Chapter 3
An Affection of Malicious Intentions
xoxo
The voice conveyed no more words after that point.
The legs that carried her to the second floor girls toilets, were no longer her own.
The lips that conjured hisses at the sink engraved tap, were no longer a possession of hers.
The ears that had been stolen from her use, ignored Myrtle's tearful howls and suspicious acknowledgements of, "oh, it's you again, what's he making you do this time?" As if the miserable ghost was aware that he had returned.
And so he had, back to take over Ginny and use her to do his bidding, she was once again a puppet under the influence of his authority, to make her to complete his wishful goals.
Memories came flooding back to her as she entered a very familiar place. The serpent entwined pillars, the emerald flames that lit as she made her away across the shallow, hardened waters of slime, the large statue that reminded her of Harry mentioning it looking similar to Medusa, whoever that was.
But something differed from the image of her recollection. There at the mouth of the stone head, lay the bones of the basilisk, the monster she had set on Hermione and various other muggleborns in her first year. The same giant, deadly snake that Harry had killed with the sword of Gryffindor.
Harry, the boy whose arm had been wounded from the venomous fang that he had stabbed Tom Riddle's diary with. The young Gryffindor who had saved Ginny's life. The brave and noble-hearted wizard who wasn't here to rescue her this time.
She slowly made her way over to the skeleton, each timid footstep produced echo's throughout the jet black walls. She lifted her arm and reached her hand towards the bones, the fiery light source providing them with a green tinge as her fingers stroked the surface of the remains of the petrifying serpent.
It felt really smooth, as though it was a marbled furniture piece. She was too preoccupied with allowing her fingers to study the fossil, to notice that she wasn't alone in the long lost legend of a chamber.
It was only when she felt arms slither around her waist and lock her in an embrace, did she discover that the violator of her mind had gained his own body once more. Her lips released a gasp of fright as she froze in place. Soft, triumphant sniggers entered her ears and encouraged her spine to shiver in fear.
"How lovely it is to be within your presence again, Ginevra," Tom Riddle articulated with his formal vocals, the kind of voice you wouldn't expect to leave a mouth of such evil.
His hands travelled to her hips and roughly spun her around before pressing her body firmly against himself, his fingers locking together at the small of her back.
She desperately avoided any eye contact with him, she couldn't stare at the floor since their extremely closeness permitted his charcoal jumper to block her desired vision. She felt all moisture leave her throat as a flower of terror bloomed in her chest, and began to grow at a seriously alarming rate.
She felt two of his fingers glide under her chin and forcefully tilt it upwards, making her wince as he fixed her in the beams of his frightening gaze.
And there he was, sixteen year old Voldemort in the flesh. Not a ghost, not a memory that had been preserved in a diary for fifty years, but the most darkest wizard of all time, the object of many of her nightmares, now with a fully functioning body of his own.
"My, my- haven't we grown, Ginevra," he murmured. Yes, it had been around two years since they had last encountered one another, her body had matured and developed, whereas his appearance hadn't altered one bit.
She hadn't had a good look at him the last time she was in the chamber since the waters of her pain had blurred her vision, whilst his dark magic had sent her into a drowsy trance and made her incapable of paying too much attention to her surroundings. The only chance she had ever been given to perceive his appearance was within the barriers of her dreams which he had haunted when he talked to her through the pages of his diary.
But now he wasn't writing on a piece of parchment, or a fragment of her tainted imagination, he was real. Along with the gleaming prefect badge that shined upon his Slytherin, Hogwarts robes. The jet black hair that was parted at the side and neatly groomed to where thick curls lay upon his forehead. The pupils that were undetectable as they were buried in the depths of the shadowy orbs that sat within the crevices of his pallid complexion. The thin lips that formed a malicious smirk when he witnessed her quivering mouth, and the forever increasing terror in her brown eyes as their extremely close contact permitted him to sense the pattern of her trembling body.
And this was reality, what she was facing was real. Not a dream, not an illusion, but a scene that will be considered an accurate tale in history.
She heard her own vocals scream frantic demands in her head, begs for her to get herself away from him, push him away from her body, kick him where it hurts and run to her escape. But she didn't. Failing to comply with her own cries for help because of a mixture of his control not allowing her to do so, and the fears of what he would do to her if she angered him. A wizard who had mastered the dark arts was scary enough to make anyone's hairs stand on end, but causing the fury of one was a death wish.
"Wise choice, Ginevra," Tom falsely congratulated, giving Ginny the impression that she was once again a victim of his mental invasion. "It's best not to infuriate me. We wouldn't things to become - unpleasant, now would we?"
This enhanced the shudders of her body, what he was capable of was too terrifying to even try and comprehend.
"H-h-how-" She managed to weakly utter.
"Sorry, what was that, Ginevra? I didn't quite hear that over your tremors," Tom mocked heartlessly, letting a cold, cruel laugh leave his lips.
"How a-are y-you h-h-here?" She struggled to enquire, her quaking lips doing her no favours.
"Well, you see, Ginevra," he began, his than voice allowing her to assume that he would be more happy to continue his speech, as though he had been dying to be-able to say it for years and years. He bent to shorten the distance between their faces, their mouths a mere inch apart. She watched a crimson cloud form in his eyes as his icy breathe pierced the skin on her cheek. "I never left."
That last quote created a fog bewilderment within her mind, but nothing confused her more than his next actions.
The space dividing the touch of their faces disappeared when Tom closed his eyes and landed his mouth on hers, she inhaled a sharp breathe as their lips met. He began to caress them gently, almost romantically, which was the catalyst for her profound perplexity.
Tom was known for acts of malice, killing people with no hesitation, manipulating and torturing others with no remorse. He was the kind of person who found deep pleasure in feeding on people's fears, one who was overwhelmed in lustful emotions when those he opposed were suffering.
That very same man was currently treating her with pure tenderness, and anyone would hold the assumption that her eyelids were also sealed, and she was willingly kissing him back.
His mouth consented to the fleeing of a pleasure saturated moan as his tongue darted between her lips and chased hers in a whirlwind of the affectionate performance.
She didn't know what was happening, why he was doing this, why she was contributing her half to this kiss. Was it him controlling her again? Influencing her emotions for her to gain enjoyment from this? Or was she now acting on her own free will?
Her answer came when she discovered herself comparing this moment to others she had experienced, and ones her visions had conjured.
When Michael kissed her, she found it rather bland. There was no spark, or excitement, it was as though he was too respectful and never allowed himself to have any fun, failed to express any daring aspects to his personality during the moments alone with his girlfriend. Whereas Tom was in control, expressing his dominance by getting her exactly where he wanted her. His physical strength lifted Ginny from the floor and placed her in a sitting position on the large skull of the basilisk, his lips neglecting hers to start exploring her jaw as his hips rested between her legs, which he had no trouble parting.
She never thought any minute of passionate actions would compare to what she would see and experience within her fantasies with Harry. Sure she had longed for them for a long time, but she had no doubt that her dreams had been beaten when Tom began to undo her gold and red striped tie, and let it swim in the oceans of slime before ripping her jumper down the middle in perfect symmetry. Her chest rose and fell at an extremely rapid level, the result of her erratic breathing prancing in fields of pure bliss. He made his next, close to dangerous move when his fingers began to unbutton her white school blouse as his kissing trail ventured down her neck until they met the pale half moons that her cleavage provided.
A combination of emotions were currently swimming through her system. Pleasure, bewilderment, and the presence of anxiety. She had never got this far with anyone before. The closest she and Michael had ever reached to sex, was snogging. But she and Tom had kissed, tongued, and now he began to remove her clothes in preparation for intercourse.
They were going to have sex right here, in the chamber of secrets. She had always imagined her first time being with Harry, on the comfort of a luxurious bed in a honeymoon suite, during the night of their wedding day. Not at all with Tom Riddle, in the place of her almost deathbed, and when she was the young age of fourteen.
She was scared and wanted this to end, yet her mind was expressing desperate pleads of wanting this moment to be immortal, never wanting it to die.
Tom's lips halted at her almost naked chest, his eyes shut tightly as his nostrils released a profound exhale of breath, as if he was a bull preparing to charge at the target of a red sheet. Warm air lingered across Ginny's skin as body as her skin burned from a scarlet flush, yet she still vibrated with chills from a cold temperature of the eerie atmosphere, and the frightening realisation of the malicious individual who had her in his clutches.
Tom stood up straight once more, gazing down upon her with midnight gemstones that was plagued with a mist of rubies, the traditional shade of powerful lust.
She saw his mouth form a smirk of high pride as he watched a crimson sunset form over her face. Why had he stopped? Why had he ended her feelings of uncorrupted enjoyment? Why did he have to be so cruel?
Ginny reached for the back of Tom's neck to pull his face closer to hers again, she had never wanted it to end, she had experienced sensations she had never felt before, she was desperate to taste him again, to feel his touch, to hear herself groan in satisfaction once more.
"Wow, one is rather eager, aren't they?" Tom announced proudly, he took her hands in his own and restrained her physical attempts to fulfil her desires. "You can have the rest later."
She pouted in defeat as she obediently gave up on trying to continue their session, and waited for his next request.
"But first, Ginevra, I have a task for you."
xoxo
MoonPrancer's thoughts: Hola! :D I hope you're well and having a lovely day! :D Thanks for taking time out of that day to read this chapter and I really hope you enjoyed! :)
Reply to guest review on previous chapter- The Lost Wizard: Hey there! :D It's nice to know you by your username rather than 'guest' :p Are you the person who reviewed Wondering Why I'm Here as well? :)
Awww thank-you so much for your kind words, I'm really happy to hear that! :D Thanks for reading and leaving me some amazing feedback, it means so much to me! :)
I hope you're well and having an amazing day! :D yeah you get 'amazing' rather than 'lovely' feel special ;)
Oh, and I also hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)
