying."

"Yes, well, Minerva cares wholeheartedly about her precious Gryffindors," he snorted very uncharacteristically before pressing on. "If something so traumatic had happened to one of my students I would be worried, I just would not show the pain. It is my knowledge as a former Death Eater for Voldemort--you're the first person not to flinch, impressive--that masking what you cannot afford to have seem by your enemies and even your allies, is extremely important."

"I hadn't meant to frighten anyone, Professor." She sat cross-legged staring at him before she looked away. "But I am scared."

"I'd consider you a fool if you weren't. Whatever is going on inside that head of yours, it's reaching, straining, and even thriving to cause you large amounts of anguish. Now, the only person I could recall that would do that is Tom. Is he the one hurting you?" She shifted slightly and let her hair fall in waves down her body. Breathing slowly she tried to think.

"I don't remember," she pulled her knees and and wrapped her arms around them. "I'm sorry." He can't see what I do, it's too horrible, too agonizing. Her eyes shut briefly and she saw something strange before she stared at her Professor. "I can see what haunts you."

"What did you say?" His eyes grew wide and he looked skeptically at her before going into his robes and extracted a bottle of liquid from its depths.

"What is that?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Draught of the living Death. It will relax you." For the moment her confession was forgotten as he handed over the vial. What had she seen, if anything? "What did you see?"

She frowned lightly and spoke in a morose tone, "I saw the only one you ever loved die."