Author's Note: Every-other-week chapters might be the new plan, because the next chapter is going to be awfully long.
I fought pretty bad depression and anxiety to get this written, so…if it sucks that's why. I didn't realize how difficult it would to write – spoilers! – slightly happier scenes while feeling so…blah.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review!
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.
~William Shakespeare,Macbeth
Ginny felt the mug of tea between her hands burning her skin, but it hardly seemed to matter. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. She hadn't slept in four days, and everything felt muddled and yet clearer than it had ever been before. She could feel herself becoming delusional. For instance, as Tom left to send her warning and goodbyes to her family, she could have sworn she saw a look of concern in his eyes. And that morning, as she lay in bed and felt herself hanging in that place somewhere between asleep and awake, she thought he'd been standing in her room.
Wait. Did that make her hallucinating, not delusional? One had to do with interpreting reality, and one had to do with seeing something that wasn't there. She wasn't sure which was which at the moment, or which applied to her situation.
Whatever she was, it was getting worse. Earlier she had discovered an old Muggle record player in the sitting room; she'd only recognized it because her father had kept a smaller one hidden in her bathroom under the sink for years, hoping her mother wouldn't find it and throw it out.
Beneath it in a little wooden cupboard were piles of records. She'd gone through them for a while but stopped when she encountered one with an angel on the front. Muggle Studies had taught her all about angels, perfect beings of light with wings that protected mankind. She'd stared and stared at the picture, at the angel floating in the air and its flowing robes and large, white wings. It wasn't until an hour or so later she'd finally taken the record itself out and started it playing, after a few failed attempts (her father had never seemed clear on how they functioned). It turned out to be classical music, two pianos playing magnificent music.
But as Ginny stood in the kitchen with her cup of tea, she marveled as she realized that it was really only one piano, only the pianist made it sound like two. The name had said 'Listzet' or something like that. She ought to go through and see if she could find any others with this name on it, as she found herself really liking the music.
"Do you want that heated?"
Ginny knew she ought to be startled, but she only blinked and turned her head. It felt like she was moving exaggeratingly slowly, though she didn't mean to. Tom, of course, was standing a little ways from her, again in handsome Muggle clothing. He seemed more well-rested then he had before, though there was a dark, tired look in his eyes.
She blinked at him. "What?" Even the word felt drawn-out.
Tom approached her slowly – although maybe she just thought he moved slowly. "The steam from your tea stopped rising half an hour ago. It's gone cold."
Ginny looked down, and realized with horror that he was right. The sting in her skin from the cup had faded away without her noticing. But hadn't it been burning her a couple minutes ago?
This was terrible. She felt like she was going mad again. She was, probably.
"Okay," she replied, holding the cup out to Tom. He looked down at it almost accusingly, and then looked at her sharply.
"Set it down on the counter."
Confused, Ginny obeyed, and once her fingers had released it and fallen limply to her side Tom reached for the cup and picked it up. He turned to the stove where hot water was already heated – but she wasn't sure when that had happened – and poured hot water into her cup.
"I thought you were going to make me a sleeping potion," Ginny mumbled, resting her head on the cool countertop.
"I didn't have the right ingredients for a decent sleeping draught," said Tom, and she could hear the sugar jar being opened. "I picked them up yesterday, and I'll make you something before I go out."
"Out?" Ginny asked, opening her eyes again. "You're going somewhere again?"
"Yes," came Tom's voice from somewhere above her. She heard a soft 'clink' as he set her mug down beside her. Sleepily (what a weak word for sheer exhaustion!), Ginny sat up and clutched it again, and again ignored the burning sensation in her palms. She looked up at Tom, and he smirked briefly before continuing to speak. "I have…errands of a sort."
"What – what do you mean?" Ginny said, and then she yawned.
Tom walked around the counter, his pale fingertips grazing the surface as he moved. "Nothing for you to worry about, my dear. Just a few loose ends."
Suddenly, Ginny felt more awake as panic crashed into her chest. "What loose ends?" she demanded, setting her tea down and following him into the sitting room.
He stood over the record player, his fingers now drifting over it, swaying back and forth to the music. "Again – nothing for you to worry about."
"I swear, if you hurt my family, Tom-" She tried to charge at him, but stumbled over her own feet. She fell past him, and for a moment it seemed as though he would reach out and grab her. He turned a fraction of an inch, his arms moved forward and then…he lowered them and watched her hit the floor.
Once she was on the hard floor, it was difficult to convince her worn-out body to get up again. She managed to get onto her elbows before she had to take a few deep breaths.
"Tom," she gasped between breaths, "If you hurt…my family…I will…"
"You will what, exactly, Ginevra?" Tom said, and she felt his gaze challenge her though she couldn't see his face. "You can't even stand up."
She closed her eyes tight and with determination, she carefully got to her feet and turned to face Tom. "Don't hurt them, Tom. Don't."
She again saw the ghost of a smirk, and then it disappeared and left in its place a worn but otherwise emotionless mask. "My errands don't involve hunting down your family. I told you not to worry about it."
Ginny stared at him a moment, but soon his features were twisted and warped as her head began to spin. She stumbled again, but this time Tom nearly caught her, though his cold hands had barely brushed her own chilled skin before quickly moving away.
She stumbled forward into him and he moved backward, the bones of his hips hitting the record player with an audible thud. He winced but rather than pull away he pushed himself further into the record player.
Ginny somehow managed to right herself, to stand straight though unsteadily on her own two feet. It was only when she glanced at Tom that she began to attempt to make sense of this…incident. She looked at Tom's white hands, which were even more deathly white as he gripped the wood of the record player, almost as if in fear. She moved forward, and he slid away.
Blinking, Ginny turned towards him. "What are you doing?" she asked slowly, though she wasn't sure if she meant to speak so slowly on purpose. Her tongue felt too thick.
"What do you mean?" Tom responded coolly, turning her back towards her as he headed towards the kitchen. She watched, and realized he had left keys on the counter where they had stood earlier.
She followed him, cautiously, not wanting to provoke him, and not wanting to lose her balance again. "You're acting strangely, with the mug, and you staring at my arm yesterday, and backing away from me, and…and whatever else it was you said yesterday about…about me saying something." She was beginning to not make sense. Or she hadn't been making sense for some time, and she was just now realizing it.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
That was it. The denial proved that he did know that he was acting strangely. His behavior lately had been strange, there was no question about that. If he'd had some excuse for it, that would make sense. But outright denying it? Something was going on, but she didn't know what. And she couldn't even begin to think of what it was. Everything was thick and slow and…off. She wanted to cry but she didn't feel sad. Everything irritated her, but at the same time she didn't feel anything. Nothing was real, everything was too real, she felt like she had complete clarity yet her mind was worthless.
Worthless. 'You're worthless, do you hear me? Worthless. I would rather die….', 'I would rather die…', 'I would rather die…'. She heard her own voice echoing in her head but the rest of the sentence wasn't coming to her.
Tom had his keys and was almost out of the living area when Ginny tried saying it out loud instead.
"I would rather die…" she began, carefully forming the shape of the words, almost tasting them. Tom stopped. "I would rather die…I would rather die…I would rather die…"
"Stop it," Tom whispered sharply.
"I would rather die…And I would rather die…" It was starting to come back to her now, the words from the fight after his day of attempting to seduce her. That's where these words were from, she could picture herself screaming at him, feel the rawness in her throat though she barely spoke above a whisper now. "And I would rather die…then let a disgusting thing like you…a disgusting thing…like you…touch me again. Touch me again."
Tom didn't speak. Instead, he began for the front door again, and Ginny tried to follow after him as quickly as she could, dancing swiftly around furniture that stood in her way. "That's what I said. That's why you won't touch me, isn't it, Tom? But you didn't care before, when you hit me and kissed me before you tried the potion. Before the potion, Tom…" Suddenly Ginny choked on a bitter taste in the back of her throat as panic again seized her chest. "You took the potion and then you cared if you touched me, Tom…Tom, don't leave!"
He had been moving unhurriedly, putting on his Muggle coat and buttoning it carefully, putting on his shoes and tying them without magic. But he was ready now, and he headed towards the door without even glancing at her. Ginny knew better then to try and slip out beside him – he would only toss her back before opening the door, or maybe the spell would do it for him – but she tried to follow after him anyway. If the potion had actually done something, she needed to know about it. She had to know about it!
"Tom, no, we need to talk, if something happened we need to prepare-" but he was already outside. She rushed forward, suddenly moving quicker than she had in weeks, and reached for the door before it could close. The tips of her fingers brushed the side of it, and then the door closed – right on those frail fingers.
Ginny swallowed back a cry of pain, fell to the floor in agony, and waited. Her heart raced with excitement, and her mind seemed to begin to awaken. If Tom came back and opened the door and shoved her inside, at least she would have a chance to scream while the door was still open. If he didn't…
If Tom was in too much of a hurry to get away from her, then maybe he hadn't noticed her fingers being caught in the door. Maybe he hadn't noticed that there was no 'click' as the door shut. Maybe he wouldn't know that she now had a chance to get away…
She sat on the floor, whimpering the seconds away as quietly as she could. She counted in her head.
One…A whole second and he hadn't turned back yet.
Two…She could almost swear she heard his footfalls moving away from the house.
Three…Three seconds was a long time to turn around and open a door, but then, maybe he was trying to figure out how to get her throbbing fingers out of the door jam without the neighbors hearing her.
Four…Five…Five seconds had come and gone. Ginny closed her eyes tight against the tears of pain and thought her heart might explode in her chest. She could almost hear it echoing in the entry hall.
Six…Seven…Eight…Eight whole seconds. She heard nothing coming from the other side of the thick wood door.
Nine…She hoped against hope she could get to 'ten'. That this was her golden chance, that it had finally come. Freedom was so close, she couldn't stand if it was torn away so soon.
Ten. Ten seconds. Ten whole seconds, and Tom hadn't opened the door again. Though her whole body tingled with excitement and barely contained joy, Ginny let out a small sob. The pain in her fingers was incredible and almost blinded her, but this also seemed too good to be true. It had to be some sort of trap.
So Ginny sat on the floor, her legs beneath her, and counted to fifty before she finally risked reaching up and turning the handle.
The door opened without consequence. She slipped her purple, swollen fingers out of the door jam, but wasted no time examining them. She got to her feet, looked out into the dark, empty night, and slowly set a foot on the other side of the door. A second later, the other foot joined it, and she was standing outside. She filled her lungs with the cool night air, and closed her eyes as she released the air from her lungs.
The air felt good. The moisture in the air felt good. Everything about the outside felt so wonderful she could hardly cope with it. Her body shook with barely-contained sobs of relief, but still sweet tears of happiness fell down her cheeks.
Ginevra Weasley was outside. Ginevra Weasley was free. She was free.
"There's no time," she whispered to herself suddenly, and she took off running. She would run – carefully, with an eye out for Tom Riddle's shadow – to the edge of town, and there, apparate.
Ginny was going home.
Her hand – fingers twice their original size and still purple – rested on the door to the Burrow. The lights were out, and she couldn't hear anything coming from inside. Her letter had arrived before she had; the house was empty. Everyone was gone.
Well, that was for the best. Her family was somewhere safe, hopefully in a place where Tom couldn't find them. But without it's light and merry sounds, the Burrow standing against the grey twilight sky looked almost menacing. The sounds from the wild around her family home were eerie. Quickly, Ginny turned the handle and was glad to find that the door wasn't locked.
She would just stay long enough to find some hint of where her family had gone. When Tom returned to the little house and found her missing, this would be the first place he came to look. And he would most definitely be furious.
She entered the dark house and winced when she could hear the sound of her own footsteps. She was so used to the house being loud and busy. Even at night the owls made enough sound that a single footstep wouldn't be audible, at least not one as soft as hers.
Moving inwards, she saw papers spread across the dining room table, empty carpet bags around the living room and potion ingredients spilled down the stairs. Signs of a quick get-away, maybe. She prayed this meant they were quick to obey her letter and hadn't been in any actual danger. Maybe Hades had really come to attack them…
The sound of another footstep reached her ear, only she hadn't moved.
Eyes wide, she moved quickly to duck behind the table. She tried to calm her quickening breath as she listened for more movement. Someone was coming down the stairs, heading straight for her. Was it Hades? Could he still be searching the house? Or – oh, oh no, was her family upstairs with him? Was it a trap?
She could see it all flashing in her head now. Tom and Hades discuss details of their trap, Tom has her write her family to abandon the Burrow but never delivers it so that she will assume the place is empty and therefore safe, he leaves the door open on purpose and lets her run straight into Hades. But why? Why not kill her immediately, kill her family? Why bring them together like this?
But it made sense as a trap, so much more sense then her being lucky enough that Tom didn't notice her fingers caught in the door.
The footsteps were getting closer and closer and Ginny felt her heart in her throat. She'd go for his wand. There was nothing else she could do, really, and she wasn't going to go down without a fight.
She could see his shoes now. Simple, black ones. She held her breath as they moved closer, and she prepared to leap over the table (Merlin help her, she was having enough trouble staying on her own two feet), grab the wand and – and – and do…something.
But then, something in the back of her head clicked. Those shoes. She knew those shoes.
"Gin?" came the voice from the other side of the table.
Slowly, Ginny gripped the edge of the table and got to her feet. "Harry?" she asked breathlessly.
Harry Potter looked almost as bad as she did. He hadn't been sleeping well either, that was clear, and his face was worn. She could almost swear she saw wrinkles around his bloodshot eyes. And he was trembling from head to toe. She could she his hands shaking.
"Are…are you real?" he asked, hesitantly. He took a tiny step towards her, and Ginny felt her heart break. He was going mad, too. He was going mad without her.
She nodded as tears began to fill her eyes. She used the table to keep herself balanced as she made her way around it, and then she stumbled forward and into his arms. As she felt them wrap tightly around her she melted into his embrace, whispering his name over and over again as though she couldn't believe he was real. He felt warm, and he smelled warm. His smell was what comforted her the most, that sweet and warm scent he carried with him that reminded her of baked apples.
He held her tightly to him and cried into her hair as she sobbed into his chest. They were together again, finally together with nothing between them, not Tom or secrets or voices in her head. They were together now and it felt like it would never end.
But it would, she knew it would, so after a minute she pulled away, wiped the tears from him face and then wiped away her own. "Harry, he's going to come looking for…" she grabbed his shoulders as her vision blurred and she felt dizzy. "…for me."
"Are you okay?" he asked, holding onto her arms in an attempt to keep her upright. "Are you hurt?"
"No…well, yes," responded Ginny, holding up her fingers for his inspection. "But I haven't slept in days."
"He's been forcing you awake?"
"No, I just…haven't slept."
Harry nodded, and led her into the familiar sitting room. They sat on the couch – it felt almost strange, to sit in her own home again – and he pulled out his wand to work on fixing her fingers. "We got your letter this morning and your family left immediately. They went to Shell Cottage, but now I think…he'll probably look there, too, huh? If he was in your head, I mean…he probably knows where to look."
Ginny nodded. "They should go somewhere else. We should go somewhere else. As soon as he sees me gone he'll look for me here. He went out, but I don't know how long he'll be gone."
"What happened?"
Quickly, Ginny explained everything to him, from the attic sanctuary to the day of seduction to the potion not working and then it suddenly seeming to have done something. Harry listened patiently, nodding occasionally. When she was finished, he helped her to her feet.
"I'm going to contact your family and tell them to make for Hogwarts. It's the safest place for us," he added. "Then I'll make arrangements to follow them. I think your dad has a flying car with him so he can get there easily, but we might have to apparate to Hogsmeade or something."
"I don't think I can apparate again, I'm too exhausted."
"Go upstairs and lie down for a bit, I'll get you when I've told your family everything," said Harry, directing her to the stairs. "If you're still too tired, you can just side-along with me."
Ginny nodded and began up the stairs, but after a few she stopped and turned, and stumbled back down. She fell into Harry's arms, and then kissed him. It wasn't as passionate as she imagined their reunion kiss to be, but that was only because they were both exhausted and scared, and in a hurry. There would be time for passion later.
When she pulled away, Harry pulled her close again and kissed her on the forehead. "It's going to be okay, Gin. Go get some rest. I love you."
"I love you, too," she replied, and then turned and headed up the stairs and into her room.
It was exactly as she'd left it, with clothes on the floor and books on her vanity and even Shikoba was sitting on her bed. At first she was afraid he'd been locked away in here, but then she saw bowls for food and water and the window left open. Shikoba stood and flapped when he saw her, and she went and patted him on the back, then kissed his head. She hadn't realized how much she had missed her little bird friend until she felt her chest ache at the sight of him.
She curled up on the bed carefully and felt the bird lay down beside her. Her eyes fluttered closed and finally she felt herself begin to sink into darkness….before suddenly her vision was filled with orange.
Her eyes shot open and all she could see was fire exploding around her. The heat was terrible, and she patted at her head like a madwoman when she felt her hair burning. As she moved, she saw that the skin on her arms was a much darker pink than it ought to have been. She'd been burned, but she couldn't feel it. All she could feel was the need to get out now and find clean oxygen. Panicked, she turned to face the door but only saw a wall of fire behind her.
The bed was surrounded by fire and the room was quickly filling with white smoke. She glanced around quickly and noticed in her cracked vanity mirror that there was a safe spot in front of it. She turned and picked up Shikoba and wrapped him in her orange skirt, then jumped through the flames. The second she hit the ground she fell and tried to breathe in, but smoke filled her lungs and she felt her throat burning. She choked and coughed and tried to crawl forward to find a way out of the room, but the door was blocked by the spreading fire. She looked behind her and saw a clear way to the window. She'd fall a couple stories, but there was a chance she'd survive it. She choked on another breath and tried to turn to face the window, when she heard a loud crunching sound.
She barely had a chance to look up and see the floor above her collapsing in before a piece of it hit her head, and everything went dark.
Ginny was finally asleep.
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