I am soooooooo very sorry for the lack of updates. I know I should have been posting a lot sooner than this, but I've got a bit of time now to where I feel like I can hopefully begin updating on a regular basis. Thank you to everyone that has reviewed in my absence. Thank you for all of the input and I hope that I have not disappointed you. The beginning of this chapter has been written for a while, but the second half was just written today, so I think the details should be better and more up to par. I'm currently about a third of the way through chapter 11 right now, and I hope to have it posted soon. So, without further delay, I give you chapter 10. Enjoy.

Once everything had been said, Tom left, leaving me to myself again. Shortly after he left, Daisy came back.

"Is Miss okay?" She sat the food down and rushed over to me.

"I'm fine. I walked back over to the bed to sit down. After I was back under the comforter, Daisy handed me some food.

"If Miss is okay, then why is she crying?" The house-elf cocked her head to the side.

"It was just an argument. You know, I'm not really all that hungry anymore." I smiled lightly, and attempted to pass back the bowl of soup that Daisy had handed me.

"Daisy was told that Miss had to eat, whether she was hungry or not." Daisy put up her arms so that she wouldn't have to take the bowl back.

"Daisy, you're a free elf. You don't have to take orders anymore." She looked nervous.

"Daisy. Please take the bowl."

"Daisy can't, Miss." She backed away.

"Why bloody not?" I was annoyed and knew that I shouldn't take my aggression out on her when I was mad at Tom, but I couldn't help it. She wasn't cooperating.

"Wow, Weasley. I thought you were better to house-elves than that." My head shot up to see Malfoy standing in the doorway.

"Piss off, Malfoy," I growled.

"What did you do to the headmaster to piss him off?" He asked, leaning up against the wall next to the door.

"I didn't do anything. Not directly." I moved carefully to set the soup back onto the table. Apparently carefully, wasn't carefully enough since the soup splashed over the side of the bowl and onto the bed. "Damnit."

"Do you always talk like that, Weasley?" He walked towards the bed and swished is wand. The spilled soup disappeared. "And what did you do?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy." I turned away from him, now very interested in looking around the room.

"Fine, you don't have to tell me. I was told that you had to eat though."

"Piss off. I'm not hungry."

"I highly doubt that. You've been living off of nutrition potions that have been shoved down your throat as you sleep."

"Then I don't need food. It's not like I'll be dying soon from starvation."

"Weasley, don't you understand? Those potions keep you alive, but they don't keep you that healthy. If you try to go back to school, you know, not being stuck in a bed, you're going to find yourself passed out somewhere. Do you want to go back to playing Quidditch, because I can guarantee that you won't be playing without getting on a decent diet?" I glanced over to see that his usually emotionless face was that of annoyance.

"Why would I want to play for Slytherin?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Because that's the bloody house that you're in. Fine. I can't deal with you. Headmaster Riddle will have to come back in, he'll force you to eat, whether you like it or not, and perhaps he can get through your bloody thick skull."

I smirked at him, happy that I had finally won a battle. "See ya, Malfoy."

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door as he left. I began to lounge, not feeling like starting the second part of my Defense Against the Dark Arts paper.

"Miss… you really do need to eat." The house elf began again.

"No." I closed my eyes, no longer wanting to debate this with anyone.

"Ginevra. Eat." Great. The Satan incarnate is back.

"No." I closed my eyes and began to massage my temples.

"Ginevra. Now." He sounded incredibly annoyed, but I couldn't be bothered by it.

"Piss off."

"Ginevra, I don't want to have to, but I will put you under the imperious curse." I could feel the edge of the bed sink down, telling me that he had sat. I could feel a migraine coming along, and his name was Voldemort. "One. Two."

"Fine." I growled, sitting up, glaring at the wizard that led all of the wizards that I have grown to hate.

"Tone." He warned, lounging overtop of the books that I had at the foot of his bed.

I could feel my lip curl up in disgust, and bat back a snide remark. I reached over to grab the bowl of soup that I had previously abandoned on the bedside table. As I picked up the bowl, my arms began to shake slightly, and it tumbled out of my hands and onto the floor, the ceramic bowl shattering with a crash.

I closed my eyes in an attempt to calm down and relax, and as I did so, Tom—Voldemort, must have cleaned up the mess because when I opened my eyes up after a few seconds, the bowl was gone.

"Daisy, please go back to the kitchen and bring Miss Weasley back another bowl of soup along with some bread." Tom—no, Voldemort, needed to say no more than that because Daisy quickly disappeared with a small, pop.

I closed my eyes again in an attempt to ignore Voldemort's presence in the room, but of course, it would appear that he wasn't having any of that. He reached up and gently cupped the side of my face in a soft caress. "Ginevra, please look at me."

I shook my head no, ignoring how his hand gripped the side of my face a bit harder than before. "Why are you so stubborn? I don't ask much of you. I'm polite. I'm trying, but you keep pushing me away." I could actually hear a little emotion come through his voice. It was disappointment, and as much as I didn't want to admit to the cold, heartless Slytherin that sat before me had human like emotions, I heard hurt. Raw hurt. The same hurt that Ron showed when he felt betrayed by Harry.

I heard a soft pop, the sign that Daisy was back and turned my face to look in the direction of the sound. She held another bowl that looked identical to the one the one that I had just dropped in one hand, and in the other she had a small silver platter of what looked like freshly baked bread.

Tom must have turned to look as well, or maybe he didn't because he was now talking to the house elf. "Go ahead and set that down on that table and bring me a chair."

The small elf moved gracefully, although she appeared to be slightly fidgety under the gaze of the dark lord. She sat both items down so carefully that neither made much noise, and then she proceeded to grab the chair that Tom had slept in earlier. Her small form moved the chair with ease although it looked a bit comical since the chair was easily twice her size.

"You may leave now." Tom spoke to her in a very flat tone, conveying none of the emotions that I had heard from him just moments before. And right after Tom had spoken to her, she disapparated with the signature pop, leaving me alone, once again, with one of the darkest wizards that have ever lived.

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