Disclaimer--I don't own Ginny, the Weasleys, Hermione, Harry or Tom. I don't Hogwarts, Diagon Alley or the Chamber of Secrets. I don't own...well, if you see something you like just assume I don't own it, and you'll be fine.

Author's Notes--

To my marvelous reviewers with thanks! Hope you enjoy this.

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Once she'd recovered from the shock of seeing Tom's diary again, it seemed obvious Ginny should simply do what Ginny did best-take it. When she wanted to steal socks, Ginny never had any trouble finding a time when the coast was clear, but suddenly the tower was always full of people discussing different magical subjects-the second years were trying to pick new classes. She watched and waited for days, and on Saturday, she finally saw her chance.

She could hardly distinguish one beat of her heart from the next, it was pounding so fast, but she started out calmly and methodically nonetheless. She checked the drawers of the bedside tables, under the pillows of the beds. As she looked without finding any sign of the diary, her blood seemed to flow faster and faster until she could almost hear it hum through her, as if it were gaining energy so that she was about to take flight. The knowledge that someone could walk in and see her at any second should have worried her, but for some reason, it almost pleased her instead. She pulled the blankets back a little more adamantly than she had to, taking pleasure in controlled violence.

She burrowed through trunks suddenly unheeding, the frustration and fear of the past few months welling up like a fountain until she found herself tossing things around the room at random, half-smiling at the destruction. When she first found the diary, it took her a moment to notice, she was so caught up in what she was doing. Then her fingers closed around it, and a strangled sound forced its way through her inexplicably tight throat, half fear, half disappointment, relief and homecoming...Ginny stood stock still for a moment, nearly panting. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, trying to regain her equilibrium.

When she took socks, Ginny was careful to leave no sign. Originally, that had been her plan...but suddenly, she wanted to leave the destruction. It seemed...important. She felt an odd pride in it, in her power unseen, and in the way it mirrored her own mental condition.

Smirking bitterly to herself, Ginny crept away with the diary.

She'd only intended to take it...to protect Ron and Harry...and herself. But now she had it again...she kept looking at the plain, unassuming cover, wondering whether or not Harry had figured out how to work it, whether or not he'd spoken to Tom and what'd he'd said. She wondered what Tom had told him...what Tom thought about her throwing him away after he'd told her she was the reason he existed, if he'd missed her...felt abandoned...She wasn't even sure she'd acted justly, suspecting him of making her attack Hermione when it turned out Hermione was fine. Maybe she ought to explain...

Ginny lay awake all night, debating with herself, tossing and turning. She was still staring at the inside of her eyelids, seeing the phantom of Tom's pale face, when the others began getting ready for breakfast. Ginny just lay there, not opening her dry and gritty eyes. She hadn't made a decision, at least not one of which she was consciously aware, but as the last of the footsteps died away, she pulled the diary out from beneath her pillow.

She didn't have long before she was supposed to meet Lee, but that was good...she'd just write a few lines and stop before she had time to get drawn in.

--Tom?-

--Ginny? What a surprise.-

--Look, Tom, I'm sorry I tried to get rid of you, but...--

--What you do with me is your decision-

--Is it? That's the problem...I can't quite get rid of this weird feeling you're deciding what to do with me.-- Ginny hesitated, her hand hovering over the page, but it was too late, the words were already written, the ink glistening.

She could hear Tom's laughter echoing coldly and clearly through her head. -Don't be ridiculous, Ginny. I'm a diary.-

Her limbs felt weighted, her head heavy. Ginny forced exhaustion away, tried to focus. -Did you talk to anyone else?-

--As a matter of fact, I might have.-

--Harry?-

--The one and only. As a matter of fact, our conversation wasn't finished. Someone really ought to teach you not to interrupt.-

It was as if someone held her arms and legs on the inside. They felt stiff, unresponsive. Fighting her inner captor as well as her fear, Ginny scrawled jerkily across the page. -What are you doing to me?-

--Ginny, Ginny, why all the hostility? I'm simply doing a great service to the wizarding world...and your trust, energy, and support are helping me do it. You should be proud to be part of such a powerful-

--I don't want to be part of anything! This is WRO- Ginny's quill dragged along the page, leaving an inky trail, and fell on the bed, ink blotting the coverlet, as she staggered, throwing her weight backward in a desperate attempt to return to the bed, out of the dorm.

/No, Tom, don't-/She thought sluggishly, the thoughts moving slowly as if through water. She was vaguely aware of walking. A flash of red in the corner of her eye seemed as if it should mean something, but was strangely distant, like something from another life.../Please-I don't want to hurt anyone--/ Ginny reached out to grab the wall, to hold herself back. Her curled fingers struck the stone, dragging faintly in her progress. /Don't do this, Tom-don't make me do this-/

His face stared back at her, calm and unyielding, from Myrtle's mirror. Ginny bit her lip, but in the mirror, she saw Tom's mouth move...and she felt her own form the words...Harsh, guttural hissing echoing hollowly from porcelain and stone. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't make the sound.../NO!!/

The mirror swung away from her, but she could still see Tom's face, hanging there in space, staring her in the eye...She stood at the edge of deep and gaping space, and for one frozen instant, there was only her own helplessness in the sword-sharp gleam of Tom's gaze...

Then soft scraping, a low, percussive beat, forming rhythm beneath a deep and guttural hiss. //Kill, Rip, Tear...So hungry...I smell blood...//

Ginny tried to run to the door of the bathroom, to stop the snake, to force it back...but her feet were rooted as if she were standing in Devil's Snare. /I...won't...let...you...control me, Tom!/ Ginny thought angrily, and his face reeled back as if she'd struck him...The temporary waver of control gave her hope. She stepped forward, and fell to the ground. Determined to stop the snake, or at least warn anyone unluckily enough to find themselves in its path, Ginny reached out and began to drag herself along the damp and dirty stone...



She reached the doorway of the bathroom to see the snake slithering to the end of the corridor. Screwing her face up in concentration, Ginny reached forward, curling her fingers into the gap between floor stones, and pulled herself forward. She could feel sweat breaking out across her upper lip.

She stopped suddenly, listening...she thought she heard something...a dull and heavy thud...from around the corner... //Not dead...never dead...why don't they die? Rip...Tear...Kill!// She heard the snake wail in frustration.

"No!!" Ginny screamed, wrenching herself to her feet. The snake shot out of sight. She wasn't aware of running down the hall, she was around the corner, Hermione and Percy's girlfriend Penelope at her feet.