34

Conversations with Tom...

Draco cautiously opened his eyes. He appeared to be in a hospital bed in an attic. Interesting. He lifted one hand experimentally. He was not bound so he sat up, to get a better look. The attic was your typical attic. Unless you were a Malfoy, in which case your attic could comfortably house several small countries and Gilderoy Lockhart's ego. Draco looked around, fascinated. Sure he had seen pictures of places like this but they were generally in ficiton books, he had no idea places like this exsisted in the civilized world.

He heard a door open and reached for his wand, which was absent. He wasn't surprised, neither by the lack of a wand or that the person to enter was Brooklyn.

Draco lept to his feet, only to be thrown bodily agianst the wall. He slumped onto the bed. He looked up at Brooklyn, rubbing the back of his head, as she gracefully approached. She twirled her wand.

"Hiya, Brooklyn." he adressed her in mock cheerful tones. His eyes told a different story.

She looked down at him cooly. Draco bit back a gasp at the sight of her hollow red eyes. He'd only ever seen eyes like that once.

"Foolish boy," the Brooklyn-thing replied in a voice that sent shivers down even his spine. "My name is not Brooklyn."

"Right, cause then you'd havta Crucio me." Draco slurred insolently. Even in the face of such obvious power, he maintained his calm. Inside he was swearing up a storm.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Voldemort's found a way to possess her. How the hell did he do it?

He looked up at the human puppet. "Don't suppose you'd like to tell me how you can possess her when you're dead."

Something dangerous glinted in Brooklyn's eyes. Draco suddenly found his arms bound to his sides. He floated close and Brooklyn reached out and slapped him. Hard. Draco's head fell to one side. Blood, hot and coppery, filled his cheek.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Real smart. Remind the most powerful dark wizard in history about his death. That always flies well.

But, as usual, his body wasn't listening. He turned and grinned at Brooklyn, blood running down his chin. "So sorry, Tom. Did I hit a nerve?"

Brookly/Tom's face screwed up in pure rage, then, relaxed. She threw him onto the bed again. "Clever, little Malfoy. Much more clever than you father. Trying to upset me to take out my revenge on you before your beloved can get here. Must have relized I can't keep in this body for too long."

Draco had figured out no such thing, but as long as Tom was talking...

"Why's that, Tommy boy?" He asked arrogantly.

Brooklyn looked mildly amused. "It seems this host of mine doesn't hate Ginny. Far from it. She rather fancies my little Gin."

Draco gasped. "This is all about Ginny?"

Tom smiled cruely with Brooklyn's scarlet lips. "You didn't know? Poor little Malfoy. Yes, Ginny has been my goal. Has been for eight years. Ever since that ordeal with the Diary..."

Ginny looked up at Black manor. It was rather a touch more forboding than last time she was here. Hermione touched her shoulder.

"I can come, if you want."

Ginny smiled kindly. "Thanks Mione, But I need to face this alone."

Victor approached the girls. "'Inny, 'ere are the tings you wanted." He held out the long package. Ginny unwrapped it and inspected it. She nodded her thanks, pushing her wand and the diary into her belt. She accomanied them with the forty eight inch sword Victor had gotten her from her brother Charlie.

Hermione bit her lip. "What if you don't come out."

Ginny looked up at the house and her smile turned sad. "Then tell Draco I love him."

And without a second thought, Ginny walked into Hell.

Draco could feel his eyes crossing. God the man never shut up! He was worse than his father. Was there some rule that said the more evil you were the longer you had to monologue. Draco had gotten the general idea after the first couple minutes. Ginny had gotten back her soul and Tom blamed her for all of it, blah blah blah.

"If you hated her so much, why try and turn her into a Death Eater?" Draco finally interupted.

Brooklyn looked surprised. "So she told you about that. At the time I decided it was the most fitting end. Ginny didn't want to live, so her most fitting punishment was to live as my slave. But she's a clever little girl. She managed to stop my spell. Not only that, she managed to find a way to turn it against me."

"Tres nomre." Draco muttered.

"Precisely. I then figured if I couldn't get her that way, that there was another. I sealed my soul onto this world under one condition. There must be a living Death Eater willing to kill Ginny Weasley. My fisrt choice would have been you, but you were too far gone to ever want to harm her, even if you didn't know it. Brooklyn put up a bit of a struggle, but I won."

"When did this curse start?" Draco asked.

"When Ginny experienced a moment of true joy with one of her former enemies. In this case..."

"The softball game. I never will understand your fetish with diaries, Tom."

Both turned at the voice. Ginny Weasley leaned against the door jamb, diary in one hand.