Second year, Part three
Ginny managed to hold herself back from visiting the second-floor bathroom for the first two days back at Hogwarts.
It wasn't easy. Every time that she walked anywhere near the landing that led to it, she heard it calling to her, a phantom voice that spoke to her on a level far above the need for words or sound.
She heard it, and for two days she managed to ignore it.
Saturday morning found her walking the castle after breakfast. She was planning on heading up to the owlery, to borrow a school owl and send her mother a letter reassuring her that everything was fine.
As she walked, she caught a glimpse of the bathroom door from the corner of her eye.
Like she was in a trance, she walked toward it, powerless to stop herself.
Unable up stop herself, and unsure if she even wanted to.
The door swung closed as she entered.
The bathroom was silent and empty, Myrtle apparently having chosen to bother some other area of the castle today.
She walked up to the mirror above the cracked sink and faucet.
She barely passed her eyes over the tiny snake etched into the metal, instead focusing on her reflection.
The last time that she'd looked into that mirror, Tom had looked back.
She stared at herself, a tiny hope still burning in her mind.
Her reflection did not change.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I tried but I wasn't good enough. I wanted to help you, I wanted to!"
Tears started streaming down her face, pooling on her chin before dripping into the sink.
"I'm s-sorry," she sobbed, "I'm sorry, I should have done better, I should have been better. I should-I-"
She shook, her confused thoughts wracking her like an earthquake.
"I-I don't want to love you, I wish I di-didn't, I wish I wouldn't th-think about you, but I-I-I can't stop, and I don't want to f-feel bad-"
She heard the sound of a few sets of footsteps, students passing the bathroom.
She spun, lurching to the nearest stall and closing the door behind her.
She dropped onto the seat, leaning her head against her cool wood of the stall's wall.
"I don't wanna feel bad about failing," she whispered, her tears calming for long enough that she could clearly enunciate the sentence, "I want-I want to be h-happy about it. But I st-still do, and I wish I had known enough to help you another w-way, to-to do what you wanted-"
The bathroom door squeaked as someone walked in.
She shuddered, shoving her hand into her mouth, the tears still flooding down her face, silently now.
She wanted to scream, to shout and roar and blubber and let the swirling mess of emotions out. At the very least, she needed to talk, to explain to Tom in this place that she still loved him, still needed him, and that she wished she didn't, wished that she had never met him, wished that she had never failed him and had been smart enough to help him like he really had needed.
She couldn't. Someone was there. They'd hear, and they'd wonder who it was, and they'd wait to see who left the bathroom after them, and then they'd tell, and-
She bit down on her hand as the terrifying images shot through her mind.
She wouldn't be allowed to stay at Hogwarts, that was for sure. If they thought she was a danger to anyone, she'd be expelled, her wand snapped and made to live like a muggle for the rest of her life.
If they didn't lock her up in Saint Mungo's, in the ward for the dangerous crazy people, that is.
A small whimper made it through her hand, echoing around the stalls.
The other person coughed.
'I'm going to scream, I can't, I can't, I'm sorry, Tom, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!'
Her left hand shot out, reaching into her robes and dragging her nails across her small breasts.
A sigh escaped her, her muscles relaxing as hot pain bubbled up and her thoughts cleared.
She could feel the warm liquid starting to run down her front.
And her frustrated, confused fear seemed to be leaving her with it.
She snatched some toilet paper and shoved it down her robes with her right hand, the scratches on her chest stinging angrily with her sudden movement.
Slowly, as she rubbed the scratches and sent new pain through her body, her tears stopped.
'It's only right,' she thought, 'Tom would have punished me. It's only right that I do it to myself if he-if he can't.'
"Sit down, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, "would you like some tea? Or anything else to drink, for that matter?"
"No, thank you, Professor," Ginny said, settling into the comfortable armchair across the desk from her Head of House.
"Whatever you wish. Don't feel bad about asking if you do change your mind. Tell me, how have you found the first week back?"
McGonagall raised a steaming mug to her lips, sipping from it and eyeing Ginny speculatively.
"It's been good," she said.
'Lonely, I miss him so much, I have to sneak off to go to that bathroom because that's where I can still feel him the most.'
"Good?" McGonagall asked. "Would you perhaps care to elaborate on that?"
Ginny blushed, looking at her knees.
"Classes have been good," she said, "I've been able to follow them alright."
"Excellent. You are aware, I hope, that in Transfiguration, and I believe your other subjects as well, we have only been doing revision and will continue to do so for another week?"
"Yeah," she said with a nod, looking back up at McGonagall, "and the stuff isn't-isn't totally new to me. I remember it, and I did go over some of my textbooks over the break."
"I'm glad. I must say, if you managed the marks you did last year even with everything that was going on, I have high expectations for your future work."
'I had Tom helping me then!'
"Thank you."
"How have the other students been?"
"They've been ok," she said, "they're all...a bit curious, about what happened last year. But I told them that I don't want to talk about it, and they left it alone."
"I'm glad that they've been respecting your wishes, but it may be for the best if you do divulge what happened. Only to your close friends, and only when you feel ready for it, but it may help you greatly."
'Close friends?' Ginny thought, managing to keep an incredulous expression off of her face.
"Has it been difficult to be back at Hogwarts?" McGonagall asked softly, "after the events of last year?"
'Everything I see reminds me of a conversation with him. They all stare and ask me what happened.'
"No," she said with a shake of her head, "it's actually been helpful. To be here, where it all happened, but it's not happening now."
McGonagall kept her eyes on Ginny, watching her intently.
'Just tell her the truth, tell her-'
She made a fist under the table, squeezing her hand tightly shut.
"It's like...it's really over," she said, hoping that her voice didn't really sound that high-pitched, "and everything's gone back to normal. It's good."
"I've noticed," McGonagall said slowly, "that you don't seem particularly well-rested. Have you been sleeping alright? Having nightmares?"
'I'm in the same bed as last year. I spent so much time in it, writing to him, and now I'm all alone. The other girls are stuck-up bints and I have no one to talk to there.'
"I've been sleeping alright," she said quickly, "just been difficult to get to bed early."
A small frown creased McGonagall's brow.
"And the nightmares?"
'She's suspicious. I need to give her something, something to make her think I'm being honest.'
"Only twice," she said, her voice wavering slightly, "And I-I couldn't remember the second one."
"Miss Weasley," McGonagall said, her voice gentler than Ginny would have thought the stern witch was capable of making it. "There is no shame in admitting it, if you have been suffering the aftereffects of You-Know-Who's possession. There is no shame in asking for help."
"I know," Ginny said.
"Then why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"
"There's nothing bothering me."
McGonagall leaned forward, curling her hands around her mug with an odd expression on her face.
"I do not appreciate it when students believe they must hide their feelings from me," she said, her voice gaining back some of its usual steel, "Miss Weasley, I want to help you however I can. But I can do nothing if you are not open with me. Tell me the truth. Please."
The scratches on Ginny's chest and arms gave a painful twang, her heart beginning to pound.
"I'm fine," she said, "really."
McGonagall sighed.
"As you wish," she said doubtfully, "please know that if you ever feel comfortable to talk, day or night, except for when I am teaching, my door is always open to you."
"Thank you."
"We will meet again in a few weeks," McGonagall said, "and please consider what I have said. I truly do wish to help you."
'You can't. No one can. No one but Tom.'
"Thank you, Professor," Ginny said, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder, "and I will."
The cool, musty smell of old books and dust filled her nostrils as she paged through the tome.
The library was silent, no sound to be heard but the faint rustle of paper and the occasional cough or sneeze.
She found the page she was looking for and read, muttering the incantation to herself.
"Episkey. Emphasis is on the second syllable. Episkey. Episkey."
She read a bit more about the charm. It supposedly would heal minor injuries, like small broken bones or minor burns and cuts.
She had a feeling it was a spell she would become quite good at.
No one had noticed any of her scratches so far, but she'd been lucky. She'd been careful for the past three weeks, making sure that none of her roommates were paying attention while she changed.
But she knew that she wouldn't be able to keep it hidden forever, not unless she had a way of making sure that they couldn't see what she'd done.
'This is insane! It's dangerous, it's not healthy! I should tell McGonagall, or Madam Pomfrey or someone!'
'They'll just think I'm crazy. They won't understand. They'll tell mum and dad.'
She had no idea what her parents would do if they found out that she was, well, hurting herself, and she preferred to keep it that way.
They certainly wouldn't understand. They wouldn't be able to understand that she needed it, that it cut out her thoughts and stopped the hysteria from taking her over completely.
They couldn't understand that sometimes, the thoughts she had filled her with such loathing, such intense hatred that she had no choice but to punish herself.
She read over the section one more time before closing the book and placing it back on the shelf.
Idly, she ran her hand along the faded binding.
The shelf towered over her, its contents staring at her.
'If I'd have spent more time here, maybe I'd have been able to help Tom properly.'
An echo of his voice sounded in her mind, the memory of one of the last things he'd said to her.
'Would you even be able to beat a fourth year in a duel?'
The shelf in front of her was full of treatises on healing.
Without even thinking about it, she began to walk to where the Defence Against the Dark Arts Section was, to the shelves loaded full of jinxes, hexes, and curses.
And instructions on how to use them.
Again, Tom's voice sounded in her mind.
'If you can't rebuild my body, you would need to be a soldier for me.'
She pulled the first book that she saw off of the shelf, dropping it onto the nearest desk.
'I can't build him a body, so-'
'What the bloody hell am I thinking? He's dead! He's gone, there's nobody to be a damn soldier for!'
'Yes there is,' a sly voice in the back of her mind whispered, sounding almost exactly like Tom had, 'oh yes there is.'
Her arm began to shake, the pages fluttering as she threw open the heavy embossed leather cover.
'Dumbledore says he's still alive,' the voice whispered, 'and he's not Tom, but he is what Tom became.'
'I'm going crazy, I can't be thinking about-'
'Why not? There still must be some of Tom in him. He can't have changed that much. And if I was helping him, I'd never have to worry about missing Tom and wishing he was here. I'd be with him-'
'That's You-Know-who! I can't even think about something like that, after everything he did! He killed so many people, he tortured-'
'Tom did horrible things too. I still love him. Just in case I do get into a position to help him, I should-'
'THAT'S EVIL!'
She slammed the book closed with a bang and jumped to her feet, ignoring Madam Pince's immediate "quiet!"
She felt dizzy, her body shaking like mad, her heart doing a frenetic drumbeat.
Her left hand climbed under her robes, her fingers automatically curling into claws.
"No," she whimpered, "no."
She fled the library, not even bothering to return the book to its place on the shelf.
"Hey Ginny," Percy said, sliding into the chair opposite her, "how's the homework going?"
She let out a heartfelt sigh, dropping her quill and massaging her hand.
The common room was quiet, everyone there doing homework or talking softly.
"Well," she said, "I definitely did not miss it over the break."
"I'm not surprised," he said, "it's definitely the most onerous part of being back at school."
"You're forgetting Potions," she said with a grin.
"Potions is actually very interesting. Professor Snape just has a...precise method of teaching."
"He's a greasy git is what you mean," she muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Good, Percy said, "I'd hate to have to take points away for blatant disrespect to a Hogwarts Professor."
He winked at her, softening the seriousness of his words.
"How've things been? I'm sorry we haven't had much time to talk, but the first few weeks were always the most hectic as a prefect, and they're even worse now."
'Or mum just reminded you to check on me.'
"Been good," she said, idly picking at one of her cracked nails. "Busy for us regular students too."
"Yeah?" He asked, "What have you been up to? I haven't seen you around the grounds much during break, when I've been patrolling."
"Haven't been spending much time out there," she said, thinking quickly, "the uh, Dementors, you know."
Percy shivered.
"I hope this Sirius Black debacle is sorted out soon," Percy said with a sniff, "bad enough he's loose and a danger to the public, but those things being on school grounds…"
He shook his head, shivering again.
"Yeah."
"So what have you been doing instead?"
"Exploring the castle, mostly. Did you know there's a staircase on the sixth floor that goes straight down to the first?"
"Past that painting of Heracles, right?"
"Exactly. And I've been in the library most of the rest of the time."
Percy nodded absently, his eyes locked on something across the room.
She followed his gaze to the table where Jasmine, Priscilla, and Evelyn were sitting.
They were sharing what looked like a magazine, whispering excitedly.
'Probably about one of those stupid society events their parents were at.'
"I wish I'd see you with friends more," Percy said softly, "it can't be nice, being alone so much."
Luckily, she'd prepared for this. During one of her sessions in the library, she'd thought about what would happen when someone wondered where she was all the time. It was inevitable, between the conversations with McGonagall and her parents having asked her brother to keep an eye on her.
Using the Dementors as an excuse had been an easy idea. It was simple, it made sense, and she knew for a fact that there were other students avoiding the grounds for that very reason.
It had taken her much longer to come up with a reason why she wasn't spending time in their company. Eventually, though, she had.
It wasn't even that far from the truth. She was being more honest than she would have liked, but if she didn't give Percy something, she could be sure that he'd be writing to her mother immediately.
Now she could only hope that he would take it at face value.
"They pity me," she said quietly. "They're all rich, and they think that we can't really have a good time since we're not. And if not because of that, they pity me because of what happened last year."
She kept her face down, her hair shading her expression.
"Do they-" Percy started.
"No," she interrupted. "They don't mock me or anything like that. They've even stopped asking about what happened. It's just...the way they talk. Like they have to be all gentle. And I hate it."
"Maybe you should say something?" He suggested, "Tell them that you don't appreciate it?"
She snorted, shaking her head.
"As if that'd work. I just-I think it'll get better. If I just leave it for a bit."
"It might," He said, "if they get to see you as your own person. If they don't just think about what happened to you whenever they look at you. But they'd need to see you like that first. It won't happen unless you talk to them."
"I-"
"Trust me, Ginny," He said, turning his eyes on her, "I know what it's like to have issues relating to year mates. Not exactly the same situation as you, but I can relate. Once they get to know you, they'll be able to put aside their preconceived ideas. But they need to get to know you. If you don't spend time with any of them, they'll assume that you're antisocial, that you're egotistical, and that you aren't interested in friendship."
He shook his head, deadly serious.
"Believe me, worthwhile as going through the library's contents may be, it's not worth losing friendships. Sometimes, you have to compromise. And if it means suffering through their pity, just for a little bit, it's worth it."
He reached out suddenly, taking her hand in his.
"I promise you," he said, "it won't be for long. Just talk about the things you like, take part in their conversations. Before you know it, they'll start seeing you for who you are."
She looked down again, hiding her tears.
'If they knew who I really was, they'd hate me. You would too.'
"Thanks, Perce," she said, her voice coming out thicker than intended.
"It's my pleasure. Anything I can do, I'm here. You know that."
"I do."
He smiled brightly. "Excellent. Just think about what I said. And just remember, sometimes, things seem far worse before you actually do them. But the bad parts pass very, very quickly."
'They don't. They stay forever, and everything just gets worse.'
"Expelliarmus!"
The empty classroom was bathed in a red glow for a moment as her spell shot forward.
The jet of light collided with a desk, sending it a few meters back.
"Ok," she muttered as she lowered her wand, "I think that's it. Can't tell without practising on someone, but I think that's it."
She glanced down at her list before nodding and raising her wand again.
"Stupefy!"
A pinkish light flew from her wand, colliding harmlessly with a desk, not even throwing up sparks.
'Pathetic. Useless.'
"Stupefy!"
'Worthless,' that voice, so reminiscent of Tom said in her mind, 'No wonder you couldn't help him.'
"Stupefy!"
'You want to be his soldier, and you can't even cast a simple spell?'
'I don't want to! I don't, I don't want to have anything to do with him!'
'Oh,' the sneering voice said, 'that must be why you don't stop thinking about him. That must be why yesterday you cried and begged him to come back.'
'I-'
'I'd you really didn't want him, you'd have gone to Dumbledore. You'd have asked him for help. But you won't, because you know the truth. Without Tom, you're nothing. You're empty. Useless. Weak.'
"I'm not," she whispered, the salty tang of her tears bathing her tongue, "mum and dad and-and everyone, they all say-"
'What would they say if they knew what you were really doing in your breaks? What would Evelyn have said this morning, if you hadn't been doing that healing charm? Would they still love you? Would they still be so proud of you, if they knew you still dream about You-Know-Who?'
Her words emerged choked, her voice thick with emotion.
"They w-would, they-"
'Liar. They'd abandon you in an instant, lock you away somewhere where you couldn't hurt them. There's only one person who always cared about you, no matter what. There's only one person who would really love you, no matter what you decide to do. And you're happy with being too useless to help him.'
"He's V-V-Volde-Voldemort! He-he just wants to-to kill, to hurt-"
'You said you'd kill for Tom, remember? Was that just a lie? He would've killed Lockhart for you, if you'd have asked him to.'
Her legs gave way, dropping her to her knees with a painful crunch.
"I don't want to," she cried, dropping sideways onto the dusty floor, "I d-don't want-"
'If you really didn't want it, you wouldn't be practising fighting spells, would you? Just admit it.'
She sobbed harder, pulling her knees up to her chest and gripping them tightly with her arms.
"Miss Weasley," Professor Lupin called, his voice clear over the scraping chairs as everyone rose to their feet. "Please stay behind."
"Good luck," Colin whispered as he passed her.
She nodded back to him, hastily covering the bottom of the parchment before her with her hand.
She'd spaced out, toward the end of class. The last fifteen minutes or so, she hadn't done anything other than doodle.
As always, her mindless artwork was nothing other than a name repeated over and over again.
'Did he call on me? Is that it? Or-or-'
Her heart started pounding in her throat, thoughts of Lockhart filling her mind.
'Tom can't save me now, it's just me and I can't do anything.'
A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead, her lungs suddenly barely responding to her.
'Oh god, I can't do anything, Tom can't help me, I'm on my own and-'
"Are you alright, Miss Weasley?"
"I'm fine," she said, still looking down at her desk, her hands shaking so bad that she'd ripped a corner off of the parchment as she'd folded it.
The classroom door closed with an ominous thud.
"Miss Weasley. I don't mean to be rude, but you don't seem fine."
She looked up finally, having managed to fold the parchment and drop it onto her pocket.
Lupin had moved toward her and now sat a few desks away, both his hands clearly in sight.
He wore a worried frown, the added lines on his face making him look even older and more tired than he usually did.
"I really am," she said. "Just tired. I didn't sleep well last night, and I'm feeling a bit ill."
"Miss Weasley," He said with a sigh, "I'm not asking about your feelings today. I'm asking about what I've seen from you over the last five weeks of classes."
'What?'
Nodding slightly at her confused look, Lupin went on.
"I've caught you losing focus more times than any other student, and while your homework and quiz marks are always high, I don't think you've ever volunteered any information in class."
He hesitated for a moment before going on. "You often seem very tense and nervous, as you clearly are right now. You usually look as if you didn't sleep the night before, and I don't think I've ever seen you with the other students during break. So I'll ask you again. Are you alright?"
'No, I'm not. The scratching isn't doing enough anymore, and I keep reading about magic for hurting people and I don't want to, and I can't stop, and I'm terrified!'
'I'm such an idiot. I've been so careful in Transfiguration, but I didn't think about this class. I'm such an idiot!'
"It's the Dementors," she said, surprising herself with how easily the prepared lie sprang to her lips. "It's like…whenever I want to go outside, they're there. And it just…they make everything so...so-"
"Terrible," He said softly.
She nodded.
"I see," he said, still sounding troubled. "Are you sure that's all it is?"
"I'm sure," she said, forcing her lips into a smile that she hoped looked real.
"You should see Madam Pomfrey," he said, "She can give you better advice than I about how to deal with the Dementors' effects. And you should keep chocolate with you. It really does help."
"I will," she said, tightening her hands around her thighs to keep them in place and prevent herself from bolting.
"If you ever wish to talk," he said, "I will make myself available. Anything you tell me will be kept in confidence."
"Thank you, Professor."
'Liar. You'd be talking to McGonagall five minutes later.'
The day after Lupin held her back in class Ginny approached Colin in their first break.
She'd thought about what Lupin had said, repeating his words in her mind as she wondered what the hell she was going to do.
After Percy's conversation with her two weeks earlier, she'd been trying to make more of an effort with the other students.
She made a point of not spending all of her breaks alone, or at least sitting with the girls for a little bit, even though their conversations bored her half to tears.
Even though it meant that she had less time to look up useful spells in the library and less time to practice them.
Even though it meant that sometimes she sat there, praying for the conversation to just finish so that she could find somewhere secret to release her pent-up pain.
She did, however, make sure not to leave that too long. She learned through bitter experience that if she let the pressure in her rise too high before releasing it, she didn't exactly have the greatest control over herself when she finally did.
On the other hand, she had become quite good at casting Episkey and a charm she'd found for siphoning away blood. She hadn't quite mastered Episkey yet, and the cuts, while sealing very nicely and becoming difficult to see, did not vanish entirely.
Still, it was good enough that if someone were to see her changing, as Evelyn had the week before, they wouldn't notice the scratch marks. Not if they weren't looking for them.
She had that covered, and didn't need to worry about people looking too closely at her for it.
She had reached, she thought, a good balance. Spending enough time with friends that whenever Percy, or even one of the twins looked at her, their smile was more genuine and less concerned.
McGonagall too had seemed less worried in their last conversation. She had still asked Ginny if there was anything she was holding back, but she asked that every time they met, and it seemed more of a rote question than true suspicion.
But apparently, she hadn't fooled Lupin. If the Defence Professor, who'd only known her for a month, could see through her mask, the chances of her siblings or Head of House seeing clearly as well were just too high.
So she'd thought very carefully about a way to ease Lupin's worries.
Her plan also would, hopefully, let her kill two birds with one stone.
"Hey, Colin," she called, pushing through the stream of students.
He turned, giving her an amiable smile as she reached his side.
Colin was easily her best choice. He was easy-going enough to just follow her directions, and he was one of the more normal people her age.
Except for his absurd obsession with Harry Potter.
"Hey, Ginny, what's up?"
"Not much, just-could I talk to you for a moment?"
"Sure," He said with a shrug.
She led him down the corridor, taking a left turn and walking into one of the unused classrooms she'd discovered over the past few weeks.
"So," He asked, "what's going on?"
"I just wanted to ask if…maybe…you'd like to join me and practice spells sometime?"
His face flickered through a series of excited expressions.
Yes, asking Colin has definitely been the right decision.
"Sounds cool," He said, "what type of things do you have in mind?"
"I've been looking up a bunch of defensive spells," she said, "stuff you could use in a fight."
"In a fight?" Colin asked, "but-I thought-"
"Not just fighting spells," she quickly said, cursing her tactlessness, "Other stuff too, generally useful spells. I was just thinking of last year, how…things would have gone very different if-If we would've been able to actually fight back."
She saw the steely glint flash in Colin's eyes, and she knew that she had him.
"I'm in," he said.
The soft snoring and rhythmic breathing of sleep filled the room, white noise that should have comforted her.
She clenched her hands tightly on her thighs, pulling at the little bit of loose skin there.
It happened often, as she tried to go to sleep. Memories of Tom filling her mind, coating her thoughts with a feeling of sorrow so thick it felt like it would take physical form and smother her.
"'Sometimes,' she had written, 'I really just want to punch Jasmine in her stupid face.'
The words stayed on the page for a second before disappearing. Almost the instant they were gone, her heart lifted as Tom's writing appeared.
'What did the imbecile do this time?'
She stared at the curtain surrounding her bed as if her vision could somehow pierce the gold and red hangings and settle on Jasmine's sleeping form.
'She was talking to the other girls about some stupid Christmas ball they all go to. And then she says that she can't imagine what it must be like for people whose families don't go to such important events.'
The embarrassed anger boiled in her. She'd wanted to tell Tom about it right away, but the conversation had taken place during their walk back from Astronomy. She'd had to wait, shame turning her ears and cheeks red all the while, until they'd returned to their rooms and she had the chance to speak to him.
'Then she looked at me,' she wrote, 'and she did her annoying gasping thing, and she apologized. Said that she didn't mean to hurt my feelings. She knew I was right there, she knew it!'
'I'm sorry about that,' Tom answered, 'it must be painful, to have her rub her family's social standing in your face. Using her ancestors' achievements as if they mean anything about herself.'
'Exactly! She's never done anything special, her grades are a lot worse than mine, and she's never had to do anything for herself!'
'Back when I was a student, I suffered through the misfortune of knowing several people like this foolish brat you've described. All of them from high society families, all of them puffed up with their meaningless pride. All of them insufferably arrogant. And none of them doing anything to improve themselves.'
She smiled, warmth filling her. Tom, at least, could be counted on to understand her.
'I can relate to what you are experiencing, Ginny. At the beginning of my school career, I was looked down upon, thought to be no better than the rest of my schoolmates. However, it did not take long for them to recognize me as their superior. It is the same with you, Ginny. You are infinitely better than those foolish chits could ever hope to be. You know it, I know it, and even they know it. Why do you think they invest so much energy in trying to make you feel lesser? They know that you are so much better than them, and they detest that fact. They loathe that knowledge so much that they have no choice but to try and tear you down. They know that you are better than them, but their ignorant parents have trained them to view the world as revolving around them. They wish for nothing as much as to tear you down, because then they will have won. If they can just get you to believe that they truly are better than you, you will end up proving them right. You must not allow them to win, Ginny. You are above them, just as I was above my own schoolmates. You are above them, and I will stand by your side as long as I possibly can.'
Her teardrops fell on the diary, making Tom's ink run.
She'd read the message though, and that was all that mattered. Her heart swelled, Tom's warmth filling her.
'And remember this, Ginny. They will live pale imitations of true life, adding nothing of lasting value to the world, taking nothing with them when they finally die after filling their empty days with meaningless distractions. It is up to you whether you will follow their foolish path or not.'
'Thank you, Tom,' she wrote, 'I feel much better now.'
'Anything I can do to help, my dear. Anything. You know I'm here for you at all times. But you should get some sleep, didn't you say you have a Transfiguration quiz tomorrow?'
'Yes. But with you helping me, I can't fail.'
'Ah, Ginny. Willing as I am to help you with your schoolwork, you have proven far more than capable yourself.'
'That's true, but you have helped a lot.'
'Of course. And I will continue to do so, whenever necessary.'
'Thanks, Tom. I love you. Good night.'
'Good night, Ginny. I love you too. Pleasant dreams.'
She turned over in her bed with a sigh, her muscles relaxed.
"Good night, Tom" she whispered, "good night."
As much as she wished she would, she heard no reply.
"Pass me one of the Shrivelfigs, Luna," she asked, dropping the one she'd been working on into the baskets Professor Sprout had provided. "I'm done with this one."
Luna handed the Shrivelfig over, one of the bracelets on her arm gleaming as she dropped the purple fruit next to Ginny's pair of shears.
"Thanks," she muttered, picking up the shears.
"Ginny, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Did the Ministry place a Tongue-Tying curse on you?"
Ginny dropped the shears, turning back toward Luna.
"What?"
"Did the Ministry place a Tongue-Tying curse on you?" Luna repeated, blinking owlishly at her.
"I-what? No! Why would you even think so?"
"Because you were involved in what happened last year," Luna said matter-of-factly, "And the Minister couldn't let anyone know about the Chamber of Secrets, because then everyone would know about his plans for Gringotts."
Ginny just stared.
"So they had to make sure that you wouldn't talk about it. And that's why you don't."
"Luna…I-I don't even-"
"No, no," Luna said with a shake of her head, "you're right. It was silly of me to ask. They'd have done it properly so that you wouldn't be able to talk about it."
Luna patted Ginny on the arm, looking at her compassionately,
"Luna," Ginny said quietly, "the Ministry wasn't involved. I just-I don't like to talk about it, because-because it was really traumatic."
Luna blinked her silver eyes again, looking at her expectantly.
She sighed, leaning closer.
"I-I almost died," 'I should have died,' "I have nightmares about it. It-it was terrifying. And I couldn't do anything to stop it."
'I didn't want to stop it. I still don't want to stop it.'
"I don't like to think about it too much," she said, "because it-it still scares me. A lot. That's why I don't talk about it."
In a sudden motion that had Ginny's hand flying for her wand, Luna grabbed her in a tight hug.
"Miss Lovegood!" Came Professor Sprout's scandalized voice at once, "You are in the middle of a class!"
"Sorry, Professor," Luna said, releasing Ginny and turning back to her own shears and pile of Shrivelfigs, "I forgot."
"Five points from Ravenclaw," Professor Sprout said, exasperation taking the heat from her voice, "And please try to keep your mind focused for the duration of this lesson."
"I will," Luna said serenely.
Ginny heard one of the other Ravenclaws mutter something, followed immediately by laughter.
"Do you like to play chess?" Luna asked.
Ginny paused her peeling and turned her head.
"Kinda. My brother Ron, he's the real chess master in the family, but I'm alright."
"We should play sometime," Luna said, "I'll teach you father's variation of the rules. It's far more fun."
Ginny smiled, thoughts of Tom for once not consuming her.
"I'd like that," she said, and meant it.
She managed to twist out of the path of Colin's Jelly-Legs Jinx, immediately sending a Body-Bind back that hit the desk he hastily kicked forward.
He jerked his wand again, shouting wildly as he sent a Disarmer her way.
She didn't even need to move, the red jet flying past her and crashing into a wall.
Over the last month or so, she and Colin had spent one of the two times they met each week duelling. They'd gotten a bit of a handle of each other's skills and weaknesses, and their abilities had certainly grown, if only by a bit.
Colin was faster than her, both in his body movements and his spellcasting. He had a much greater chance than she did of getting out of the way of an oncoming spell, or of getting an obstruction in its path.
She, on the other hand, had better aim and was frankly more talented than him. If his Disarming Charm had hit her, it wasn't likely that it would have had the full effect. The last time that he'd got her with one, she still had managed to keep a hold of her wand, even if it was a close call.
"Bombarda!"
Her spell was not aimed at Colin but rather at the desk before him. It hit, sending the desk careening backwards.
'Not quite what it's meant to do.'
Colin jumped to the side, and she took aim again.
"STUPEFY!"
Colin fell forward, landing hard on the stone floor.
'I did it,' she thought, triumph roaring through her veins, 'I can't believe I did it properly!'
She walked forward, standing above Colon's unconscious form.
"Rennervate!"
He didn't move.
'Concentrate. Think about waking him up.'
"Rennervate!"
He stirred feebly, wiping the dust off of his face as he shakily got back onto his legs.
"You didn't tell me that would hurt," he said chidingly, "I really banged my knees."
"Sorry," she said, unable to keep the satisfaction out of her voice fully, "didn't really think about that."
"Of course you managed it before me," he grumbled, "it's just not fair how much better at these spells you are."
'I did it. It worked. I can't wait to tell Tom, he'll-'
The sudden pain of her loss shot through her in a horrid jolt.
Colin was looking down as he rubbed his legs, and didn't see the crestfallen expression form.
'I can't tell him, I can't tell him, he's gone and-'
'You can still tell him. Remember, Dumbledore says he's still alive. That's what you're doing all this for, right?'
'No! I'm not going to-'
"Ginny?" Colin asked, "Are you alright?"
"S-sorry," she said, shaking her head, "just-just got a stomach cramp. I-I need to go."
She grabbed her bag in a hurry, almost spilling out the contents before she remembered to close it.
"If you need-"
"I don't need the Hospital Wing," she said quickly, "I'll be fine."
"If you're sure," he said doubtfully.
She shot him a weak smile on her way to the door.
As soon as she was out of the classroom she ran, putting her head down so that no one would notice her tears.
With a snort, she put her mother's letter down on her bedside table.
It was actually a nice letter, all things considered. Filled, as her mother's letters always were, with small bits of news from the extended family and stories about her parents' day to day life.
It was soft, warm. Empty.
Near the end, the contents had segued into questions about Ginny. How was she doing, how have her classes been, how were her friends.
And a few sentences about how happy her mother was to hear that she wasn't spending as much time alone anymore, that even if Luna was a bit strange, she'd always been a nice girl, and a question or two about Colin.
Of course, she'd known that Percy would be keeping her mother up to date on her activities, if the twins, Ron, McGonagall, and Dumbledore weren't as well.
She'd banked on it, and apparently, she'd been right.
She smiled, scratching restlessly against her chest, tears forming in her eyes.
The day before Halloween she reached into her bag, the closed toilet seat creaking under her as she leaned forward.
As the days moved closer toward the end of October, she found her thoughts becoming increasingly frantic and panic-driven.
Memories kept playing in her mind, of what it had been like the year before.
A part of her knew that nothing would happen, that she'd wake up in two days' time with complete memories of the night before and no flakes of paint drying under her nails.
A part of her hoped that she was wrong.
Her spare potions knife caught the light as she drew it, shining back into her eyes and sending up bright spots in her vision.
Her heart sped up, her breathing quickening in anxious anticipation.
'This is insane! It's dangerous, it's crazy, don't-'
She shook her head, a dreamlike feeling smothering her.
It may have been insane, but it was the only thing that she could think to do. The only hope she had of easing her mind, of continuing her act.
Besides, she deserved the pain. She deserves it for loving Tom, for loving a monster.
And for failing him.
She pulled back her left sleeve, the scratch marks barely noticeable.
Her nails were no longer an option. She bitten them as far down as she could, to the point where even using her fingers sent a dull throb through her.
Even if she hadn't, simply scratching herself didn't quite satisfy the way it once had.
She needed something more.
The cold blade rested against her shaking skin, her heart a drumbeat in her throat.
'No, no, don't, no!'
She pressed her weight down on the knife as she dragged it across her arm, relieved agony derailing her confused thoughts even as the blood welled up.
A happy sigh escaped her, her pounding heart already beginning to slow, tension seeping from her muscles.
She leaned back, her eyes half closed as she bathed in the blissful relief.
'The best, this is the best, this is perfect.'
'It's wrong,' a stubborn part of her said, 'it's wrong, and dangerous, and completely nuts! It's-'
'Exactly what I need.'
An indeterminate amount of time passed, and she opened her eyes, focusing on her arm.
The cut was maybe half the thickness of one of her fingers, drawn across the width of her arm just below the elbow.
It stung brazenly, blood still leaking out and joining the trail down to her fingers, dripping softly onto the floor.
She stared for a moment, entranced.
'It shouldn't feel so good. People aren't meant to-to like it when something hurts them. It's not normal, I need to-'
'Tell anyone, and what will they do? Especially now that they all think I'm doing so much better. How will they react? They'll be horrified, they'll think I'm crazy! I can't tell them, none of them could understand. Nobody can.'
"Episkey," she whispered, holding her wand an inch away from her torn skin.
The wound knitted itself closed, her skin coming together almost as if nothing had happened.
"Tergeo."
Blood rose wherever she aimed her wand, flying into the air from her arm, hand, and the floor.
It formed a small ball, floating in mid-air.
She stood up, lifting the seat and flicking her wand, sending the ball of blood into the toilet.
The cut was nothing more than a small pale line on her arm, barely noticeable against her freckled skin.
She pushed her sleeve back down, swung her bag over her shoulder and flushed the toilet.
Then she brushed her hair back and smiled, ready to face the world again.
The stars glittered down at her from the enchanted ceiling, the occasional cloud crossing the sky and blocking out some of the thousands of pinpricks of light.
She lay on her back with her hands folded beneath her head, the sleeping bag soft below her and the quiet sounds of hundreds of sleeping bodies and dozens of whispered conversations filling her ears.
The scowling image of a long-haired man flitted through her mind for a second.
She wondered what it was like, for Sirius Black. To have been his right-hand man, to have been closer to him than perhaps anyone else.
To have known him, maybe even better than she had.
She wondered what it was like for him, to not have to hide the truth. To admit it, not just to himself but to the world. To proudly stand up for him, to do whatever was asked without a second thought, without a moment's hesitation.
'It must be nice,' she thought, 'it must feel like-like being free.'
A loud whisper cut through the susurrus, prompting an acidic and immediate call of "Silence!" from Snape.
She turned her head, looking at the three sleeping bags that had raised Snape's ire.
A shock of red hair emerged from one, a pile of messy black hair from the second, and a big bushy clump from the third.
As always, a confusing mixture of feelings tugged at her when she saw Harry.
He'd saved her. But he'd saved her too late.
And he'd killed Tom.
'No wonder Sirius Black hates him,' she thought, turning over in her sleeping bag and getting comfortable, 'I'd hate him too.'
Just before sleep claimed her, one more thought flashed through her mind.
'I think I already do.'