For those of you who read my other story, I have not abadoned it, just a case of writers block and a busy schedule.I'm currently working on the next chapter for it, and the second chapter for this story also. Please remember to review!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything invented by the wonderful J. K. Rowling."Ginny"
He was in her head again. He was always in her head.
"Ginny."
Ever since that day, that day in the chamber of secrets, he'd been with her.
"GINNY!"
She sat up in bed and blinked for a moment before quietly casting a silencing charm around her.
"What is it Tom? I was sleeping," Ginny spoke allowed, to what seemed to be herself.
"I need you to do something for me. Something very important," Tom's voice replied in her head.
"Anything for you Tom," she said with an exasperated voice.
"Don't be smart with me Ginevere. I don't have the patience for that at the moment. That silly boy you've been dating, Dean, I need you to get rid of him. I want you to be very much available."
Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "But why?"
"Because I have plans, my dear. Do not ask questions. That is all you need to know for now. I will explain when the time comes. Now, go back to sleep, and I will speak with you tomorrow."
Ginny sighed as she dismissed the silencing charm and lay back down. Tom's demands were so strange sometimes. But she always did what he asked of her. She loved him, in a fatherly sort of way. Her first year, when she'd come across the diary, she'd developed a crush on him, the same sort she'd had on Harry Potter. Her second year was void of him, it wasn't until her third year, not to long before he was brought back to power during the Tri-Wizard tournament, that he had come back to her. He wasn't the young Tom Riddle she had known, he was Lord Voldemort, linked to her simply by having the diary in his possession. But Voldemort knew every word that had been written in the diary. He knew everything that had happened in the chamber. He knew everything there was the know about Ginny Weasley.
She'd been very angry with him at first. She refused to respond to him, she shut him out of the deeper recesses of her mind. She was furious with him, for being so willing to let her die just so he could return. After months of his insistence, at the very beginning of her fourth year, she stole Harry's cloak and snuck into the restricted section of the library and found the potion that would have brought her back to life. It was a very dark, primitive, and grotesque potion, but it would have brought her back exactly as she had been. After a few more weeks, she forgave him, even admitting that she had missed his persistent voice.
He was always there for her, no matter what. He helped her with homework, with quizzes, with tests. He had the answer for everything, from schoolwork to life. He took care of her, always making sure she ate properly and brushed her teeth. And most importantly, he was never angry with her, not matter what she did. Sometimes he would raise is voice, to get her attention, but never in displeasure. He gave her the attention and affection she could get from no one else. She loved him very much for that.
Draco Malfoy sat in the back of his seventh year Transfiguration class admiring his newly manicured hands. He couldn't stand that wench McGonagall, nor could stand sitting remotely near the Dream Team in any class that wasn't Potions. Watching Potter and Weasel fight over the attention of that Mudblood was nauseating. Not only was she dirty and sloppy, she wasn't even remotely attractive. It wouldn't matter how nice her clothes were, or how much makeup she wore, she would always be ugly.
"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall practically screeched.
"Yes?" He responded as he casually glanced up at her.
"You have a letter." He hadn't even noticed an owl enter or exit the room. He never really noticed much of anything in Transfiguration. He pushed back his chair and strolled up to the front of the classroom. The lazy women couldn't even walk to the back of the class and hand him his letter. He recognized the Malfoy family seal on the back of the letter, snatched it up, and walked back to his seat. He broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
"Draco," read his father's precise writing. "Floo to the manor tonight, at 9pm. We have business to discuss."
Quick and to the point. Same as every other letter his father had ever sent him. He sighed as he folded the letter back up and placed it neatly in his shirt pocket. He hated flooing, it was to messy. But since Dumbledore has anti-apparation charms all over Hogwarts, his father had no other choice but to sent up a Floo network in Draco's private Head dorm under the pretenses that he would be taking over several family businesses after graduation and he needed to be able to visit Malfoy Manor whenever necessary. It was very closely monitored, and only Draco or someone accompanying him could use it.
Of course, "several family businesses" really meant Voldemort, and Dumbledore was probably well aware of that, but there was nothing he could really do. His father had been proven innocent years ago, and no one had been able to link recent Death Eater activities to the Malfoy family. They had spent quite a bit of time and money to insure that.
Ginny pushed her food around her plate with her fork. She just wasn't very hungry tonight. She had a feeling Tom was up to something, something she wasn't sure she was going to like. But she was going to trust him, like she always did, because Tom always knew what was best. In all the years she'd known him, he'd only been wrong once, and that was when he underestimated Harry Potter in the Chamber of Secrets. That was never going to happen again, not with her by his side.
"Ginevere, you aren't eating." She ignored him. "Ginevere!"
"I know I'm not eating Tom. I'm not hungry. Am I not allowed to not be hungry once in a while?" she replied, careful to only speak in her head.
"Of course you are, but you know that I worry about you. You're very important to me, and to the cause. I wouldn't be where I am without you. And you know I would never speak to anyone in the manner in which I speak with you," he spoke in what she has very affectionately deemed his "fatherly" tone. Well, it was as fatherly as Voldemort could possibly be.
"Hey Ginny!" Dean said as he sat down and slide his arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him, and gave a brief smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You alright there? You looked like you were off in your own world."
"Oh yeah, I'm fine, I was just thinking about some things. Can I talk to you after dinner?" She asked politely.
"Yeah, sure." He pulled his arm away from her as he piled food onto his plate and began to inhale it. Ginny's nose scrunched up as she watched Dean eat. She was actually glad Tom had told her to stop seeing Dean. He was... disgusting.
"You okay Gin?" He brother asked. "You look like you're going to be sick." Harry and Hermione voiced their agreements.
"I'm fine," she assured them. "All that smoke in Trelawny's room makes me feel sick." Hermione scoffed.
"I don't know why you insistent on taking that ridiculous class," Hermione said with her nose up in the air. Ginny laughed to herself. If only the Dream Team knew the premonitions she'd been having. Premonitions she's immediately told Tom every detail of. He said they were very useful, that between the information she picked up from the Dream Team and her premonitions, she was becoming an asset to his fight against the Order. She had the gift of a true Seer. She giggled. If only the Order knew what the future held.
"You said you wanted to talk to me?" Dean said, the curiosity was very apparent in his voice. He took a seat next to Ginny on the couch.
"Yeah. Well, this is kind of difficult to say..." Ginny hesitated. "But I think it would be best if we just remained friends. It has nothing to do with you, I promise. It's just my grades have been slipping ("Liar," Tom's voice mocked her in her mind) and I don't want to get kicked off of the Quidditch team and I just need more time to concentrate on my studies and myself. You're a great guy, and a great friend. I hope you understand, and can remain my friend."
The hurt in Dean's eyes was very apparent. He shifted away from her on the couch. "Yeah... I understand. I uh... gotta finish my Transfiguration essay... See ya later." He stood and headed up the stairs into the boys' dorms, his eyes staring at his feet as he walked away.
"Well that was easy," Ginny thought to herself.
"I think you could have done better." It used to startle her, when Tom responded to her thoughts. Now she tended to be more startled with he didn't. "You are my prodigy after all."
"The end result will be the same no matter how well I acted." Ginny pulled out a book and pretended to read. "He'll pout for a couple days, maybe weeks, find a new girl, completely forget any interest he had in me, and we'll be friends again."
Draco stepped through the fireplace and into Malfoy Manor at exactly 9pm. His mother was there to greet him. She snapped her fingers to instantly remove all traces of floo powder and soot from his black silk suit, then leaned forward to place quick kiss on either cheek.
"Hello Draco."
"Hello Mother," he returned her formal greeting.
"Your father is in his study. I wouldn't suggest keeping him waiting. You know he isn't a patient man."
"Of course." He gave an ever so slight bow, turned, and began the walk towards his father's study. The dark, quiet demeanor of the house was relaxing. He had thought the manor dull as a child, but he grew to appreciate it's mature style. One day, when both his parents passed, it would be his. Lucius said he would buy any manor in England that Draco desired, as a graduation gift. But there were none that could rival the majestic beautiful of Malfoy Manor. But who would expect any less of anything owned by the Malfoys?
He continued down the hallways, nodding at the paintings of his ancestors as he made his way through the castle. After several twists and turns, he reached the double doors which opened to reveal his father, seated in a leather recliner, reading one of the many books the lined the walls of the room. Most of which were the kind that would be "embarrassing," as his father put it, if the Ministry of Magic ever found them. Of course, to anyone with ill-will against the Malfoy's, they appeared to be nothing more than simple Muggle novels. Thus was the ancient power of the manor.
"Draco, have a seat," his father said without bothering to look up from his book. Draco took a seat in an identical chair. "Our Lord wishes to speak to you alone tonight." It was a bit of a surprise. He had never met with the Dark Lord without his father before. "Watch your mouth, and do nothing to displease him. I won't be there to cover for you if you screw up. You may go as you are. This is your portkey, it will activate as soon as you touch it." He held up a small silver pendent. Draco stepped forward, reached out, grabbed the pendent from his father, and immediately felt the familiar pull of a portkey.
He landed gracefully on his feet, in the dreary dungeon that was the current residence of the Dark Lord. He turned around to find the Dark Lord sitting at what was considered his throne. Draco slowly bent to one knee, and respectfully bowed his head.
"My Lord," he said. "It is a privilege, and pleasure, to see you this evening."
"Draco, please, stand up and have a seat. Wormtail, bring him a chair," the Dark Lord looked over at the disgusting man who immediately scampered off and brought back a chair. Draco sat, and Wormtail disappeared. "I have a very important task for you. It involves a certain young woman who attends your school. A young woman named Ginevere Weasley."
