Disclaimer: Anything in this fic related to Hogwarts or the general wizarding world is property of J.K. Rowling. I am not making nay money and no copyright infringement was intended. And I stole a quote from Kate Elliott's Crown of Stars series. It's the "Hate is only the…" line. That isn't mine either.
A/N: Please review. I want to know what readers think. Flames are welcome, as long as they aren't unfounded. Thanks!
This fic is from Ginny Weasley's POV. And Ginny also uses a point I used in another fic, though I can't quite remember which one, or whether or not I have posted it yet. So just be aware that I know I used it in two fics, and that I did come up with it myself.
When Ginny relates to the diary and some of the conversations, her thoughts are in italics and Tom's are bold.
Seduction of the Soul Written by the Great Kelly The GreatI said I would do anything for him, and I meant it. It wasn't just an idle promise, it wasn't just a favor. I meant it.
I said the words, but didn't know the responsibility that came with them. Yet I meant it.
I just didn't know what he wanted me to so was so simple, yet so fatal.
He asked me to be trust him. He said in order for me to confide completely, I had to trust him completely. In return, he would be my friend.
I agreed. I began a friendship with Tom Marvolo Riddle.
It began wonderfully. I had a friend, someone to talk to. He was kind to me; he cared about the woes and dreams of a lonely eleven-year-old girl. I told him about Harry and my infatuation with him, even as I slowly began to fall in love with the man I spoke to.
He seduced me, slowly and cunningly. And I was oblivious to it.
I fell into that deadly spiral of Love, she who wounds all she touches with that fiery kiss. It was said that Love conquers all. But is it called conquering when she kills all in her path, even those who she is concentrating on?
But Hate is only the other face of Love, and it is hard to determine who is who. People think Tom put a spell on me to do his bidding, but I was more than willing. They saw Hate, I knew Love. From the beginning.
Ever since our first conversation I loved Tom, though I didn't know it at the time. Oh, Gods, I still do. I still love him, more than life itself. And I want him back more than anything, though I know now that he is Lord Voldemort and would kill me sooner than look at me. But I'll take the pain as well as the pleasure.
It is only now that I realized what he did to me, what scars he put on my soul. The physical wounds have healed, but my soul hasn't. The seduction was a painful one, but I embraced every twist of its knife.
And I remember every conversation, from the beginning onto our last.
I was once told that diaries were supposed to be in what you recorded your innermost feelings, because no one else would ever know about them, and you didn't have to censor anything. So I'll do just that. My name is Ginny Weasley, I am eleven-years-old and I am currently at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Hello, Ginny. My name is Tom. And yes, diaries are for recording dreams, wishes and innermost thoughts. Except my diary, the one currently sitting in your lap, has me in it. I preserved myself in its pages when I was sixteen.
You talk back? Oh, I'm so sorry, I had no idea someone already had this diary. It was stuck in my Transfiguration textbook, and I thought I could use it. I'll leave it alone then.
No, Ginny, don't!
You don't mind me talking to you, using your diary? I really can go find another one to use….
Ginny, no, you don't have to. You can talk to me, tell me what you are thinking, dreaming. I can't tell anyone, and at least you can get another's opinion on it.
You're absolutely sure?
I am positive. You can tell me anything, young Ginny. I'll be right here, always….
Something very strange (and frightening) happened today.
Of course it did, Ginny. It's Hallowe'en.
I'm not joking, Tom. The caretaker, Argus Filch, his cat got all frozen near the bathroom. No one knows how, or why. Dumbledore calls it being "petrified", or something. I feel bad for both of them, Mr. Filch and the cat. And underneath the cat (who was hanging from a torch, I forgot to mention) were words. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE, it said. It sent chills down my spine reading it.
Tom, are you still there?
I'm here, Ginny. Just thinking.
About what?
That cat. And a time when I was at Hogwarts. When I was there, the same sort of thing happened. Except people got Petrified, not animals.
People? Are we safe? Should they close Hogwarts?
No, no. Ginny, I didn't mean to alarm you. You'll be fine, I promise.
How do you know?
I know. You will be fine.
Tom, I'm so lonely here. I am so very lucky to have you. You're the only one who understands me, who talks to me.
I'm sure I'm not the ONLY one.
Oh, but Tom, you are. You listen to me, you care about me. Don't you?
Yes, I do. But Ginny, why are there are tears dropping onto the pages? Why?
I'm crying, Tom.
Obviously.
Would you let me continue? I am crying because of what I told you. I have no one in this school. Ron and I used to be so close, but he doesn't care about me anymore. I thought Hermione could be a friend, but she only hangs out with Harry and Ron, and Harry doesn't give me a second glance. There's no one else in my year, even the girls in my dorm hate me.
How can anyone hate you, Ginny? You're so nice, kind, sensitive. And you tolerate me, which means you can tolerate just about anyone.
Is there something wrong with me, Tom? Is there something about me people hate?
Of course not, Ginny. There is something wrong with them. It's all them….
There was another attack, Tom! Two people were attacked this time. Justin Finch-Fletchley was one. And one was Nearly-Headless Nick. What can do something that terrible to someone already dead?
I don't know, Ginny.
But you were at school when this happened at first. Are you sure you don't know anything? Anything at all?
Ginny, I told you. I don't know anything. All I know was that last time, a girl died. That's all.
But Tom, you said it was safe! You said so!
And I didn't lie.
Oh, Tom, I think I'm going mad.
Why do you say that?
I am growing so forgetful. Half the time I can't remember what I'm doing, or what I was going to do. And the attacks on the school are getting worse. Hermione was attacked yesterday! As well as a Ravenclaw prefect. It's awful. And, even stranger, I don't know what I was doing while they were attacked. I know there was a Quidditch game, but I don't remember going to it. And I keep seeing things. Out of the corner of my eye, I will see a flickering light, glowing silver. But I turn to look at it and it's gone. Oh, Tom, tell me I'm not going mad.
You aren't mad, Ginny. People who go mad don't know it. They don't have any idea, and think they are still perfectly sane.
Are you sure?
Yes, I'm sure.
Tom? Are you there?
I'm always here, Ginny.
I know, but I feel like you are ignoring me, in the only way possible to you. You've turned evasive, and you don't directly answer my questions. You're never there.
Nonsense, Ginny. I'm always here, always willing to talk to you. Always. Don't you trust me?
Don't you?
Yes.
That quickly, I was bound to him. That quickly, I had no choice.
And over those months in my first year, when I had no one else to turn to, I fell in love with Tom. During those terrifying months when the school was under attack by an unknown monster, I had someone to turn to.
Even if I was the one who attacked those people.
During that year, Tom was my life. I wrote to him during class, pretending to be taking notes. During dinner, late into the night, in between homework assignments. He was always willing to talk, always willing to listen.
And for that, I was grateful. I was more than grateful. I would have sold my soul to be with him always.
But I could never tell him that.
For even as I fell in love with him, and confided in him, and talked to him always, there was always something forbidding about the man in the diary. He had a distinct aloofness, there was always something in his words that screamed "I am better than you are and we both know it. It is through my choice I talk to you and I can stop when I bloody well feel like it!"
For that reason, I was always very careful around Tom. I knew I couldn't live if he were to ignore me, or not write back to me. It's barely a life I lead now, wishing for him back with every cell in my being, with every beat of my heart, with every breath in my lungs.
If you asked me, if I had the choice if I could bring him back, bring back my Tom, I would say yes, without a moment's hesitation. Even if he killed me, it would be worth it to see my Tom again.
But he never was "my" Tom. That possessiveness was only in my mind. I could never call him that and have him find out. Never.
Just like I couldn't have told him I loved him.
Never.
It wasn't like I didn't feel the love enough to say the words. Oh, I did. I still do. I still yearn for him, as if my soul will never again be complete. And it won't. It's as if there are tiny catches in my heart, and long threads attached to them. Those threads are infinitely long, and just as powerful. They travel on and on. I don't know where they end. All I know is that they are connected to Tom.
But the hooks are needle-sharp, and they cause pain. He embraces that pain, but I am still bleeding.
I am still bleeding.