DISCLAIMER – None belong to me. Sue me not.

A/N – Sorry this has been a long time in coming!

RATING – Hard R.

Sometimes she sat, hands folded in her lap, looking out of the window that let the sunlight into the tiny cubbyhole that was her bedroom. Like today. The golden summer sunlight streamed in, a slight breeze making her pale green, filmy curtains flutter slightly and the proud golden heads of her mother's beloved marigolds bow their heads in homage. The entire scene was peaceful, making Ginny almost think all was right with the world, that nothing bad lay out there beyond the serene scene laid out before her.

Almost.

But not quite.

Suddenly the sound of masculine laughter filled the air, effectively breaking the peaceful sound of droning bees, startling Ginny out of her quiet contemplation. Tucking an errant lock of burnished copper-bright hair behind her ear, she leaned forward, her fingertips resting lightly on the smooth white windowsill. She looked down and saw the identical freckly faces of her elder twin brothers, their carroty hair two glaring red blobs against the smooth green expanse that was the lawn. They were sitting close together, heads almost touching, gesticulating wildly while speaking in hushed voices. Occasionally one of them would break out into raucous laughter and Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation, affection and exasperation mingling within her.

Immediately, she began to panic, huge dark waves looming over her, threatening to capsize her, to drown her. Gasping for air, she plunged her hand into her pocket, searching for peace of heart and mind, for relief. The moment her slender fingers made contact with the slender, cool, object and held on to it tightly, the overwhelming emotions faded away, leaving in its place a cold, calm clarity. She stayed that way, for how long she could not tell, for time blended into a blur as she just sat there reveling in the blank white place, a place where emotions were held at bay, where everything was crisp, clear, sharp-edged, uncomplicated. Her fingers swept over the object she held reverently in her hands, over and over again, tracing the contours she knew so well, every curve, the polished surface like glass. She remained in her inner haven for minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, maybe years, for all she could tell. In there, time was irrelevant.

But when she opened her eyes again, the golden sunshine was replaced by the pink-orange of the setting sun. The loud tinkling of a bell announced dinner, and she rose in a hurry, her stomach making its presence known. In her haste, she dropped the object she was holding.

The slanting rays of the setting sun alighted on a beautiful knife left lying on her recently vacated chair. An exquisitely carved serpent was coiled around the handle, looking almost alive, the finely honed edge of a silver blade gleaming wickedly in the dying light of the sun.

No Weasley should have ever come into possession of such an expensive object. No ordinary Weasley, that is.

Ginny sat at the dinner table, its gingham tablecloth spotted and stained from years of constant use, overfull platters of food making the old oak table groan and creak in protest. Around her, conversations swirled loudly, arguments over Quidditch teams, complaints being filed against other siblings, pleas for silence, loud chewing, the occasional burp. Ginny pushed her food around her plate listlessly, dreaming of fine wine, intelligent conversation, muted laughter and maybe… a victim she could drain.

Blood.

Just the thought of it made her head spin and her mouth water. Merlin, how she craved for it, metallic tang of the life-giving liquid. Almost instinctively, she reached for the knife, the one thing she carried with her everywhere she went.

Time stopped. Her brothers stopped in mid-sentence, Fred with his mouth full of food, her mother with a spoon in mid-air, a drop of soup frozen on the way to the surface of the table. Her knife was missing. Unholy panic consumed her, wrapped a fist around her heart and squeezed. Her lifeline, the one thing that connected her to her Master, her love, her everything. It was gone? Preposterous.

Ohmerlinohmerlinohmerlin.

Fucking fuck a bug on a rug.

If she had the emotional capacity to cry, she would have shed a bucket of tears by now.

She stood up abruptly, the scene in front of her seemed grossly distorted, a carnival mirror image of the actual scene. Concerned faces wavered before her glazed eyes, made her nauseous. She attempted an 'everything-is-fine' smile and wave, but she had a sinking suspicion that nobody was fooled judging from the way everybody was staring at her.

She didn't know she was shaking from head to foot and pale as a ghost to boot.

They didn't know they looked like walking bags of blood to her heightened instincts right now, and it was taking all her will power to not drain the whole lot of them dry.

They watched in stunned silence as she spun around on her heel and fled up the rickety staircase, her footsteps echoing down before the loud slam of her door roused them back to some semblance of normality. But under the raucous conversation, the loud slurps and occasional scuffle, there lay a question. 'What has happened to our Ginny?'

Weak silver moonlight illuminated Ginny's fiery hair as she slammed the door shut behind her, leaning wearily against it. Opening her eyes a crack, she spotted the object she was looking for, gleaming pearlescent in a pool of light on the floor. Her knife. Emotion still threatening to capsize her, she scooped it off her worn timber floor, blowing imaginary dust off the serpent that coiled lovingly around the handle. She smiled at it, running a finger over its exposed fangs, remembering why exactly it was given to her.

Memories rushed in, filling up the gap left by her emotions.

The steady, pinging drip of water echoed hollowly in the empty stone chamber that was the Chamber of Secrets and the heavy smell of sex and blood intermingled with the smell of stagnant water and general misuse. Ginny stirred weakly, feeling the warm arms that held her safe and secure tighten slightly, bringing her closer to the wall of chest that took up most of her peripheral vision.

"Virginia."

Oh that voice, Ginny thought fuzzily. Deep, resonating, sexy.

"Mmmmm?"

The voice of a satisfied woman.

"This is for you."

She pried her eyelids open further, enough to see what was dangling before her.

Enraptured, she raised a hand and snagged the prize, examining it further. Slitting a small cut into her fingertip, she raised her hand, offering up to her lover, crimson blood starting to well up and run down her slender finger. Lowering his head, he took her finger into his mouth, suckling on it slowly, all the time holding her gaze with his smouldering eyes. She smiled at him sweetly, her innocent little-girl smile in direct contrast to the blood – his blood – running down her chin, and her finger leaking life fluids –blood – into his mouth.

"Why a serpent, My Lord?" she queried.

He smiled at her tolerantly, a drop of blood still quivering on his bottom lip, and before she could help herself, Ginny leaned forward; licking it off, savouring the taste of his blood. Dark, rich, the darkness in his soul tainting his blood with the slightest bitter tang. Ginny knew her blood most likely tasted that way now, after all the rites they went through, the both of them, to restore Voldemort to his original beauty.

It was all worth it.

His perfect lips curved upwards in a grin as he moved closer, his breath now ghosting over her ear.

"Are you familiar with the story of Adam and Eve, Virginia?"

She nodded, brow creased slightly as she tried to link what the old bible story had to do with her beautiful dagger.

"The serpent?" she queried tentatively.

He smiled at her, a proud tutor.

"Excellent. I am the serpent, Virginia, you are the woman, and the world is your man. I teach, you corrupt, the world falls."

Her eyes sparkled with glee as she registered what he said and a rush of wild exhilaration filled her from her toes all the way to her roots of her hair like bubbly champagne. Impulsively, she planted a smacking kiss onto the corner of his mouth. She missed her mark, but she didn't care as colourful visions paraded before her dazzled eyes. World domination, millions of subjects, worldwide fame. No longer dowdy little Ginny Weasley hiding behind her older brothers, she would be powerful, beautiful, rich. Everything she as a pureblooded witch deserved to have, but didn't possess.

Grinning sunnily at him, and her eyes widened momentarily as he pounced upon her, his lips seeking hers as a thirsty man seeks water, pressing her harder against the rough-hewn stone floor. As she parted her lips to grant him access, she felt a surge of dark power surging through her body, her soul, coursing through her veins, awakening a fresh thirst for blood and she indulged in it, lapping at the blood dribbling down the side of his neck, the fresh wound there not healed yet.

And they lay there in each other's arms, warm and sated, listening to the sound of their heartbeats thrumming together as one. Above them, Hogwarts stirred to life, starting another day. Ginny rose slowly, regretfully.

"I have to go now," she smiled softly at him; he was still lying on the cold stone floor, the very picture of a debauched fallen angel.

"Next solstice." He grinned at her crookedly, an errant lock of rich dark hair falling into his eyes.

"That's my birthday!" A smile of pure pleasure lighting up her features. He raised an eyebrow.

"Autumn solstice?"

"My sixteenth. Yes, a Child of Autumn." She pulled her robes back on, flipped her luxuriant hair out.

"I'll be seeing you then, Virginia."

"Yes, my Lord." Saucy wink.

 

He smiled at her as he sat up, languidly stretching, cat-like. Watched her departing figure, light and bouncy, full of life. One day she would be his, by his side, to rule. She would be his consort, his Dark Queen.

One day.

Ginny looked up from her recollections, she was still crouching in the puddle of moonlight, clutching her precious dagger. Stifling a sob, she delved further into herself, trying to escape from her emotions trying to lose herself in cold white light, into a place where all was white and black, without confusing grey areas.

Her sixteenth birthday had passed in a blur of wild love-making, interspersed with the occasional ritual to bind them together, forever, as was needed to make him all the more powerful, to become invincible.

And now……

She waited.

Waited for her lover to call upon her, to rescue her from this world in which she no longer belonged.