effervescent - a oneshot

So basically I was just roaming the DG forum and I came across a debate on how much Ginny is affected by the whole Tom Riddle/diary situation and suddenly at eleven at night I had a sudden burst of inspiration and this happened. Give me your honest opinions, because, quite frankly, I'm not sure what I feel about this.

. o .

Her ragged, ebony coat swished about her ankles, only reminding her of how second hand it was. The observation of how outlandishly out-dated the robe was wouldn't have been created six months ago, not even three months ago. But now everything had flipped and she found herself slipping in all directions, groping frantically for a foothold as her mind bowed with the venemous pressure.

"Think of how powerful you could be," he whispered from her bandaged, russet satchel and unconsciously she licked her lips with his words.

"I could be," she answered in a breathy tone, her fingers digging into her shoulders and leaving crescent shaped wedges in her freckled skin. Some days she felt like fighting tooth-and-claw with the faded, smooth-tongued man that slipped in between the pages of a simple diary and other days she nearly lost herself in a tidal wave of galloping fuchsia, gold and crimson.

"I own you," he remarked coldly when she didn't respond right away and in her head she experienced him yanking on her unruly ginger hair, pulling out strands of luminescent locks and disintegrating them right in front of her, "and I love you more than anyone ever will."

If he hadn't added the last words she would have been grabbing the tattered book from her satchel and piercing it with demonic rage and with it allowing all her bleeding emotions to slither away - after all, if he only said that he owned her then he was only a slave driver. But as it was he said that he loved her and she knew that without him she would fade away into a shrieking, faceless entity. He had opened her eyes to the true feelings of her so called friends and proven to her that he was the only living, breathing being who would ever truly understand her.

She had rehearsed the words so many times, "You're not real."

"I'm real to you," is all he said every time she questioned his existence.

. o .

She saw him one night as she painted letters on the crumbling wall in someone's blood. She could taste the scent of metallic copper in the air and it resonated deep within her heart - once upon a time she would have deemed this outrageous and stomped away but now he suckled her like she was a helpless infant again.

She saw his dark, wavy hair that glimmered in the moonlight and his alabaster complexion and silky jade eyes and saw him dancing to a haunting tune in her mind and her mouth fell open.

"Get back to work," he murmered without looking at her and she realized that she'd stopped scribbling although she wasn't exactly sure what part of her feeble, hazy thoughts could actually percieve that.

She felt her mouth working to say something, anything - because he accomplished what she deemed human perfection - and then the words slipped out softly, "You're beautiful, Tom."

He paused to study her and she could feel his darkening, steely gaze probing her for any signs of mutiny, "They do not call me beautiful. They say that I am immersed in evil."

Her head tipped to the side - the teeniest part of her rational brain knew that he was the most dangerous wizard alive but her twisted heart couldn't sing anything other than praise to him - and she answered matter-of-factly, "You're beautiful to me."

She could have sworn she saw a smile touch his lips.

. o .

She stood in front of her mirror in the bedroom and just stared...stared...stared at her freckled cheeks and somber, drifting gaze. She was there and not there in every breath, every wink, every movement of her fingers to flick an irritating fly of her clothes. He twirled gracefully in her eyes and for a moment her irises gleamed jade and her breathing quickened and she wanted to kill...kill...kill.

"You're dangerous, Tom," she said, her lower lip quivering.

"Yes," is all he said, running a shimmering hand through her flaming red hair, petting her as though she were a kitten. He wasn't really there, just a shadow in the back of her imagination, scrabbling through the diary in alluring messages and casual winks.

She should have found something terrible in the way he so casually admitted his inner turmoil, the writhing demons that flickered over his skin like cackling ghouls - sometimes she wondered if there was anything left of her in her own body because he was clearly controlling her now.

"Why did you choose me?" she wondered, wanting to feel salty tears trailing down her cheeks but he forced them back and slapped her wrist and hissed that she needed to be powerful and emotionless.

"Because you were the only one who believed me," he answered casually, turning his eyes on her. "Because you're the only one who understands why I have to do this." With that he dove into her body and filtered through her arteries and veins and grasped her brain and captured her all for himself. An involuntary cry slipped from her mouth before she suddenly felt so much more confident. He made her feel like this.

"Why do you possess me?" she asked quietly, itching to move her eyes and scrape at the floor in agony but she could only do what he permitted her to do. "Why do you make me do these horrible things?"

"Because you're special." His voice drifted through her like a balm, soothing her raw nerves and showing her how reasonable this all was. "Because you make me feel real again."

. o .

He watched her undress at night, saw the robe fall from her shoulders and ran his fingers over her naked body. She shuddered at his touch - it both burned and froze her from the inside out - and fixed her eyes on her hand mirror and felt his tongue lap at her collarbone and saw her skin wrinkle in the mirror but his face did not appear.

"I want to see you, Tom. Don't I deserve that much?" she asked in a sudden fit of bravery and just as soon she felt blows rain down on her exposed skin and threaten to snap her neck from her body.

"You ask too much," he replied softly but then in the mirror she saw him bending over her nude form and running his fingers over her undeveloped breasts and lower stomach and knew he was showing her what he could in her head.

Tingles ran down her spine as his fingers probed, "You know I can't do this with you."

Sighing, he remarked, "I know. If you were only several years older...your chest is flat, your hips are undeveloped, your thighs are too round and your skin is marred with freckles. I see why nobody wants to look at you." His words pierced her very soul with a knife and then faded away with the rest of her emotions because she no longer owned her skin.

She felt wet droplets roll down her hollow cheeks and realized that she was crying for the first time in what felt like a millenia, "Why do you call me beautiful then?"

His finger stroked her cheek and, pulling away, he tasted her tears and smirked, "Because you are beautiful to me."

And that's when her heart constricted and she knew that she loved him - or whatever vapor he seemed to possess. And her throat closed and her soul ached with the thought that he wasn't real because he had to be real. He had to stay with her. He couldn't leave her.

Without him she would be all alone.

. o .

She was lying on a cold, tile floor and the colors were white and black and contradicting and swirling together and blurring her vision. She wanted to sit up but she felt so, so weak, like he was sapping all her energy from her because she didn't have the power or heart to stop him.

"Why am I here, Tom?" Her voice rang in her ears: weak...weak...weak. But was this even her anymore?

"After this we can be together forever," he promised, kissing her forehead, nose cheeks and lips, again and again and again and through the ministrations she knew he loved her too. He had to.

She was fading away and Tom was supposed to stop her, supposed to save her. If she faded away she felt the tendrils of death wrapping around her chilled body and dragging her away from Tom.

"Why aren't you saving me?" It hurt to speak but she spoke anyways, hating the cracked sound when she breathed in and out, in and out, in and out.

"Trust me." And with those words she decided she wanted to fade away because then she could be with Tom forever and nobody could ever tear them apart ever again.

And then Tom was screaming horrible, un-human sounds over and over again as Harry pierced the front of the diary and she couldn't move; she was frozen and dropping towards the clutches of death but Tom was dying and she couldn't stop it.

Flames licked at his skin and she screamed in her mind until she was hoarse and then he was gone and her heart started thudding; it rang in her ears like a chorus of bells and she hated...hated...hated the sound because Harry had stolen Tom from her and now she would be alone forever.

"Ginny!" Harry cried, kneeling beside her and pulling her into his lap and she was waking up but she didn't want to be. "Ginny!"

Who's name was he shouting over and over, the infernal noise? And then the dreary vapors were fading and she remembered that she was named Ginny and she was eleven years old and this was Harry Potter kneeling beside her and that she had been a damn fool to trust Tom.

She wanted to cry that she hated Harry but she couldn't find her voice. Tears fought to stream down her cheeks but the darkest part of her heart refused the symbol of giving in. Her head hurt, her body hurt and most of all her heart ached in absolute torture but she could not bow down and be weak.

In the back of her mind memories of Tom surfaced, of his fingers skimming through her ginger locks and his sparkling, jade eyes and the way her body had felt as he had run his fingers over it. Her heart gave a lurching throb and then silenced, along with any words she would ever speak about Tom. What good would it ever do to try and explain the love of her life to her friends and family and school, everyone who despised him?

He was her secret and she would carry it to the grave.

SPARKNOTES:

So, like I said, I don't know what I feel about this but I guess I'll let you review and find out. Have a wonderful day!