Disclaimer: Is my first name Joanne and my last name Rowling? No, I don't think so.
Author's Note: Okay, another chapter. I really didn't like the last one that well, but this one will be better, I promise. Also, I am a bit disappointed that no one reviewed for the last chapter. Please, please review, because I really want your input on this story.
Except for the ending, this is the last chapter that I have planned in my head. I know how I want to end it, but I have no idea how to get there, so updates might be slower than usual (if that's even possible. Ugh). Sorry that I am completely awful about posting, and it will probably get worse due to the fact that I started another fanfiction, Fading Ink, a Hermione/Tom fic. Anyway, I'll shut up now.
Chapter 4: Interrogations: Part Two
It had been three days since Ginny had last had the odd dream about the ballroom. Although it had seemed so real and lucid to her at the time, she was beginning to doubt its legitimacy since she had not revisited it yet.
'Maybe it was just an odd dream, but it felt so real and so not like any normal dream that I have ever had before. Was it a dream or was it something else? No, it was just a dream; it could not have been anything else, but it was still the strangest one that I have ever had,' Ginny had reasoned with herself in her mind on the numerous occasions that her mind had strayed to that subject.
However, despite her inner turmoil, she was healing quite well, much to the Healers' surprise; she was healing at a surprisingly swift rate for the degree of damage that she had sustained.
Ginny was lying in her hospital bed, thinking about the ballroom yet again, when her main caretaker, Healer Thompson, came into the room to perform her usual daily check-up on Ginny. Healer Thompson bent over Ginny, took out her wand, and waved it over Ginny's body for a minute or two. When the white light at the tip of her wand glowed to a forget-me-not blue, Healer Thompson straightened up and peered down into Ginny's face with a sincere smile on her plump, friendly face.
"Fortunately, you are going to be just fine. The internal bleeding has already stopped, naturally, but I had to make one-hundred percent sure that there wasn't any further damage and that there weren't any complications," Healer Thompson explained, tucking a wisp of dirty blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her right ear.
"Okay. Er… do you have any idea when I might be able to go home?" Ginny asked a little nervously.
Healer Thompson predicted, "Probably in about two or three weeks. Maybe around a month at the most, if your condition does not worsen, although I doubt that it will."
"That's good news," breathed Ginny, thinking it was going to be much longer than what the Healer had predicted.
"Well, if you need anything, all you have to do is push the call button, and I will come running," Healer Thompson said, indicating to the fire-engine red round call button on the wall beside Ginny.
"Okay, I will. Thank you," Ginny responded.
"You are very much welcome," Healer Thompson said.
With that, she left the room, once again leaving Ginny alone to her thoughts.
Later that night, Ginny was lying in the darkness that was her hospital room, waiting for sleep to claim her. For some reason, she was not able to sleep, but Lord knows she tried. She counted sheep; that didn't work. She started reviewing History of Magic material in her head; that also didn't work. She even tried to meditate, but she failed miserably at that because she was always constantly thinking of something. Now she was staring blankly at the sterile white ceiling, observing how the moonbeams coming from the window hit it, one part of the ceiling in shadow, and the other part in the moonlight.
'Kind of like a physical analogy for darkness and light; without one the other cannot exist," Ginny pondered.
When sleep finally claimed her, she felt familiar floating sensation, but the black void was not present; instead, there was a gray void, which seemed to swallow her up whole.
Once again, she found herself in the hallway that she had arrived in before, and with a quick glance down, she realized that she was in the same dress as before. Ginny then conjured a mask, and stomped down the hall and threw open the huge, oak, double doors with determination and frustration. She was going solve this mystery one way or another.
Ginny immediately started to search for the man that she had conversed with the last time that she was here. He was as stuck here as she was, so she was seeking him out, despite her less than friendly feelings towards him. Ginny didn't have to search for him for too long or too far, for was he standing in a far-off corner of the room by himself, leaning against the wall lazily with a scowl on his face. He too was wearing the same outfit and mask as when she saw him last.
Ginny made a beeline straight towards him, her shoulders squared and her head held high. When he eventually noticed her walking over to him, his scowl deepened further.
'I refuse to let him get under my skin again. I just simply will not allow it,' Ginny thought with dignity.
However, when she neared him, the scowl miraculously disappeared and a small, sheepish half-smile had replaced it. Ginny was slightly suspicious, to say the least. Why would he scowl at her and then change his expression to semi-decent one? Unless… he was embarrassed by his previous actions and trying to be civil to her, but why would he do that?
"I wondered if you were ever going to show up again. I apologize for my previous behavior. I was just not in a good mood—" Ginny had trouble to keep from snorting—"but that was no excuse for taking it out on you," he admitted, turning to Ginny.
"Apology accepted," said Ginny curtly, not really being sincere.
"Would you care to dance?" he asked.
'Oh, what the hell,' Ginny thought. "Sure," she responded, slightly hesitant.
He grabbed her hand and led her to the area where people were dancing to the classical music. Ginny thought his touch would be warm, but it was surprisingly cold, like ice. He then proceeded to wrap an arm around her waist, and she in turn put a hand on his shoulder. Then they waltzed in time with the music.
"You are a good dancer," Ginny observed with surprise, as he whirled her around the room.
"Thank you. I taught myself," he replied, seeming to be slightly taken aback by her compliment.
"You're welcome. I'm sorry, but I don't think that I have introduced myself yet. I'm Ginny," she said.
"I'm Tom. Nice to meet you," Tom said.
"Nice to meet you, too, Tom."
After that, they danced in silence. Ginny let the music flow through her and let herself be led around the ballroom in Tom's capable arms. When the song ended a minute or two later, Tom suggested that they go sit down somewhere that was a little more private. Ginny agreed and Tom took her by the hand, and led her to a small table with a few chairs surrounding it that was stashed in a far corner.
Tom repressed his disgusted shudder as he took the chit's hand, and led her to a suitable place in which to interrogate her properly. He thought that the whole thing was going rather well, but he still despised having to act like the perfect gentleman; after all, he was Lord Voldemort, and Lord Voldemort was never nice unless he had to charm something out of someone, and this time was not any different.
'The poor girl—what was her name—ah, Ginny—won't know what hit her when I am through with her,' Tom thought with arrogance and barely suppressed glee.
He still couldn't believe that he had danced with her; Lord Voldemort never danced, no matter how good he might be at it. Tom remembered how Ginny had told him that he was a good dancer, and he had been genuinely surprised, for he had done little of it in his life; however, he had actually taught himself for a dance at Hogwarts many, many years ago. He had also been surprised to find that Ginny's skin had been pleasantly warm and she smelled of freesia and rain. Tom frowned, disgusted with himself for thinking that way.
"So, are we going to sit down or what?" Ginny asked with annoyance apparent in her voice, bringing Tom out of his reverie.
Tom just barely managed to hold back a scowl and scathing retort in time and said, "I apologize. I was just lost in thought."
They both sat down across from each other, and stared each other, not certain as to what they should say.
"So, tell me more about yourself," encouraged Tom, shattering the awkward silence rather abruptly.
"Ugh. Do I have to?" Ginny joked.
"No, but I do want to know more about you," Tom said earnestly.
"Well… I have five older brothers and I am the only girl in the family. I used to have six brothers, but one of them died in the Final Battle. All of us were in Gryffindor. Which House were you in?" Ginny said.
"I was in Slytherin," Tom answered honestly, hiding his abhorrence that she belonged to the house of the lions.
'Why am I not surprised? She is the epitome of a Gryffindor,' Tom thought.
"Were you really? I would never have thought," she teased.
"Okay," she continued, "I told you a little bit about myself. Now it's your turn."
"I was a prefect in my fifth and sixth years at Hogwarts and then I was Head Boy in my seventh year. I also was the top student in my year, and won a few awards. After graduation, I worked at Borgin and Burkes for a while," Tom acquiesced reluctantly.
Ginny wrinkled her nose and said, "How could you work in a place like that? Oh, I forgot, you are a Slytherin."
"It had its benefits," Tom replied evasively, inwardly smirking at its double meaning, and thinking of Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket.
"Have you figured out what this place is and why we are here?" Ginny asked, changing the subject.
"No, I have not."
'It seems that she was not lying the last time. Damn, I thought she was lying for sure,' thought Tom.
"Well, you at least can come and go as you please; I, however, cannot," he added.
"That's awful. How come?" Ginny inquired.
"How the hell do I know?" Tom snapped, momentarily forgetting his façade.
"No need to get snippy," she retorted.
"Right, sorry. Just lost my temper," Tom said.
"That's quite all right, Tom," Ginny said coolly.
Needing an excuse to temporarily get away from her and compose himself, Tom said, "I will be right back. I am going to get us some refreshments."
"Okay. I'll stay right here," Ginny said.
Tom stood and made for the refreshment table. He grabbed a couple of plates and put a few hors d'oeuvres on each of the plates. He didn't need to eat, as he was dead, but he did need an excuse to get away from her.
Tom knew that there was something familiar about Ginny, but he could not quite put his finger on it. She was uncannily like Ginevra Weasley, and even had the same saccharine, childish nickname, but Tom didn't think that that was a possibility; Tom was sure that if it was indeed Miss Ginny Weasley that he would have recognized her in a heartbeat, mask and all.
Feeling that he was adequately composed, Tom made his way back to the corner where he knew Ginny was waiting for him to return. However, when he got closer to the table and looked at it, he noticed that the mysterious girl had escaped his clutches once again.
With a scream of fury, Tom Riddle threw the plates at the wall, successfully shattering them into thousands of miniscule shards, and splattering the wall with food. Anyone who was in the vicinity stared at him, but he didn't care. He was going to crack the enigma that was Ginny one way or another.
Ginny stared after Tom as he walked over to the refreshment table. She didn't know what to think of him. One minute he was unpleasant, and the next minute he was the perfect gentleman. He was quite handsome, debonair, obviously intelligent, and a great dancer. But he was also a Slytherin, and had quite a nasty temper when evoked. He also seemed like he was putting up a façade. Ginny got the feeling that he was hiding something from her, whether it was about him or his personality, she did not know.
All of a sudden, the room began to fade and she was tossed into the gray void once more. Ginny knew that she was waking up, but she didn't necessarily want to, as she was just starting to get some answers. She also had a feeling that Tom would be angry at her for breaking her promise to stay where she was, but it's not as if she could do anything about it.
Ginny opened her eyes, and she found that it was quite bright, due to the sunlight streaming through the window. 'Today is just another boring day in St. Mungo's,' she thought, sighing and getting up to close the drapes.
Author's Note: Please review and tell me what you think. Again, I apologize for the long wait. I have a new story now, and that was partially responsible for the long wait, but it mostly due to my own laziness. Oh well…. I should have the next chapter up pretty soon, but I can't guarantee it.