After her torture bout —because that was not a session she was sure— she stood up shakily. When she asked Blinky what time it was, she discovered it was only two in the afternoon, which would make sense. She had gotten up around six and gone to the training room with ihim/i. Shackled like a damn prisoner of war, which, she supposed, was exactly what she was. But there was something more. What prophecy was he talking about? Ginny was damn sure she wasn't the next Chosen One. If she were, she'd be dead by now. So what was she?
She made her way to the bed, sitting down on it and wincing at the phantom pain that reared its head. She needed to do something. Anything. Only, there was nothing to do. She could paint the walls again, she supposed. But it wouldn't have the same effect twice. Blinky was here, so she couldn't call Kreacher. She didn't know what to do besides pace the floor and scream. She had never had anxiety like this, and she knew that would please him. Anything the inconvenienced her in the least pleased this sick bastard.
She laid across the bed, fully intending to think of something to do, but then she was waking up to the sound of Blinky talking.
"Missus needs to wake up and eat!" Blinky was saying.
Was it already dinner time? Where had the time gone? She hadn't meant to sleep, but she'd been so tired from the Cruciatus curse that she'd fallen asleep immediately.
"Why? What's the rush, Blinky?" Ginny asked groggily.
"Master will be mad if Missus doesn't eat her food before seven. Master doesn't want Missus eating later, but he also doesn't want Missus going hungry or he will box poor Blinky's ears!" the elf said shrilly.
Ginny stretched to wake herself up and said, "Okay, Blinky, I'll eat now."
Ginny was not expecting Shepard's Pie and cake for dessert, with a bottle of Butterbeer to go with it. Was this his way of trying to apologize? No matter; she didn't accept it. She would never accept it. Not from him. Ginny dug into the food, enjoying it. So he didn't want her to starve, apparently. That was good to know. One less thing Ginny would have to worry about. Though why he cared so much about iwhen/I she ate she hadn't the foggiest.
Ginny finished her food quickly so Blinky didn't get into trouble, and laid back down on the bed. Part of her wanted to go back to sleep. At least when she was asleep she didn't have to think about where she was or what she needed to do. When she was asleep she was back with her family, and everything was okay. Harry was still alive and they were planning their lives together. Everything was the way it was supposed to have turned out when she slept.
But this was reality, and the reality was that Harry was dead, defeated by the devil. He had died to save the whole of humanity but hadn't succeeded. Now it was apparently Ginny who had to do it, and she was fairly sure she wouldn't make it out alive. She could kill him, but his followers would kill her. In a brutal way, she was sure. The thought made her nauseous. She didn't want to die, but she also didn't want Tom Riddle to win.
But how and when? She put the idea out of her mind. It would take a lot longer than a week and a half to get past his defenses enough to kill him. So why think about it yet? When the moment came, she would strike, and that was that.
There were three knocks on the door and Ginny groaned, but she didn't dare ignore it. She got up and knocked back thrice. Then Tom was entering her room, tall and beautiful, with snow on his cloak. It was snowing? Ginny almost ran to the window to check. She loved the snow. She loved how the Weasleys would start snowball fights with one another every time there was enough snow. They'd build snow forts, and it was always Ginny, Fred, and George against everyone else. She had been the Twins' third wheel. Well, now there was only one twin, if he was even still alive.
But Ginny pushed that thought from her mind. There was no point in thinking it. It would only lead to sadness, depression, and possibly suicidal ideation. Instead she looked up at Tom who towered above her and said, "What are you doing here?"
Tom tsked at her. "This iis/i my house, remember?"
Ginny wanted to roll her eyes, but decided that might not be the best move she could make at this point in time.
"Yes but why are you here, in my room? I thought you'd already had your fill of hurting me today," Ginny said icily.
"I'm not here to hurt you, which you could use another dose of, but I am here with Kreacher to bring you books. You'll be getting the Daily Prophet with breakfast every morning, as well. I thought you could use something to distract you. Unless you want to sit up here completely alone with nothing to do for days on end?"
Ginny turned around so she could roll her eyes without fear of him whipping out his wand at her again.
"Thank you. Is there anything else?" she asked.
"Yes. You will, against my better judgment, be going to a ball with me in six months' time. It will be in America with their President. I can't leave you here because I can't trust you, and it's also unwise to take you with me because I can't trust you, so you could say I'm between a rock and a hard place. But you will go, you will have proper restrictions, and you will be cordial to everyone you meet. Just think, you could actually try American food. Fattening, really, but it tastes delicious," Tom said.
She stiffened. Her? Leave and go to another country? With him? She would have a chance to escape! She could be free! But then who would go against him? No, she would use this as a way to gain his trust, and then later kill him.
"I'm going to run away, you know," she said as she turned around, desperate to keep up the pretense.
"You have more to fear from them than you do me, but have fun trying. Kreacher! Bring the books in!"
Kreacher came in, levitating a giant box full of what Ginny knew to be books. She was astounded. She really wouldn't have a reason to be bored until she was tired of reading.
"Go put some clothes on and take a walk with me," he ordered.
Not daring to disobey too much, Ginny huffed and went to the closet, putting on warm clothes in case they were to go outside. Tom waved his wand, re-shackling her, and lead the way to a dining hall.
"This architecture is just marvelous. Of course, all the old palaces are beautiful. Here, have a drink with me," he said, pushing her down into a chair.
Kreacher brought the firewhisky, and Tom poured them out a shot.
"It isn't poisoned. Drink up," he ordered.
Ginny didn't too much trust this, but she also knew what resisting would get her, and so she took the shot, feeling it burn her throat all the way down to her stomach.
"You know, if you weren't such a brat I'd let you wander the house," Tom said, scrutinizing her.
"If you weren't such a homicidal maniac I wouldn't mind being in your presence. Yet here we are," she said, pushing a boundary that she knew she was pushing.
Tom sighed wearily, shaking his head as he looked at her. "At least you're honest with how you feel. All these politicians dance around everything. No one says what they bloody well mean. 'We want to join, but we must be sure of your intentions.' Well, my intentions are to keep magic in magical communities. I've been quite forward with that. Still, they dance around the issue because they fear me. They fear me for making the world a better place. But greatness is always met with resistance," he spat.
"Was making me kill Ernie greatness?" Ginny asked quietly. "He was a Pureblood, after all. I forgave him. Still, you made me commit murder. Is that greatness, My Lord?" she asked with disdain.
"Casualties are necessary for any war, Ginevra. One day you will understand. Although now that I know that your brother and his wife are alive, it is a bit pointless. Perhaps I was hasty…"
Tom carried on, but all Ginny could do was dance and cheer on the inside. Bill and Fleur were alive, and Ginny knew roughly where they were hiding. Not that she would ever tell Riddle that.
"Are you even listening? Have another shot," he said, waving his wand and refilling their shot glasses.
Ginny wanted to keep him calm, so she did as she was told and gagged. She wasn't sure how people could drink, as the taste alone made her sick as a dog.
"I am not trying to be harsh with you, you know," he was saying when she tuned back in. "But you have a part to play in all this, and it's high time you accepted that and followed me."
"And what is my part?" she asked.
"I'm not yet telling you. I don't trust you not to kill yourself just to evade your fate," he finally said, after hesitating.
"It would be noble," she agreed.
"No the bloody hell it wouldn't be! You Gryffindors and your sick sense of nobility. There is nothing noble in death. There is simply an end. An end to living, breathing, eating, and enjoying life. It's not the beginning of anything. It's the end," he said with finality.
"How do you know?" Ginny questioned.
He arched a brow at her. "Because I do. No one has ever come back to tell us there is anything out there. Ghosts are just a pale imitation of life and death; of being and non-being. They are both alive and dead, and there is nothing on the other side, Ginevra. Just like there is no glory in war. It's nothing more than a duty."
He looked at his empty shot glass and seemed to think better of it. He sighed and looked at the watch on his arm, tapping it with his wand and muttering under his breath.
Ginny debated lunging for his wand. She could get it, she was sure, but she was also sure he knew wandless magic. She was even more sure that she wouldn't be able to pass off the killing curse on the first try, and then she would be in an insurmountable amount of trouble. She tapped her fingers, staring at the wand and wishing. But wishing wouldn't make anything happen.
"I will escort you to your room since I can't seem to be able to bloody trust you to walk there yourself," he grumbled and stood, waving his wand so shackles reappeared. Ginny hadn't even noticed they'd been gone. How strange that she was already becoming so used to them.
She followed him back to her room and let him bid her goodnight. She pulled her clothes off and looked at the time. She would draw him, to get his annoying presence out of her head, and then she would go to sleep. Tomorrow would be another day filled with the same bullshit.
Ginny sat at the desk, drawing with a black pencil, only using color for his eyes. For those she used red, the color she was so used to being directed at her during training, as though he were only just holding back from really hurting her. She drew him perfectly, and when she was finished she stared at her work of art. It was horribly accurate. She could feel the evil presence of him just looking at the picture. Then she took it and tucked it into her nightstand before she laid down in bed.
But then she remembered Kreacher, and she called Blinky to her, asking for privacy. Five minutes after Blinky had gone, she called Kreacher.
"Miss Weasley, Kreacher is here. Are we to continue our lessons?" he asked and she nodded.
Tonight he pushed her to empty all thoughts while he tried to push into her mind. It was taxing work, but as Harry had once said, The Dark Lord never slept. Which was ironic, really, because she was sure he was asleep now.
When Kreacher left, Ginny took her clothes back off and crawled into bed, sipping on her glass of water. She would best Tom Riddle if it was the last thing she did, and it very well could be the last.