Ginny awoke to Blinky bringing breakfast, but Blinky didn't rush Ginny. Perhaps he wasn't coming this morning. She could hope, at least. The anger he roused in her soul was toxic. It was poison. One she wanted no part of.
"Missus is seeing Master at noon," Blinky said blandly.
Ginny sighed, but it was a fact that she had to deal with him.
"Why not until noon?" she asked curiously.
"Master is not saying, he is only telling Blinky noon," Blinky said, and then she left, leaving Ginny with her thoughts.
Her thoughts were never a good place to be these days. She was constantly thinking about him. She didn't want to, but aside from two house elves, he was the only person she talked to. But that didn't mean she enjoyed it because Ginny Weasley never enjoyed anything to do with Tom Riddle.
She still wondered what prophecy concerning her was made. What if he was right? What if one day she turned bad—the very thing Harry had worried about for himself—and she willingly served him? The thought was scary. She didn't want to ever think that could happen, but what did she know of the future?
Blinky had put up the new punching bag, and Ginny spent an hour hitting it until her knuckles were bruised and bleeding. He'd probably be pissed when he saw her hand, but at the moment, Ginny really couldn't care. The anger was rising, just as it always did when she thought of him. She continued to hit the punching bag, grunting at the pain that shot through her hand. Fuck him, the egotistical dictator. Fuck him and his scarlet eyes.
When the pain in Ginny's hand became too much to continue beating on the punching bag, she went and took a shower. Her hand ached, and it was hard to wash her hair, but she managed. She would always manage. She was a Weasley. Weasleys didn't go down without one hell of a fight.
By the time Tom knocked on her door, her hands were swollen, so she kicked the door three times. When he opened the door, he looked at her in confusion. She held her hands up, pretty sure she had broken bones, and he sighed.
"Really, Ginevra? Is this necessary? Must you always hurt yourself?" he asked, pulling out his wand.
"Only when I can't hurt you," she said in a chipper voice as he popped the bones back into place.
"Ouch. Thanks. Why didn't we train today?" Ginny asked, curious despite herself.
"I had things to take care of. I was going to train now, but since you already had a whole workout-"
"I only hit the punching bag a few times," Ginny grumbled.
"Until you broke your fingers. That's more than a few times. I need to get you boxing gloves, apparently. If you want so badly to train, go get dressed in your training clothes," he demanded.
"I never said I wanted to train," Ginny muttered.
Without warning, Tom grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the nearest wall, effectively cutting off her oxygen. She scratched at his hand but to no avail. His grip was iron tight.
"Let us get one thing straight. You will not talk to me like I'm someone who gives a damn about your welfare. The only thing that matters to me is that you fulfill the prophecy. I am The Dark Lord. People fear even speaking my name. So what makes you, little weasel, think I wouldn't be prepared to hand you over to my men for a nice raping session? You might be more compliant then, mightn't you?" he asked and released her throat.
Ginny slid down the wall to the floor. Black spots were dancing in front of her eyes, and there was a roaring in her ears. She gulped in air, her head spinning as she choked on the very air she needed so badly.
"Or perhaps a good spanking in front of everyone? Some public embarrassment?" he asked icily.
Ginny couldn't stop herself from saying, "Fuck you."
He backhanded her so hard her face hit into the wall. The pain was oddly cathartic. Oh, it hurt. The pain was unavoidable, but she wasn't giving in to it.
"Should we see how good little Weasley does with murdering all her friends? Or better yet, being bound and watching them get tortured? I have Luna Lovegood. It could be fun. She doesn't talk about much besides Nargles, whatever the fuck those are supposed to be. Blaise finds her quite pretty. He's been asking to have her for ages. How would it feel to watch him take her by force, and be able to do nothing? To have been able to prevent it all by behaving for your Lord? Can you live with that, Ginevra? Because I don't think you can, and we both know I'm usually right," he whispered in her ear softly.
He revolted her, and she wanted him away from her. He was a parasite. The fact that he could even fathom doing something so terrible made Ginny nauseated. She felt like she might vomit. Instead, she turned her head and spat blood onto the floor. He had busted her lip open. Ginny wanted so bad to fight back. To tell him to go to hell. But she would not risk Luna getting harmed behind her hatred for him, and he knew that about her. For once, Ginny didn't want to be the good guy. She wanted to be able to play dirty, too. Maybe that was why Harry had died. He was never able to stoop to Tom's level.
"Now, go put some clothes on so we can hit the training room. Now," Tom ordered.
Ginny got to her feet and did as she was told, hatred burning in every cell of her being. When she walked out of the closet, she felt the shackles appear. She might not be able to say anything, but she could sure as hell give him a death glare. He couldn't control that, simply because she couldn't control it. It was the permanent state of her face when he was around.
The training was intense. Tom repeatedly pinned Ginny to the wall and floor. She couldn't get the upper hand even once with him. She wanted to hit him and knock a few teeth out of his pretty face. But he wouldn't allow that. He was too pretty to be touch by someone as filthy as a bloodtraitor. That didn't stop Ginny from trying with everything in her to hurt him, though. She was going to one day best him, and that day would be a huge victory.
Tom smirked at her at the end of their training. She knew he was probably reading her thoughts, but she couldn't bring herself to see past her anger.
"You're so much better when you're quiet. I'll beat the sass out of you yet," he grinned uncharacteristically, and suddenly he was a beautiful roguish man. The effect was quite stunning, and Ginny couldn't even remember to be mad for all of about two seconds.
When she did remember, she huffed and turned her back on him, crossing her arms. How dare he be so attractive. It wasn't right. At least when he'd looked like a snake, you could see he was bad. But now? Smiling? He looked human, yet Ginny knew there was nothing human about him. Was one human if they couldn't even love, whether romantically or platonically? Ginny didn't think so. Love was what made life worth living. Ginny thought of Harry for a second, the stab of pain in her heart had become familiar. Harry would understand if he were here. He'd have the right words for her.
Tom crept up behind her, and he whispered in her ear, "He will never speak to you again, little Ginevra. I ended him, just as I will end anyone who gets in my way. That can include you."
And then he walked off, and Ginny supposed she was supposed to follow, as the shackles had reappeared. She turned and walked after him, trying to remember the way back to her room on her own. She got it right for the most part. She just mixed up which door was hers.
"My Lord!" came a voice down the hall before Tom could unlock the door.
Striding toward them was Draco Malfoy. He seemed to be in a tizzy. He looked like he had good news.
"What is it?" Tom snapped.
"My Lord, we captured the mudblood and this one's brother," Draco said, happiness radiating off his face.
"No!" Ginny shouted, not at all surprised when Tom grabbed her by her hair and physically shoved her into her room. Ginny scrambled to get up before he closed the door, but it didn't work. The door was closed and locked again. So Ginny did the only thing she could think of and began banging on it, screaming for the man she hated.
"Tom! Tom, please! Don't do this! I'll do anything! Please!" she hollered for ten minutes straight, but no one opened the door or even came to it to yell at her to shut up.
Fear coiled in her stomach. Ron and Hermione had been captured. Would Tom tell them they had Ginny? What would the Death Eaters do to them? Surely they needed them alive. Where had they been captured? Why had they come back, if they indeed had?
Ginny screamed and struck out repeatedly at the punching bag, but that brought no relief. She couldn't breathe. This must be what death felt like. The walls were closing in on her, and she couldn't get air no matter how hard she tried to breathe it in. There was panic in her. She needed to get out of this room and to the remaining golden trio. She needed to make sure they were safe, just as safe as they could be.
She screamed, long and loud. She picked up a glass and threw it at the wall, enjoying listening to it break. She needed to do something. Anything. Then an idea hit her, and she ran to the closet, looking for a wire hanger.
She uncoiled the top of it and tried to shove it between the door and the door frame, sobbing when it didn't work. How was she supposed to live, not knowing what was happening to her family?
She kicked the door. She backed up and kicked it again. For five minutes, she kicked the door, and it never once gave way. She felt so helpless. She slid down the door into a sitting position and cried. She was scared for them. She shouldn't have made him so mad. He would take it out on them; she was sure of it.
When Blinky appeared with dinner, Ginny was still sitting in the same place, tears still running down her face. Her head hurt from the screaming and crying she had done all afternoon. She just wanted Tom to walk through the door and tell her what was happening. Not knowing was a terrible burden, one she shouldn't have to endure, she thought.
"Missus needs to eat!"
"I'll eat when he comes back in this room, and not a moment sooner!" Ginny screamed hysterically.
"Missus, you is going to get Blinky in trouble! Come eat!"
But Ginny shook her head no. Blinky tried for an hour to convince Ginny to eat, but she wouldn't do it. Eventually, Blinky disappeared, probably going to tell Tom who would then appear and she could plead for Ron and Hermione's lives.
But he didn't come, and eventually, Ginny fell asleep crying against the door. When she woke, it was the dead of night. Her limbs ached, and for one moment, she couldn't remember what she was doing on the floor. Then she did remember, and she wanted to scream all over again. But her head was pounding, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was hungry. She had gotten used to eating, and she was sure training burned a shit ton of calories.
She got up and walked to her bed; a few candles were lit to show her the way. On the nightstand was her dinner. She ate it quickly, not even tasting the food, and then she sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for Tom to come and tell her something, anything. She needed to know. She needed to see him. She had never wanted his presence so badly before, except…
Except in her first year, when she wrote to a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle, spilling all her secrets to him. All her dreams, her hopes, her fears. She had told him it all. She wondered if this Tom had any recollection of that, or if that part of his soul had been so long detached that he couldn't remember what had occurred with it.
"Kreacher," Ginny dared to call out, but the elf didn't appear. Whatever was happening was taking him away from her. She called out for Blinky next, but she didn't appear either. Ginny watched out the window as snow began to fall, wondering just what in the hell was going on that no one could attend to her. The silence terrified her more than any torture session with Tom ever could.
"Please let them be okay," she whispered to someone, the universe maybe, and another tear rolled down her cheek.