by Odd One Out
Rated R for imagined rape
Disclaimer: Tom Riddle, Ginny Weasley, and other mentioned characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
It has happened.
After fifty years, I've been given a corporeal form.
It's quite disconcerting, actually - nothing how I imagined it to be. It's been so long since I've felt the ground beneath me, touched the sleek marble statues that line the Hogwarts halls, had to actually move my feet in order to walk. I am still transparent and barely there, but it is enough.
I hold my hand out in front of me, admiring the faint shimmer of skin, and chuckle to myself. No longer am I imprisoned in that horrendous book; I am free, free, free! I want to throw my arms wide and spin around in a wild dance of joy. To walk, to touch, to see and smell and hear again...no matter how strange the feelings are, I drink them in like a healing ambrosia.
I have a task to complete, though. I cannot revel in this forever. If I want to become completely human and finish off the Potter boy, I must capture the one who has released me. I want to show her how...thankful I am.
I glide through the familiar hallways, trailing a hand against the wall to simply feel the stone beneath my fingers. The path to the Gryffindor common room is a familiar one; I followed many a student there while attempting to discover the entrance to the Chamber. No one spies me - not even the tiresome cat the Squib keeps - for I am little more than a shadow. I press myself close to the wall and wait.
Soon a group of brainless, chattering sixth-years saunter down the hallway. I smile as they approach the sleeping portrait of the Fat Lady. One of them taps against the frame with a clear expression of annoyance on her face.
The oaf jerks out of her doze. "Password?" she mumbles.
"Firesong," the girl snaps impatiently, shifting from foot to foot.
"Well, no need to get snippish, m'dear," the Fat Lady replies with a sniff as she swings forward. The girls climb through the hole. I trail behind, continuing to keep close to the wall.
As soon as I break free of the group and let the portrait swing shut, I crouch down and scan the Gryffindor common room. It's desolate, since most of the students are already asleep, but not completely devoid of life....
She sits off alone by the window, staring up at the moon, a pile of books in her lap. The silvery light is turned to a faint copper upon striking her hair. She looks so pure, so beautiful, even though most of her life force is gone. For an instant, I picture myself taking her into my arms, caressing her, fondling her, kissing her with a passion I've never given anyone else. She would struggle, of course, but I would win in the end; I would tangle my hands in that lovely hair of hers and press myself against her, tearing her black robes away and exposing her white flesh to the moonlight. She'd taste of autumn and tears and blood, and she'd scream as I ravaged her, scream to the higher powers or to her mother or to me -
I touch my fingers to my lips, shivering with ecstasy at the thoughts. I can almost taste her already....
She sighs and rises to her feet, setting the books in the now-unoccupied chair, and begins to walk toward the stairs. Her steps are unsteady; I've drained her far too much for her to move properly.
Now is the time to act.
I rise up as well and steal toward her. Her back is toward me, and she cannot hear my footsteps. I'm growing stronger, being so close to her...my hands are blurred, but almost solid by now.
As she places her first foot on the steps, I reach forward and cover her chocolate eyes with both hands. I lean in close as she gasps with fright.
"Hello, Ginny," I whisper in her ear.
*end*
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