A/N: My second HP one-shot and…I kind of dislike it. There are parts I like, and others I don't. Oh well. As long as it's written, I may as well share it, right? Maybe someone out there will like it more then I do.
Harry Potter belongs to J.K. The Willow Song is from Shakespeare. I'm kind of obsessed with it at the moment. Obviously.
This is set after the final battle. A few weeks afterwards, I guess. Maybe a month.
Sorry for anything that doesn't...quite match with the books. It's been a while since I re-read them last.
Um…try to enjoy it, I guess?
She wasn't sure where she was.
Ginny Weasley had left her house at four in the morning, and began walking. She didn't pay attention to what direction she walked in, nor to which way was the way back. She didn't want to know. She wanted to be well and thoroughly lost.
Three hours later, she'd managed it. She'd watched the sun rise as she walked, and now she came across an unfamiliar pond, filled with colorful ducks, loud geese, and two swans, one white and one black. The pond was surrounded by tall grass, purple and yellow wildflowers, and a great willow tree. The branches of the tree stretched far out across the water, and she watched as a few ducks took shelter underneath the canopy of green.
"Not a bad idea," she mumbled to herself, looking up at the grey sky. She walked across the thick grass and carefully parted the leaves, then strolled through the curtain they formed. The trunk of the tree was dark brown and covered with green moss, and in the branches she counted two nests, the occupants of which were missing. Around the tree's roots were stones of various shapes and sizes. Ginny found one that was the perfect shape to sit on, and was close enough to the tree to lean against the trunk, and face the pond. She sat and gently hummed to herself. She wasn't sure what the tune was, but it was soft and sad and sweet. Perfect for her mood.
"I never want to go back there," she informed a black-and-white diver. It called out an answer, it's voice deep and sorrowful. She took it as a request to continue. "I love Harry, I do, really…but I can never get rid of that little voice in the back of my mind."
A goose honked nearby her, and fluttered it's wings. It was obviously not interested in Ginny's story, not in the slightest. It almost looked ready to attack. Ginny sat as still as she could until the goose moved on to bullying another goose.
"He's always there, you know…" she talked to her diver friend. "Always in the back of my mind, commenting. He commented on my going to the Yule Ball with Neville. He commented on my dating Michael Corner, and Dean Thomas. He did so much more then just comment when Harry and I first kissed."
Ginny sighed, remembering all the times she'd heard his voice. Of course, it wasn't really his voice. She imagined it…but she couldn't stop herself from imagining it. Imagining the things he would say, or might want her to do. The latter was much more terrifying. She thought of all the times she'd been alone with Harry, all the times there was this little voice in the back of her head screaming 'kill him! Kill him! Do it for me!'.
"That's why I can't marry him, of course," she said, matter-of-factly. "I can't marry Harry when I have Tom's voice trying to convince me that I'd be better off if Harry were dead. I know none of it's real…but…well, it's wrong, isn't it?"
She couldn't help but believe that if she were meant to be with Harry, Tom's voice would disappear from her mind.
"It's not fair," she sighed, picking up a rock and throwing it far into the pond as she could. It fell under the murky water with a small splash, and the ripples that expanded out bothered the swans, who flew a few feet away from the disturbance before landing gracefully again. "I never did anything wrong. And I fought so hard to make up for what he made me do. Why can't I be rid of him?
You will never truly be rid of me, Ginevra, she heard his voice. It was true, wasn't it?
The tune she'd hummed earlier came back to her now. She hummed as she watched the birds fly and eat and sing. The diver seemed to know the tune, too, and sang along.
"I wish I could remember the words," she told the diver. She really ought to give him a name. Maybe Dobby the Second. No…that wouldn't be…right. "How about Shikoba? That means 'feather', doesn't it?"
The driver almost seemed to nod, continuing the tune. Ginny looked out across the lake, and hummed again as droplets began falling from the sky and disturbing the smooth surface. Birds quickly flocked under the tree, or off to other places, seeking shelter from the sudden rainfall.
"The poor soul sat sighing…by a sycamore tree…" Ginny sang, not fully realizing that she'd recalled the words to the song. "Sing willow, willow, willow...Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee…"
Part of her – a very dark part, the part of ourselves we keep secret from everyone – wished he'd really loved her. That maybe she was the one pure, good thing in his existence. That someone dark and powerful and strong loved her, wanted her, despite her faults. And she could possibly make him…maybe not good, but…better. At least make him love one good thing.
"Sing willow, willow, willow, willow…sing all a green willow…my garland shall be…"
None of that could ever, ever be true. Even in her dreams he was dark, forceful and cruel. He repeated that he didn't love her, that he had charmed her and used her and disposed of her as he had countless others. There was no comfort in her dreams.
"The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans…sing willow, willow, willow…" she sang, watching the rain and feeling it's sharp cold on her warm skin. "Her salt tears ran from her and soft'ned the stones…"
How strange, that this song would reflect her reality. She sat under the green blanket of a willow tree, watching the rain and feeling the pure water mix with her own salty tears. Tears for the life she could have had, where she and Harry could be married and happy for ever and ever. If only she had never spoken to that diary. If only she hadn't poured her soul into it.
You poured some of your soul into me, his voice said. And I poured some of mine into yours.
She wished she could silence him, with every fiber of her being she wished she could.
"Sing willow, willow, willow, willow…sing all a green willow…my garland shall be…"
She was weak. She was weak, and she couldn't fight off the memory of him.
"Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve…sing willow, willow, willow…"
Why was it she had this sudden feeling of doom? As though something terrible were about to happen, and the song was trying to tell her to be careful.
"He was born to be fair, I to die for his love…" she stopped suddenly, not wanting to remember the end of the story the song told. It echoed too strongly, reminded her of Tom and her, years ago in the Chamber of Secrets. He was born to be fair…born to live, to be beautiful, dark and strong. And in order for him to be all that he knew he was destined to be, she had to die to give him strength. She would have died, too, willingly…if he'd only loved her.
That scared her so, how weak she had been. How weak she still was. Oh, she appeared very strong on the outside…but inward, she would crumble and die if no one loved her. That was why she was so easy to prey on…she was so desperate to not be alone.
But here she was. Alone. Besides Shikoba, of course. But no human was near her. And she meant to keep it that way. And it terrified her.
"I don't want to be alone," she admitted. "But how can I be around people when he won't leave me alone?"
If I won't leave you alone, then you can't be alone. She could almost hear him say.
"I want real people," she sighed. "Flesh and blood. People who have flaws, and both good and evil in them. Not a voice in my mind that is just a shadow of a creature who was nothing more then darkness."
I was so much more then darkness, he insisted. I was power.
"Dark power."
What is the good of flesh and blood if they are weak? I only wanted strength.
"You wanted control. And destruction."
Now all I want is life.
"You're dead," Ginny insisted. "You can't live. You can't even want life."
I can. I do. Give me life, Ginevra. Give me life, and I will give you what you most want.
"Freedom from you?" she spat, and Shikoba cried out in surprise.
No. Love.
"You can't love. You have no soul."
I am a soul.
"You can't love," she repeated.
Does it matter so long as you believe it's love?
"But I can't believe it's love," she said. "Not when I know it's not."
You can, if you try hard enough, he said gently, almost tenderly. If I play my part well…and I shall.
"The illusion of love is not as good as the real thing," she insisted.
But it is better then the total absence of it. Is that not true?
Ginny had only just noticed that she had wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to fight back the deep loneliness she felt.
"I could go back to Harry."
And I shall still be there, whispering to you of his inadequacies, of your weaknesses, telling you time and again that it would be better if he were dead. Do you want that, Ginevra? Do you want to hear my voice every moment of every day, telling you how wrong everything in your life is?
"No," she gasped. "I don't. I'll just silence you."
You haven't been able to yet.
"I'll tell them about you."
That you hear Lord Voldemort's voice in your head? You are smarter then that. How do you think they will react?
They wouldn't believe her. She didn't believe it, either.
Give me life, and I will leave your mind. And you will be free to return to your precious Harry Potter.
"What will you do?" Ginny whispered, unable to believe that she was considering this. A deal with the devil so she could have peace. Wasn't she supposed to be brave?
Does it matter what I will do? He wondered. You will be rid of me. And you will always have the offer of staying by my side. Where you will always be safe.
"Safe," Ginny repeated. No word was more beautiful to her, not even love.
Just set me free, my Ginevra. Grant me freedom.
"I don't know how."
All you have to do is say it. Say 'I grant you life, Tom Riddle.'
"That's all?" She refused to believe peace was that simple to buy.
And sacrifice a life. A bird would suffice.
He wanted her to kill for him again. No – no, she wouldn't do it!
It's just a bird, he insisted. You killed roosters once. One bird isn't that difficult.
"No. I won't have blood on my hands for you!"
For Harry. Is it fair to deprive him of the woman he loves because you are afraid to kill one, little bird?
He was manipulating her. She was no fool…she could see it. Nevertheless, it was working.
"Just a bird?"
Just a bird.
Ginny stood. First, she would have to catch one. Just catch one, that was all. She wasn't sure she was going to kill it anyway.
The goose was back. She reached for it, but it honked at her, bit her hand and flew off.
"Ouch!" Ginny hissed, shaking her hand. She tried again, this time attempting to grab a duck. The same happened, only she managed to move her hand away as it snapped at her. Again and again she tried, and again and again failed to catch a bird.
"How did I ever get hold of those roosters?" she wondered. She went back to her rock and sat down, and the diver greeted her with a short song.
The diver, Shikoba. The bird.
Slowly, carefully, she reached a hand out to the bird. It didn't move. She patted it's feathers gently, and still the bird did not bite or fly away.
Closing her eyes tight and moving quickly, she held Shikoba down, grabbed a rock and brought the stone down on her bird-friend's head. And then she screamed. And then she cried.
Say it! The voice commanded urgently. You must say it or there is no point!
"I grant you life, Tom Riddle!" she said quickly, between sobs. "I grant you life, Tom Riddle!"
And then…
And then, the voice was gone from her mind.
Instead, she heard it with her ears.
"Sing willow, willow, willow, willow…" his deep voice was gentle and pleasant, but absent of emotion. "Sing all a green willow…my garland shall be…"
She stood, her eyes still closed so she would not see the blood of the diver. Then, she turned and opened her eyes to look at something infinitely more morbid.
Tom Riddle stood before her, exactly as he had looked all those years ago in the Chamber.
"Hello, Ginny," he greeted cheerfully. "Thank you for the help. I could never have come back if you hadn't helped me."
"No…" she whispered, only now fully understanding what she'd done. "How is this possible?"
"I told you, Ginny," he chided. "I put some of my own soul into you. You only helped it gain a body. And now I must finish the work I began."
"No."
"Yes, Ginny," he said, and then reached into his robes. "Unfortunately, I have no further need of you."
"You promised!" she exclaimed. "You promised I would be safe…"
He smirked. "I promised a great many people a great many things. But I never keep my promises.'
She opened her mouth to say something, anything, that would stop him…but too late. Next she knew, he'd spoken the words…a bright flash of green light, and –
Harry woke suddenly. He glanced at the clock beside him, which read 9:00. He'd slept in a little later then he'd meant to, but the only sounds in the house came from Mrs. Weasley cooking in the kitchen, so he supposed it was alright.
He got up and put his glasses on, and quickly changed and walked out of his room. As he headed downstairs, he began singing softly to himself.
"Sing willow, willow, willow…"
RubyMoon's Secret Place
RubyMoon: What started as a simple story about Ginny reflecting on her life ended up…that. I don't know how. But I'm thinking one day I might take some ideas from this and make a full-length, hopefully actually GOOD Tom/Ginny fanfic. Anyway. Please leave a review? I'd like to know what went wrong here.