Her back was sore, and she ached all over...oh, the cold, it seeped right through to her bones, her very blood seemed frozen. She opened her eyes a crack...she could see her eyelashes, barely...weak pale things, they were...
Oh, but he looked as though he were underwater....but that was because her eyes were filled with tears...and she could barely see him, her love, her heart, her angel and her guardian... .the only one to have ever touched her like that, or said those words.
He was content to just leave her there, like that, but she didn't want him to....how could he, after all that had happened?
"Please," she begged, she pleaded, surprised at the weakness of her voice, but then surprised that she could speak at all...by all rights, he shouldn't have even been able to her- but the bond that they shared, oh, it knows no boundaries.
Hey knelt beside her and tentatively touched her face, then held her trembling hand in his. The tears were falling....
And then he clutched at her hand so hard that his nails pierced her skin, and he stood stiffly and left.
"Don't, no.." she wept, but he didn't return, just stood in the shadows. Her voice was a hook in his heart, and she knew it tugged at him, ripping and shredding the threads and strings that held it together. Some believe that those who want power, they are weak...but she knew that he was stronger than anyone she had ever met before, anyone she ever would....
He would not turn, and it would crush her soul, but he would not cry for her, and although he was not oblivious to the pain, he could withstand it. Because he had been string, and she had been weak.
Ginevra Weasely was only eleven. And Tom Riddle was only sixteen, in a manner of speaking. And she did not have the power nor the knowledge, at age eleven, to fight him.
He had been right when he had told her that she would die in the Chamber of Secrets, even if he did not know why.
My mind was screaming at me to write this, and it's random, but dark. Very dark.