Disclaimer: *eyeroll* I refuse to state the obvious. Sue me.
A/N: I never really liked Ginny in the books, simply because I thought she was just Harry's two-dimensional love interest. But with Tom/Ginny fanfic, I discovered the many levels of Ginny's awesomeness! Anyway, this is intended to be the first of a series of oneshots… if people like it, that is *crosses fingers and toes* So yeah, have fun! Rated C for Creepiness XD
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Paper Cut
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Ginny Weasley almost died for the first time when she was eleven.
(oh tom my tom i love you tom why why WHY)
The heir of Slytherin hovered above her in that cold, wet chamber. She looked up at him: he was only a human-shaped shadow amongst other shadows, but she tried to imagine his face in her mind.
After almost a year of obsessive correspondence, you could call her an expert on imagining Tom Marvolo Riddle. She had spent hours, precious lesson time, just staring into the distance and daydreaming of seeing him. She knew intuitively how he would look: beautiful, distinctly detached from everyone else, and cold. But beautiful most of all.
The thought that her life would form that face, mould it into existence… this idea didn't disturb her, not really. But never seeing her family again, or sunlight, or Harry, or Hogwarts – well, she was trying not to think about it. Because Tom had seen her cry too many times.
"You were nothing but a beautiful sacrifice, Ginevra." His voice was just like she'd thought it would be. "A pity you won't live to learn from this lesson."
"… And what lesson would that be, Tom?" Little breaths, in and out. Breathing was becoming difficult, holding back the tears more so. Little Ginny wanted to go home really badly. But little Ginny also knew that her first love was about to kill her… and home was very, very far away.
"Death is cruel. Life is crueller. Few are strong enough to face reality," he said. His voice faded in and out, echoing both in her head and around the dark chamber.
The half-light caught the place where his eyes would eventually be: midnight blue, with tiny glints of red. Insanely, she was reminded of fireworks – the kind that her brothers had let off on her tenth birthday party. They'd glowed brightly in the dark blue night sky, and the family had watched them, laughing and amazed. Happy memories in a place like this, a situation like this, seemed wrong.
She turned her head away from him, knowing instinctively that she couldn't look into those eyes any longer without breaking down. So much for the Gryffindor bravery: so often quoted, so little put into practice. What would her parents say if they saw her now? What would Harry say?
Water dripped somewhere. When Tom moved away from her prone form, his footsteps didn't make any sound.
(oh tom)
Ginny remembered one night when she'd hidden beneath the covers, her wand shaking as the quill scratched on the parchment. She'd been terrified of getting caught by her dorm-mates; writing in her stupid diary in the dead of night, what a freak! She was so nervous, in fact, that her trembling wand hand – she often fingered the edges of the diary without realizing it – had slipped on a few pages.
The sharp edges had cut her finger so quickly that for a moment her skin seemed so surprised, it forgot to bleed.
The red slowly escaping from her small finger had slipped from her skin and onto Tom's diary. The small red droplet had looked like the dot beneath an exclamation point, staring up at her accusingly before disappearing into the page. Just like ink, but not. Not at all.
(not at all like ink ginevra what have you done)
She'd watched it sink into the diary with something very close to horror: the kind that requires no reason or explanation as it tightens its hands around a person's heart. Inexplicable, indefinable terror. She'd never felt that way before, and certainly never about anything to do with Tom. Her Tom, kind and loving and not scary in any way. So why in Merlin's name had she been so scared as she'd watched him absorb that insignificant round, red dot?
Tom had made no comment on the blood droplet, but she knew that he knew about it. And there'd been a new feeling behind his words, some odd undertone in his mental-voice that had sounded… pleased. Excited. It was after that night that the attacks had started: she had a feeling that her insignificant drop of blood on his diary had something to do with it. Started it. Started him.
Ginny brought herself back to the present with a shudder: on her wand hand, she felt a barely-healed paper cut sting in remembered pain.
The basilisk slowly circled the chamber: she could hear it move in and out of the pools of water. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tom raise one pale hand and ghost it across the shining scales of the monster.
The last thing she remembers thinking was if his hand would touch her hair with the same gentleness, when she was dead. The vivid image of long whiteness caressing fiery strands lingered in her mind long after everything faded to black.
With an understandable amount of relief, Ginny Weasley sank into unconsciousness. Her hands, relaxing from their tight fists, settled on the stone floor. A small, barely noticeable line across one finger glowed a poisonous green
(avada kedavra green)
before returning to normal.
Tom Riddle's cold, high laughter rang out into the darkness.
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FIN
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A/N: Odd, huh? But I enjoyed writing it – and I hope you enjoyed reading it. I thought the paper cut idea was actually pretty awesome: I came up with it after actually receiving one, surprise surprise. Muses appear in all shapes and forms, I guess. So…what do you think? I'm relatively new to fanfiction, so I'd really appreciate it if you'd review me your opinion and/or helpful comments.
Or to just say you liked it :)
Thanks for taking the time to read this, hopefully another one will be on its way! Q