Hello everyone. I would like to take this time to say thankyou to all of you lovely people that have reviewed, or added me to story alert, or added this story to their favorites, means a lot people. *wipes away tear* so anyways, here is chapter four.

A new addiction

XOXOXOXOXOXO

And because she could not lose Tom, she learned to cope with who he was. She learned to turn her shoulder at the deaths of people she had known, at the further destruction of things that had been stable. She could gaze serenely into the eyes of the bearer of bad news and block it out like a bad movie.

Losing Harry had affected Ginny more than she could have anticipated. Losing such an addiction had cased her to cling tighter to Tom. She needed something to fill the void that the addiction to Harry had left, so Tom became her new addiction, and she held onto it tighter than she had to Harry, he became more important.

So she stopped hating herself for becoming cold to such things, she learned to deal so she could keep Tom, and Tom was . . . well, Tom was everything. Harry had been her cocaine, an addiction she loved to indulge, but Tom had become her heroin, an irresistible substance she both loved and hated. He was not the kind of addiction she could easily let go of as Harry had been.

However, she was losing him; for bits and pieces of time, when he would leave her consciousness to do his dark deeds. And then he would be back again and she could smile, act normal. Tom had just returned from one such trip while Ginny had barely laid down in bed.

"Hello," He greeted in a sultry voice.

"Evening, Tom. How goes the evil front?" she asked, rolling around to find a comfortable position.

"Quite splendid, thank you," he said cordially, as if discussing the weather over a cup of tea. "Are you very tired, Ginevra?" he inquired, also quite politely.

"It's only ten, of course not. I just came to bed because there's nothing else to do." She made a face.

"Good, good. I do have a favor to ask of you, my dear."

"Oh, eh?" she raised an eyebrow.

"I think I've found a way to tap out of your mind for good." Ginny took a sharp intake of breath and felt a small pain in her chest. Sadly, she wondered why he would want to leave.

"But . . . but you love me. . ." she said wearily. He scoffed but didn't address the matter with words.

"Anyways," he said, as if he had been quite rudely interrupted. "I need you to go to my suite in the Malfoy Manor. You can apparate straight inside; I've lifted the wards temporarily." He sent her a mental image of what the room looked like that she was to apparate to. Ginny searched her mind frantically for a reasonable excuse to refuse.

"I can't, I'm only 16."

"You'll be 17 in three and a half months. And its not like you don't know how, I taught you a year ago."

"My parents will freak out," she threw out.

"As if you don't know how to conjure a look-alike to lie in your bed for a night," he said impatiently. "Time is of the essence, Weasely. Are you coming or not?" She sighed. If she said no, he would be angry for ages, but if she said yes, she might lose him. How would she talk to him once he was in Death Eater headquarters 24/7?

"Fine," she pouted. And the next second, she was in a very regal room with expensive black furnishings and a large bed with black blankets and hangings, with matching black carpet.

"Go to the bed," Tom directed from inside her mind. Ginny mad a face at being bossed around but obeyed, nevertheless. Lying on the bed was the most handsome man that she had ever laid eyes on. He had sleek black hair contrasting with pale creamy skin, dressed in plain black pants with a black button up long sleeve, the sleeves rolled up to mid-wrist, and he was holding a blacker than black rose. It was a striking scene and Ginny's breath actually caught in her throat. She felt Tom smirk.

"That's . . . that's you?" she exclaimed.

"Indeed. Behold, my twenty year old body," he said proudly.

". . . twenty?"

"Yes. My body was seventeen when I rose in the graveyard, having been preserved from the diary in your mind. It has been three years since then, no?" he explained smugly. "And now if you will have a seat, I am going to try and forcibly extract myself from you."

She complied by sitting in a near plush armchair (black, of course) and waited. Then she felt that Tom had left and she gazed over to his body. She stood quickly to stand beside the bed and saw his eyelids blink open to reveal eyes almost as black as his hair.

"Evening, Ginevra," he greeted, coming to a sitting position. Ginny gasped. She had heard his voice inside her head for years! And when she reasoned with herself, she knew it was quite illogical, but hearing his voice out loud was amazing . . . a musical fiesta to her ears. He stood and was very close to her.

She looked up at him, as he was a good five inches taller than she, and gazed at his flawless face. Then his arms snaked around her waist and she was finding it hard to breathe. He was much to close. Could she get closer?

"This is for you," he stated in a whisper, holding the rose that he had held earlier. It was beautiful in its deadly beauty.

"I . . . thank you," she breathed, looking down, unable to ignore the bewitching movement that was his chest rising and falling, taking in air.

"You want this," he stated again, this time, quietly in her ear. She bit her lip. He took her hands and placed them flat on his chest. She trembled. "I know you want this, I can feel the desire in your fingers. I can smell it, emanating off you like perfume," he added, his lips grazing her earlobe as his voice – a creamy blend of sultry tones and desire – sent shivers down her spine. She didn't reply.

"This will make us one, Ginevra. You will never need someone to fill the void that I could not fill before, like what you used Potter for. I will be you and you will be me. We will create together something together," he breathed seductively, now moving his lips along her neck, one hand on the side of her neck, the other on her waist.

"Join me, Ginevra. I can take you places you have never been; places you could have only dreamed of Potter taking you to. I can open up a world you never knew existed. Will you let me show you?" he asked, his hand now tipping her chin up so her eyes would meet his. She had so for controlled the lust he had awoken, raging inside her, but seeing Tom's equal desire for her nearly drove her wild. She had not prepared herself for defense to this kind of seduction.

"Take me, Tom. Take me far, far away." She said huskily.

He needed no further invitation.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Ginny awoke in a bed of black sheets clinging to her naked body. She smiled and rolled over expecting to see Tom. In his place was a note. A little disappointed, she read it.

Tomorrow night. Midnight.

T.

It was a mark of his affection to resign to using the name he had abandoned years ago. She smiled and stretched then winced in pain, bringing her arms to her side. She stood with a grimace and looked at herself in the closet mirror. Her neck and chest were covered with red-purple bruises left from Tom's mouth, her waist and thighs and arms were covered in black-purple bruises from where his hands had grabbed her roughly in need. She could hardly move and it was amazing. Sex with Harry had been nice and all, but it was soft and quiet. This was rough and passionate. Tom had made her yell so loud her voice was hoarse, this new kind of pleasure had awoken a darker demon inside of her. It had been so unlike anything else she had experienced, so dark and rough and . . . bad. She grinned and got dressed, then, with a pop she was gone.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Several weeks later found Ginny waiting anxiously by a window at the burrow. Tonight was the night Harry would be arriving under a cleverly planned disguise. But two groups of people were already supposed to have arrived and Ginny and her mum were worried. Every night for the past few weeks, Ginny had gone to Tom, but they had not talked of his plans for tonight, as she liked to pretend that he and the Dark Lord were two separate people, so she had no idea what was going on

"Mum! Harry and Hagrid are here!" Ginny shrieked upon seeing the two arrive just outside the garden. She and her mother ran from the house to greet them.

Harry? You are the real Harry? What happened? Where are the others?" her mother cried. Harry explained how he and Hagrid had been attacked by Voldemort on the way to the burrow. Her mother ran inside for brandy for Hagrid and Harry looked at her hopefully for information.

"Ron and Tonks should have been back first, but they missed their port key, it came back without them," she said, pointing at a rusty oil can lying on the ground nearby. "And that one," she pointed at an ancient sneaker, "should have been Dad and Fred's, they were supposed to be second. You and Hagrid were third and," she checked her watch, "if they made it, George and Lupin ought to be back in about a minute." She vaguely realized this would have made her mad with Tom before, but she had now successfully accomplished separating Tom's actions and Voldemort's actions and so was now just mad at a faceless man named Voldemort for the wrong doings in the world.

Her mother reappeared then carrying a bottle of brandy, which she handed to Hagrid. He uncorked it and drank it straight down in one.

"Mum!" Ginny shouted suddenly, pointing to a spot several feet away. Lupin and George had appeared.

Later met everyone gathered in suspenseful silence around the couch. George had lost an ear. When Fred arrived, however, George seemed to recover a bit, making a terrible joke about his situation at once. The tension in the room lit up a bit. Harry motioned Ginny out of the room. She acquiesced and followed him out the back.

"Ron and Tonks should be back by now. They didn't have a long journey; Auntie Muriel's not that far from here," she told him in a low voice, knowing he would want to know. He didn't reply. They stopped walking and he looked at her. She knew he wanted to hold her . . . they had been so close. He looked so sad. With a choke, she made sure her jacket was still securely covering the many bruises on her neck.

She wanted to do something! She resigned to takin his hand in hers and walking towards the group of people silently staring at the sky awaiting the next arrivals. Once Ron and Tonks had arrive, Ginny ran inside under the pretense of informing her mum, but mainly to get away from Harry.

She still loved him and he still loved her. But she had been with Harry's mortal enemy . . . she didn't know how to feel. She cursed herself and then there was the fact that Harry could not even begin to compete with Tom in any area. She scowled at herself. The news that Mad-eye Moody was dead shook her, and she was flustered to find herself thinking Tom will be pleased.

The night was chaos. Ginny moved around numbly, carefully avoiding Harry. And after the slight shock, she worked herself into a fury. 'My effin brother! And Mad-eye! What the hell was Tom thinking?! And he could fly!' She shook her head at the last thought, determined to not be in awe, determined to be angry. But when midnight rolled around, Ginny made her excuses and appearing to have locked herself in her room, made her way to the end of the protective enchantments around the burrow and disappeared with a pop.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Tom was sitting in a striking lazy pose, sideways in an armchair casually breezing through a large book. His hair fell slightly in his face and the fire near him illuminated his pale features gloriously. It took all her will power to not gasp at the beautiful sight in front of her. He glanced up and ran his eyes over her hungrily. Her jacket had fallen open to reveal a small black cami that defined her chest and showed a bit of her stomach above cut off shorts on barefooted legs. In the chaos of the night, she hadn't changed.

She had arrived more than ready to yell and argue about his actions. But as soon as he had ran his eyes over her and she had barely opened her mouth to begin her tirade, he had walked over to her and pushed his lips ferociously against hers.

"I've been waiting," he whispered seductively and before she had time to speak, he had grabbed her thighs below her ass and lifted her to his waist where she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. And his lips were against hers again.

'I've got to remember to yell at him,' she thought faintly. . . 'but what about?' she tried to remember as he carried her to the bed and they fell gracefully onto it. She was still mad, but she couldn't think of anything but the feel of Tom's tongue in her mouth, his hands ripping off her clothes, her own hand ripping his off. And she couldn't remember why she was mad anymore.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

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