Disclaimer: Own these people? No! I wish… but it all belongs to J.K. Rowling. Bless her imagination.

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Your reviews mean a lot to me. I shall answer your questions.

Misfit- Let me see how I can explain this. I'll explain the dialog to you then… "You… you know? How can you? It's not supposed to happen for another forty-nine years." She replied staring at him through pleading eyes. He let out a small chortle.  "Actually only forty-eight years. I'm eighteen, mind you. I do remember… what happened to you long ago, only happened to me two years ago."  Okay… In this story, Ginny traveled back to 1944. If you add 48 years to 1944 you'll get 1992, hence, the time frame in the second book, which is the year that Ginny started using the diary. So what she meant was that if she was in 1944, he wasn't supposed to know until 1992. I think I confused you more there. Anyway, if you still don't understand, leave your e-mail around and I'll e-mail you the whole year thing, alright?

Neko-Youkai: Don't worry, it will make sense afterwards.

Now, for more story. Forgive that the chapter took so long.

Rating for this chapter: PG

~Chapter Two~

*~*Prélèvement de Sang*~*

Tom stared at Professor Albus Dumbledore doing an extremely difficult Transfiguration Spell. Tom anxiously awaited for the class to be over. He wanted to leave towards the Chamber already. At last, the bell rang and Tom jerked out of his seat quickly. But before he could take a step, a voice called to him.

"Tom," it was Dumbledore. Damn him, thought Tom.

"Yes, professor?" asked Tom, trying to keep his face as innocent as he always could. He managed an innocent smile, the same one that charmed people.

"I would like to congratulate you on your excellent report on Demiguises." Dumbledore said. "Now, that being said, where have you been lately? Professor Anselm, your Head of House, is looking for you a lot these days." Dumbledore gave him an appraising look, his eyes twinkling. "You do realize that as Head Boy you are expected to make certain appearances."

"Of course, Professor," said Tom, gritting his teeth inwardly. "But, I have been very busy, what with the N.E.W.T.s and all—"

"Tom," said Dumbledore interrupting him "I'm keeping a close watch on you. I suggest for you to not get carried away, it will do you no good."

"I already know what it will do to me," said Tom and exited the classroom in a rush. The elder man sighed and leaned back against his chair.

"Poor soul… so much pain in it. I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't last much longer." Of course, the elder man didn't know that he was right. That young, charming, intelligent man would soon no longer exist as Tom Riddle.

***

Tom reached the second floor and with it, the Girls' Bathroom, he entered to hear the usual weeping. As he entered, Myrtle, the ghost of a gloomy-looking girl, came out from her stall and glared at him.

"You again!" she spat angrily staring at him through her thick glasses. "What are you doing here? Have you not learned to stay out when you killed me?"

"Shut up, Ghost," said Tom and hissed at the sink. As it opened up, he let himself fall down the muddy slide, while he heard the sinks closing again. When he slid out the filthy slide, his robes were covered in mud and slime, his face was almost covered in ash and his shoes were barely visible through the thick, black water that lied on the ground. At once, the smell of damp and mud reached his nostrils.

Unable to keep being that filthy, he muttered an useful little charm that cleaned him up instantly. He made his way, his footsteps resounding in the walls, towards the bedroom down in the Chamber. Slytherin, apparently, had thought of everything when he built the Chamber, as it had a bedroom and a series of secret passages that lead to places unimaginable to the mortal human mind.

He reached the door to the bedroom and opened it. The room was pretty extraordinary; its stone walls rose several feet above the ground, a gorgeous chandelier made out of stone and with white candles dangled from the roof gracefully, the bed, on the center, had green, satin sheets that fell out of an oak canopy above it. They encircled a little, red-head figure that lied sleeping. Still, without having woken up from the effects of the potion. He wondered if he had made it too strong, and that it perhaps went wrong. But that couldn't be. He was Tom Riddle and he wasn't wrong. He was never wrong.

He neared the young woman and touched her lower arm to see if she had a pulse, she did. He brought up a chair and looked in his backpack for the materials he had brought for performing the task he'd need to do. He pulled out a needle, a single vial, a band made of rubber, a damp washcloth, a bandage, and an alcohol pad. He slowly took her left arm (he knew that she was left-handed) and tied the band around her upper arm, he cleaned a small area of the inside of her elbow with the alcohol pad, tapped it with his forefinger until the bluish vein came to view, he then took the needle, cleaned it with the alcohol pad and inserted it to her vein. He immediately put the vial at the end of the needle and it began filling with the thick, dark red substance that was her blood. When it was already full, he took out the needle from her flesh, untied the band and began cleaning the inside of her elbow with the damp washcloth.

Without him noticing, her eyelashes fluttered slowly and her eyes opened, she stirred. At the movement, he looked up and watched her shrink with fear, this satisfied him and made him smirk. He always did enjoy when people were afraid of him, though, this time, he was enjoying it less by the minute. Tom, calm yourself, do not lose your boldness and cruelty for her gesture, his mind told him, But, it's her… remember what she made us feel, he answered himself, No! Do not feel! We do not have feelings! His mind answered back. He shook his head from side to side, to shake off the inner conflict and fixed his gaze on her again. She was looking at him oddly, her fear almost gone. But then her eyes wandered down to where he was cleaning her arm and her eyes filled with fear again, she jerked her hand away and looked up at him.

"What did you do to me?!" she asked and the fear was more evident on her voice.

"Prélèvement de Sang," he answered smirking.

" 'Blood Sample' " she said slowly. "What do you want it for?" she asked in a small voice.

"Something I have in the works, darling." Tom answered. "Now, I suggest for you to not be in a hurry to find out. You still have a long way to go before you go back to your own time. Now give me your arm and let me put the bandage on you."

He watched as she shrunk back and reluctantly stretched her arm to him. He put on the small circular bandage on her and stood up from the chair. He stared down at her, crossing his arms.

"I want to take a bath," she told him after a moment.

"Then do so." He replied, "The bathroom is through that door," he signaled to a door on her right. "You will find everything you need there."

"Even clothing?" she asked

"Yes," he replied "It's not my preference, of course, but I cannot have you getting hypothermia from the cold down here." He added.

He watched as she stood up from the bed, and walked towards the bathroom with her head bowed. Soon he heard the sound of the taps opening and the water running. He stared at the bed in which she had slept the past two days, unconsciously giving the Chamber its life again. Tom had noticed this; the walls had started to put up paintings on their own, flowers began to bloom in the old Greenhouse. The bitter smell of Potion making in the ancient Apothecary faintly reached his nostrils. And Tom knew that Ginny was a crucial part for the Chamber of Secrets to be used to its full extent again, but it needed time, the advance was approaching grandly, but at the same time, very slowly. 

He noticed that she was already out of the bathroom, the smell of wild violets and honey was very strong within her. She had used the single, long, satin, silver gown that he had left in the bathroom. It hung loosely on her, making her to look like an epic figure of a Greek Goddess, with an angelical face that was framed by showers of flame-coloured hair.

Without even thinking, he approached her quickly and put his hands on her shoulders, she was looking up at him, but he wasn't looking at her eyes. He took strands of her hair on his fingers and admired them. She had grown over the years, but he could sense the same innocence on her soul. The same innocence that made him want to entrap her soul, and at the same time protect her; and the same innocence which he had attempted to taint in that same Chamber when she was only eleven years of age. He remembered when he used to control her, when she would come to answer his every call. She trusted him, she told him everything. He needed her for his plan to take over the wizarding world, using the power of the Four Heirs to do so. But he needed to gain her trust again…

A/N: Well there you have it, Chapter Two. Review please, and tell me what you think. Cheerio~

~Blue