She could still feel those dark, cold eyes watching her sometimes. A grown young woman of 16, and what she feared most was a book.

The rest of the class would never understand. When they worked on boggarts she had tried to hide from the professor. It was useless though. She was beckoned forward to the front of the class where the kindly old professor pulled open the worn briefcase. He had no idea what was about to be unleashed.

The small diary laid closed on the floor, honey colored hues staring at it intently. Tears formed against her will, and the class stared bewildered. Who fears a book? The professor too was curious, and watched as the pages slowly began to flip open. The youngest Weasley murmured a name.

"Tom?"

As if called forth from the old leather binding, a boy rose from the pages. Tall, dark, and handsome; the girls in the class stared in awe. What had Ginny to fear from such a gorgeous young man? Why did she flinch away as his hand rose to caress her cheek?

"What's the matter, Ginevra? Don't you love me anymore?"

He would question with mock concern before laughing at her. That cruel laugh she had known only in the end when his betrayal finally became clear. His taunting, even if this was only a shadow of him created by the boggart, pulled at the Gryffindor's heart. She had loved him. She had been eleven, yes, but that did not lessen how much she had truly cared for the boy. As he advanced on her, the class frozen by their inquisitiveness, Ginny gave the smallest whimper.

"No. No, you're not him. He's gone. Dead. R-riddikulus!"

She fought to keep the tremor of fear from her voice, but when the simple charm failed to dispel the boy she let out a sob. Tom only chuckled, and pulled her close. An arm snaked around Ginny's waist, fingers gently running through her long hair. The professor was shaken from his thoughts and curiosity at this.

"Focus, Miss Weasley. Focus and say Riddikulus!"

The elderly teacher called, but his words were lost as Tom whispered in Ginny's ears. The red head was reduced to tears, legs feeling weak beneath her. At any other moment she would have hated being so weak in front of the entire class, but the others were forgotten as she stood in this false-memory's arms.

"Shall I tell them? Tell them what a monster you really are Ginevra? How you killed those roosters, painted those words on the walls, opened the chamber, and set loose the beast that petrified several students?"

The class could not hear what it was that Tom was saying. They only heard Ginny's soft cries, her pleading. Any longer and the Professor would have to intervene. He wanted his students to be able to fight this creature, but the Gryffindor seemed too lost in the illusion to fight it. He'd give her only a few moments longer.

"No, Tom, please don't?"

"I'll tell them how you did it all for me. How you would kill for me. How you would die for me. Such a pretty little slave to Lord Voldemort's every word."

"RI-RIDDIKULUS!"

The boggart released her and shifted to a funny little pop up book. The professor quickly locked it away as his pupil fell to her knees, sobbing into her hands. The class was quickly dismissed, and he tried to offer her some comfort, but she didn't want it. The youngest Weasley pulled away from his gentle hand, and he obliged to leave her be.

Sitting there on the hard floor she felt his eyes on her, felt the slow movements of his hands over her, and heard his voice whispering to her.

"Don't you love me anymore?"

Ginny loathed and despised Voldemort, she hated the young man who had used and manipulated her, and yet...

Ginny still loved Tom Riddle.