Written for DADA (Write about a witch or a wizard who has experienced emotions so strong that they are paralyzed for a short period of time – Extra Prompts: Gryffindor – Petrficus Totalus – "Are you… okay?")

-oOo-

There were a lot of creepy crawlies running amok since the Carrows took control over the school. There wasn't a window that didn't have a dementor hovering just outside of it. The forest was teaming with werewolves, hungry and howling at the moon. A boggart had escaped and was currently roaming the halls, already three first years and a fifth had fallen to its prey.

Ginny wasn't going to let this scare her off though. No, she had a job to do, and nothing would stop her. Not evil monsters, not the Carrows, not Snape, not Voldemort himself. She was not one to cower when things got rough. She was a Gryffindor to the heart and soul.

That didn't mean that she wasn't prepared when she snuck through the halls after curfew. Bravado was a Gryffindor trait she embraced, but rashness, and lack of preparation was not. She had her wand in her pockets, her fingers hovering just above it, and a list of trinkets on hand for whatever came her way.

"Ginny…."

That voice. She knew it all too well. It still haunted her dreams late at night.

Her fingers moved towards her wand, but she never touched the wood. The voice was hissing her name again, this time closer.

"Show yourself," she growled, trying to suppress the fear growing inside of her. It was coursing through her veins, boiling just behind her ears. Every fiber of her body was tingling in an anticipation only he could cause.

"Ginny… Ginny…" the voice grew closer and closer. There was a figure in the shadows. "Still as weak Ginny."

"Shut up," she hissed. "Show yourself."

She wished he hadn't. No sooner than the words escaped her lips, did he step into the dim light of the hall. His hair was pushed to the side, a dark black against his pale skin. Thin, piercing eyes watched her with a look of loathing and superiority. His cheeks bones were cut into a perfect chiseled pair of lines. His posture spoke of arrogance and pride. Yet even with the clear conceit in his gaze, and condemning in his smile, he was gorgeous. Not a hair was out of place, nor were his robes crinkled in the slightest. He glistened in the light like an avenging angel.

Ginny knew better. The wings on his back were nothing but broken and charred. She had fallen for it once, the ploy of a young, handsome guardian. She knew better now.

"Riddle," she gasped. It didn't make sense, him standing here. Looking like that.

"Hello Ginny," his voice no longer held the hiss of prior. Now it was silky, sweet, like honey.

He took a step forward. Ginny moved into action that second. Her wand was pointed at the young man, no older than she was now.

"Stupefy," she shouted. A satisfaction went through her as the spell shot towards him. Riddle didn't even moved to counter. He merely stepped to the side. She fired off the spell again, and he stepped to the other side. A third time, and the spell merely bounced off his shoulder. She needed another route.

"Petrficus Totalus," Ginny screamed. That should work. It too bounced off him. She fired again and again, "Petrficus Totalus. Petrficus Totalus. Petrficus Totalus!"

She was out of breath, and still Riddle was smirking at her. He took another step forward, and another.

"Don't move," Ginny screamed. Her wand was raised, and shacking badly. But she didn't turn it away from Riddle as he walked towards her.

"So sad," Riddle chuckled. He was now a foot from the tip of her wand. With a delicate hand, he grasped the tip of the wood between two fingers. A smile plastered onto his face, he lowered her wand.

Ginny wanted to fight against it. She wanted to act out and fight back, to stop her wand from being slide from her hand and dropped onto the ground. She didn't even watch as her wand rolled away along the stone floor.

She could barely breathe. He was so close to her now. They hadn't been this close in contact since that night in the Chamber when her prince had turned vile. It was fear holding her here. She had been so confident that she could handle this, but how quickly she'd been proven wrong.

"Such a pretty face," his fingers were running along her cheeks. His touch was soft, silky against her skin. It was a touch that seemed foreign with the man he would grow to be. "What soft skin you have. I must say Ginevra, I'm impressed. You grew quite beautiful."

Ginny wanted to pull away. He didn't have much pressure holding her, but something about his touch had her frozen in place. She didn't want to admit it as fear, but she knew it to be so. The emotion coursing through her body was one that shamed her. Many a nightmares had held her in this same position.

"Beautiful on the outside, but hallow on the inside." Riddle had tilted her head to the side, and was examining her hair line. "Needy, gullible, too eager to please. Desperate. Always searching for some way to prove yourself. The youngest of many, the over looked. The daughter your mother always wanted, but just can't stand."

A tear moved down Ginny's cheek. He could do this to her. The slightest touch, the coldest of words, and she was frozen where she stood. His thumb was running circles along the line of her mouth.

"How many have kissed these lips Ginevra? How many have you enchanted with that hair? How many men have you corrupted and lead to bed?"

Ginny opened her mouth to protest his cruel remarks. She wasn't some harlot to be spoken to in such a manner.

"I can see it all, so desperate for love. For affection. To know that the one you love will never have you. He has better things on his mind. More important things."

Ginny felt the wetness surrounding her eyes. She wasn't going to give into him thought. He could make her cry, he could freeze her in place, but she wasn't going to submit. Not again. Not anymore.

"How awful it must be, to be disposed of so easily." Riddle's touch grew harsh. His fingers were digging into her flesh now. Her body began to shudder under his touch. It was becoming harder and harder for her to breath, as if her lungs were growing tight as they sucked in the air surrounding them. Her heart was struggling against her tightening chest.

"The man you love," Riddle said with a light chuckle, "is more concerned with me than he is you. Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours though, Ginevra. He won't last long. None last long when they stand against Lord Voldemort. You know that. You know that more than most."

"He'll win," she managed to chook out. "You'll die."

"No," he sighed, "he won't. You'll die, just as all others will. Your precious Potter will die on his knees."

Ginny felt the rigidity return to her body. He arms refused to push him away. Her legs refused to run. Her mouth showed no desire to open and call him out on his lies.

"Your family will follow soon after," he continued, "and you my sweet, shall finally come to see what you have known for so long."

Ginny tried to shut her eyes, but even that part of her body had become paralyzed under his gaze. It was more than fear holding her in place now. It was past alarm, and night quite into panic attack just yet. But the longer she stood there, allowing his fingers to tap against her skin, the more Ginny realized that she needed to move. She needed to fight. She just couldn't.

His lips were right by her ear now. "You will all lose. There is no reason to fight any longer. I only make this offer once. And I know you want to take it."

Ginny shook her head rapidly, it was the only movement she could manage.

"You belong with me Ginevra," Riddle whispered. "From the moment you touched my diary, you were mine. You always have been. Always will be. And no matter how hard you fight, you will always return to me."

His breath tickled against her ear. Ginny had closed her eyes and was praying him away at this point. Had she been looking, she would have seen the look of surprise spreading across Riddle's face just before the spell hit.

There was a rush of air and his presence was no longer in front of her. A moment to control her shacking, and Ginny opened her eyes. Tom Riddle's chiseled face was no longer a model of perfection. He now was trying to stop the rapid growth of his nose and ears. They were far too big for him to be able to stabilize himself. In a graceless tumble, he fell flat onto his face.

The spell over Ginny broke. A chocked laugh escaped her lips as she watched the man she had grown to fear slink back into the darkness. She could only manage a second laugh before she fell to her knees. The tears took over as she no longer fought them back.

"Ginny," the voice was full of concern as he dropped to his knees before her. Neville. "Are you… okay?"

Ginny nodded, not daring to trust her voice. She kept her gaze locked onto the darkness, fearful that the monster would return.

"A boggart," Neville said, glancing into the dark corner before turning back to his friend. "It took me a minute, but I… was that… Ginny… why was… are you okay?"

Ginny turned her gaze onto Neville. He looked frantic as he tried to calm her. She didn't answer him though, only looked away. She swore there was a shifting in the darkness where Riddle had slipped away into. There was still a tremor in her shoulders and she fought to get it under control.

She didn't like that he could do this to her. She didn't like that her fear could paralyze her so completely. But above all, Ginny didn't like the fact that he, Riddle, had been right. Or the boggart of him had been right. Either way, what he had said had been true.

She still dreamed of him. Late at night she could still feel his hands digging into her soul. She was still connected with him, no matter how hard she fought to get away. It scared her. But more than that, it filled her with great shame. She shouldn't have been this easy to succumb to his will. Yet she had.

For the last handful of years she had vowed to fight against the Dark Lord and everything he stood for. She swore, upon her soul, that no one else would be have to be violated in such a manner as he had done her. And yet, he seemed to have the same paralyzing hold on her, as he did when she was eleven.