Post-War Fic. Ginny Weasley muses on her first year, and Voldemort, in general, after hearing an old muggle song on the radio.

"Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul and faith"

-Mick Jagger, Sympathy For The Devil-

He was the devil. But, I wasn't aware of it, how could I be? My innocent mind couldn't even fathom such a thing. I was eleven, and friends didn't betray friends, yet. Damsels in distress were always rescued by their knights in shining armor, and happily ever after was for everyone.

Tom was my dear friend, and he was always so kind, so gentle, and true. I adored him blindly. It was almost hero-worship. And to this day, I hate him for that. He was not my knight. But he made me think he was. In reality, Harry was my hero. Tom was the villain threatening me. I didn't know it, of course. According to the stories, I wasn't supposed to care for him. I was supposed to hate him and love Harry. And I did love Harry, well, the idea of Harry, then. I've long since grown to say I love Harry for Harry, now. But I'm ashamed to say I also loved…love Tom. I probably always will.

Do you know that I wished in vain for him to be my brother? I never realized what an insult that would be to them. Never dared tell them of my secret wish after it all, because really, they were the best brothers anyone could want. And I had six of them, seven, if you were counting Harry, and while they ignored me, I knew they loved me in their own boyish ways. In truth, I didn't really want him to be my brother. Seven loving brothers and a sister (counting Hermione, of course) were quite enough, thank you. I didn't, and still don't miss Tom.

But he was older, more knowledgeable, and so charming. He listened to me, and being the lonely little girl I was, that was all I needed. All it took was a handsome face, a soothing voice and a listening ear, and I was under his spell. And as the days became months and pleasantness turned into unadulterated fear, I still needed him. I was addicted to him. And I grew to resent that, enough to throw him away from me, to seek the loneliness I once tried so hard to escape.

Yet even in my solitude, I was never alone. A whispered caress, his voice in my mind, a phantom form in the corner of my vision. I've never told anyone this, but even after Harry defeated Voldemort, those little signs remained. I think they always will, on some level. We did the most intimate thing possible together. We shared souls. And as much as I hate him, as much as I say I hate him, it's never as fierce as it should be. The devil is not to be cared for. The devil is not misunderstood. The devil is evil by his own device. He chose to be evil. He eradicated his own good, gained immortality through murder. He is not human. He feels no love, nor joy, nor compassion for anyone or anything. Least of all me. But I feel for him. After all, shared souls will always be joined. And may the gods and goddesses help me, for I bear part of Tom. Though it could be said we all do, on some level. We all have that innate darkness. It's whether we lose ourselves to it that matters. It's the choices we make. And I know that Tom and I will always be part of each other. I know I'm not Tom, though. Because I feel something he never will, something so sublimely human, it could make angels weep. Sympathy for the devil.