Tom had gotten rid of Ernie's body, and the blood had been cleaned off the carpet. Ginny had since bathed, but she still felt like Ernie's blood was all over her. It was an awful feeling to say the least. Ginny had taken refuge on the bed again, listening to the light rain that was soon to disperse and take her sanity with it.
Was this his grand plan? Force her to kill and then make her live with it? It was a bloody awful—yet effective—plan. Ginny couldn't bear the thought of hurting anyone else. But if it was meant to be so, there was nothing Ginny could rightly do to stop it. What mattered now was working to undermine Tom Riddle and destabilize his regime. She could only do that on the inside, so now was the time to get her head in the game.
Ginny mused over how best to start destabilizing Tom's hold on the Wizarding world. She'd have to get out of this room, and for that she was sure Tom would have to have a certain level of trust in her. She needed to speak to someone other than the Dark Lord. She needed to get to his servants. And she needed to not think about it when Tom Riddle was around her.
Ginny had drifted into the space between sleep and wakefulness when the door opened again, a house elf carrying a tray of food entering. Ginny bolted up, noticing several bottles of water on the tray. How long had it been? Surely not longer than a few hours. Did she need to ration the water? Was he going away and leaving her to die?
Ginny thought death might be preferable to this existence. She was a cat toy, and he was the cat, batting her around until he finally broke her. Well, Ginny had several things to say about that. She was NOT a toy, and she would NOT let him win even if she had to die trying like Harry had done. Harry, who had been so brave even in the face of his own death. She felt a twinge of pain for her former boyfriend, and she hoped he was at peace as he deserved to be. But they really could've used him in this battle.
Still, it wasn't Harry's fault he had died. That blame rested on Tom's shoulders, just like all the other deaths did. They had fought tooth and nail. Neville had died standing up to Tom, attempting to run him through with a sword. Hermione and Ron had disappeared, probably trying to figure out a game plan and mourn their best friend in private. Or maybe they had left the country to live out their lives together. Ginny couldn't blame them if they had. At least they were safe. And Ginny knew deep in her heart that neither one of them would stop fighting to bring Tom Riddle down.
So Ginny had to be strong; for all of them. She couldn't let herself be killed without giving this the fight of her life. She had a chance, a REAL chance to kill him. She would know the moment when it came, and she would do it without hesitation. For the good of the world and all those who lived in it. Ginny ate the food slowly, opening only one bottle of water and putting the rest in the nightstand, just in case she needed to hoard fluids. She trusted Tom as much as she trusted the devil-which was to say, not at all.
Once she was finished with the food and one bottle of water, she got up and stretched. There was nothing to do in this room, so Ginny would have to make up her own way of passing the time. She wondered what would be the best way. She thought of how much bigger than her Tom was. Maybe working out? She may never have his height but she could make herself stronger.
So Ginny began running around the fairly big room, running until her lungs burned, her legs ached, and there was a sharp pain in her abdomen. She collapsed at the foot of the bed, sweating from the physical activity. She glanced around the room again, truly taking her surroundings in. It was, truth be told, a nice room. Big and airy, with windows everywhere to let in natural light. But they were all barred. There would be no escape that way. There were a few empty bookshelves and a desk she'd seen Tom pouring over work at. Ginny noticed a door off to the right, and she got to her feet, walking calmly—but painfully—to see what it was.
It was a gigantic, walk-in closet. It was filled with lavish clothes, all in her size. Bras, underwear, sexy lingerie. Ginny felt her face flush. Did he expect her to sleep with him? The thought was sickening to her. She didn't want that monster touching her anywhere. He may be beautiful, Ginny thought, but the devil always comes in the prettiest package.
Ginny allowed herself to admire the clothes. Dresses in green, silver, and black. Dress robes, standard robes, but no Muggle clothing. It was all wizarding wear. Did his hate of the Muggle world extend that far? She wondered. She loved jeans and t-shirts, but if Tom had plans for her, he obviously could NEVER allow for her to be seen in Muggle clothes.
There were several nightgowns; not the sexy lingerie she'd seen earlier, but something she could comfortably wear to bed without feeling immodest. They hit almost to the floor, and Ginny picked out one she wanted to wear that night. Would Tom be back? Or would she be stuck all alone? And could she use the bathroom? Because Ginny really had to pee.
She walked out of the closet over to the bathroom, and was surprised to find it unlocked. But the bathtub that had been there was gone. He must have vanished it before he left. Still, she would be able to use the bathroom as needed, which was more than she had expected. She knew not what his endgame was.
She washed her hands and dried them on her pants when she heard the bedroom door open, and she froze. Would she be in trouble for using the bathroom? Surely he wouldn't punish her for a necessity.
Ginny slowly walked out of the bathroom to see Tom standing there in a satin emerald cloak, looking so beautiful it hurt her eyes to look at him. But he was the devil, she reminded herself. She could never forget who he was or what he'd done to her family, her friends, and innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire.
"Why are you so sweaty?" he asked, his lip curling with disdain.
"I was running. There is nothing else to do in this room. Maybe if I had some books…" Ginny trailed off, eyes falling to the floor. She had upset him, and that was not something she had wanted to do.
"You're bored," he said flatly and Ginny nodded, eyes still on the ground.
"What are some of your hobbies?" he asked warily.
"I love to draw, paint, and read. I'm not much of a writer, but drawing could keep me busy for hours on end," she said, finally looking up at him.
He sighed like she was asking an enormous effort of him, but in the end he nodded. "I'll make sure the house elves get you art supplies. And I will pick out a few books from my library for you to peruse over. Maybe one on meditating," he muttered.
Ginny relaxed. She wasn't in trouble. She was going to have something to do.
"Now that that is settled," Tom began, and he moved aside for a female house elf to enter the room, "this is Blinky. She is your own house elf. She will watch you bathe, and take care of your every need. Except to leave me or harm someone in this manor."
"What if they try to hurt me first?" Ginny asked curiously.
"Blinky will kill them. Isn't that right, Blinky?" he asked the elf, who seemed scared.
"Blinky will hurt anyone who hurts mistress. Blinky will protect you," she vowed to Ginny.
"Um, thanks, Blinky," Ginny said, not sure what else to say.
"This way, if you require more baths, or want to shave, or do anything, or even get hungry, Blinky can make sure you're taken care of," Tom explained.
"Are you leaving?" Ginny asked curiously.
Tom laughed, a cold laugh that made her shiver.
"I am not. I will be around the same amount, which admittedly isn't much. I have things to sort out at the Ministry the next few days. I would take you, but you'd undoubtedly attack someone and try to make a bid for freedom. I can't have that."
"Why am I here?" Ginny asked.
Tom sneered at her. "That is for me to know, and you to find out… perhaps. All that matters is that you are here for the rest of your days. But do not think that if you become a nuisance, I won't end those days abruptly. I can and I will. Make no mistake, your life depends on my mercy. Not on fate. Not on your dead boyfriend. It all lies with me."
Ginny nodded, though she stared defiantly back into his black, bottomless eyes that always seemed to hold a hint of scarlet. She would live. And that was the only thought she would allow herself to think in his presence.
Tom pushed past Ginny into the bathroom, and she heard hear a faint woosh that told her magic had been done. Once he exited the bathroom, she entered and was amazed at what she found. A huge bathtub. A waterfall shower. Tons of soaps, conditioners, shampoos, and hygiene products galore sat on a marble countertop. She could get really clean.
She turned to Tom who was staring at his nails as though they needed to be cleaned. But, Ginny was sure they were immaculate. She knew she didn't even have to say it. He could hear her mind anyways, which was an unwelcome intrusion.
"Whether the 'intrusion' is welcome or not is irrelevant, Ginevra. It's there and that is all you need to know. Now get washed up, and do something with your hair. It's wild," he said contemptuously.
"It's always wild," she replied without thinking, walking towards her closet to get the night gown. She paused a moment, looking out the window at the light rain and then turned to the Devil himself.
"I'd like a watch so I can tell time," she said brazenly.
Tom merely stared at her for a moment, before he grabbed his wand, waved it, and Ginny was wearing a watch with the correct time on it. Was it really only four in the afternoon?
"Thank you," she muttered, hating that she had to play nice with this creature who was all evil. But she would NOT die. And she stopped her thoughts at that.
"So," she began as she exited the closet with a nightgown and underwear, "Do I need to hoard my water? Are we doing starvation and dehydration at any point?"
"No, I am not. You need to keep yourself healthy. In a month, if you are reasonable, I may let you use the gym. Go, take a bath or a shower. I'll be here when you get out," he ordered her.
Blinky followed her into the bathroom, and once the house elf was in the bathroom with her, she shut the door firmly. She had washcloths and back scrubbers, perfumed soaps, and anything else she could dream of having. She quickly shed her clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water as hot as she could stand, scrubbing at every inch of her body and trying not to think about Ernie McMillan's blood soaking her feet.
Once she was clean she stepped out and grabbed a towel, drying her hair and body. She stood in front of the mirror and looked at her hair.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with my hair?" Ginny asked, lifting a section of big curls up. Her hair had always been untameable. It was the thing she liked best about herself. But HE wanted it controlled, the same as he wanted her controlled.
"Blinky can does it, Mistress. Blinky is good with hair," the house elf said shakily.
Ginny shrugged the nightgown on and then nodded at Blinky. "Okay, do it," she said.
Blinky tapped her head several times, and when Ginny looked in the mirror her hair was plaited back. She exited the bathroom without a glance back at her reflection.
Tom was sitting at the desk, reading the Daily Prophet. What did it say? Would it talk about any or her friends or family? Would she even be capable of reading it? Or would that hurt too much?
Ginny sighed and looked out the window, wishing she were anywhere but here. Tom chuckled, probably reading her thoughts, but he was right: there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. For the rest of the night she stared out the window at what had quickly become a storm, not at all aware of the rage filled eyes that watched her.