"Tom," Ginny muttered, and Draco's head shot upright so quickly his neck twanged in protest. Rubbing his neck with one hand, it took Draco's tired mind a moment to realize that Ginny was still not awake; she was only muttering again.

Settling his head back against the edge of the mattress, he let out a long sigh. Hours had passed while he sat here in the same position, holding her hand and wincing every time she convulsed. He had started dozing on and off hours ago, waking when she muttered something again or convulsed, but nothing ever changed. Ginny still lay there, unconscious and just muttering.

The muttering hadn't really stopped. She would remain silent for a while, and then, just when Draco would think it had stopped, she would mutter something again. Sometimes her words weren't very clear, but sometimes they were. Often Draco heard the same name – Tom.

A completely irrational surge of jealousy rushed through Draco every time her lips formed that name, even though she never said it longingly. In fact, most times she sounded scared. That somehow made it even worse.

Draco knew that name, or he somewhat did. Ginny had mentioned the name before when she had credited Tom with telling her where the Slytherin common room was, and Draco could swear she had said it once before as well, but he had no idea who Tom was. No Slytherin existed today with that name, so how had Ginny met him? And if he wasn't a Slytherin, then how had he known where the common room entrance was? But weighing the most on his mind, Draco couldn't help but wonder what Tom meant to Ginny, for her to be muttering his name when she was in this condition.

"Tom, no," Ginny muttered, the words coming out clearer than usual as her voice turned to a high-pitched whine that immediately had Draco looking up again. "Please, stop."

Dread filled Draco's gut as he watched her face contort with pain, and his heart plummeted at her words. His mind was trying to tell him that he must have misheard Ginny, because surely she wouldn't have said that. It sounded like... well it sounded bad, and Ginny looked worse than he had seen her in hours. She was moving again, shifting in discomfort, and Draco had no idea what to do. What had earlier spiked jealousy in Draco, was now causing terror because he didn't want to know what Ginny was remembering, why she was muttering this.

Her breathing suddenly hitched and then came out labored, like she was choking on something. "Get out," she breathed, the words breaking as her breathing grew more uneven. "Tom, no. Get out!" Her voice nearly came out as a scream, and Draco jumped up, releasing her hand for the first time all night. Ginny immediately curled into a tighter ball, whimpering as Draco stood helplessly watching.

She convulsed again, and Draco's mind flew into overdrive. She had stopped convulsing hours ago, and he had assumed she was sleeping. If she was sleeping, did that mean he could wake her up? He had no idea. Snape had only told him she would wake up eventually. What if he hurt her, trying to wake her up now? He had to leave her be. He should leave her as she was, no matter what she was remembering.

But then Ginny let out another gasp that sounded like a horrid, breathless scream, and Draco knew he couldn't let this continue.

"Weasley!" he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently as his heartbeat picked up with urgency. Her head flopped bonelessly to the side, and Draco's panic doubled. "Weasley!" his hands slipped up her shoulders, cupping her face in his hands, as he nearly begged. "Ginny!"

She stopped shuddering, and her breathing evened out immediately. Draco went as still as she did, staring at her with a blank face, like his body had been thrown into shock.

And then she blinked.

Draco sighed, all of his strength failing him so that his hands slid from her face, and he slumped against the bed, his forehead pressing into the edge in relief. He could hardly feel his own body, he was so relieved, like his mind had gone numb to protect itself from any more shocks to his system.

All the while, he felt Ginny moving miniscule amounts as she clawed her way back to full consciousness. Draco heard her breathing deepen as she became more aware of her surroundings, but still, he didn't look up. He didn't have the strength to see her growing confusion. He was so drained by the fact that she was even awake.

But then he felt her move, more, pulling herself up, and he knew he had to look up at her. Raising his head slowly, afraid of what he might see, the first thing he noted was that Ginny was slumped up against the single pillow, staring at him with wide eyes. Her face was still pale, coated in a slight sheen of sweat, and her hair was a chaotic tangle, but she looked fine. She looked alive, and Draco could breathe easier, staring at her.

"Dra-Malfoy?" her voice came out a croak, and her eyes darted frantically around the room. "Where am I?"

"The Room of Requirement," he answered automatically, shifting slowly so that he was farther away from her without her noticing how close he had been. Her eyes were still slightly dazed, and despite her earlier motion, she looked like she was seconds from falling back asleep. He inched away, but he couldn't make himself stand up and truly put distance between them. He needed to be close enough to see her chest move with her breathing. He had to be.

Her eyes slowly wandered back to him, sharpening when they caught on his face, and Draco immediately stopped moving. "Why?"

The question made him wonder how much she remembered, how clear her mind was right now. Would she remember what she had been doing earlier? Would she remember what he said now? That was a dangerous thought, for it made Draco want to be reckless.

Before Draco could figure out an answer, Ginny sat bolt upright in bed, exclaiming, "Snape!"

She swayed hardly a second later, tilting dangerously to the side, and Draco's hands flew out to catch her. He wrapped a hand around each arm, forcing her back down on the pillow, though she hardly put up a fight. He noted that she flinched as she lay back, and he flinched in remembered pain, knowing how one's body ached after enduring the Cruciatus Curse. The dazed look was back in her eyes, but she kept blinking furiously, like she was trying to fight the fog clouding her mind. He released her only after making sure she wasn't going to move again.

"Snape cursed me," she muttered, eyelashes fluttering as she struggled to keep her eyes open after every blink. The rest of her body had gone slack, since she clearly no longer had the energy to support herself.

Draco winced, sitting back. Though he had already known, it was still painful to hear Ginny say that Snape had done this to her. He knew he should let her fall asleep, even as she struggled to stay awake, but he still had questions – questions Snape would never answer. And he had to know. "Snape said he caught you and that one of the Carrows was with him."

"Alecto," Ginny's lip curled in disgust as her eyes fluttered shut and didn't open again. "Alecto was following Snape up to the Headmaster's office."

"The Headmaster's office?" Draco repeated, his voice pitching higher in disbelief. "That's where you were caught?"

Ginny nodded slightly, the motion hardly noticeable, but Draco was watching her like a hawk now, his head spinning with a mix of anger and desperation.

"Ginny," he called, unwilling to let her fall asleep right this second, "Ginny, why were you in Snape's office?" His voice came out louder than he had intended, but he couldn't help it. His heart was racing as his mind cursed Ginny and her reckless Gryffindor courage. Why, why in the bloody hell, would she go to Snape's office?

Her face wrinkled at the loud noise, but she answered. "The sword. I had to get the sword, Draco."

Draco frowned, what sword? Why had Ginny done something so stupid, so dangerous, for a sword? Why the hell did Ginny even need a bloody sword?

Ginny sighed, and the noise made Draco forget about the sword, for it reminded him of the sounds she had made earlier, the sounds that had made him wake her up in the first place. He could ask about the sword later, but he felt in his gut that Ginny wouldn't tell him about this Tom person unless she wasn't herself, and she wasn't herself right now. Her guard was down, and Merlin, he wanted to know who Tom had been.

So with slight guilt, Draco gently prodded her shoulder again. "Ginny," he nearly whispered, knowing he should just let her sleep. "Who is Tom?" he asked, nearly whispering directly into her ear in his desperation to make her hear him.

Her brow creased, but her eyes did not dart open with fear like Draco had half-suspected they would. Still, her face was no longer calm. "Tom Riddle," she muttered, tacking on a last name that Draco still did not recognize. "His name is Tom Riddle."

Draco sighed, sitting back on his heels and resigning himself to the fact the he wasn't going to get the answers he craved. He was about to tell her to go to sleep, but then Ginny sighed again, moving around to make herself more comfortable.

"His name is Tom Riddle," she repeated slowly, "but you wouldn't know him by that name."

"I wouldn't?" Draco found himself asking, confused.

"No," her lips tilted up in the smallest of smiles, and Draco couldn't figure out what was so funny to her. "No. He goes by Voldemort now. Much scarier, don't you think?"

Draco nearly fell back, only managing to keep his position at the last possible moment by grabbing onto the bedding in front of him. He gazed at his hands in uncomprehending horror as they grasped the sheet and then fisted, twisting the material in a white-knuckled grip that reflected the growing outrage in his gut. Outrage he couldn't even name, let alone think clearly about. He only knew he felt horrified.

When he managed to look back at Ginny, he knew instantly that she was truly asleep now. Her face was the picture of innocence, a direct contrast to the black words she had just uttered, the words echoing in Draco's head.

Voldemort's real name was Tom Riddle.

Draco had never thought about what Voldemort's real name might be, or why it would matter, and normally it wouldn't, he supposed. But it did now.

Voldemort's name mattered because Ginny had just told him it, because Ginny had been muttering it in her sleep, because Ginny had been begging Tom Riddle to leave her alone.

Ginny had met Voldemort. Ginny had known Voldemort. Ginny had spoken to Voldemort.

Ginny knew Voldemort's real name.

Draco could hardly even breathe as he stared at the sleeping Ginny, unable to comprehend the new horror he had just heard. His mind kept trying to puzzle it out, but he kept coming up blank. All he knew was that one statement, repeating over and over and over: Ginny knew Voldemort.

And in that moment, everything changed.

Ginny couldn't remember anything, but she wasn't very alarmed by that fact because she knew she was asleep. Darkness surrounded her, but it wasn't scary darkness. She knew what that darkness was like, dark and inky and pressing, like it wanted inside of her, to cover everything she was. No, this darkness wasn't like that.

This darkness was comforting, like it was trying to protect her by blocking out everything. And Ginny was grateful. She couldn't remember anything, and she didn't feel like she wanted to remember anything. The darkness whispered soothingly to her, cooling her skin, and telling her she should just stay here. The outside world was dark and horrible and painful, and Ginny didn't want it suddenly. She didn't want to go back.

But as soon as she thought that, she knew she was waking up.

Her hands that didn't exist scrabbled for purchase, trying to cling to the darkness. Wakefulness was clawing at her though, and she couldn't get a good hold, and with one last cry, Ginny was wrenched back into consciousness.

She sat bolt upright in bed, her breathing heaving out of her chest so violently it was painful. Her hands went to her chest to fist in her sweat-soaked t-shirt as she sucked in air through a raw throat, and all the while her eyes darted about the room she was in, trying to figure out where she was.

She noted the candlelight, and the single bed she was in, but she couldn't place the room. It was far too small to be her dorm, and there were other beds in her room. This place was empty except for her bed, the light, her, and someone else.

She scrambled on the bed, survival instinct telling her to back away from the stranger, but then the light reflected off his hair, and Ginny stopped. She knew who he was instantly.

Draco Malfoy.

Staring at him, an uncomfortable feeling grew in Ginny's gut, like she should want to get away from him still, but she couldn't remember why. She couldn't remember anything leading up this place. Hell, she wasn't even sure what the last thing she remembered was.

But she did know that she trusted Draco, and she wasn't sure why.

The trusting feeling just spread out through her torso, soothing her lungs until she was breathing normally and enveloping her heart until it stopped racing. Her hands detached from her t-shirt and flopped uselessly into her lap, and all the while Ginny stared at the back of Draco Malfoy's head.

He was slumped against the bed she was on, only his forehead resting against it. The rest of his body was folded up uncomfortably on the floor, and he looked like he had been there for a while. His shoulders rose and fell with the steady rhythm of sleep.

Her hand hesitantly rose, reaching out toward Draco's hair, and she looked at it in surprise. She hadn't thought to raise her hand; it was moving on its own. She shouldn't wake him, she knew, but the way the candlelight played on his silver hair drew her. Slowly, her fingers touched the strands, somehow not surprised to find they were soft to the touch. She had barely started to press, when his head shot up.

Ginny snatched her hand back, clutching it her chest in fear, and she met Draco's dark, questioning, eyes, and then she gasped.

She remembered.

As Draco stared at her in uncomprehending befuddlement – a product of having been woken up suddenly – Ginny could hardly even see him. Her mind's eye was far too distracting, playing back the last 12 hours on a loop, starting with her Dark Arts class.

It was all as horrible as she remembered, from the moment she had walked in until the moment she had run out, on the hunt for Draco. Then, it was like her memories sped up through their argument, halting with a jerk at the moment Draco had kissed her.

Ginny wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and hide, but she kept staring at Draco, who was growing more awake with every second that passed. She felt her mouth go slack and fall open a sliver as she stared at him, and she remembered.

She hadn't let herself think about the kiss before, grasping at the first thing Draco had said that distracted her: the sword. And then she had distracted herself with planning and then with enacting the plan, not giving her mind a moment to pause or think or breathe. She had simply dove into action, but there was nothing to distract her now, and the longer she stared at Draco, the more she remembered.

His lips had been so soft against her lips, not demanding or hard or unyielding at all. In fact, it had hardly been a kiss as much as him pressing his lips against her. Still, it had been intimate. She could still taste his breath against her tongue, could feel the way his body had felt pressed up against her with the hard wood of the door at her back. Her hands had fallen, slack, to her sides, but if Draco had lingered for one moment longer, Ginny was suddenly sure that her hands would have risen to grip his shirt and pull him closer.

She had wanted to kiss him. She had wanted to kiss him until her mind had gone completely empty and everything had gone away and she had forgotten who she was.

Her breathing hitched just thinking about it, and Ginny tried to tell herself that she was just deprived of human interaction, that she was just missing Harry. But she knew, she knew, that that wasn't true. The truth was that she wanted Draco Malfoy, and she hadn't even realized it.

With a startled gasp, Ginny wrenched her mind away from that memory, forcing herself to remember everything else.

Her mind's eye obeyed, showing her the sword, and her plan, and Snape's office and then Snape and Carrow on the stairway. And then she winced as she remembered the tidal wave of pain that had descended on her mind. It had been so brutal and so crushing that Ginny had immediately fallen unconscious, and she couldn't fathom how Snape had done that. She had felt only a moment of a pain, but it had been a moment of pain so blinding it was like she hadn't even felt it, like when water is hot it feels cold. It was like Snape had wanted to make her fall unconscious as quickly as possible, and the only way he had been able to do it was to overwhelm her mind with so much pain that it was forced to shut down.

Ginny's mind hadn't shut down like that in years, and remembering now the last time her mind had gone so black, she shuddered. Snape had invaded her mind with his curse in a way very similar to the way Tom Riddle used to invade her mind to possess her.

She automatically drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her in an attempt to make herself smaller.

"Ginny..."

She snapped her eyes to Draco's face, and she wasn't the least bit surprised to see that he was fully awake now, and staring at her with worry etched all over his face. "Malfoy," she forced herself to answer, ripping herself away from memories from her second year. "What are you doing here?"

She hadn't even questioned it at first, she had been so distracted by her memories, but now she realized that he had no reason to be there.

Draco's head titled the slightest bit to the side. "Snape brought me."

"Snape brought you..." she repeated, testing out the way the words sounded, like she could make them fit together in a way that made sense. But it didn't make sense. "Why would Snape bring you here? Where is here?"

Her eyes scanned the room again, and she missed the way Draco's brow furrowed. "Ginny, do you remember waking up earlier?"

She looked back at him. "I woke up earlier?"

He nodded slowly, moving himself so that he was no longer on the floor. He sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, at the very foot, as far away from Ginny as he could get. Still, Ginny shrunk herself further, the kiss coming back to haunt her. You wanted him, her mind said, and Ginny flinched, shoving those thoughts away. It didn't matter. It didn't.

Draco sighed. "We're in the Room of Requirement. Snape brought you here, after your ridiculous attempt to steal a sword."

Ginny didn't miss the way Draco's voice colored with anger, and she flinched again. Looking back on her plan, she could hardly even call it that. It had been a risky mission that nobody should have agreed to, but she had been so blinded by desperation that she had risked not only herself but everyone else.

"Oh Merlin!" She gasped, rocketing forward and grasping Draco's forearm in a move that made him jerk back. "Draco what about Luna? And Neville? They were supposed to be on guard duty! Carrow said-"

"Ginny, calm down," Draco placed his other hand over hers where it gripped his arm. Ginny's body instantly responded by following his advice and calming down. "Luna and Neville were taken the infirmary. They were tortured, but they should be fine."

She bit her lip, stupid tears gathering in her eyes. She didn't miss the alarm in Draco's eyes as he saw her reaction, and she released him to wipe angrily at her eyes. "This is my fault. I came up with this stupid plan. I risked their lives, and for nothing. I didn't even get the sword." The admission crushed Ginny, because she knew she hadn't succeeded. Snape had taken the sword back; there was no doubt in her mind. She had failed, and now Luna and Neville had suffered because of it. She shouldn't be a leader; she shouldn't be trusted with anything.

"Why'd you do it?" Draco demanded, ripping his arm away from her, and Ginny looked up to see that his face was alive with anger. He glared at her heatedly. "What the hell were you even thinking Ginny? It was just a bloody sword! Why the hell would you risk your life for a stupid sword?"

"You wouldn't understand," she shook her head, instantly defensive as thoughts of her own inadequacy faded from her mind. "Harry-"

Draco snorted. "Of course. Saint Potter needed the sword for his heroic mission, did he? And you'd do bloody anything for him. He isn't even here, and he's endangering your life!"

"Hey!" Ginny sat up straight, uncurling herself. "Don't you dare! You have no idea what you're even talking about! Harry didn't ask me to steal the sword!"

"No, of course not!" Draco bit back, jumping from the bed so he could pace away from her. He whipped back around when he was a few feet away, glaring at her. "Because bloody Potter went into hiding, didn't he? He's safe and sound, and you're here! He left you here, in danger and unprotected, while he runs off to play hero!"

Ginny opened her mouth to defend Harry to him, but she couldn't force herself to say anything because Draco had voiced her darkest thoughts, the ones she never voiced. Harry had left her behind, had left her here to face all of this on her own, and he had done so claiming he was protecting her, but Ginny wasn't protected here. Ginny wasn't safe here, and Harry had left her, and it hurt that Harry always chose everything over her, no matter the fact that she didn't really want him to choose her over the rest of the world. It still hurt that he would always trust Ron and Hermione more, and he would always let them endanger themselves instead of her. It hurt that he didn't trust her to be helpful and not a burden, and somehow Draco knew that deep down, Ginny felt like this.

"That's what I thought!" Draco snapped, turning back to pace a few feet away. His movements were jerky, and his hands were clasped so tightly behind his back that his arms strained against his shirt. He paced back and forth, back and forth. "When will you stop endangering yourself for other people?"

"You endanger yourself for me."

Draco froze, his shoulders hunching, and he wouldn't turn around to look at her. Ginny stared at his back, surprised at herself. She hadn't meant to voice that thought, but it was true. Draco kept telling her she was being reckless, but wasn't he doing the same thing? She had thought it was weird before, but now, with everything else that had happened between them, it felt more than weird. It felt dangerous, not just for him, but for them both. Why was Draco endangering himself for her?

Slowly, Draco turned back to look at her, his entire body both slack and rigid at the same time, like he wanted to slump to the floor but his pride wouldn't let him. His grey eyes were dark with warring emotions, and Ginny thought he was probably fighting himself; she could recognize his control for what it was now: he was stopping himself from telling her his real reasons.

"Why is it different for you?" she asked quietly.

"I owe you," he choked out, and Ginny's heart dropped a bit because that wasn't the answer she had wanted to hear.

But she couldn't admit to herself the answer she had wanted to hear, so she shook her head. "Your father put my life at risk once, by putting me in the Chamber, but you don't owe me anything, Draco. And if you did before, you've made us even. You helped me countless times with those notes, and you saved me from detention. You even sent Filch to make sure I was okay when I provoked you. We're even, Draco. You don't owe me anymore."

Her heart raced as she said those words, afraid that they would release him from this deal they had, afraid he would walk out the door and away from her. Even with what she was beginning to realize about how he felt about her, Ginny still expected him to leave, to save his own neck. He was a Slytherin, and he had made it perfectly clear before that his ridiculous sense of duty was what kept him around. Could she expect that to change?

But he didn't move. "My father told me he was responsible for putting you in the Chamber, but he never told me how."

Ginny went perfectly still, her automatic defense whenever anything concerning the Chamber went up. Her palms became cold with sweat, and she clasped her hands into fists. She had no idea why he had just changed the subject so abruptly, but she recognized the way he was looking at her. He had questions, and Ginny didn't want to give him the answers, not these answers. "It doesn't –" she started, shaking her head to try to shake out the memories.

"Don't say it doesn't matter," Draco cut her off, furiously. "I always assumed he knew who the heir of Slytherin was, even if I couldn't figure it out, but it was more than that wasn't it?" he demanded, advancing toward her with desperation showing on his face. Ginny backed up, pressing herself against the wall as her body began to shake. Draco stopped when he saw her intense reaction, and his face flickered with pain and pity and guilt. "Merlin, Ginny," he whispered, "What did he do to you?"

She shook her head. "Forget it, Draco. It doesn't matter. What your father did... it's not important." She refused to look at him, staring at the sheets to her side, and forcing her mind to stay blank. She didn't want to talk about this. She didn't want to remember. It was her past, and she didn't have to think about it. Dumbledore had told her she could just let it go, and so, Ginny had. She had completely separated herself from it.

"How do you know Voldemort?"

Her head whipped up and black fear swallowed her up until she could hardly see Draco's face. Instead, the image of Tom Riddle as she had seen him in her diary came to her mind. "Why would you..." she tried to counter, but she was gasping for air, and it didn't sound convincing. She could hardly breathe, and she knew instantly that Draco's question had spiked more than just her fear. She was drowning.

"Ginny," Draco's voice echoed from what seemed a great distance away, and Ginny wanted to respond to him because he sounded frightened, but she couldn't. Her hands came up to wrap around her throat, and she felt like she was choking. Coughs wracked her, and still she couldn't breathe. Her vision was narrowing, and she couldn't focus on anything because there was nothing to focus on. Nothing was wrapping around her; nothing was crushing her. She was drowning in nothing, and she recognized the feeling, but still, she couldn't do anything. It had been so long since she had reacted like this that Ginny couldn't remember how to stop it.

"Ginny," Draco's hands were suddenly on her, forcing her legs up and her knees apart. "Ginny, put your head between your knees." He forced her head down when she didn't move, and like he had cleared her airway, Ginny sucked in a lungful of air, coughing when she nearly choked on that.

Slowly, her breathing returned to normal and her vision cleared, and she felt Draco's hand on her back. She closed her eyes and made herself breathe until she didn't feel like she was about to come apart anymore. And then she made herself look up at him, her mind clear.

Draco's face was pale with fear, and he didn't even try to disguise his panic as he stared at her.

"How'd you know?" she muttered, her voice a bit hoarse. "How'd you know how to stop a panic attack?"

His hand slowly moved from her back, and she felt him shift into a sitting position beside her. She looked away from him, not wanting to meet his eyes right now. "Do you honestly think I could have the life I have, and not have panic attacks?"

Her eyes darted up to his face, sure he was joking, mocking her weakness, but he looked back at her with deeply serious eyes. "Really?"

He nodded, leaning back against the wall and looking at the other side of the room. "I've been having them ever since last year. The only thing that stops them is putting my head between my knees."

Ginny slowly moved until she was copying his position, acutely aware that they were almost touching, side by side. But it didn't feel that intimate, not when she looked to the other side of the room, just as Draco did. "I haven't had one in a while," she admitted slowly. "But they started my second year after... after the Chamber."

She felt him turn his head to look at her, but she wouldn't look at him. The words were burning on her tongue suddenly, desperate to get out, but if she looked at him, she wouldn't be able to tell him. Ginny could never talk to anyone about it, not even Harry really. She had been too powerless back then, too weak, and she hated remembering any of it. But Draco deserved to know, if anybody did.

The way he had handled her panic attack, and his admitting to having them himself, made Ginny want to tell him. She suddenly felt like she needed to tell him, and she knew then that the decision was made.

"What did my father do?" he repeated, sounding physically pained.

A sad little smile twisted her lips. "The worst thing is, I don't think he even meant to do it," she skirted the question. "Your father gave me something, and it ended up being an object with more power than he knew. He might not have hated the results, but I don't think he expected what happened. Nobody could be that cruel."

"You'd be surprised," Draco muttered darkly.

Ginny glanced at him, almost wanting to ask what made Draco think his father was so cruel, but then she thought more about it and realized she probably didn't want to know. Draco slowly turned to look back at her, his eyes dark with some unnamed pain that he was warning her not to ask about. So Ginny didn't. "How'd you know to ask about Voldemort?" she asked instead.

"You kept muttering Tom Riddle while you were unconscious, that's why Snape wouldn't let you stay in the infirmary," Draco admitted, and Ginny was shocked that Snape and Draco knew Voldemort's true name, but then Draco corrected himself. "I have no idea what Snape knows, but I had no idea that Tom Riddle was Voldemort, until you told me."

"I told you?" Ginny echoed.

Draco nodded. "You woke up briefly, earlier, and I asked you who he was. His name is really Tom Riddle?"

Ginny nodded, facing back forward and once again drawing her knees up to her chest. "Tom Marvolo Riddle," she said it slowly, hating the way it rolled off her tongue. "He's a half-blood, born to a Muggle father."

"What?" Draco jolted at the news.

Ginny glanced at him, but then looked away again, knowing she couldn't explain everything to him, and knowing that she definitely couldn't continue if she looked at him. She didn't want to see his face when she admitted the worst part. "Ya, but his dad left his mom when she was pregnant with him. I think that's why he hates Muggles actually. He only adopted the name Voldemort when he started recruiting."

"None of his followers know," Draco grit out between clenched teeth, his voice furious. "He's lying about his blood. Why didn't you tell anyone? That could've stopped a lot his support!"

Ginny shook her head, somehow not surprised by his reaction. She had thought about that too, more than once. "I couldn't just announce it. Voldemort has no idea that I know."

"But..." Draco broke off in confusion, and Ginny sighed. Here it was. She was going to have to say it. She didn't know that she had actually said it out loud since she had told Harry in the Chamber itself.

"Your father slipped a diary into my cauldron that day in Diagon Alley," she said, resting her chin on her knees and gazing at the wall across from them. "It was something Voldemort had left in his possession, and your dad had no idea what it was, because if he had, he would have never given it to me."

"So it was cursed," Draco broke in. "My dad still would've-"

"It wasn't cursed," Ginny cut him off. "It held a piece of Voldemort's soul."

Draco gaped at her, she could see it out of the corner of her eye, and she knew what he was going to say next.

"Don't ask me how," she continued. "I have no idea how Voldemort did it. Dumbledore only told me what had happened. I didn't really understand how it had happened, you see. I only knew what I remembered, and all of my memories were choppy."

She broke off, expecting Draco to interrupt again, but he didn't. He just stared at her, and so, Ginny forced herself to continue. She had to say it. She needed to admit it, out loud, at least once. "You see, the Chamber needed the heir of Slytherin to open it, but no one here fit that description. So when I started writing in the diary, I opened my soul to Voldemort's soul. He could write back, Tom Riddle, and he pretended to be my friend. I was terribly lonely my first year at Hogwarts, and I wanted a friend," admitting that was so hard because Ginny hated that about herself. She hated how weak she had been. "So Tom Riddle – that piece of Voldemort's soul – he pretended to care, and then, when I was completely vulnerable to him, he possessed me. I became the heir of Slytherin, and all of those awful things that happened, I did them. Voldemort possessed me, and he was going to kill me, hoping he could claim my life for his."

A few tears escaped her eyes as Ginny finally admitted it out loud, the dark disturbing secret of her past. She hadn't said the words, said that Voldemort had possessed her body, since saying them to Harry all those years ago. She had moved on; she had forced herself to move on. Whenever she thought about it, those memories would come back. That crushing darkness where she knew something was wrong, but she couldn't figure out what. All those times when she had woken up and hours had passed, and she couldn't remember a thing. But the worst one was the time she had woken up with blood on her hands. Later she had found out it was only chicken blood, but Ginny still had nightmares about that memory. All of those memories were so disorienting, and so terrible, and she could still remember how dark and twisted Tom Riddle had been, inside of her head.

"Voldemort possessed your body when you were eleven?"

Horror didn't even begin to describe the emotion in Draco's voice, but it was the only word that fit. He was disgusted and alarmed and guilt-ridden and angry and sad and so much more. Ginny knew he was because that was how everyone felt when they found out. She had seen it on Harry's face, and then Dumbledore's, and then on every single one of her family member's faces. Sometimes, she would still catch that look on one of her brother's faces whenever she wasn't getting enough sleep. She hated that look, because no matter how well intentioned it was, it always contained a hint of fear. No matter how much that person loved her, when they looked at her like that, Ginny knew they were wondering if being possessed had had any lasting effects, if perhaps a piece of Voldemort had remained behind. She couldn't even blame them. Ginny, herself, wondered that sometimes. There was no way to know, after all.

"Ya," she dug her chin into her knees, needing to feel that slight twinge of pain to remind herself that she was here, in the present.

"And he has no idea?"

She shrugged. "There's no way to know, but, because he hasn't come after me or said anything to Harry, we're assuming he doesn't know. It seems like he would take an interest, doesn't it, if he knew what he had done?" Finally, she turned to look at Draco, desperate to see what he thought, if he agreed with her.

What she saw took her breath away.

Draco was looking at her with horror and pain and guilt, but he wasn't looking at her with pity, and he wasn't looking at her with fear. Draco was looking at her with awe. When he saw that he had her attention, he locked eyes with her. "You," he said slowly, making sure she heard every word, "are amazing. You were stronger as an eleven year old than I will ever be."

Ginny's heart buzzed, but she shook her head. "I wasn't strong. He took control of me. I'm only alive right now because Harry saved me."

"Bugger Potter," Draco said firmly. "You lived because you fought. Even if Voldemort took control then, you've fought every day since then haven't you? The Dark Lord himself took possession of your body, and you're still on the good side. You still believe that the light can triumph over the dark." He shook his head in amazement.

"I didn't at first," the words just came spilling out of Ginny's mouth, words she had never said to anyone. "My second year, I was so lost. The memories were horrible, and I was drowning. I couldn't even trust myself. I was second guessing every thought I had. But then you helped me."

Draco turned back to look at her, his face skeptical.

A small smile graced Ginny's face. "You did," she reiterated. "You gave me those notes, and I didn't have to second guess myself on my homework. You have no idea how much it helped to know the answers to something, even if it was just school. You became a friend to me when I wasn't sure I deserved friends."

Draco shook his head, his eyes going dark with hatred, but it wasn't aimed at Ginny. It was aimed at himself. "My father did that to you. My father gave you that diary, and you can tell me that he had no idea what it would do, and maybe that's true, but the fact remains. He gave it to you." He closed his eyes, lines appearing on his face. "How will I ever make that up to you?"

Ginny couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had just admitted to committing atrocious acts when she was eleven years old, to being possessed by Voldemort, and Draco was focused on blaming himself for something he hadn't even known about. She had wondered, before, if he had been in on it, but watching his reaction now, Ginny knew he had had no idea. Draco was blind-sided and guilt-ridden by this news. And that realization made her admit what she had refused to admit earlier.

"Draco," she called hesitantly. When his eyes opened and focused on her, she bit her lip. "Why did you stay?"

His brow furrowed at her abrupt change of subject, clearly confused, but he answered. "Snape said someone needed to watch over you."

"You could have just left," she argued. "No one would have known if you had."

His eyebrows arched up and it was clear he hadn't even thought of that. "Someone had to watch you," he repeated, like that was the end of it and there were no alternatives.

It almost made Ginny smile as her heart thrummed in her chest. "It didn't have to be you."

Who else would it be, his eyes seemed to say as he stared at her, and Ginny was beginning to ask herself that question. It was becoming obvious to her that Draco had always been there, taking care of her even when he hadn't known her, even when they had never really spoken to each other. Draco had always been there.

Her heart continued to thrum in her chest, and her mind was trying to tell her something, but Ginny was ignoring that. She felt so much lighter than she had felt in so long, and she knew it was because of Draco. Everything about Draco, from his reaction to everything he had done for her, had made her feel better, and now she just wanted...

"Draco," she said again, scooting just the smallest bit closer to him. He looked down at their sides with shock, noting the way they were now touching, arm to arm, leg to leg. Ginny was pressed against his side. When he looked up again, she made sure to catch his eyes, forcing him to look at her. "Why did you kiss me before?" she whispered.

His breathing stopped, and Ginny held her breath automatically in response. He didn't break eye contact with her, and so Ginny watched as his eyes darted through a range of responses so quickly she couldn't name them. "I think you know the answer to that," he finally managed to say, short of breath and completely unsure of himself for the first time Ginny had ever seen.

She smiled. "I think I do."

She leaned forward and that was all it took for her lips to brush against his.

And that was all it took for him to respond.

Draco's hands instantly came up, cradling her face as he tilted her head further up, angling their lips so they slid together. What Ginny had intended as a chaste kiss, a spur-of-the-moment thing, quickly turned into something else altogether. Draco's tongue traced her bottom lip, and she gasped, and then his tongue was in her mouth, and she was pressing herself closer to him. She couldn't breathe and she certainly couldn't think, but she found she didn't want to do either. In the next second, her lips were pressing against his just as hungrily as his lips were pressing against hers, and her tongue slipped against his and she sighed happily into his mouth. Her hands found their way into his hair, tangling themselves in the silky strands. And it still wasn't close enough. She wanted, no, she needed to be closer to him.

Ginny was just moving her legs, unbending them so she could press her torso against his, her mind screaming that she needed to be closer to him, when she heard the sound of the door shifting.

Draco broke away from her, his hands still on her face. He was breathing heavily, and Ginny knew that she was too, and her mind was shouting at her, but she couldn't hear it. Her lips felt bruised and her hands were still tangled in Draco's hair, and he was looking at her with shock and with unabashed lust, and she only returned his look.

"Snape," he said, blinking. She watched as reality came back to him, forcing her back into reality as well. His hands dropped from her face. "That's Snape. He said he would come back in the morning."

Ginny nodded. She had recognized the noise. This wasn't the first time she had been in the Room of Requirement when someone else entered. Without a word, both she and Draco set about straightening themselves. "Your hair," Ginny muttered, blushing slightly as she moved away from him and smoothed her hands through her hair and over her shirt.

Draco shot her an unreadable look, but he obediently smoothed down his hair.

Ginny knew they still looked flustered, and the bedding looked rumpled, but Snape wouldn't assume they had been snogging. No one would assume that.

It was insane. Ginny could hardly believe it, and she had participated in it. Merlin, had she participated in it. Closing her eyes, Ginny berated herself. She had initiated that, and she had done so without a thought because it was what she had wanted. She had wanted Draco, just as she had earlier, but this time she hadn't stopped herself. This time Ginny had given in, and now she knew. She liked Draco Malfoy.

He stood as the door swung open, and Ginny drew her knees up to her chest. They both faced Snape like a firing squad.

The Headmaster took one look between them, his face an unreadable mask, before he turned back to Ginny. He studied her more closely, and Ginny flinched before realizing that he was probably checking her for lasting damage from his curse.

That brought her back to the present, and the scene in front of her changed. She wasn't a lovesick teenager caught snogging her boyfriend by a professor. She was an Order member, recovering after being tortured by a Death Eater. And she had just kissed his Death Eater protégée.

Ginny's stomach turned as she thought it, and she couldn't help but glance at Draco. He wasn't looking at her. In fact, he was very determinedly not looking at her. His jaw was working as he chewed restlessly on the inside of his lip, and Ginny repressed a sigh. Had Snape's entrance made reality harsher for him too? Was he realizing what she had just realized? It seemed impossible to not notice.

They were screwed.

"Let's go," Snape said, no questions, no comments, no concern. He turned on his heel and left without another word.

Draco glanced at Ginny, and she waited for him to make a move. His face twisted between rivalling emotions, and she could see that he was struggling not to say anything, but his logic won out. He jerked his head after Snape, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Ginny stood up without another word, following Snape out into the hallway. In that moment she might have decided to forget about what had just happened. She might have decided to call her and Draco even. She might have decided to never see him again.

In fact, that's what she should have decided, but she knew she wasn't going to be able to.

For as soon as she started walking, he was at her back, and the way she could feel him there, like he was touching her bare skin, told Ginny that there was no going back. What she had just done, what she now felt for Draco, there was no forgetting it. It was real. It had happened. It was dangerous.

And she still wanted it.