Ginny managed to get her owl off to Percy before she saw Blaise again, and she managed to break up with Blaise in a way that left them friends. He smiled a little wanly, then pulled her into a tight hug and said she'd better still wave to him during Quidditch matches, and she promised she would, and that was that.

She almost wished it had been harder. Why hadn't he asked her why, or tried to argue her out of it? By the time she'd slid into her bed, curtains drawn against her roommates, she felt miserable, probably far more miserable than Blaise.

She'd left the diary under her pillow, and pulled it out, opened it, and set her hand along the page. A question whispered up her soul and, tears she didn't even understand burning in her eyes, she didn't say no. Without a word, Tom slipped into her. She waited for his usual, amused condescension, she waited for him to mock her for being a stupid little girl, but he seemed to taste her emotions, a snake licking the very air he breathed, and he settled around her with silent, welcome warmth. She lay in the darkness and felt herself soak her pillow as she cried until Tom said, I could kill him.

She choked back a laugh. No.

He made you cry.

I'd think you'd be all happy. You never liked him anyway.

Tom seemed to settle down against her and she could feel his disagreement. I like him fine. He'll be an excellent follower. I'm grateful, however, to be spared any direct experience of his inept kisses.

Ginny began to protest that they hadn't been inept and that she wasn't recruiting followers, but before she could articulate the thoughts, she stopped. Of course they had been and of course she was. That's what this House did. They made friends, yes, but always with that sense of who would be useful. It was why Pansy and Daphne had sought her out and brought her into their circle. It was why Theo and Blaise had flirted with her. The Malfoys had marked her as one of their own and everyone wanted a piece of that.

That just made her cry harder. The stupid horcrux had been right. No one valued her for herself, just for her place in the social hierarchy. Everyone just wanted to be close to the first Slytherin Weasley, the girl Narcissa Malfoy championed. She was a chip on the political table, that was all. No one loved her for herself, not even her own family. They'd turned their backs as soon as she'd become a snake.

I like you, Tom said.

She snorted at that and one of her roommates muttered something about crazy Ginevra.

She's not interested in you because of your social status, Tom said.

Ginny didn't bother to give words to her sour opinion about that and Tom snickered - actually snickered - and the sound of laughter only she could hear made her smile a tiny bit, though her chest still ached and her eyes still burned.

Will you let me kill her, at least? Tom asked.

That made her laugh, though she threw a quick silencing spell up around her bed before any noise escaped her mouth. Tom wrapped her in his smug pleasure that he'd cheered her up before he said, You can't believe things horcruxes say, Ginevra.

She laughed harder at that and, as he became offended, had to point out that he was a horcrux, and that, yes, she would probably be better off discounting everything he said, especially that he liked her. She could feel him get furious he'd trapped himself and at last he said, Do you think I could lie to you when we're like this?

I think you could deceive anyone, she said.

He almost preened at that, but nudged her with an insistence that she answer the specific question. Could he lie to her, lie explicitly and directly, when they were two souls in one body they way they were? She had to admit it seemed unlikely. Still, he'd managed to deceive her for years.

You didn't tell me you were Lord Voldemort, she said.

You never asked, Tom said.

Splitting hairs.

She pulled her head up, wiped at her face, and flipped the pillow over so the wet spot wouldn't be pressed into her cheek. Can you love? she asked as she settled back down.

What is love?

So, no.

She'd irritated him, and he muttered thoughts too indistinct for her to pick out until he said, I want to kill people who make you unhappy, and am happy when you are successful. I would vastly prefer not to hurt you. Will that suffice?

Don't start writing romance novels.

Tom laughed at that and Ginny curled up in her bed, less alone than she'd felt in months. This was her Tom, her best friend, the brilliant, cruel boy who liked to make her smile. She knew she should make him go back into the diary. It couldn't be safe to let him join her like this for too long.

Not join, possess, a voice that wasn't his whispered, and she knew it was her own mind, common sense insisting this was a bad choice. She ignored it. She'd been so sad without him, and now he was back.

I missed you too, he said.

She nestled down into the soft mattress and pulled the blankets up. Pansy thinks I should ask Draco out, she said.

She's wrong, Tom said. Before the wave of bleak misery could wash over her again, before she could think she'd ended things with Blaise just so she could be with the boy who made her nervous and filled with butterflies and now she was being told no, that was a bad idea, Tom went on. Let him feel clever and like he's in charge; let him go after you.

What if he doesn't?

He will. Tom's amusement at the very idea Draco wouldn't pant at the opportunity to ask her out made a tiny bud of confidence bloom anew within her, despite Blaise's lack of despair at being dumped, and she licked her lips at the idea of herself as irresistible. I said let him feel like he's in charge, Tom said. You know it will be us really running everything.

. . . . . . . . . .

A/N - Thanks always to turbulenthandholding. She is a treasure, as are you, amazing and thoughtful reader.