The floor squeaked above Ginny and then, the sound too was Silenced as Voldemort settled into the guest bedroom. Or did he? A hard, hot zap paralyzed Ginny and a raging beat pulsed in her chest and head. What if it was too late and Riddle was upstairs, wand pressed against her mum's neck, brains splattered on her cotton paisley sheets?

Ginny reached for her wand in her cardigan—damp palms against the wood—and crept up the stairs. She knew which steps to avoid to cause any noise. When she had reached the landing, she found the door to her parents' bedroom. Wand aimed at the sliver of light from the door crack, she turned the knob, fearing mum and dad's bodies were splayed on the floor and their eyes open and blank. But her parents were still snoring soundly.

"Ginny?" mumbled mum, rolling over. "E'rything alright?"

"Just on the Floo with an old friend," Ginny said.

" 'tis well past midnight, off to bed with ya."

"Sorry." Ginny exhaled, shutting the door and locking it with a Colloportus. She crept up one more flight of stairs to where the kids' bedrooms were— wand at the ready—listening for the quietest room of them all. When she finally found the guest bedroom, she knocked and pushed the door open.

There in the center of the room Riddle stood calm and still, as though it were every day he inhabited the body of another and made his appearance. The modern glasses, a head of tousled black hair and the faintest scar mask hidden under his bangs—Harry, no Riddle, no Harry.

There were no pleasantries, no empty small talk or witty banter to be said that would make the scene seem cliche and overplayed like one of Arthur Weasley's Muggle spy books. There were just eyes that stared at each other with equal warning and provocation —one wand pointed at Riddle's throat. His mouth curved into a gloating grin.

Ginny's voice quivered. "You."

He raised a brow.

It's Voldemort. It's the thing that killed your brother, that killed Cedric Diggory, that tortured Neville's parents, that stole Harry's body. Her resolve wavered. If I kill him, what does that make me?

His request was simple. "Do it and find out."

"Avada Kedavra!"

The unsteady green zap of magic shot from her wand, fizzling off against his skin.

Ginny aimed again, and again, the magic wore off leaving not a scratch on the wizard's body.

"I don't understand." She groaned. "That's not how it was supposed to work."

"My, Ginny…this Unforgivable Curse can only work from hatred of the subject," Harry-Riddle smiled. "That little ginger in the girl's lavatory with the journal had once considered me her friend. Lay down your weapon."

Ginny paled. "So you Obliviate me? kill me?"

"I wouldnt do you the disservice." Harry-Riddle sat down on the bed gesturing to the armchair. "Sit."

"You are Voldemort. You are a murderer," Ginny hissed, wand shaking in her hand as she drew closer. "I couldn't miss….miss your friendship. It was all a lie!"

But she did miss being friends—friends with the boy in the round glasses and tousled hair that would glance at her shyly at the start of the school year, share his breakfast with her and her brothers and play Quidditch with her in the Burrow's fields.

That boy was gone, even though the resemblance between Voldemort and Harry was so uncanny, Ginny reminded herself that this was not her old friend. In its place, a damned good dupe that fooled her not once, not twice, but at least a dozen times.

Or maybe she did miss Tom Riddle. He was once just a voice in a book that she had spilled her sacred girlish troubles to, and he had understood what she was going through. In the end, her weakness in killing the Dark Lord was her own fault. Had she been less sentimental…

"Don't be so stubborn," Riddle continued. "If I wanted you dead, believe me, I would have had you sinking to your knees."

So Ginny sat. In the worst of circumstances she couldn't have imagined failure, worse yet, failure at her own fault.

"How long?" she asked, hands tucked into her underarms.

Riddle settled on the bed, mattress creaking under his weight as he leaned back for comfort. "Your brother Percy had taken quite the liking to me. Said I was organized and concise and to the point. One of the best Aurors he'd ever seen on the Ministry team. But of course, poor Ron, he couldn't handle the famous Chosen Boy stealing his spotlight in the workforce."

"How long?"

"Time is a relative concept."

Ginny frowned, her voice gritty like boots on gravel. "Where's Harry?"

"I am Harry."

"The real Harry."

"The real Harry." Riddle tapped his fingers lightly against his leg. "Over the past few years, Harry's become one of the best Aurors in all of Wizarding history. He has amassed stocks with various companies, allowing him to purchase a few properties to rent out across the UK. He's spent countless hours studying and training in the best legal and illegal magical techniques from around the world, having gained access to the European as well as the American and Russian Ministry libraries. Harry has perfected the Three Unforgivable Curses as well as worked on a variety of new techniques that he's mentored his colleagues in."

Riddle shrugged his shoulders in a laissez-faire sort of manner. "Of course, all that is irrelevant. You want the real Harry. The boy wizard who spent not a single hour independently honing his skills without the encouragement of his dear friend Hermione. A child who was bestowed with great influence yet hid it away from the world because he was more interested in solving silly little mysteries with Ron for the headmaster Dumbledore. Whose only goal was-" his face sank in a longing sort of manner, as though the following item was unavailable to him, "-finding family."

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"Family comes and goes."

"You could have taken anyone's body," Ginny probed.

"Potter has many useful resources." Riddle scanned her from the ground up, taking in the entirety of her figure, a soft smile grazing his lips. "So many things he loves."

"What resources did you hope-" she whispered, searching his expression as he stared at her from across the bed. A twitch of the brow, a bob of Adam's apple. Ginny paled.

"You couldn't possibly-" Ginny looked again. "No. Did you actually think I could ever love you?"

Riddle spoke slowly. "Love. Such a bastardized word in our time."

"From your mouth, it sounds like a curse," Ginny said.

"There are three Unforgivable Curses known to wizards: Crucio —controls pain, Imperius — controls the body and mind, Avada Kedavra— controls one's time on Earth. But not one controls love."

"Love wasn't made for your control."

"No," Riddle said. "Because it was never for me."

"Because you," Ginny chose her words carefully, "acted like a monster. People don't love monsters."

"And who decides that?" Riddle hissed. "You are so…lucky. Born into a happy family, so much love to go around to each and every one of your siblings. What would I have given Fate to present with such a boon."

"I know your family story."

"So you must know that I was not at fault for having been born to parents who couldn't care less for my well-being."

"Wasn't your fault. But the choices you've made in life led you to where you are now. Harry's parents were murdered. Murdered by you. He was raised by cruel Muggle relatives and yet, Harry didn't let that lead him down the path of darkness."

"Pity," Riddle said. "He would have made a legendary Slytherin."

"Not everything is about vile ambition."

"Everything is about power," Riddle said assuredly. "Harry cruised through life on reputation alone. The gods, damned as they are, had given me stone and a chisel, so I carved out my image to their likeness. Voldemort. Strong, ruthless, undefeated. Unfortunately, never truly loved. But I'll carve that out too."

"You can't force love. Love is given freely."

"You didn't love Harry. Wasn't he so perfect for you?"

"I love Harry."

"Just not in the way you love Severus," Riddle said.

"Just not in the way I love Severus," Ginny agreed.

"There's the truth. Isn't that what you want? Love. Here I am, baring my soul to you. Not asking for forgiveness or understanding, simply the chance to be the object of your affection," Riddle said softly. "I was always there for you. Watching. I'll always be there. Neither Severus nor Harry could ever give you the love you desire because they do not understand what a great gift it is."

"But I can never learn to love you. Even if you take over Harry's body forever. Even if you take over the body of every wizard I'll ever love in my lifetime, I'll never love you."

"Because?" Riddle beckoned. "Ah. Because you don't want the truth. You want a comfortable little lie you can handle."

And Ginny's traitorous mind agreed in private, but her face contorted into a disagreeable scowl.

Riddle spoke, "There's no need to raise a fuss about the old Harry. What are bodies but vessels that hold personalities? Soon, with enough persistence and care on my end, you'll learn to see the truth through my eyes. I am very dedicated to becoming your ally once more."

Ginny hummed. "And if I don't side with you."

"That would be foolish on your end. I am the smartest option. But of course, I cannot force you. If you want to leave—leave."

Ginny looked at Riddle. She looked at the door. "I'm staying."

Riddle grinned. "Spending the night in Harry's room. What will mum think?"

"She'll think as she does. That you and I slept together, because you are Harry." Ginny settled her back against the armchair. "I'm staying right here. Don't think about getting out of the room and wandering the house."

"I won't Ginny."

As Riddle changed his clothes into pajamas and tucked himself under the covers, Ginny silently prayed for Marcia's message to have been delivered to Severus and Lucius and Percy.

"You're sure you don't want to switch?" he whispered.

Ginny shook her head.

"Ah, right. You don't want to fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow," Riddle gloated, tucking himself in.

"Sleep well," Ginny hissed as she turned out the light.

Riddle's eyes flashed slightly red before they shut. "No rest for the wicked."

Ginny smirked. "Ha. Ha." As her brother Fred once said, "if you don't laugh, you cry."

A/N: Gotta say, I was really reconsidering whose side I was on while writing this chapter. But don't worry, this isnt *that* kind of story. Enjoy!