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Chapter 12
Ginny was on the floor again. This time, she opened her eyes without hesitation.
"Are you alright?" Tom was sat at the other end of the chamber, looking at her. He was leering, most unbecomingly.
"How long was I out?" She asked.
"Not long." He shrugged. "About half an hour."
Ginny nodded, absorbing this. Why did she feel so weak?
Tom seemed to read her mind. "You're hungry. Here." He presented her with a small brown paper bag, with some sandwiches inside. Ginny ate hungrily. She hadn't realised how starving she'd been.
"Thanks." She said.
"Don't mention it." Tom replied. He had a strange glint in his eye. "Soon, you won't be thanking me for anything."
Ginny felt unease creep back over her.
"Why do you say that?" She asked, to no avail. He stayed silent, staring at her.
"Who are you?" Ginny asked. The words came out quieter than she'd hoped. She sounded fragile. Heck, she felt fragile. She felt ill.
For a moment, some other expression flashed across Tom's face, but before Ginny could identify it, he was smirking again.
"You know who I am. I'm Tom." He began to walk towards her. "Get up." He instructed, offering a hand. She refused to take it, getting up by herself. Tom snickered. He seemed less translucent than before, but Ginny told herself that was stupid. Ghosts didn't change.
"How did you die?" She asked, bluntly.
Tom seemed stumped for a moment, and then understanding flickered across his face. "It's complicated." He answered enigmatically. He held out a bag to her, and Ginny took it, warily. Inside, she was delighted to see a sandwich. She wolfed it down fast, as he watched. His eyes were always on her. She didn't like it. It was unnerving.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, as if it was some kind of joke.
Ginny frowned. "Awful."
She had to find a way out of here. Looking around, she couldn't see any exits. At the end of the chamber was a huge face in the rock. It was eerie. Tom noticed her looking around.
"You'll never escape." He told her, in a voice that should've been gloating but came across sad.
"Why am I here?" Ginny asked.
"Don't worry yourself. You're not well." Tom replied.
Ginny resented his statement, but she was already tired from standing. She felt horribly drained. Swaying on her feet, she toppled forwards, grabbing onto Tom's shoulders to avoid impact with the floor. She felt him stiffen under her touch. Firmly, he pushed her away. "Go to sleep." He told her. Ginny shook her head.
Tom frowned, perplexed. Why would the girl not do as he asked? What did she want from him?
"Lie down, you stupid girl." He spat, pushing her over onto the floor.
That should've felt good. He was being vindictive. He was hurting her. Those were his main pleasures in life. Why, then, did the sight of her crumpled body give him so much dissatisfaction? Filled with resentment, he turned his back to her.
He could hear her crying, silently. She must feel terrible.
The next words just came out.
"I'm sorry."
Why had he said that? He, Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord, apologising to a teenage girl? She was nothing special! He hated her! Why did she make him feel this way? Enraged, he turned to kick her, to scream at her, to HURT her then way he knew he should –
when he saw those big, tearful eyes and her bloody nose. Crouching in front of her, he prepared to insult her, to break her.
Her eyes encapsulated him.
She spoke first.
"Get away from me."
The words seared him, crushing his resolve.
"Look, I-"
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" She screamed, slapping him around the face.
He fell back, reeling. HOW DARE SHE? Rising to his feet, he drew back his fist, ready to strike her on the head. She let out a cry and fell back, sobbing, gasping – the fear in her eyes froze him. He could see his reflection in them.
Tom was then swallowed up by a new emotion, completely.
Guilt. Shame. Remorse.
He ran from her, and from himself, until he could run no more.
