Difficulties of Avoidance

by dead2self

A/N: After the last short chapter, now for something longer! I was too excited for the next few chapters to put off posting. I hope you enjoy!

They were shell shocked, one and all. A Ravenclaw Muggle-born was sobbing uncontrollably in the corner, and one of the clearheaded Hufflepuffs was going round the room pushing chocolate onto anyone who would take it. Ginny stood at the front with Colin, feeling utterly unprepared to address what they had all just heard.

"We have to get out!" said Dennis. "You heard Potterwatch, you've seen what they're writing in the Daily Prophet. They're going to say we've stolen our magic."

"We will get out," said Colin, all his usual cheerfulness channeled into something hard. "We still have the trunks prepared. Purebloods and half-bloods are allowed to leave – we'll go out with them."

"What if they search our trunks?" said Owen. "They'll do worse than Cruciate us for this!"

Half the room turned on him, looking murderous, but Ginny climbed onto an armchair, shooting red sparks into the air. "Calm down! The only ones taking Muggle-borns in their trunks will be the ones who volunteer." Then she fixed Owen with a hard look. "And I'll personally Obliviate anyone having second thoughts about keeping this secret."

"That's not—" he protested, and then shrank in his seat. "I'm not a traitor, it's just—what if they catch us?"

"I expect we'll be punished," said Ginny evenly. "But if we don't, our friends are going to Azkaban."

The silence was heavy until Colin said, gently, "If anyone wants out, now is the time. We'll take your coin, no shame, no questions asked. This is bigger than what you signed up for. We know you care, or you wouldn't be here, but we can't move forward with people who aren't completely sure they're willing to risk the consequences."

"We have a week and a half," said Ginny. "And there's good news: there are people outside helping us to get Portkeys. The Order wants as few students in danger as possible, and they're going to help. We just need to get everyone down to the station, out of the grounds, where the Portkeys will work without the Ministry any the wiser."

They were all quiet, looking to her with a horrible sort of desperation. She wished she could tell them it would be alright. When Harry started the D.A. they had all signed that parchment with a hope that they'd learn to defend themselves. All of Harry's experience had bolstered them, and they really had learned. But this was more than they could take on with a solid Shield Charm.

She could not be Harry for them. She was only herself. But what she did know how to do was make sure people had a good time.

Leaping from the armchair to a small table that wobbled dangerously under her weight, she conjured an enormous banner of Snape, nose exceptionally crooked and hair like he'd greased it with lard. He was dressed insilver robes, Harry's face plastered to the front, a party blower in his mouth. He shot confetti from his wand at intervals without an ounce of enthusiasm, and quite against their better judgement, some people snickered.

"We're not going to figure everything out tonight. I didn't call you all here to make a plan. I just wanted all of us to remember we're not alone. So, grab a butterbeer, and let's have a toast." She summoned a pint – Merlin, but she was good at nonverbal spells now – and raised it high. "Snape just cancelled our exams. To Headmaster Snape, the bastard!"

It would have been a complete wash if Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote, her faithful Beaters, had not summoned their own drinks and leapt atop an armchair on the other side of the room. "The right bastard!" they bellowed, and with a swing of their wands sent butterbeer shooting across the room. Everyone cried out as the pints sloshed over, showering them all with butterbeer, but then they caught the pints and climbed on the furniture, and soon everyone was laughing and toasting surely the worst Headmaster the school had ever seen.

Under the cover of the ruckus that followed, Ginny saw several people approach Colin. At least one coin passed hands, and so Ginny quietly tapped Miranda, a seventh-year Ravenclaw who she knew could handle a Memory Charm. They would wait until after the party, would leave only the happy memory of their toast. As it turned out, the others who approached Colin did so to assure him that they would take Muggle-borns in their trunks down to the station.

Ginny kept one eye on the door and the other on the clock, hoping that Luna would join them and worried that they would overshoot the curfew, and so she saw the figure peek around the corner before anyone else. She reacted on instinct, shooting off an Impediment Jinx as the person turned, the hem of their robes flashing into full view. She missed, but was already halfway to the door with Gregory on her heels. They shot into the kitchens, and found no one but the house elves elbow-deep in preparations for tomorrow's breakfast.

"Get everyone out," she told Gregory before poking her head into the corridor. She could have sworn it had been Harper, but he was nowhere to be seen. Still, they took no chances, hurrying back to their common rooms for the night.

Luna's Patronus caught her just as they were about to climb through the portrait hole, and startled Ginny. She had nearly forgotten about Tom. Making an excuse and spinning her wand about her head, she turned back to the corridor and ran for the Room of Requirement.

She was waiting in the corridor when Luna stepped from the Room. When she dropped her Disillusionment Charm, Luna did not look surprised at seeing her, but merely stepped forward and hugged Ginny around the waist.

They stayed like that for some time, and then Luna whispered, "I'm not allowed to leave, and neither is Harper. We're to oversee the Muggle-borns during the break."

Ginny staggered back, dumbstruck for the second time that night. "No," she breathed. "What are you going to do?"

"There's nothing I can do. I tried to resign again, but Professor Snape refused."

Though it hardly seemed possible, Ginny felt her hatred for Snape deepen. He was going to make Luna stand by and watch their friends get stripped of their wands and sentenced to Azkaban. "We'll save them all before he has a chance to accuse them of anything," she said, vicious.

Luna bobbed her head, but her eyes were still wide. "What will we do with Tom?" she asked.

Ginny shook her head, unsure. It might be safer to get him out of Hogwarts while they could, but something in her recoiled at the idea of leaving him in the hands of the Order when she came back for the summer session. He might be farther away from the Death Eaters, but they were the ones getting through to him. Anyone else would need to start from scratch.

The question kept her tossing and turning the whole night. Would he be safer from Voldemort in Hogwarts, with its centuries-old protections, run by Death Eaters, or in a hastily prepared safehouse? Equally important, where would they be safer from him?

The Burrow was out of the question. Her parents' sparse letters had let on that her father and their home were being watched, and she hadn't received a new letter in over a week. Fleur and Bill had a new cottage, and Great Aunt Muriel's home was enormous, but Riddle's threats against her family were not idle. For all her daydreams of summer walks and berry trifle, she had hoped they would find him a place where making good on those threats would be more difficult.

She questioned herself as well. Was she truly more equipped to reach Tom than Remus or her mum or Andromeda or any other seasoned Order member? Was it sheer hubris the thought that it had to be her, had to be Luna? Should they even make a decision on the premise that they might succeed in turning Tom to their side? It was an eventuality still so unlikely as to be laughable.

In the grey hours of the morning, still awake, Ginny rose from her bed and dressed. She drifted from the common room. All of her thoughts had led her not to a decision, but to a conclusion.

The castle was quiet. She saw only Peeves, from a distance, but he was focused on picking at the fraying threads of a tapestry. Its occupants, a herd of centaurs, covered the sound of her passing as they brayed and kicked fruitlessly against the vandalism.

Riddle was still sleeping when she slipped into the Room. It was dark, only the moonlight from the corridor illuminating a narrow sliver of the room. She froze in the doorway. This had never happened. How early was it? The door creaked as it closed, and his prone body jerked. His head emerged, bleary-eyed and already glaring.

"Lumos," she said, holding aloft her wand. He threw out a hand, as though warding her away, blinking against the light.

"You look like death, Weasley," he grunted, slurred with sleep.

"Right back at you, Riddle," she said.

He struggled to sit up, slouching over the edge of the bed. "What hour is it?"

"I have no idea," Ginny said with a note of realization.

He noted her sourly, and scrubbed at his eyes. "You don't even have food." The expression slowly twisted to curiosity. "Does Lovegood know you are here?"

Oh, Luna, she thought, and felt a twinge of conscience. She should not have come without talking with Luna first, but the door was already closed. "She'll know when she sees the Patronus, I suppose."

"What's happened?"

She did not answer, but slid down to rest on the floor, the door against her back. He waited as she studied him, coming to a decision. "I couldn't sleep," she said at last.

Groaning, he stifled a yawn. "I don't see why that must involve me."

"I couldn't sleep because of you. Maybe I thought I could come and see you and it would all come to me, what I should do with you."

"I thought it was out of your hands."

She laughed, which only made her realize that she was dangerously close to crying. She had not stopped since dinner, had not fully swallowed the bitter pill that Snape would not let them go without a fight. "You're clever, Tom. I wish you would help me for real."

The lighting in the room had lifted slightly, as though waking up with them. It was soft and gray, and she could only barely make out Riddle's features. She thought he smiled. "If you wish to join me, I imagine a Pureblood witch with intelligence on my enemies would not be turned away."

She shook her head, matching his tone. "Can't do. I'm planning a whole sleeve to match the Hungarian Horntail Harry's got across his chest, there just won't be space for the Dark Mark."

He did smile then, thin but there. Tom sat for a moment on the edge of his bed, and then said, "How am I to help if you're lying to me again?"

She wished she could tell him the truth, She would never make a comrade of Riddle if she did not, in some small way or another, begin to invite him into alliance. But there was a hunger behind his voice that stilled her. Whatever small hope she felt, whatever pallid comradery she had built with Tom, he had a plan, calculated and sure and possibly thrown off by this new development. She sat straighter and smirked.

"I'm always lying to you, Tom."

"And do you ever tire of it?"

She nodded, an easy admittance, but that was not all. "The only thing I could think after tossing and turning all night was 'Why am I losing sleep over Tom Riddle?' Honestly I had to come see you to remind myself why I'm even going to the trouble." She looked about the Room, at his books, at the pine boughs hanging high above their heads, at his terrible wooden chair still painted in Gryffindor colors. "We could still leave you here, Tom. No one knows about you, but us."

He climbed from the bed, dragging his sleeping shirt up over his head and dropping it to the floor. "No, you could not," he said, fixing her with a knowing look.

"No, not anymore," she conceded. His jumper was waiting for him, folded on the nightstand next to his bed, and he pulled it over his head as Ginny wondered if the house elves did his housework as in the rest of Hogwarts. "I know you too well now."

He scowled, and turned to straighten his bed. "A weakness."

"Oh, yes," she said, fully in agreement. "But one that's worth it."

"No weakness is worth it."

"Don't be simple, Tom. You're more clever than that." He shot her an incredulous look, but she maintained her sure gaze. "You aren't a specter of my past anymore, you're a person. You can still hurt me, but you no longer haunt me. So, yes, maybe caring is a weakness, but what I've gained is far more valuable.

"How gratifying to hear, Ginevra. Thank you for waking me for this revelation."

She bit back a smile. The words were acerbic as usual, and he was acting at being fully awake, but there was a near whine in his voice. Tom Riddle was not a morning person.

"It's not a revelation, Tom. I care about a great many people far more than I care about you. If it comes down to it, I won't choose you. Not unless you give me a reason to."

Sighing, Riddle scrubbed a hand through his hair and crossed to stand before her. "Very well, Weasley. It's far too early to have the same tired conversations with you. Something's happened. Lovegood came in here yesterday looking white as a sheet, and now you're here at the break of dawn with some improvements on making threats. I want to know what has changed."

She raised one eyebrow and he shrugged.

"I'm going to take it from one of you the first chance I get. Shall I start with Lovegood tonight, or would you like to get something useful out of it? Your first Legilimency lesson?"

"Luna's practicing Occlumency too," she said, still not standing. He crossed his arms and maintained his gaze. She pursed her lips and then asked, "What do you mean a Legilimency lesson?"

"The best way to branch into Legilimency, the way it is most frequently taught, is not to blunder blindly forward using the spell," he answered. "It is to familiarize yourself with its intricacies by rebounding it, cast by a proficient wizard."

Keeping her lips pursed seemed as good a response as any to this. It was uncharacteristically altruistic, a free lesson, which meant that it was not goodwill at all.

"Tom, if you wanted to show me something awful, you missed your chance."

"You're improving in Occlumency. Are you truly not curious?" When she simply freed her wand and leveled it at him, he shrugged again. "No matter. If you wish to learn, the spell to rebound will be Protego."

He struck, lightning fast, before he had hardly bit off the last syllable.

Occlumency was not second nature, but it was instinct now. Her defense buckled, but not where he wanted. A memory began to swim before her eyes, Burke stalking her in the corridor. She remembered the Occlumency text she had copied, nudged the memories towards what Tom expected to see, the lies she could admit. She showed her rage at reading the letter reporting that Snape had cut off her brother's ear, waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night after he had wrestled her to the ground, the horrible feeling of being powerless—and he swam in her gaze as she fought the spell like riding a wave.

"Protego!" she thundered, and the flow of the wave reversed, pulling her into him like a riptide. She saw the first time he stepped into the Slytherin Common Room, small and waiflike, his robes nearly swallowing him whole, brimming with a sureness that he was in the right place for the first time in his life—

A sensation like being shoved in the chest hit her, and Riddle was before her once more, sprawled back on the floor, but looking satisfied. "Exactly. What did you feel?"

"What?" she asked, disoriented. "Small?"

"No, Weasley," he scoffed, "the sensation of countering the spell."

Shaking her head out, Ginny scrambled to her feet, feeling the door solid behind her. She held her wand out between them, somewhere between panic and awe. He had been so young. "Like I was falling into your memories."

"Precisely, the spell should never be used as a blunt weapon." His eyes danced. "However much it may enable blackmail. Rather, use it as a catalyst to tip your mind over, pour yourself out. The spell creates the gravity that pulls you to your target's mind."

He pushed himself forward to sitting, but she levelled her wand at him. "Enough, not again."

Waving the threat off, he returned to his bed. "We'll pick up when you come back. I still need to eat."

"Don't give me an excuse to start cursing you again; I'm in the mood."

Luna's Patronus freed her quickly, little surprise. Luna was a morning person. About to leave, she realized she had never before had the occasion to ask him what he'd like to eat. Turning back, she asked, "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I see little reason to tell you when you have occasion to practice taking it."

Merlin, but he was insufferable. "Kippers then," she shot back, just to remind him that she did not need to rustle through his mind to know him. Riddle left them half-eaten every time she brought them.

It was perhaps the earliest she had ever arrived to breakfast, and all Ginny wanted to do was fall asleep next to her plate. But Luna was hovering at the entrance when she arrived, her hair hastily knotted on her head, held in place by her wand.

"Why were you with Tom so early?" she asked, her voice pitched higher than usual.

"I thought seeing him would help me make a decision," Ginny said. "I even thought about telling him everything to see what he'd say."

Luna blanched, and Ginny quickly waved her hands to assuage her. "I didn't, obviously, but he knows something's changed. How confident are you in your Occlumency?

Shooting a glance at the sparse staff table – only Flitwick was present, quietly enjoying scrambled eggs and a crossword in the Daily Prophet – Luna answered, "I've gotten quite a bit of practice."

"Tom's planning to ambush us every time we give him food until he find out what's going on. "

"Oh, dear," Luna breathed, and they moved into the Great Hall to avoid anyone overhearing them in the entry.

"I think we ought to move him when we can do it together," said Ginny, sitting at the Gryffindor table. As none of the other professors were present, Luna joined her. "There's too much that could go wrong if I try to do it alone, and a week is not a lot of time to prepare a suitable place for him, somewhere he can be contained. I care about Tom, about keeping him away from You-Know-Who, but I care about my family more."

Grim-faced, Luna inclined her head. "I suppose none of our options are without some risk. Will you go home, then? Talk to the You-Know-What?"

"That I haven't decided. I don't know if I should leave you here alone."

Luna frowned in thought, but then Snape swept into the hall. Luna shot from the bench as though electrified, fleeing to the Ravenclaw table, and Ginny turned her attention immediately to her meal. Luckily, Flitwick took some attention off them, crying out as his crossword sprayed him with purple goo for an incorrect guess.

Tom made good on his promise after breakfast, attempting Legilimency before she'd taken three steps into the room. When she stunned him, she was treated to a fractured memory of Tom studying the trophy case, searching for the name Riddle among Hogwarts' greats.

He carried on like that for the next few days. Sometimes he pounced immediately when they entered the Room, sometimes he waited until he was mid-way through his food. They were reduced to hexing him again, and he was so fast that sometimes even that did not stop him. She suspected he would have made short work of them, except that he maintained his insistence on lecturing her on Legilimency, often going off on tangents about magical theory once she'd rebuffed him rather than trying again. She found herself rebounding the spell more often than redirecting him with Occlumency, and was now privy to a handful of Riddle's memories.

For all her fear and curiosity of what she'd find in Riddle's head, everything he showed her was rather benign, if not outright boring. He was nearly always alone in the memories. She saw him buried under genealogies in the library seeking his true heritage, writing notes on Arithmancy already in his second year, charming his teachers (a truly slimy experience with the duplicity in his head as he did so). He was generally reserved, quiet even, but in his thoughts he was as haughty and self-sure at eleven as he was now. The only thing remotely interesting that he showed her was that when he'd just entered Hogwarts, his vocabulary was decidedly less refined.

What puzzled her was why. He clearly had memories that would unbalance her, but she had seen more violence on the Quidditch pitch than anything he showed her. Her only guess was that he wanted to bore her.

Meanwhile they continued preparing the Muggle-borns, organizing who would take the trunks. A clever Hufflepuff had managed to enlarge his trunk to fit up to three people, and now they were deciding if they should risk doing more. They had to be confident in their spells; there was a reason tampering with the trunks was discouraged, and no one wanted to risk getting lost in a void.

The Portkeys were delayed, as the Order needed to prepare more locations. The Longbottom estate was large, but was too high-profile to send half the school there, even if they only passed through. They did get word that Aberforth agreed to bring the Portkeys when they were ready, and McGonagall would fetch them as soon as they arrived.

By the weekend, they were exhausted. Ginny was vaguely impressed that their Occlumency had held up. She was finding this advanced technique more akin to keeping a straight face while lying, like getting her mother's attention while the twins smuggled a bag of garden gnomes up the stairs. It agreed with her, but it was hard to appreciate when her head never stopped pounding. And even she was running out of admittable lies to distract him with.

"I nearly showed him the Carrows," said Luna, coming out of the room on Sunday. Ginny was waiting under her trusty Disillusionment Charm. They accompanied each other as often as they could now, Tom's new threat out-weighing even that of the Death Eaters. Luna spun her wand atop her head and disappeared as well. It was an odd feeling, talking to shimmering air.

"I'm not sure how much more I can take, between him and Snape."

Ginny groaned, shooting a glare in Tom's general direction. "I am going to kill him. This is getting ridiculous." She nearly missed that Luna's shimmer started down the corridor, and hurried to catch up. "McGonagall told me off for coming to her office again. No new developments in any case."

Luna remained silent for a few paces, and then said, "Perhaps we should divide and conquer. I can move around the school more easily than you, I have more reason to talk with students of different houses, and with McGonagall. Do you feel that you can take on Tom alone?"

Considering it, Ginny raised an eyebrow even though Luna could not see it. "Why do I feel like I'd be getting the worse end of the bargain?"

"Because you certainly would be."

She laughed, but then they needed to be quiet because they were crossing into the Grand Staircase and other students were climbing towards them. They hurried into an empty corridor to remove the charms and resume their discussion.

"I'm stretching thin, Ginny," said Luna her wide eyes downcast. "I'm always thinking about what Snape will do. I'm thinking of everything I could possibly do to stop…" She blinked and then looked up. "I feel like it's all bouncing about in my head, and my thoughts will be like sugar-radishes to be plucked if I keep on like this"

Ginny seized her hand and squeezed it tight. "I could take him meals twice a day for the week. It's not like we have anything to study for." Indeed, the only agreeable part of their week was the lack of homework. Without N.E.W.T.s to prepare for, even their professors seemed a bit stymied as how to continue. Professor Babbling had all but given them a free period on Friday.

"Are you sure?"

"Snape is the last thing we want him to find out."

"Will you read to him? I've left some books, I do think it helps him."

"Anything to get me out of Legilimency lessons," she promised, but not with high hopes.

The next morning she got a reply from her mother. It seemed Snape's announcement had finally unblocked her parents' mail. Something in her chest unclenched when Errol upended a pitcher of orange juice on his landing, and she ran her wand over the parchment to dry it before opening it.

The letter said everything and nothing. The words were simple, surprise at the turn of events at Hogwarts, rambling a bit about affairs in the village, and, naturally, asking Ginny to take the break and come to see them. In her tone, Ginny could read both her Mum's fear and blazing strength. Ginny knew that Aberforth had taken her Charmed letter to give to Bill, though her Mum made no mention of it. But she did remark on how lovely Auntie Muriel's roses were coming along, and that Fleur was determined to replicate them at their new cottage, which made Ginny think that the message might have made it.

Ginny felt brittle as she folded the letter and tucked it in her robes. She wanted more than anything to go home, to sleep in her bed, to know what was happening in the wider world. She wanted to laugh with Fred and George, tell them all about her detentions with Snape, she wanted to talk freely about the Order. Merlin, she wanted to hug Bill tight and sob into his shoulder for his ruined wedding, and see his new home. But she had not yet made a decision.

"Enough coddling," said Tom when she arrived with his breakfast. "It's time to move beyond relying on protective spells."

She conjured a plate and a fork for the food she pulled from her bag. "Blimey, Riddle, can we not have a break? N.E.W.T.s are coming up, and I'm exhausted."

He snatched one piece of bacon off the plate as she set it down, focused. "This time concentrate on switching the flow back into my mind. Do not think about it, as you're bound to do, as pushing or shielding or whatever nonsense you come up with. Shift the polarity of the connection I've already created."

"I'm serious. I'm already up to my ears in studying without watching you do it too."

He answered by striking out at her mind, seizing upon her memory of following Burke into Defense Against the Dark Arts, boiling with rage as she watched the back of his head. She had only barely avoided showing him the scene in the entrance hall, but she wouldn't get her wand up fast enough before Carrow came in and got them in lines.

Ginny panicked, and reacted on instinct. And Tom and his magical theory could eat her hat, because when she sliced into his mind, it felt every bit as though she had coiled her whole mind, taken a metaphorical running start, and shoved.

Finally, he was not studying or in the library, nor charming a professor with his intelligence. They were outside, and she saw the first time he rode a broomstick. He was the first to launch into the air and, in true Riddle fashion, enjoyed none of it. He'd sat on top of the world, wind pulling through his hair on an uncommonly beautiful autumn day, and merely adjusted his grip on the wood, thinking, why must one use a broom?

Tom did not let her linger, and they found themselves both back in the Room.

"Merlin, you are the worst," she groaned. Something about this memory offended her to her core.

"It would be better without a broomstick," he said. She stood over him open-mouthed as he tucked into his breakfast.

"Are you mental?" she cried. "What about Quidditch? Half the fun is how you use the broom."

"I hardly think a sport should factor into whether or not broomsticks are a superior form of flight," he answered, casually gutting her deepest passion.

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said," she shot back. He raised an eyebrow at her sudden ferocity, but she looked down her nose at him. "You've clearly never played."

He rolled his eyes. "In my early years, I got pulled into pick-up games. Didn't care for it."

Her eyes widened and a small fire lit inside her. She had acquired a new target for these horrible Legilimency lessons. She would bloody well watch Tom get wiped across the Quidditch pitch by his friends if it killed her.

"It doesn't matter if you like it or not," she argued. "The enjoyment it brings to the general populace should absolutely factor into your parameters."

"The general populace are imbeciles." He narrowed his eyes. "You pushed, Weasley. I told you to reverse the flow."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"It won't work reliably unless you do it right."

"Why do you care?" she snapped, still riled from his slight on Quidditch.

"Why don't you?" he answered, mouth souring. "There's not a book better than the instruction I'm giving you."

"Do you want me to thank you for attacking me every time I come in here?

Riddle let his fork fall to his plate with a clatter. "I am being generous."

Her protest stilled as she noticed his tone. Surely she had misheard him, but she had far too many siblings not to recognize it. It could only be described as resentful.

Eyes narrowed on him, Ginny's mind worked in overtime. She had thought it uncharacteristic of him to offer, and it was, but Tom did not really need to supplement his every attempt to penetrate her mind with a short lesson in Legilimency. Was he, for whatever unfathomable reason, truly doing her a favor?

It was not goodwill, she was sure. There had to be an ulterior motive. But it was true that he did not owe her anything. And he had rarely offered anything to her, only given when asked. Legilimency was a rare and dangerous art. Teaching her could, to the liberal-minded, be called generosity.

Bitterly, she swallowed her pride, pushed down her certainty that she was a fool to say it, and spoke to the miniscule and probably imaginary fragment of Tom that might be capable of charity. "I guess you are. Thanks, I suppose."

Then, because she knew the he was not being charitable, she added, "Terrible first attempt at kindness, but I guess you can't be good at everything."

"This is not kindness."

She shrugged. "If it isn't kindness, then it isn't generosity. It's manipulation."

"The two are not mutually exclusive."

She snorted, but when it seemed he was serious, she crossed her arms. "Alright then, so why are you teaching me Legilimency? Not the manipulation part, the generous part."

He pushed the plate away, leaning back in the Gryffindor-colored chair. "Perhaps I've decided promise should be encouraged."

She looked him in the eye and smirked. She did not need Legilimency to use Tom's trick against him. "Lie."

That night she managed to block him out of her head entirely, but he clearly suspected her excuse that Luna was in a prefect's meeting. She made it back to Gryffindor tower in time to tune into a new broadcast of Potterwatch, though they mostly expounded on the extended term at Hogwarts. The next password would be Albus.

It was the next day when she finally failed.

It was probably her mum's letter that did it. It was burning a hole in the pocket of her robes, for she still had not replied, had not decided. And that meant she was also feeling guilty, because her mother would imagine the worst when Errol did not return within the day, especially now that they knew Ginny was up to Order business. The fact that she felt guilty meant that she was frustrated, but the letter also left her happy, filled up, and proud.

Ginny was practicing Occlumency, she truly was, but there were too many disparate emotions tied to one piece of parchment, and that morning Tom lashed out the moment she stepped foot in the room. She tried to redirect him like she had every other day, but this time she only shunted him sideways to the memory of the whole school waiting in the Great Hall, none of the staff at the Head Table and Luna missing.

Horrified, she slashed a Shield Charm at him, but he seemed to sense that this was important, for she had only a brief flash of Slughorn rhapsodizing over a perfectly brewed Amortentia, strangely odorless to Tom. There was no lecture this time; he struck back into her head immediately. The memory advanced a breath and he felt her fear before she poured her all her months' worth of Occlumency practice into expelling him.

She fell away from him, heart and ears pounding, swiping a Stunning spell that he dodged. Desperate, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block him out, and blindly shot off another Stunner. Then, even with her eyes closed, she felt him slice into her mind again.

In that split-second, she made a choice, a dangerous choice, but better than the alternative of showing him the scene in the Great Hall. She showed him her mother's letter.

She was alone in the dormitory with the curtains drawn around her bed, reading the letter again, as though it would make the decision for her. She let him have every emotion in that moment, her indecision, her sharp homesickness, every ounce of love for her brothers, her mother, her father, even Fleur. Resentment at Tom for complicating this choice. Fear that he'd find out too soon, when they finally had a wrench to throw in his certain and terrifying plan, the Term extended, their N.E.W.T.s cancelled.

When he'd seen just enough, she heaved him out of her mind with her last shred of strength. She followed with another panicked spell, hitting him easily now that he was closer, tying him in cords. She let her horror show through her liar's mask, and moved to Stun him, but Riddle spoke first.

"This is what you wished to hide from me? Oh, Ginevra, as though something so trivial could save you."

Bound in cords, his eyes danced. Victorious.