Disclaimer: Did Harry and Ginny date? Yes? then I don't own it! maybe it's cause I haven't read the sixth book but I thought of Ginny and Harry more as siblings just like with Ron and the twins so yeah, I wouldn't have made Harry date Ginny.

An: Thanks to Slytherinslut13 for her review and for giving me the push I needed to try and work on this again after failing to be inspired to write anything for this story. She asked when the story would get updated so I tried to work on it not expecting much and This came out! So thanks! Also sorry for the horrible update speed (how long has it been? a year? more?) Anyway, hope you enjoy this!

This chapter is not the continuation of chapter 1, chapter 3 will tell you what happened next in chap1. This is 4 years later, which makes Ginny in her 5th year. Hope you won't get too confused with the non-chronological narrative. Tell me if you do. Although you should be fine if you're used to reading Trauma Narrative 'cause they're non-chronological...but then again I wouldn't know that if my Litterature teacher didn't love those narratives so much he kept making us read them...I got really tired of reading things that offer no closure whatsoever and leaves you with a bad taste.

Chapter 2

Ginny Weasley sat up on her bed, gasping for breath. She could still see rivers of blood in her inner eye. Her body was trembling all over. She had had a nightmare. Again. In her second year at Hogwarts, Ginny Weasley had had trouble dealing. Plagued by nightmares and an easy prey to the Dementors roaming around the school, Ginny soon thought she would go completely insane. Maybe she even had. Who was she to differentiate between sanity and insanity when her dreams sometime seemed more real and substantial than her day had been. In second year, dealing with the memories was unbearable, but she had repeated the same mistake she had made in her first year; she had kept everything to herself. She hadn't even thought about telling other people anymore; keeping silent about what was happening with her had become a second nature. Tom had conditioned his little girl a little too well. Even now, sitting in her bed, wishing for someone to come and hug her, she was still unable to go speak to someone. Granted the reasons were slightly different now. Now, she just felt like it was too late. She hadn't spoken a word about it in years and she feared her family's reaction. It wasn't so much that she thought they wouldn't believe her (though it had crossed her mind of course) than she feared their disappointment for not telling them sooner and yes she also feared they would get angry. Her positive, hopeful side told her that her family loved her and wouldn't be truly angry. Her more negative, pessimistic side however told her something different, something that was sadly much more believable: "But what if they discover the other thing? How will you explain all of it to them and yet keep this out of the story? You won't be able to Ginny. They'll know. They'll see. They'll know what you were and they'll hate you for it. Or at least be disgusted by it and we all know it!"

But if she were to be totally truthful with herself, a small part of her, a part Ginny despised very much, simply couldn't stomach the mere thought of doing anything Tom would disapprove of. And that, she knew her family would never, EVER understand. How could they? All they saw was the monster who abducted their daughter without her conscious knowledge and tried to kill her. And yes, monster he definitively was. Ginny would never argue with that. But her parents forgot one important thing: they forgot just how good he was at ensnaring people and getting them to do what he wanted them to do. Or rather they didn't think of what that actually implied for their daughter. They were just so happy to see her safe; they never thought to ask exactly what went down during the entire year. They had asked questions but none of them could have prompted such a horrible truthful response. She supposed a tiny, petty part of her resented her parents for that, but that part was incredibly small because she knew perfectly well that if they had asked the right questions, she would have never answered. 'Not a word, not a word, not a word. You can't say a word Ginevra. Not a word'. That thought had resonated in Ginny's head for days after the chamber ordeal. All she could think about was not to let anyone find out. To protect her secret. Why? She didn't know. Maybe she was ashamed. Maybe she was still completely terrified of Tom….no wait, there was no maybe about that! Even now, she feared Tom's anger. It was silly of course. Tom was dead; had been for years. Well unless you consider Voldemort as being Tom which Ginny didn't because she knew nothing of Voldemort (and was as thankful as one can be about that) and if she associated him with Tom, then it would mean that Tom was alive and that thought was just too horrible to even contemplate. Tom was dead; he was gone forever and he was not coming back ever. Sometimes though, she had to repeat 'Tom is dead' over and over again in her head after a bad nightmare or a flashback. The latter rarely happened nowadays though. She was thankful for that at least. She had received enough weird looks in second year for suddenly blacking out in a flashback or simply because she was involved with the chamber, she really didn't need any more of them. Besides, she had her O.W.L.s to think about. Or at least she tried hard to think about them like any normal girl. But the nightmares made it very difficult. She didn't know how much more she could take. Tom still haunted her and just wouldn't stop. And to think he was once a true friend. Or at least he appeared to be a true friend. He was so nice and understanding. He was always ready to help her with her homework (except in Potions. Ginny was much, much better at those than Tom was. Not that he was horrible with them, mind you. He was okay. Nothing as bad as Neville or Ron. Ginny was simply talented in potions making is all. Making potions was a very peaceful, captivating activity. It was often the only thing that could distract her from her dark thoughts and for some reason, Snape liked her and allowed her to brew potions in the potions lab at anytime as long as it was outside of her class time and before the curfew) Tom was always ready to give her good advice and once Tom was strong enough aka had stolen enough of her life energy (but she hadn't known about that yet) he was able to bring her inside the diary to see him. To really see him, not to see his memories like he had done with Harry. Oh no, Ginny could really interact with Tom. And she was so happy about that. She could touch her friend and he could touch her; something she would come to regret later on because Tom had changed.

It started innocent enough: hands forming fists, eyes getting darker, a scowl replacing a smile… Little things really. Nothing to be alarmed about. But then they got more frequent and more pronounced and more difficult to ignore. Soon, speech started to change too. The tone grew harsher, losing its usual sweetness, the voice got louder and the words got meaner…up to a point where accusations and screaming replaced the habitual greetings. Ginny didn't understand what was happening to her friend, but she knew it was the others fault. It was their fault for standing too close to Ginny or for spending too much time with her, or for feeding her foolish ideologies only the old coot Dumbledore would believe in. It was their fault Tom was screaming, their fault for being undeserving creatures. And it was okay. It was okay because if Tom didn't want these people around his Ginny, then she surely did not want to be around them either. So Ginny did the only thing she could do: she stopped interacting with people other than Tom.

After that, things calmed down for a while. Things seemed to regain a minimum of normalcy. Peace, however, was not meant to last and it started up again. Except this time around, it wasn't other people's fault; it was Ginny's fault. Suddenly, she was the one not good enough. She was the one who didn't listen to reason about mudbloods, she was the one who stood too close to other people or didn't spend enough time with Tom, she was the one who wouldn't just stop crying when "for crying out loud that punishment was nothing at all!" She was the one who was the problem; she did everything wrong and no amount of work could ever change that. And it killed her. To see Tom displeased or angry at her was worse than any mental torture he had ever put her through. Horrible images were hurtful because of the emotions they created but somehow Tom not liking her anymore was worst. And she hated herself for it. Still did actually. It was hard to stop hating herself for it. She truly wished she didn't feel that way but mostly she still did. She guessed she had the 'abused spouse' syndrome or something. Maybe 'Stockholm' syndrome? She didn't know but she had read about similar things. You could read about it in books, how women that were hurt by their partner would stay and even defend them or how people who were kidnapped defended the kidnapper even if they weren't treated well by said kidnapper. She supposed she fell somewhere between those two. Or maybe not. Maybe she was just stupid. Actually, now that she thought about it, that seemed like a really good explanation: Ginny Weasley was just a silly, stupid little girl who put her trust in a stupid little black book that hosted the most terrifying wizard of the century. What a depressing thought. Slowly, Ginny lied down on her bed to try to get some sleep before class and sent a silent prayer that she would not have any dream concerning Tom Marvolo Riddle for the rest of the night. If Tom had been there, he would have told her that hoping and praying was stupid and wouldn't change anything; he would have had a point.

/

AN: Ok so that's all. Not very long I know, but I want to seperate the different timelines in different chapters you know. So next chapter is what happens after what happened in chapter 1! I've started writing it. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to finish it during this week.