Ginny entered the great hall with Sepitmus at her side. Annabelle smiled and waved her over. Ginny took Annabelle's right side and looked over the great hall she faced. She felt tired. Septimus sat beside her, his elbow against her arm reminding her that he wasn't going anywhere. She met the eyes of Felton Potter and could only read disappointment in them, but something else as well. He was going to try to "save" her. That look was something that had sometimes found its way to Harry's face.

She shivered and her eyes darkened and she wished everyone would stop, stop trying to save her, to make her see as they did. Damn it, she was the one who would do the manipulating. Annabelle nudged her and when Ginny glanced at her she gave her a questioning look, nodding in Felton's direction.

Ginny shook her head, suddenly irritated as Tom sat directly in front of her. She looked at the head table then at him before standing and turning to the door. Septimus caught her hand, but she pulled it out of his grasp and walked out, the eyes of quite a few students in the packed hall following the progress of the one student leaving. She was angry, and it was difficult to hide the fact.

She was tired of acting lost and confused, of being herself but also this scared girl who didn't know where she was, who she was. Well actually it really was becoming harder and harder for her to pinpoint who she was in this time. She couldn't hold her tongue with them any longer. She couldn't stand the way they felt like she needed to be protected, looked after like some lost child.

Ginny needed to think, to be alone. Luck was not with her however as Annabelle was quick to follow her and caught up to her as she reached the Slytherin Common Room. "Ginny, stop. Is there something going on with you and... Potter?" Annabelle asked.

Ginny shook her head and kept walking for their dormitory, but Annabelle jogged up and stepped in front of her. "Ginny, you can tell me. I won't tell Tom, I swear to you, Septimus either." Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Why would I care if you told Tom anything that I do?" she asked, her voice deathly calm. Annabelle paled considerably.

"You know Tom. Anyone who... I mean he and Potter don't exactly see eye to eye... Everyone loves Tom and if he thought that you and..."

"I don't bloody care what Tom Riddle thinks about anything I do. If I have a tea party and invite the whole of Gryffindor House, I would still not care if Tom knew. He is not my owner. He is not my protector. He is hardly my friend if he's allowing you all to think such things about me. I would appreciate no one bother me further tonight, lest I test out a few curses I've been working on!" Ginny bit off threateningly.

Annabelle shivered, watching Ginny storm up the stairs. She had never seen eyes so wild, so terrifying, not since... that once when that one Hufflepuff kid bumped into Tom in the hall. Tom's eyes had looked like that then. No muggleborn dared touch Tom Riddle and such a fire burned in his eyes that she had thought never to see again until just moments ago.

Annabelle, just worried that her new friend Gin was getting herself placed directly in the middle of inter-house rivals, only wanted to help. As she headed up towards the great hall, she considered the situation carefully. She honestly thought that Tom was quite fond of Gin in one way or another.

Gin was the only female presence he had accepted consistently around him in all his seven years at Hogwarts. Though he was known for quite a few girls that would be around for a week or two and then be iced out of his circle, he hadn't had a steady female companion… ever. Annabelle always wondered what caused him to accept her, but... she figured Tom always had a hidden reason for everything, or so it seemed to her. He was the most intelligent as well as most devastatingly handsome young man in their class. Half the Slytherins called him Lord Voldemort. While some thought it a joke, a few took it more seriously and followed him ardently.

Annabelle reached the great hall and it wasn't Tom's eyes that turned to hers in interest, but Septimus Prince's black gaze that sought hers out. She sat beside him and shrugged. "She's furious. I can't say about what exactly though," Annabelle murmured, glancing in Tom's direction. Tom, however was speaking quietly with Dolohov and didn't notice her as far as she could tell.

Annabelle wasn't the most observant of Slytherin's however, because though Tom was turned slightly away towards Dolohov, he was paying very close attention and could practically feel Annabelle's eyes shift to him. Fury coursed through him instantly, but he pushed it back. He didn't know why he was becoming so worked up about this. He had seen her display earlier and was furious. How could she be so accepting of bloody muggle-lovers like Felton Potter.

What infuriated Tom the most was that he couldn't figure the little witch out. She seemed to have layer after layer of different personalities that were as easy for her to strip away as a cloak or robe. She could be playful one moment, closed the next, angry, determined, depressed, or even deluded. He couldn't tell from where each of these sides of her were born.

Her intelligence was undisputed among the seventh year students of Slytherin by now. She excelled in all her classes save potions, but now that Septimus had taken the seat beside her, she was steadily improving. Her marks were no where close to Tom's, but she obviously raised the bar for the rest of Hogwart's students.

He stood, heading from the room swiftly. He had better things to do. He said nothing to Dolohov just left the great hall, not wanting to be around those fools any longer.

Ginny awoke instantly to the sound of a tapping on the door. She lowered the wards around her bed and sat up. She hurried to the door and opened it, blinking the confused sleep from her eyes. The other girls stirred, letting out groans and complaints as she stared down at the house elf, who presented a letter on a silver tray for her. She took it and read it carefully, her face paling. "Thank you," she whispered to the house elf, going back into her room and closing the door. She walked quickly across the room and removing her t-shirt and shorts, throwing open her wardrobe.

"Annabelle, talk to your lunatic friend," Maria hissed, angrily through a sleep-worn voice.

"Gin, come on, it's like three in the morning," Annabelle murmured.

"I have to go out," Ginny stated.

"Go out where?" Annabelle questioned, sounding a bit more awake at that.

"It's none of your business," Ginny replied, darkly.

Annabelle snapped. "Is anything going to be my business ever? I'm trying to be your friend Gin, but I know next to nothing about you!"

Ginny pulled her robes on over her school uniform and glanced over at Annabelle through the darkness. "And maybe it's better that way," she said quietly. The room was dead silent. Not even their two snobbish roommates would step in the middle of that. Ginny strode for the door and closed it sharply behind herself.

She navigated the dark hallways of Hogwarts with ease. She headed for the Transfigurations classroom and when she reached it walked directly through until she silently entered Professor Dumbledore's office, closing the door behind herself she took the seat before his desk, sitting on the edge and looking at him intently.

"Jeffrey Morris," Dumbledore muttered.

Ginny racked her brain. "The third year?" she murmured in question. Dumbledore inclined his head. "I didn't expect him to go after a thirteen year old," she muttered.

"Perhaps you have underestimated him," Dumbledore suggested.

"I didn't say I didn't think him capable of attacking a third year. His morals are a bit skewed as I'm sure you realize," she said with a sigh.

"You were distraught at dinner. Did you foresee something like this occurring?" he asked.

"No actually, not quite this soon. I wonder sir what you think of Tom Riddle's acquaintances. I know that Dolohov will follow him, but Prince that name is half-dead in my era. What of the Prince family? Where exactly do they stand?" Ginny asked.

"Septimus is one young man I have to admit I cannot figure out completely. He has been raised by a family against any and all muggles and muggleborn integration as a rule. They would have all muggleborns out of Hogwarts in an instant if they could, but I'm not sure where Septimus stands personally," Dumbledore said. She noticed that he spoke as if he had pondered that very question before.

"So you will be able to revive Morris by the years end at least?" she asked, softly.

"I believe that would be about right. The mandrakes have not matured fully yet, but with a bit of time, we will have Mr. Morris back on his feet. I want to know how to avoid these attacks in the future," Dumbledore told her.

"I'm not sure that's possible, not quite yet. I will be certain to be more wary now and follow the heir's movements more adamantly," she promised. She could see the name Prince and Dolohov attaching themselves as possible heirs along with Tom's behind the eyes of the calculating old man. He really was trying to think too much for his own good, but at least it would draw some of the attention from Tom for a while.

"You said a girl died, the last you were here," Dumbledore said, somberly. Ginny stared at him, inclining her head slightly after a moment.

"If that happens, you will tell me who is responsible won't you?" he asked.

"Of that you have my word, professor," Ginny said, softly. She winced suddenly.

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked.

"The wards on my dorm room were breached," she muttered.

"Your dormmates?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, they can come and go without alerting me. I think it's Tom," she hissed. "I have to go professor."

Dumbledore nodded. "Miss Wesley," he stopped her. She paused with her hand on the door, glancing back but not turning fully. "Be careful," he told her. She turned to look at him for a moment and nodded her head sharply. She opened the door and closed it behind her carefully.

She made it halfway across the classroom before she doubled over in pain. Her wards had collapsed completely. So he was trying to get her attention then was he? Her eyes hardened. She walked swiftly through the halls taking any and all shortcuts she knew. When she bottom of the stairs leading down the dungeons she saw Tom standing a short ways down the hall, his arms crossed, eyes cold. He stalked towards her and she took a few steps back, not understanding the fear the arose within her. This was not the Tom she had gotten to know while here at Hogwarts. This was the Tom of his diary, dangerous and forbidding.

She felt the wall against her back as he stopped in front of her, his face inches from hers. She felt a strong grip clamp down on her arm and he pulled her down the hall. She was getting right tired of Slytherins pulling her about, but the horrible look in Tom's eyes made her almost shiver with fear. He pushed her into what seemed to be an empty broom cupboard. She was pushed against the wall and he held her there with a tight grip on her shoulders.

"Where were you?" he demanded. Ginny tried to pull the fear out most, concentrating on his proximity, his blazing eyes, anything to make herself appear more realistically frightened. She was supposed to be that little orphan girl who had just a month before been almost killed by the muggles that had been raising her.

"Let go of me, Tom," she whispered, impressed herself with the slightly higher pitch that came out. She made sure her hand was quivering as she reached half-heartedly for her wand, but he grabbed her hands in one of his and slammed them against the wall above her head. She winced, gritting her teeth together. That was much rougher than necessary for such a small threat.

"Where were you?"

"Where I go is my business," she mumbled. He held her gaze steadily and she let hers slide away from his a few times as if the very heat of them were too much. It almost made her sick to act so submissive, so childish, and so very unGryffindor. She was a bloody war veteran and he was a seventeen-year-old prick with a Head Girl pin. Pretty soon she'd have to knock him off of this high horse of his.

She felt a sudden pressure. "Legilimency," she thought immediately. She cleared her mind as much as possible.

She had known she wouldn't be able to hold him off if he ever truly tried to force himself into her mind. She was prepared. She watched him sift through memories of her and Septimus. She blocked out all the words that passed between them the day before. He continued to force himself at the memory and all he got was Septimus embracing her before he moved onward. She felt the drain of his power over hers.

She gasped as he tried to look into her past. Tears welled in her eyes as she couldn't keep everything out. Good thing he saw through her eyes as she looked down at Ron's body, lifeless and cold, blood flowing from his chest and neck or he might have seen that had been a fresh wound a death little over a year in her past. He didn't stop there. He found Dumbledore, found him through all her barriers against that very thing. "How are you holding up?" he asked. "I'm fine, sir." "-away from Tom Riddle." "You'd do well to try and see him as a human being, sir."

Suddenly Tom yanked out and she let out a shout of pain, leaning heavily against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. She reached for her wand and sent a powerful spell at him. He didn't block it and was thrown across the room, hitting the wall and falling to the ground. He rose swiftly and walked to her, grabbing her arm so tightly that it caused her to cringe in pain, dropping her wand. She tried to pull away from him, the break in her façade could have had much more severe consequences.

"Always another surprise with you, isn't it," he said.

"You just VIOLATED me," she bit out. He stared down at her, but she raised her eyes to him defiantly. "I may not be as strong as you or... or Septimus, but I am not worthless. I am never going to be weak. My mind does not belong to you," she said, fire in her eyes as held his gaze. "Use legilimency on me again and I'll do much worse to you Tom Riddle." He stared at her for a long time as if trying to figure her out, but she wouldn't let him have any power over her, wouldn't let him win. She didn't blink, didn't flinch when his grip tightened even further, didn't give him any ground. She would not be a victim. She most certainly wouldn't be his victim.

"Point me," they heard in the corridor, then...

"Tom, Slughorn's looking for you. A student was attacked during your rounds," a voice said from outside the door. She felt relief flood through her as she recognized the voice, and Tom seemed to realize this because his eyes narrowed at her and he stepped back sharply, walking to the door. She weighed the pros and cons of cursing him when his back was turned, ultimately deciding against it.

Ginny raised her hand to cover her already-bruised arm as Tom threw the door open walking out with a practiced calm. She clenched her teeth together, getting only a glimpse of Septimus before the door slammed closed once more, leaving her in the dark closet to her own thoughts. She didn't feel like shying away from Tom anymore, pretending she was terrified of everything that moved. She had to change at some point and now had seemed as good a time as any. She felt she'd found a way to ease back into herself. Tom had no idea what he'd just done.

She sat there for well over an hour, trying to think of some way, somehow she could make this come out right. Right now Tom had all the power, but she had made it clear to him that he wasn't the only one with a backbone. She was close to control, could almost taste it, but Tom was the manipulator. She knew very well that he'd never been really manipulated except by one man, Severus Snape. She frowned, wishing her old professor could be here to tell her what she needed to do, how to make it all work. She knew that she had only to the end of the school year, if that long. Once he killed Myrtle, she was certain there was nothing else she could do to change him, to make him stop.

That was all she wanted to do, make him stop. What would Snape think of her position now? She snorted in humor, knowing there would be quite a few choice words that the nasty potions master would have for her, quite a few things he would have to say about her weaknesses, her foolishness. He would find especially nasty things to say about the way she'd broken her cover to retaliate because he'd used Legilimency on her, something she knew would happen as some point. He wasn't there to berate her though, so she'd have to chastise herself. Pulling herself together, she stood shakily, walking to the door and reaching to open it. She blinked as it was pulled open sharply before she had a chance, revealing a pair of worried black eyes set in a thin angular face.

"Septimus," she barely dared to breath. If Tom knew he'd come back here...

"Are you all right?" he asked, gently. She stared at him in shock, not used to being on the receiving end of such a look. Her arms hung limply at her sides as Septimus pulled her in a strong and very protective hug. She stared at the wall behind him in surprise, unable to move for a few moments, before allowing her right arm to wrap around him. She rested her forehead against his shoulder relaxing considerably. Her head hurt and she didn't want to pretend anymore. She just wanted to be Ginny Weasley or... Gin Wesley or whoever she was. Maybe she'd figure it out sometime, but for now, she just needed to be herself whoever that was.

Ginny opened her eyes suddenly, a thought shattering through her consciousness. She had done something, changed something. She may not have done anything to change Tom, not yet at least, but she had changed someone else. She had changed Septimus. He may not be significantly changed, but at least a little. She turned her head slightly towards him, gripping him tighter and pressing her forehead against him. She had made a difference with at least one person in Tom's life in addition to placing herself in it. A part of her wondered if that was a good thing.

She simply watched mutely as Septimus pulled back, eyes going to her left arm, and narrowing as he saw the bruises in the shape of fingers of a hand. He took her right hand looking both ways before leading her carefully down the hall. She had to take a few extra steps to keep up with his long strides, but she was able to keep up well enough. He took her through corridors she had never seen before, down stairs she had never walked and through rooms she didn't know were there, and all the time all she could do was stare at him, consider what she'd done. One month and she had one of Tom's closest companions going against him to help her.

She gripped his hand pulling lightly. "Septimus," she said. He stopped and turned to her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to the Slytherin private laboratory," he said.

"No, I mean what are you doing. You know Tom will..." She trailed off as she saw his eyes soften. He looked down at her arm, touching it lightly. She flinched.

"I know what Tom would do," he said, gripping her hand tighter and beginning down the hall again, walking a bit slower this time.

He led her into the small room with four tables and eight cauldrons. He led her to a chair and sat her down before walking to a closet on the other side of the room, taking out two bottles and walking back to her. He crouched in front of her. He removed the top of one of the bottles, before taking her arm and pouring the cream onto it, smoothing it over the bruises. "Drink the other," he instructed gently. She drank without hesitation, without question and he chuckled darkly. "You sure you weren't supposed to be a Gryffindor, Wesley." She shrugged, not giving anything away. She had immediately realized her mistake. No true Slytherin would drink a potion with even asking what was in it. She felt the warmth of the potion flow through her. It was a calming draft.

"Do you have any family Septimus?" she asked softly. He glanced up at her with a small smile.

"I have a younger sister, Eileen," he told her.

"How old is she?" Ginny asked.

"Almost six years now I reckon," he replied.

"Born to be Slytherin I imagine?" she said.

"There is no other house for a Prince," he jested. She chuckled and he raised his glittering black eyes to hers. He ducked his head down once more. "Spend tomorrow at Hogsmeade with me," he murmured, so softly she could hardly believe she'd heard it. She looked at the top of his head, a small warm smile finding its way to her lips. She stared at him in silence until she could practically taste his discomfort before placing a hand on his shoulder so he looked up.

"Of course, Septimus," she told him, thoroughly enjoying his anxiety. It melted away and he grinned, standing.

"You'll have to go ahead of me back to the common room," he said, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. "I still have something to do."

She gave him a wary look. "Don't worry about me. We have classes in less than two hours. What kind of mess could I get myself in?" She nodded, walking to the door as her stomach turned over and over. She made her way through the halls, glad that the way had somewhat stayed with her. By the time she reached the common room, students were already milling about. Annabelle shot her a dark look and she sighed, but said nothing as her friend walked from the room with Maria and Ruth. Ruth made a point of shouldering her out of the way as she left the room.

Ginny stared at the ground, becoming sullen once more. She felt sadness pull at her, but she knew she could get nothing more from Annabelle. As horrible as that made her feel, Annabelle was one person she didn't want involved in this mess. She wouldn't let her get hurt by what she was getting into. This was one mess she'd be able to handle without endangering others one mess that wouldn't cost her a brother, a friend.

She realized she was just standing in the doorway and moved quickly out of the way, making her way across the room and sitting on the couch and looking into the fire, hands clasped in front of her, elbows on her knees. She felt a weight on the sofa next to her and glanced to see that it was none other than Tom Riddle.

"I'm..." he spoke.

"It's fine," she said, darkly. She kept her tone hard, her eyes going back to the fire.

"You're not someone that I should have..." he tried again.

"Why? Because I'm a girl? Or perhaps because my blood isn't 'tainted' as you once so eloquently put it," she snapped.

"Gin," he said. She could hear the patience in his voice wearing away.

"I know apologies are hard for you Tom, but I'm just about done defending you to Dumbledore or anyone else. Can't you just make it a bit easier for me here?" she muttered, playing off the memory that he had seen in her mind, glad that he hadn't seen the rest of that conversation, lest he'd see who and what she really was. She didn't move, but she did feel him stiffen beside her. He stood and turned away from her, leaving her to her solitude in the common room. She lowered her head, closing her eyes lightly.

"Come on, I'll walk you to class," a gruff voice said behind her. Ginny glanced back at the large, broad-shouldered Antonin Dolohov.

"On orders then Antonin?" she asked coolly, not needing to turn to know whose voice that was.

"No, I haven't even spoken to Tom since yesterday. Just let me walk you to class," he said, coming around to stand in front of her, holding out an apple to her with one hand and the other to help her up.

She raised her hand to take the food and then took the other. He pulled her to her feet easily. She took out her wand, noticing him eye it carefully, but she simply summoned her bag from upstairs. She caught it was it came whizzing towards her, slinging it over her shoulder.

"Let's go then, shall we?" she asked. He nodded to her with a slight grunt and they walked out of the common room side-by-side, first time they willingly spent time together since they had met. Ginny found he was much pleasanter when he was silent and Dolohov was thinking quite along the same lines about her as they made their way up to their Herbology lesson.

Ginny smiled as she saw Hagrid across the grounds. He smiled and waved his large hand at her emphatically. She walked over to him and greeted him with a gentle smile. She had spent less time than she would have liked around the friendly half-giant and found herself glad to see him on such a gloomy day. "How are you, Hagrid?" she asked.

"I'm well Miss Gin, jus' you know gettin' back from talking to Professor Kettleburn," he said, beaming happily.

"I didn't know you were taking Care of Magical Creatures," she said, with fond smile.

"Best in my year!" Hagrid said, enthusiastically.

"That's absolutely brilliant!" Ginny said, happy for him. Happy that he had already found his niche this early.

"Did ya hear about Jeffrey Morris?" he asked, his voice lowering to a hushed tone. She shook her head and he practically bounced with glee being able to tell her about it and he did in a detailed account of a group of nasty Ravenclaws hexing him and how Headmaster Dippet couldn't make heads or tails of what had happened or how to stop it. She found herself a bit glad Professor Dumbledore hadn't taken it upon himself to explain to the headmaster what had happened. That might have proved a bit tricky for her.

Ginny turned around when she heard, "Gin!". When she saw who had called out, she stiffened. All she would have had to see was that Gryffindor tie and anxiety would have automatically gripped her, she turned around again quickly ready to bolt, only to stop, Tom standing directly behind her. She raised her eyes to his.

"Do you make it a habit of following me Tom?" she hissed. He smirked slightly, but didn't seem to feel the need to respond. He placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face the Gryffindor who had come to speak with her apparently.

"What do you want Felton?" she asked, coolly.

"I need to speak with you alone," Felton said, his eyes never leaving Tom who wore a superior smirk upon his regal face. Hagrid simply looked between Tom who stood with a protective hand on Ginny's shoulder and Felton who's hatred was particularly tangible.

"Gin, do you wish to have private council with this... Gryffindor?" Tom asked.

"No," Ginny said, flatly. For once Gin's response and her own melted together into that one simple word.

"Gin come on!" Felton said, walking towards her. Tom stepped in front of her fluidly, shielding her from Felton's view.

"I believe the lady said no, Potter," Tom said. She could hear the ice in his voice, had expected it even. The gentle hand on her arm however and the way it kept her hidden and protected behind his formidable presence, was something she did not expect.

"Hey, hey, can't we get along fella's?" Hagrid said, waving his hands to stop them like he were some referee in a quidditch game.

"Any trouble here Tom?" a voice asked from behind Ginny.

"None at all, Antonin. Gin and I were just about to head down to the lake, care to join us?" he asked, smoothly. Ginny watched Felton's narrowed eyes as he walked away, locking on her with confusion and more heart-wrenching look of worry. She allowed Tom's hand against her lower back to guide her the opposite direction, Dolohov taking her other side while Tom thanked Hagrid... for what she didn't know, but he stumbled off happily nonetheless.

"You should be more careful," Tom whispered.

"Careful with Felton Potter? He's never hurt me!" she snapped, pushing his hand away from her. "Or tried," she added in Dolohov's direction. A look of sincere regret shone in Tom's eyes, while Dolohov only shrugged with a small grunt.

"Antonin," he muttered. Dolohov nodded, walking off ahead of them as they reached the edge of the lake, while Tom was left to face the angry Ginny. She was completely to her own now. She was Ginny Weasley, no matter what he did or said.

"You're very difficult to see through, Gin Wesley," he muttered, crouching beside the lake and tossing a rock that skipped along the surface, magic shimmering around it.

"And why exactly do you need to see through me Tom Riddle?" she muttered, staring down at him, clasping her hands in front of her.

"These are difficult times, Gin," he said, evasively.

"What is difficult about them? It is you and me right now. There's no Septimus, no Antonin. I want to know what it is the three of you go on about behind my back," she said. "I want to know why you stop talking whenever I come around."

He looked up at her with a small smile, from where he crouched. "Don't miss a bit do you?" he said, looking back out over the lake.

"I've gotten very good at listening, Lord Voldemort," she muttered. He stood smoothly.

"I couldn't keep the name of that filthy muggle scum now could I?" he asked. "You haven't kept your name." She looked to him in surprise, but he wasn't looking at her. "You didn't think I couldn't tell that the name was unfamiliar to you? A teacher says Miss Wesley three times before you respond. Septimus teases you and it takes you a moment to realize he's speaking about you at all."

"If I had to guess, being practical as you are, you only altered it slightly, just enough to feel free of your past, free of whatever skeletons lurk in your closet. With that hair, I'd say, you shared lineage with the Weasley family, though I have not yet been able to figure out how you are connected to them exactly," he said. She stared at him in shock. How? How could he figure out something like that in a month no less?

"Don't worry, I won't tell Dumbledore your little secret," he said, spitting out the name like it was a venom. She shivered, taking out her wand to perform a warming charm, but he stood, stopping her by placing a hand over hers and lowering her wand. He unclasped his heavy cloak and dropped it over her shoulders.

"I truly am sorry, Gin and I don't think I can promise it won't happen again. I just... I get so angry," he muttered.

"When you're angry, why don't you go hex an inanimate object then, rather than turn it on me," she said, unable to keep the edge from her voice. He winced, but when he looked up at her, his eyes were softer.

"I will keep that in mind," he muttered, gently. "Allow me to escort you back to the castle?" he asked, offering his arm. She stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to decipher something, any kind of trick or double-standard here, but she found none so she took the offered arm. He jerked his head to Dolohov who rolled his eyes, coming to follow them.

"Quidditch next weekend?" she asked Dolohov with a smirk. "Can I expect you to block the bludgers from Hufflepuff instead of railing them at me like you did last week."

"That really depends. Are you going to fly like a girl during the Hufflepuff game?" he replied, evenly. She chuckled, shaking her head. As they walked, she tried to hide her looks of apprehension in Tom's direction, but she was particularly satisfied that he'd not noticed the veiled glances. She'd dealt with enough in her time to know that no matter how powerful Lord Voldemort was... Tom she could handle. She would make it right if she had to lay down her life to do so.

Tom's anger and paranoia were the two most powerful traits he harbored. She had so far managed to slip past them with only that one altercation but now that she'd seen it, he would no longer feel he had to work so hard to hide it from her. She knew how he treated Septimus when he did something Tom didn't approve of, and that he would not hesitate to act the same towards her. She wasn't sure she was quite one of them, but the rate it was going it was only a matter of time before she truly became a permanent member of their group, a group that she hoped to disband very carefully.

She felt like drawing away from Tom, his hand holding hers against his arm, but the need to get away was weighed with the consequences of doing so. She found that she was much better to just keep walking one step at a time, trying to add to their conversation as much as necessary. The only person she wanted to see right now would be in the Slytherin Common Room where they were headed so she let herself be comforted by that. Septimus would have some excuse to get them away from their two housemates. She would not want to spend the rest of the evening with them. Maybe they'd go down to dinner early. That was something.

As they reached the common room, she felt her chest relax bit by bit while at the same time, her throat became more and more clenched. She couldn't let them see what she was feeling, how much she wished to be away from them. She had accepted Tom's apology, or Gin had. She couldn't let them see how her skin crawled with his touch, how sharp his voice sounded to her when he responded to Dolohov.

She slid her hand from Tom's arm with a cheery smile, skipping ahead to the portrait and slipping in behind it. She scanned the room with her keen eyes, but had no luck in her search for Septimus. "Friday afternoon," she groaned to herself. "He's brewing."

"Did you finish that essay yet from yesterday, Gin?" Dolohov asked. She looked over her shoulder to see him standing directly behind her as she turned her search into a walk for two of the Slytherin boys on the quidditch team who were bent over a magazine.

"Septimus was checking it over for me. You know how bad I am at Potions. You'd do better to ask Tom for help. I'd only make it worse," she said, patting his shoulder. She saw Tom disappear up the stairs behind him and waved him that direction.

"Good point," Dolohov muttered, turning and following him up the stairs. After an appropriate amount of ooing and awing over the moving picture of the latest brooms in the magazine her teammates were looking over, she set off from the common room, following the labyrinth of passageways that led to the Slytherin Lab. None of the other houses had one, but to be honest it seemed Septimus was the only Slytherin to use it.

She shivered pulling Tom's cloak tighter around her, remembering that she still needed to return it to him. She cursed her stupidity for not giving it back earlier, but it seemed the dungeons were always so cold. Finally she saw the door to the potions lab up ahead and smiled, a slight bounce to her step as she closed the space between, opening the door slowly, quietly. Her eyes locked on the back of the black-haired boy's head. He stood over a book, running one long finger across the page then back and then across and so on, muttering softly.

"Do you often talk to yourself when you think we'll not notice, Septimus?" she asked from the door, with a small grin.

"Knew you were there, Gin. If you wish to sneak around, try not wearing those ridiculously loud shoes," he said. She looked down at her feet. He was right of course. They made a quite annoying and distinct shushing noise against the stone floors, but they were so comfortable and she really didn't want to spend more of Dumbledore's Assistance Money. He leaned over, grasping the edge of a stool and pulling it up beside him. She smiled and crossed the room placing herself upon it.

She watched his hands move expertly over the ingredients. He moved with grace that would be born on to his nephew. She felt a bit sad actually at that thought. Severus Snape led such a horrible life. She would make sure that it was better for him, somehow.

"What's wrong?" Septimus asked, hands never stilling. He didn't glance at her, but she knew he was quite busy. He always seemed busy actually.

She stared at him for a long moment until he finally stopped and looked at her with those intense black eyes. She winced, knowing he was expecting an answer that she didn't want to give. His face was gentle and she knew that he was just worried. "Tom doesn't mean it you know? He's just worried about you," Septimus said after a moment. "You tend to get yourself into difficult situations."

Ginny snorted. "Like when I decided to tackle you yesterday instead of disarming you?" she asked, with a wry smile. She wondered why she had done that.

Septimus smiled gently. He raised his hand and brushed her hair from her eyes, cupping her chin. "We expect that of you though don't we? Pureblood or not, you were raised by muggles," he said. His hand fell away and he turned back to his potion. Ginny blinked dazedly. She hadn't even thought of that. What a great conclusion! She had unknowingly helped herself by throwing herself at him rather than trying to use her wand.

"What are you making?" she asked, with a smooth transition.

"Brewing, the term would be brewing," he said, with an edge to his voice that brought a smile to her lips. Only someone with Snape's blood would be that touchy about what words she had used about his potion.

"What's the difference?" she asked.

"Brewing is an art," he said. There was a childish scowl on his face as he stirred the potion purposefully, eyes locked on the 'brew'.

"Well, should you really be using a wooden spoon? I thought Iron were more widely used," she said, just baiting him now.

"Ladle," he gritted out, reaching for a small jar.

"How much of that black stuff are you using?" she pushed.

"Crushed Beetles," he muttered. She couldn't help it anymore and began laughing at him genuinely.

"I'm only jesting Septimus," she chuckled, her eyes glinting mischievously. He looked up, his tense shoulders relaxing. He smiled slightly at her, shaking his head.

"You really take this seriously," she said, cocking her head to the side.

"I hope one day to become Potions Master here," he said, with a faint smile.

"Potions Master? Perhaps I'll have to go for Flitwick's job so I can be sure to continue taunting you every chance I get," she replied.

"Not sure you'll want to try for that," he said.

"Why's that?"

"Flitwick's got a good seventy years left in him that's why," he said.

"Perhaps I'll go for Headmistress," she told him, smartly.

"Not likely. That'd be the end of Hogwarts for good," he said. She hit his shoulder, shaking her head. Silence fell over them. Ginny slumped slightly on her stool, finding a sort of comfort, an assurance of normalcy as she watched him brew his potion. His moves were calm and purposeful. She wished she had such a niche. He seemed to centered when he had a potion brewing before him, like this was where he belonged and he knew it.

She twisted her hands in her lap nervously, wishing she could just forget about Tom Riddle, just be normal. Perhaps Septimus could help her do that, but... no. That would be too easy, too simple. If this world were anything it was not simple. She remembered when she was younger. She had dreams of her and Harry getting married and having two beautiful kids. She had thought it would all just work out: that he'd take down the dark lord, Hermione and Ron could be together and everything would be right in the world. Now it all seemed so foolish, the way Harry had pushed her away, the way she'd let him. She really had loved him in her own way, but her feelings in this time were just... They were all so different. She figured it had to do with her finally maturing.

Tom was so complicated and over the past few years she'd begun to realize more and more how everyone had their own story and every chapter made them different. Tom's life had been more than she could have ever dreamed when she was a second year and it had turned him into what he had become. Could she, by changing a chapter, alter the whole course of his life.

Ginny highly doubted one person was enough to change the road Tom Riddle had taken, but she had to try didn't she? Or she would have to take him out once and for all. Who would be with her though? Would Septimus stand by her side? Was she befriending the wrong people? Should she turn to Felton and his group? The line between Gryffindor and Slytherin was not as distinctly drawn as it was in her time. Felton Potter was a good man. That much she knew, but how good? Who was he exactly? Perhaps that question was beyond her figuring. She couldn't just guess haphazardly. She'd taken this route and she'd have to stay with it lest her betrayal turn all her contacts already made against her and cast doubt in the eyes of any new allies.

"What's wrong?" Septimus' searching voice broke through her dark reverie. She raised her eyes to meet his deep black ones. His gaze was almost as intense as Tom's, but there was nothing penetrating or invasive about it. His angular face, a Prince trait no doubt, was softened by the gentleness of those eyes.

"I'm just tired. It's been an interesting couple of days, hasn't it?" she asked. He nodded.

"Let's head up to the kitchens. I doubt you want to spend dinner in the great hall," he said. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"What about your potion?" she asked, glancing at it. He bowed his head, holding out his hand. She took it and he pulled her down off the stool.

"It has an hour to simmer. We can come back," he said. He draped his arm over her shoulders, leading her from the room and through the confusing corridors up towards the helpful house elves that occupied the kitchen. She allowed herself to be escorted, this time not having to act or pretend. She just simply walked, knowing he would let her think what she wanted and say what she thought. She'd still be careful, but this ally was one she didn't know she could succeed without.