The Difficulties of Avoidance
by dead2self
A/N: This chapter is largely influenced by my favorite Ginny/Tom diary story of all time:A Very Secret Diary by Arabella. It's on Sugar Quill, and I believe it's also on fanfiction dot net. Go check it out; it's phenomenal. Fifty points to anyone who can pick out my particular nod to her amazing portrayal of Tom.
Anyway, this chapter is a little dark. Enjoy!
Edit 06/10/08: Actually, I think this chapter has more than a few edits...
Edit 06/23/12: Another quick edit to fix a line that I've never felt fit well in Tom's voice. Much better now. Additionally, fixed all Ginny's references to Tom as Tom instead of Riddle.
With the loss of adrenaline came a paralyzing fear so palpable that Riddle could probably taste it. Ginny maintained a measured distance between Riddle and herself, recasting the body-bind every time she thought it might be wearing thin. The silence stretched on between them for what was likely hours of time. Ginny did not dare risk lying down. Instead, she propped herself against the lone chair in the room and stared up at the ceiling. It was bare, boring, and did nothing to allay her thoughts. She had conjured a number of candles to brighten the room, but there was a darkness about it that clung to the corners like cobwebs. Being so close to Riddle, there was nothing for Ginny to think about except ink, roosters, and snakes.
There was something chillingly surreal about sitting next to the man who had tried to kill her when she was eleven. She could only barely refer to him as a man. When Ginny was younger, he had seemed so much taller, so mature. Now, she came up past his chin and she realized he was average height. He was still handsome, but he did not look as old as he had seemed during her first year.
It was only while she compared him to her eleven year old vision of him that Ginny realized Tom Riddle's right hand was swollen five sizes larger than his left. Riddle saw her looking at it, even from his position lying on the floor.
"Your friend got in a decent curse before she fled," he said curtly.
Pressing her lips into a firm line, Ginny looked pointedly away from Riddle. He would try to talk to her. He would be flattering, persuasive, intelligent – everything that had drawn her to him during her first year – and she did not want to relive that. She cast a Silencing Spell on him and tried not to look him in the eye.
Ginny could remember that last time that she had been alone with Riddle. He had been a pale shadow and she had been fading fast. He had laughed at her when she started crying, even though the effort of it had weakened her faster. Her last memory of him was of Riddle standing rapturously in the middle of the Chamber, reveling in his newly forming body.
"I hate you," she said softly. Ginny knew he could not answer, but Riddle was listening.
Ginny remembered curling up in her dormitory when Riddle refused to let her sleep. She felt him taking control of her hand and fondly tracing out his name on the diary, and then the terrible anagram. Her eyes had rolled back into her head, but Riddle had not let her go that easily. He dragged her back to consciousness to tell her exactly what he was going to do to her and to Harry when she escaped to the Chamber of Secrets the next morning. She had not been allowed to cry.
"I hate you," she clarified. Not just Lord Voldemort of the present like everyone else, she thought. You, the one who made the diary even before all the other terrible atrocities.
She remembered frantically locking her wand in her trunk and waking up with her hands scratched raw from clawing it open. She remembered how pale she had gotten and how all her classmates had been so concerned, especially when she became unable to hold down a meal. She remembered pouring out her feelings about Harry and being terrified that the diary would tell all, and then stealing it back and her wrist nearly breaking in Riddle's frustration. Waking up with feathers and blood on her robes, Percy catching her sleepwalking, stealing Abigail's wand because Percy was keeping hers for safekeeping over the weekends. All of Riddle's anger when she could not escape from under the teachers' eyes when he wanted her to, his threats to use her hand to hex her classmates if she did not make an effort to allay their concerns for her, raising her wand against Percy when he stood between her and the portrait hole.
There were snatches of time where she could remember nothing at all – those had always scared her worst of all. The times when she had come to her faithful friend in confusion – "Tom, where was I on Halloween night?" – and he had gently convinced her that she was going mad.
Ginny remembered when she had considered Tom her very closest friend. Most of all, she remembered the slow realization that he was the farthest thing from a friend. He had laughed at her feelings of betrayal.
"I HATE YOU," Ginny spat, shooting to her feet. Riddle's eyes followed her, and she knew what he was thinking without being a Legilimens. "Do you want me to apologize?" he would say with a laugh. "Would that make you feel better? Beyond that, do you think it matters to me that a silly little girl hates me?"
Everything that Ginny knew about hate, she had learned from Riddle. She had complained so often using the word "hate" that when Riddle finally revealed his real nature, it was the second of her flaws (the first being her pure stupidity) that he had attacked. "You know nothing about real hate," he had written. "Real, burning hatred." A month or so later, when she had started calling him Riddle, he had written, in good humor, "Ah, there it is – a matchstick of burning hatred. You'll notice I have no cause for alarm."
He had laughed at her then, and his eyes were laughing at her now. Properly chastised without Riddle speaking a word, Ginny ran her hands through her hair and paced the length of the room.
"Someone found my diary."
Ginny jumped and issued a small squeak of surprise. She had not realized it had been so long since she had cast Silencio. Riddle was still stiff as a board, so she approached him slowly, letting all her resentment burn in her eyes. "I found your diary," she said coolly.
As she looked down on him, Riddle's face darkened. "Then it obviously failed."
"Oh, please, it's not as bad as you make it sound," she sneered, leaning over him. "You had the entire—"
Abruptly, Riddle's hand shot out and captured her wrist, and with a swift jerk he brought her to her knees. With his other hand, he caught the side of her head, thumb jammed in her temple, and held her still so that their eyes were locked. Too late, Ginny realized what he was doing, and the room began to swim before her eyes.
Images from her first year flashed through her head. Finding his diary in her secondhand school books… Whispering to the sinks in Myrtle's bathroom… Crying herself to sleep on top of a book that was her only friend… Amnesia, feathers, and blood… Watching the Petrified victims get carried up to the Infirmary, having the vague feeling she had been a part of something terrible… The terrible betrayal… Waking up in the Chamber of Secrets to a dead basilisk and a blood-soaked Harry Potter… The relief of telling Dumbledore everything and the Petrified victims all recovering—
"NO!" Ginny was ripped back to reality as Riddle threw her away from himself in disgust. She fell back, still breathing heavily, and watched in horror as Riddle staggered to his feet. "No one died?" he cried incredulously. "All my work ruined by a foolish twelve-year-old boy?" His dark eyes flashed to Ginny and he advanced on her. "And the stupid, foolish girl who could not even manage the simple task of killing Mudbloods with a basilisk – one of the deadliest creatures on earth! How dimwitted are you?"
Ginny scrambled away, trying frantically to wrestle her wand out of her pocket. "Lucky," she said. "Very lucky." She had it in her hand. He was reaching for her wand, but she was faster.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
This time when Riddle hit the floor, it was face-first and Ginny only marginally managed to avoid getting squashed. She scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding loudly in her ears, and she looked down on Riddle. "I got lucky," she repeated. "Merlin, I got lucky…" It took her a few minutes to catch her breath, all while avoiding Riddle's murderous gaze.
Ginny's wand wavered in her grip. There were so many things she could do to him right now; so many things that she wanted to do to the defenseless boy. Spite bubbled up inside her, and she cast an Itching Spell on him, watching in pleasure as his eyes screwed up with discomfort. It was not enough. Ginny knew she would probably be capable of producing an exceptional Cruciatus Curse at the moment. Maybe if she got him screaming loud enough, it would alert someone in the castle that she was trapped with him.
Ginny raised her wand. "Cru…" Something – her conscience? – stayed her hand and she considered using a lesser spell. She had read about a finger-removing jinx. Any number of common kitchen spells could do a world of harm when used on another person.
Riddle started laughing, clearly observing her indecision. Snarling, she made up her mind on a gouging spell, and lashed out at his already damaged right hand.
Riddle let out a short hiss of pain, but her attack did not do anything, and Ginny knew it. Tom Riddle would never feel remorseful, and no amount of torture would change that. She knew what he would do if he was the one with the wand and, undoubtedly, he would do it without the slightest hesitation. She wondered if emulating what he would do counted as sinking to his level or exercising self-defense.
"You obviously have not grown smarter," Riddle said through gritted teeth.
"No…" Ginny murmured, though she was not sure exactly what she meant by it. Slowly, she buried her face in her hands. She had the wand. She had dreamed of retribution. And now that the opportunity presented itself, she could not do it. She wanted to – oh, she wanted to! Her face contorted with unshed tears and she tried hard not to let a sound issue from her lips.
"Oh, lovely; now she's weeping. What is wrong with you? You have the wand and I'm at your mercy. Go on; give it your best go."
"I can't!" Ginny screamed, throwing her wand. It bounced off his face in a shower of red sparks.
"Of course you can't," Riddle said. "Someone as weak as you couldn't cast a Crucio to save their life."
"I could," Ginny bit out. Her voice wavered, but it was not for lack of conviction. "I could, and I could—no, I would kill you. But I can't… I'd be just like…" She met his eyes for a brief second before tearing her gaze away, and crawled over to retrieve her wand, tears finally streaking down her face. A gulping sob escaped her throat as she pocketed her wand, and then she covered her face with her hands.
"I really want to…"
"Well, we all want things."
A harsh crack echoed through the room as the door slammed open. Dumbledore hurried into the room, wand in hand, and Riddle was tossed across the floor, away from Ginny. Luna followed not far on Dumbledore's heels, bobbing urgently to see over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry!" she called to Ginny. "I tried to get him faster, but Madam Pomfrey caught me on the way up to the headmaster's office. And then the door wouldn't appear—the security spells…" Then, as she noticed the tearstains on Ginny's face, Luna rounded Dumbledore and half-fell on Ginny in a hug. "Are you alright?"
Ginny took a deep, shuttering breath, and then let out all her emotion at once, sobbing into her friend's shoulder. Luna's eyes widened, and awkwardly she patted Ginny on the back. Meanwhile, Dumbledore moved across the room to check Riddle.
"Don't look at me like that, you old coot," Riddle snarled as Dumbledore removed Ginny's curses. "I haven't done anything."
"As always, Tom," Dumbledore said quietly. He took up the boy's hand with a frown, and passed his wand over the wound, leaving a rough scar in its wake. "I must admit, I have never had a steady hand with Healing magic," he added, "You'll have to cope."
Luna got Ginny to her feet, and ushered her out of the room, followed closely by Dumbledore. "Did he hurt you?" she asked. Ginny shook her head and tried to tell Luna that she was not crying because of anything Riddle had done, but it came out sounding something like Mermish.
"Professor, I think he's done something to her mouth," Luna said. Dumbledore looked solemnly over Ginny and shook his head.
"No, but I believe it may be time for Miss Weasley and I to have a talk."
Ginny recoiled from the idea; she did not know what she was feeling yet, and the last thing she wanted to do was talk to someone before she had that figured out. With effort, she swallowed her tears and choked out, "With all due respect, Professor, I just want to go to sleep."
Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "All in due time, then. Miss Lovegood, would you please escort Miss Weasley back to her dormitory? And Miss Weasley? My office is always open."
"Thank you, Sir."
Neither Luna nor Ginny said anything on their trek up to Gryffindor Tower, but there was an unspoken agreement between them – they were friends again.