It was a Monday,

When my lover told me,

Never pay the reaper with,

Love only.

Her voice was the first thing that made him look up. Skull-like Ginny was unmoving, staring at him, her eyes forever unblinking, forever unforgiving, but that's not what was drawing him back. He cracked his eyelids open and then shut them hurriedly as the dim light from a wand blinded his enlarged pupils.

"You can't do this he needs to be taken care of properly…" Her… it really was her, but she's upset.

He withdrew inside himself again and stared at the little figure rocking back and forth.

"She's crying!" He exclaimed, the words bouncing around his skull. She just shrugged and stood up, stretching lightly, flexing her long fingers. She turned on her heel, and walked towards the doors. He made no move to stop her; they'd been opened before. She seemed to still relish in them though, clapping as the cobwebbed shadows whipped around her. It was the only reality she could ever know dream created as she was. He watched sadly as she left, the grey robe whipping around her bare ankles.

He turned back to the voice and managed to open his eyes even fuller.

"I can do anything I want! You are mine" the arrogant voice hissed, "Never forget that," There was a crash and he could hear a light sobbing.

"What if he never wakes up?" her voice still held a strength of sorts, cold and dignified, "Daddy won't be very happy, will he?"

A hard slap and the slamming of a door. The sobbing had stopped.

Inside tom's head, anger began to build, and anger is strength. He began to regain control of his muscles and nerves. He was still unable to grasp his motor functions, but at least he could speak, to an extent.

"Gi…Gi…?" he had trouble remembering how to form the words, his mouth rebellious as he tried to speak. "Ginny?"

There was movement in the shadows, and his eyes began to take in proper details out of the fuzz. His nerves were gradually clocking in senses. He was lying on a hard mattress, a woolen blanket thrown over him. Beneath this, a harsh cotton was directly next to his skin.

"Tom?" despite her earlier strength, her voice was raw and rough. "Did you speak?" The light shifted as she stood shakily to her feet. As she walked towards him, he was sickened by the changed in her. Her hair was lank, grown out of its style and left to hang limply by her face. Her face was pale and thin, with dark circles making her eyes look hollow. Her general appearance was not improved by her robes, which billowed around her in the darkest black, the material shining from the light from her wand. It seemed to be designed to give the appearance that the wearer had no figure at all, though the shadows might have made it worse. But what most shocked him were her eyes, once cold and proud now they were brimming with tears, a broken figure with a light purple bruise blossoming on her left cheek bone.

Inside Skull-like Ginny lurked in the shadows, afraid and broken, she looked through his eyes with as much despair as he, stroking the dark mark that was etched onto her right cheek.

He tried to smile, but was unsure of how to do it.

"Yeah…" he wasn't sure where to go from there, but Ginny seemed to know the rules. She hesitated at first, then bent down awkwardly and kissed his forehead.

"Welcome back," she croaked, "Had a nice sleep?" there was a faint cut over her left eye, hidden by her hair. He could see it if he closed one eye. It was an ashy pink and was well healed, but he could not remember seeing it before.

"How long have I been down?"

"Four months…" she bit her lip, as if mentioning the passing of time was hard. He wanted to reach up to her, comfort her in some way, but it was impossible even to raise his hand. She saw it in his eyes though and she blushed. "I'm sorry… it's just been hard you know? To watch you day after day, cold and unmoving. And after everything I'd done to get you here, all I could do was watch you slip silently away." She absent-mindedly stroked his hand and he desperately tried to grip it. She smiled at the movement and sighed. "I'd come down everyday and find no change. We…He… he thought you were dead, but I knew you were too strong to be killed, you had to be…for…" She stopped suddenly and looked ashamed, like a guilty child caught with her hand in the biscuit jar.

"For what?" he probed, but she ignored the question and stood up, gripping the wall as she did so. Tom was appalled; Draco had hurt her that badly? She walked a little distance away and returned with a soft chair.

"I spend so much time down here, I'm surprised I didn't just move in." she said, sitting slowly down. "Sorry, but the floor was getting cold." He just nodded.

"You asked me before, how I released you. Do you still want to know?"

"Yes…" he felt unsure why she had brought this up.

To punish you more hissed the girl inside his head, and looking up at her face, he was afraid that this was the truth.

********************************************************

Draco curled up on the cushioned train seat and pulled out the diary. It was safe here, no one ever dared disturb him or try to share his compartment. Crabbe and Goyle were up the front terrorizing the first years, so he had blissful peace for the rest of the journey. He stroked the book again with his wand and allowed the sparks to flow freely. He had sat like this every night since his father had first bestowed the task on him.

He watched as the cover mended and the engraving begin to shine. The hole had long since closed, and pages had appeared from where they had once been torn. The ink too drained back into the pages, though the blood held fast, a constant reminder that it was Harry Potter he had to beat. He felt the familiar fatigue as the diary drained his power. At the beginning, the healing was quick and he enjoyed the feeling of power rushing from him. Now, he had barely enough energy to keep the wand up against the book. He knew he desperately needed to sleep, that nights spent draining his magic into a book were hardly the best way to stay healthy, but it was an addiction now. He had performed something his father had been unable to do. The dark lord had visited him personally on the night before he had returned to school, after his Christmas holidays, and hinted great things in his future. He would be better then his father could even dream, and this book held all the promises.

The world was blurring again. He was well used to it by now, and enjoyed the swirly feelings. He stared once across the empty compartment and then up at the door. A face was peering anxiously through it and he dropped the book. The magic connection immediately severed and he regained some of his strength. He leapt up from his seat and pulled the door open in time to see a slim red headed girl racing down the corridor and into one of the far compartments. He leaned against the doorframe and let her run. He knew who she was, and what she was after. A father like his was extremely loose lipped about all that went on in the school. He also knew that she would be back. He smirked and went back into his room, shutting the door behind him.

********************************************************

Ginny lay shaking beneath her covers in the dim gloom of her bed. She had closed the curtains to shut out the excited chatter of her roommates. She couldn't think about boys and busts at the moment. At the feast she could barely think about food either and had passed most of her plate down to Crookshanks who had sat hissing beneath the table. The others didn't notice. Victor Krum had presented Hermione with an enchanted mirror during the holidays and the trio had been busy seeing what Snape's bedroom looked like, even if Ron had spent most of the dinner scowling angrily whenever Hermione's back was turned.

The last light had extinguished itself and the dorm lay quiet in the musty gloom of a room who had been shut up for three months. She opened the curtains a crack and peeped out. All the beds surrounding her had their curtains shut and a faint sound of breathing hung over them; punctuated only by the faint snores of Faye, who suffered from sinus problems. She lifted her quaking legs out of the safety of her blankets and stepped unsteadily onto the stone floor. It was icy cold, but she ignored it and walked as quietly as she could out the door and down the twisting steps that led into the common room. It too was deserted and the fire long since gone out. Scattered on the floor however, she could make out small lumps of pink fluff. Her brothers idea of a joke no doubt. She was incredibly careful not to step on them, one wrong move and the burst out a very loud version of 'La Coukaracha' . She shuddered inwardly at the memories.

When she reached the portrait hole she realized that she had not thought this through at all. Fluff alarms were peanuts compared to Filch… and Snape at three in the morning. Harry, she would have to ask Harry to help. Or perhaps just borrow something…

She padded carefully back across the room, leaped over the fourth and ninth steps up to the boys part of the dorm and leapt over the door jamb to land crouched in Harry's Dorm. (She had been The Twins sister long enough to be paranoid.) Endless discussion about what exactly this room looked like had led her to believe quite a few things. What was left out of course, was the fact that it was much messier then theirs and smelt like old socks. She hoped, skipped and jumped over such items as; Neville's toad, a handle off a broom stick, A book on how to make a million Galleons, a book on how to make a Billion galleons and a book on how to spend 20 sickles. All of which probably had 'Property of Ron Weasley' stamped on the inside cover.

The last bed was Harry's, a Firebolt leaning against it, the gold writing glinting in the beams of moonlight shining in from the window. She tiptoed over it, avoiding a multitude of odd socks and half-eaten chocolate frogs as she did so. She hesitated when she touched the curtain though. What if he was awake? Or worse still… what if he was asleep… She would have to touch him then. She walked around to the over side of the bed and was about to peer inside the gloom when her knee bashed against something; Harry's Trunk. She opened it gingerly, but it appeared to be unprotected. It too smelt of old socks, but of nicer smells as well, like fresh grass and expensive after-shave. She rooted through it, unearthing a broken sneeker-scope, twenty magazines about Quidditch in one form or another, a comic she didn't recognize called 'The Beano' and a broom stick repair kit. There at the very bottom, however, she found the Invisibility cloak. She grinned happily and pulled it out of its hiding place. It felt soft and smooth on her hands. Just like it had when Harry had shown it to her first. She shook it out to place it around her shoulders when an old, yellowed parchment fell on to the floor. She picked it up and saw it was just that. An old wrinkled bit of paper. She sighed with disappointment when something started shouting at her from behind her eyes. She had seen it before, in Ron's room, half hidden by two guilty faces and Ron's angry one. 'Get out Ginny!' she obliged, slowly exiting the room, feeling once more left out. But she had heard something before she had closed the door. 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good'. It had seemed absolute nonsense at the time but….

********************************************************

Tom was feeling more human now, Ginny's soft voice awakening him to the world. He could now sit up and was leaning against the wall, the blanket pulled firmly across his shoulders. She on the other hand seemed to be drooping. Her voice was weakening as she spoke, and became raspy, sounding like a memory of a thousand sleepless nights. Her hair drooped over her face like a mask, and she did nothing to move it away.

Why bother after all? Her whole posture seemed to scream. Why bother when there is nothing left to be happy about? Why bother when this is just a story to you, but to me it is my life?

He didn't touch her, though he craved to. Perhaps she might have told it different if he had offered some comfort, perhaps it might have all been different if he had made the effort to stay with her while she revealed what she was seeing in her minds eye. But he didn't, and the silence lasted for a long time before she finally spoke again.

"I… I eventually found the entarnce to the Common Room. Almost scared myseklf silly in the dark though… I was sure Flitch would see my wand if I light it… I could see him though, from his hair. It glinted in the light behind him. He was standing in the entrance way, he was waiting for me… I don't know how, but he knew I would come…"

********************************************************

And he did. In one hand he held the diary, the other he reached out to her and grasped her elbow roughly. She didn't struggle, but allowed herself be led inside…

To Be Continued…

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