I hate feelin' like this
I'm so tired of tryin' to fight this
I'm asleep and all I dream of is waking to You

Tell me that You will listen
Your touch is what I'm missin'
And the more I hide I realize I'm slowly losin' You

Comatose
I'll never wake up without an overdose of You

I don't wanna live
I don't wanna breathe
'less I feel You next to me
You take the pain I feel
(Wakin' up to You never felt so real)
I don't wanna sleep
I don't wanna dream
'cause my dreams don't comfort me
The way You make me feel
(Wakin' up to You never felt so real)

Chapter VI

To Tom, what happened in the lavatory never really happened. It was just a thought, a memory. To Ginny, it was a victory, she could feel it. She had already changed the future, though the amount was unspecific.

"Tom," Ginny said smiling brightly, Tom looked up and nodded his head indicating she had his attention.

"Good morning," Ginny said jumping from foot to foot, and then flounced to a seat across from Tom.

"Why are you so bipolar?" Tom asked sullenly, Ginny's eyes widened, "You act so happy and bubbly but then snap you're angry and depressed. You're like a time bomb of emotions, and when you blow up, you hurt everyone,"

Tom got up, glared at Ginny, and whisked away, leaving Ginny sitting at the table, stunned. Tears threatened to escape, but she held them in.

Ginny ignored Winona's cry of worry and Eileen's whisper of condolence. She twisted away and raced out of the Great Hall only barely caching Will's curious look of worry and pity. Ginny raced out and after a few minutes of racing she paused to lean against the stone wall. Breathing heavily Ginny stood there tears of anger and misery intertwined together.

Ginny walked grimly to her common room and entered her dorm. She crashed around looking for it, after a few minutes she finally pulled out her moleskin pouch, a gift she had received from Dean as a Christmas present. Taking it, she pressed it to her breast and ran outside to the lake, to the fresh air, to the smell of earth.

She opened it and spilled her most precious objects onto the ground. Memories, or rather objects that allowed her to remember. She took out a picture of Harry, a small rose frozen in time, and a torn crumpled and ripped piece of paper. She stared at her extraordinary objects, her precious things and sighed a long sigh.

She took the picture of Harry, smiling, laughing, blowing her kisses, he looked happy, looked in love, looked alive. The picture had been taken on a day of victory. The Order had won a small part of the battle, and Harry was happy.

Ginny didn't realize she was crying until her tears blurred her vision. Quickly she wiped the tears away and sat there for a few minutes, remembering her memories of when happiness was.

Her eyes moved onto the rose, a newborn rose from her mum's garden. The day before the final battle it had snowed and Charlie had gone to the garden. Upon his return he held the newborn rose in his hands, its petals frozen, crystallized. He had given it to Ginny showing her that even in the darkest time's life and love was everywhere. With a simple spell, he had turned to rose into a non living non dead rose. A rose that would live forever and never die nor fade, just like his love for his little sister.

She held the beautiful rose in her hand and brought it to her nose. It still smelled of life, it still smelled sweet and fresh.

She then looked at the page, the page torn from the diary, the diary of the boy who haunted her dreams and lurked in the shadows of reality. The boy who was just a memory, just part of the past…the past that was turning into the present. She stared at the page, and didn't say anything.

The memory of Tom burned freshly in her mind, his voice in whispering forebodingly in her ear, his hands burning her skin.

Ginny remembered clearly her first year at Hogwarts. Tom was a mere object and yet he always had the upper hand, he was always in control. Ginny was so afraid, but she hated the control.

And so she did it, she allowed herself to sink, and every night she would stare in fascination at the blood dripping from her arm. Every night Tom was fading, fading, fading, gone, but she knew he'd be back to haunt her thoughts and lurk in her dreams. He always came back.

And so the she caused herself pain, so he couldn't. She'd make Tom vanish one slash at a time, she'd bleed him away.

Who has the upper had now, Tom?

Those dreaded words echoed hauntingly in Ginny's mind, but she pulled herself from her dark thoughts. The bell rang, and dully Ginny realized she would be late for class. Still immersed in her thoughts Ginny continued to just sit there, lost and a little confused.

In the back of her mind, Ginny wondered if she wanted to skip class. With a sigh, she pulled herself together, replaced the objects back into the pouch, and slowly walked away, her head bowed, emotions racing around.

Ginny entered her potions class, anger seeming to radiate from her school. Her anger was so great, she did not notice Tom's look of worry turn into one of relief, and then back into his emotionless mask.

"Miss Hale," Professor Slughorn said tartly, "I must remind you that tardiness is not acceptable. Twenty points from Slytherin, and if you are tardy one more time, I believe a detention is in order,"

Ginny nodded, her anger swelling even more. She glared at her book, as thoughts centered on Tom, weakness (herself being weak), and the fact that Professor Slughorn hated her so much twisted and snaked itself around her mind.

She glared furiously at her book, refusing to neither look up nor participate. Hell hath no fury compared to Ginny Weasley.

"What did the book do to you Ginny?" Tom asked sullenly his thoughts hovering over whether he should apologize or not.

Ginny did not say nor did nothing. She remained silent, did not look up, and showed no acknowledgment of what he just said.

"Are you giving me the silent treatment," Tom asked, this time surprise in his voice. Nobody ever did that, it was childish and ineffective.

Again nothing happened, to recognition in her eyes, no acknowledgment in her actions.

Tom shivered. He was not use to the idea of being ignored. It never happened. Tom Riddle was never ignored, even if the attention was bad or good. Tom stared at Ginny, his eyes accusing yet remorseful entangled together.

Tom averted his eyes suddenly, why did this affect him so much? Why should he care what Ginny did or did not do? Why did it matter so much?

And even though Tom refused to answer the questions that clashed within his mind, he knew the answer deep down.

Tom Riddle was in love with Ginny Hale…