Difficulties of Avoidance
by dead2self
A/N: Man, this is another chapter that's had a portion of it written for many years, but it's also where I had reached a bit of a dead end in my planning for this story. That said, I'm super pleased with the direction that emerged as I worked on it! Enjoy!
Tom stayed true to his word, and the weight of his attention was heavier than she had imagined possible. She did not get another chance at escape or at stealing food, because he did not give it to her. He kept her Stunned and unconscious, giving her only enough waking moments for the Room to register her need. She used that time wisely, begging the Room to keep Tom prisoner, but each time she woke, her thirst worsened. Tom was right; it was only a matter of time before her physical need outweighed the other.
When Tom finally slipped up, Ginny was too weak to seize the moment. She woke while he was sleeping, and it took her a moment to realize she was awake. Once she lit on to the idea that she could make a move against Tom, she tried to sit up and nearly fainted on her own accord. Her limbs felt so heavy that crawling to Tom's bed was a massive undertaking. She whispered Voldemort's name just in case Tom had replaced the protection spell, and when she reached a trembling hand forward, she was not repelled. Instead, it felt as though she was pushing her hand through gelatin. Perhaps it was not a protection spell, and thus was not subject to the nulling effect of the Taboo, but it was effective enough in her weakened state. She could not get to the food.
She retreated to the fireplace as she clung to consciousness, black with rage. Watching his back move up and down slowly as he slept, what she wanted, what she needed more than anything, was for Riddle to be as weak as she felt. So that he would stop cursing her, so that he would know what it felt like, so that he would lose. She was no longer begging the Room for anything. It was not a conscious thought or a wish; she merely felt the need to the very depths of her being.
When it happened, she was slumped half-asleep. She did not know if it was the Room's work or a burst of accidental magic, something she had not done since her third year. Whatever the cause, a sudden column of fire burst from the fireplace beside her. Too weak to make a sound, she flinched back from the heat as the flames enveloped the stockpile of food under Riddle's bed, blue and twisting. Eyes watering and watching entranced, Ginny wondered if it was real or a dream brought on by thirst, at least until Riddle yelled and tumbled from his bed.
In a heartbeat he had the fire subdued, but it was too late. The remains of all their food and his bedframe were smoldering, though Riddle himself was untouched. Still for but a moment, he rounded on her.
"What have you done?"
Ginny blinked up at him, trying to string together what had happened. Her mouth felt like cotton, but suddenly she realized what it meant, and she laughed.
"We'll both die now," she croaked.
She knew he was going to curse her, but she could not stop laughing. Because it was laughable. After all the effort she had put into stealing herself against his caustic, deplorable personality, tempting herself to believe he might be lured if not changed, she would kill him. Months ago she had argued to starve him, and now she had done it by accident.
Soon he would be on the floor too, just as bad off as her, and whatever he did to her now would not matter.
But Tom did not curse her. He turned instead to the wreckage, blackening his hands as he dug through the remains for anything salvageable. Finally, finding nothing, not even their flasks of water, he sat back on his heels and stared up at the wall. She stilled with him, anticipating the anger that was surely bubbling just under the surface.
"Well played, Weasley," he said quietly. "But it will backfire. You won't last."
Licking her lips, she said, "What in the world gives you that impression of me?"
"You'll fear death. You'll create a way out."
"If I let you out, you'll kill me anyways."
"Your survival instinct will drive you to it. I need only wait."
He was right, but it took far longer than he anticipated.
Ginny would never be able to explain after how she had done it. Her memories of those days were scarce, snatches of fever dreams, physical pain, and fear. Perhaps it was the sheer force of her love channeled into unmatched stubbornness. Perhaps it was seven years of nightmares transfigured into merciless spite. Perhaps it was because every time that she woke, she saw him just a bit more haggard, a bit more crazed, and it reminded her of what she truly wanted. However she did it, it did not last forever, but it did last long enough.
While he still had the energy, Riddle attacked the walls, or attacked her, but quickly he started to fade with her. They stopped speaking and retreated into themselves, but sometimes when she woke, she caught him staring. At some point, he cast a series of spells on her that must not have been curses, because he did the same to himself. After that he spent far more time in bed, and Ginny's thoughts became less and less coherent. She woke once to a roar, only to find Tom bent over his balled fists. His shirtsleeves were rolled back and his hair curtained his face. His shoulders shook, either laughing or crying or a hallucination.
Riddle was curled on his bed when her will gave out. In truth, Ginny forgot about him. A horrible cramp wracked her body and she realized that she was going to die. It was the most miserable thing she had ever felt, that realization, worse even than the Cruciatus Curse. Her body was shutting down, on a slow yet steady crawl to the grave. Tom was on the path with her, but in that moment he was the furthest thing from her mind.
She needed water.
The cramp released its hold on her, and she laid prone and relieved for some minutes before realizing that there was a change in the Room. There was a portrait on the wall that had not been there before, a large oil painting of a blonde girl who stared down at her with wide eyes. Ginny watched as, oddly, she turned to leave the frame not out the sides, but by walking into the background until she was gone. Ginny let her head clunk back to the floor.
A loud clatter some time later brought her attention back to the portrait. The girl had returned. There on the floor beneath the portrait were two plates heaping with food, fat rolls, roasted potatoes, and generous slices of roast beef. The green beans looked suspect, but to Ginny it was a feast. And best of all: water. Crawling across the floor, she drank greedily and began shoveling food into her mouth as though her life depended on it. She had no doubt that if Tom woke up he would take it all for himself.
After her stomach started to hurt, she slowed. Finally all that was left of her plate was a strawberry tart. This she ate slowly, savoring the taste of summer even if she had no hope of surviving to see it again.
"Where did you get that?"
Riddle's voice was cracked and brittle. Jumping, she spun and put her back to the wall. She shoved the remainder of the tart into her mouth and slid his plate towards him with her foot.
"Dunno," she said around her mouthful, her voice the same. "But there's yours."
Much like her, Tom descended on the food with a vengeance. For now, it seemed, his attention would not be on her. As the food settled in her stomach she felt renewed. For the first time in days she could feel her mind gaining purchase. So well, in fact, that she suspected the food had been enchanted, or mixed with some sort of potion to revive them more quickly. Standing, she peered at the portrait. The girl blinked back at her, but otherwise stood still. It was a bit unnerving for a portrait to stand that still.
"I can't believe it," she breathed. "I have been fetching you food all year and there was a way to get food in the Room just by needing it?"
Riddle noted her over his tart, which he was eating with relish. "That's not possible. Food is one of the exceptions to—"
"I'm familiar, thank you. Tell me, are those imaginary strawberries you're eating?"
"Whatever happened, the Room did not produce it." He leapt to his feet, studying the painting with intensity. "It had to have been brought in from the outside. Which means there must be another way to get out. When did this get here?"
Ginny pressed her lips together, and he seized her arm.
"Weasley," he said, warningly, but she dutifully averted her eyes. Snarling, he turned on the girl in the portrait. "Who are you? Let us out!"
Soundlessly, the girl jumped and then fled down the tunnel that was painted behind her. Riddle was taken by surprise, but drew the wand and shot an Impediment Jinx at the painting. He was too slow; she had already disappeared to a small white dot in the distance.
"If she comes back, I'm talking to her," said Ginny, returning warily to her hammock and laying back. It felt so good to have food in her stomach. She yelped when Tom hit her with a Stinging Hex.
"Bugger off," she groaned, rolling over.
There was a series of bangs and shortly she turned back to watch Riddle trying every means known to him to remove the painting from the wall. None worked and finally he stepped back. His attention turned on her.
"You are a fool."
He was talking about giving him food, she realized, and frankly she agreed with him. Had she given it half a moment's thought, she could have eaten his plate as well and left him weakened. She turned her attention back to the ceiling and answered glibly to ignore the crushing feeling in her chest. "Without question. Should have snagged your tart."
"I can hardly believe it. You still seek to turn me against myself."
That shocked a bark of laughter out of her, and she flung a rude gesture in the air. "I think the ship's sailed on that fever dream, don't you?"
"Indeed. Do not delude yourself."
"No need for concern." She dropped her hand. "I suppose we're not dying then."
Riddle glanced at her, his brow beetled. "I was never going to die."
Merlin, she would not even get his gratitude for not finishing him off. "You don't know that. How long has it been?"
"About a week since you gave me your wand."
It was longer than she should have survived without water, and the question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. "You kept me alive with magic?"
Tom nodded, curt, and the silence settled as Ginny felt something in her shift. They had both just faced down an enemy much bigger than themselves, brushed up against mortality and survived. Because of what the other had done. It hung over both their heads, strange and uncomfortable. She did not want this shared experience with Tom Riddle, and yet there it was.
"Slowing down your bodily processes would not have worked much longer," said Tom finally. "I do not advise attempting such a stunt again."
Stunt. Ginny smiled grimly, for this was the other change in the air. There was a reason he had attacked the frame and not her. She now had complete control over their food supply, and Tom knew it. He still had the wand, but this was another thread of power in her hands.
Unfortunately, it was not the sort of weapon she could wield without cost. Feeling death's clammy hand clenching around her middle was not something she could easily forgot, and yet…
Ginny sat up in the hammock. "I never want to go through that again," she admitted, her voice smaller than she meant it to be. She swallowed, and added, "But I will, if you make me."
The silence drew between them again. Riddle stared at her, impenetrable, until he finally answered, "I know you will." It was the closest thing to respect that he had ever shown to her, and for a moment she was speechless. "As I said, you are a fool."
Ginny barked out a sharp laugh despite herself. She should have known better. "So, what are we going to do now?" Riddle raised a brow at her and she matched him, swinging her legs around to dangle over the floor. "Don't act like nothing has changed. I think I've properly demonstrated my willpower. You can dispense with the threats, or there will be no more food."
"You cannot will yourself to not need food. That, I believe, is what you've demonstrated."
"I held out long enough to make it hurt. I can do it again."
"No, you cannot. Your body has a limit, and not even magic will help you a second time. You will die."
Ginny set her jaw against the fear that lurched in her stomach and pushed off the hammock. "Then I'll die, and you'll be trapped here. So, my point stands."
Tom rocked off the bed to meet her. "It is ridiculous that you keep flailing uselessly against me. I will take my rightful place, and you will not stand in my way."
"You can keep telling yourself that, but I am in your way. I will not let you hurt everyone that I love."
"You condemn them yourself with every minute you defy me!"
Her face was heating, her anger rising to meet his. She saw where this was headed. They were right back to where they had left off before their near-starvation and it would lead them the same place again. Ginny felt a sharp pang of panic and veered off the path, stepping back.
"Fine. We're both angry. Neither of us is getting what we want. Do you want to play Exploding Snap?"
Tom blinked at her, her invitation hanging in the air like an unexpected Howler. "What?"
"It's a card game."
"I know what Exploding Snap is. Why could you possibly want to play cards?"
"Mum always made us play when we were mad at each other. She said us trying to get the cards to explode on each other was better than listening to our yelling."
His mouth turned down, but more in disdain than displeasure. "You want to go back to pretending? Now?"
"I won't have to pretend to enjoy seeing you burn your fingers."
Riddle maintained his sour look, and Ginny forced her hackles down, edging instead towards honesty.
"It wasn't always pretending," she answered, and felt that it was true. All those times teaching her, ridiculing her, some of those times he had laughed, and so had she. It hadn't even been acting, it just wasn't real. He was horrible, a miserable wretch. He had tried to kill her twice, and truly the idea of sitting across a table from him turned her stomach, but Ginny was exhausted. She did not want to scream or be cursed, or be reminded of the horror that trapped her. She did not want to think about what lay before them, what she would have to do. She wanted to enjoy twenty minutes of calm, a full stomach, and anything other than her struggle with Tom Riddle.
She knew that it was possible because they had done it before.
"Aren't you tired? Of all of this?"
Tom eyed her warily, and she was certain he would set his teeth and refuse. Instead, he sighed and held out his hand. "Fine."
She took his hand and gave it a firm shake, crushing down the shiver that snaked up her spine at touching him. "We're mortal enemies, but we may as well not be miserable while we're at it."
Riddle's lips twitched. "The cards, you twit."
Ginny dropped his hand as though it burned, and found the deck of cards waiting on his bedside table beside them. She snatched them up and headed for the chairs. "Like I'd let you deal."
She dealt the cards in silence, and the oddness of the match hung heavy over their heads for the first minutes. That dissolved quickly. Within three rounds Ginny was on her feet, staring down at the table in a furor.
"How are you cheating? It's impossible that you keep winning."
"I'm simply calculating the probability of—"
"Bullshit, Riddle, I have been palming cards for the past ten minutes. There's no way you could have won."
That shocked a laugh out of him and he leaned back in his chair. "So that's what you've been doing. I was resorting to transfiguring the cards while I flipped them over." Ginny's jaw dropped, and he smirked. "I figured out my third year how to override the anti-cheating enchantments."
"I take it back," she said solemnly. "You have accomplished greatness." Riddle raised a brow and she threw her hands up. "What? Cheating at Exploding Snap is a highly coveted skill in the Weasley household. This is the sort of magical feat you should be bragging about."
It was a clear opening for ridicule, but Riddle passed it up, leaning forward to gesture at the cards. "Palming exploding cards always seemed impractical."
"Well, you need a high pain tolerance so no one notices when it happens," she said, rolling up her sleeves to show him the soot marks. "But they don't actually leave real burns, so you can rub them off."
Riddle hummed appraisingly and gathered the cards. Sensing an end to their game, Ginny's breath hitched. But he merely paused, and then said, "We ought to play that one wins by proving that the other has just cheated."
With both a sense of relief and caution, Ginny jumped on the continued distraction. "But you lose if you accuse them and you can't prove it."
They played another handful of rounds like that, with far more even results. Once Ginny hid a Manticore up her sleeve and caught Tom flipping the same card to get a match, an impossibility. Another time, Tom seized her arm and revealed a black mark before she was able to scrub it off. He lost once because Ginny had cheated, but he had no way to prove it.
By the time they had exhausted their tricks, Exploding Snap had worked its magic as it always had in the Weasley household. The other reason her mother enforced the game was that they always ended up laughing, most of their slights forgotten. It could not accomplish such miracles with Riddle, but they had laughed.
"See, pretending worked," she said, while Riddle gathered the cards.
"Of course it worked. Two born liars."
"The best lies are ones that are a little bit true."
Riddle placed the deck of cards between them and leaned back in his chair. His gaze met hers, and it was different than any time before. It was not merely a piercing focus, trying to suss out her lies. He was looking at her. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She would have to become accustomed to this new heightened observation.
"I won't rest until I have escaped this place." He was calm now, his legs crossed and hands languid on the arms of his chair. His tone had changed from earlier, a statement of fact more than a threat. "But you have demonstrated a certain resolve to oppose me. Perhaps we ought to define some rules of engagement."
Treating with the devil held no appeal to her. She drew her spine straight and curled her hands into fists. "You can't risk me dying, but I'm willing to die to save the ones I love."
"Your death might free me," said Tom. "It could relinquish the control of the Room to me."
"But you're not sure, or I'd have been dead a week ago. You're not willing to risk it."
"Not yet." A sting of venom shot through his words.
"Are we exchanging threats or negotiating?" she fired back. Her shoulders tensed, and then Riddle inclined his head.
"We are not negotiating a truce. Merely an agreement to not cross certain bounds."
"Why should I not use any means at my disposal against you? I don't have many."
Riddle leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees and fingers steepled. His eyes narrowed on her as he paused, and she remembered her first real Legilimency lesson, the flecks in his eyes. His head tilted, an oddly boyish gesture, and then he spoke in slow and measured words.
"Because if you agree to not blithely throw your life away in an attempt to cripple me, then I will not exact my revenge on your family."
Her breath left her, and then heat flared in Ginny's chest. She shoved to her feet. "You are unbelievable!"
"Sit down, Weasley."
Exploding Snap, his grudging respect, it all flew out the window. All too suddenly she was certain that she could kill Tom Riddle if it came to it. "As though I'd believe that for even a second."
"Believe what you want, it is what I am offering. I am a man of my word."
"Your word is worth less than a garden gnome to me."
"You would throw your family's lives away on your suspicion?"
"It is not suspicion, it's fact. That's not a promise you can make. We're Harry's strongest supporters, and You-Know-Who isn't going to spare us."
"I can make no promises for my older self. I will merely forgo my personal vendetta."
Ginny scoffed out a thin laugh. "Oh, how lovely of you!"
"This is what you want," he said, shoulders stiffening. "You nearly died for this."
"Go to hell, Riddle."
He snapped to his feet and swept the cards off the table as he rounded it. She stumbled back as he trampled on them, but he stopped short of her, teeth clenched and wand still sheathed.
"Fine, Weasley, then call my bluff. If you're so convinced, pull the trigger and begin your next hunger strike. There's no sense in playing cards or bandying words. Finish the job."
Ginny had no answer for that. Fear flared in her stomach and Tom must have seen it, because he raised his hands and took one step closer. His voice dipped lower.
"Negotiation is not built on trust. It is built on self-interest. I am offering this because I must. You have given me no other palatable alternative."
Placating gestures had no place in this discussion. She stepped forward and shoved one of his hands down. "So the moment an alternative presents itself, you will go back on your word."
"You need not trust my word. Simply ensure I have no other options, and then trust that I will go to any lengths to achieve my ends." She moved to slap down his other hand, and he snatched up her wrist, holding her tight. "Even promises to you."
If she had met his eyes and seen any glint of sincerity, it would have been easy to say no. But all they held were hard determination and a flint of hate. Her certainty faltered as she tried to pull her arm away. "You're asking me to give up my only weapon."
He let go, his hand falling to his side. "If you think martyrdom is your only weapon, you do yourself a disservice."
Ginny paused, taken further off balance. That was dangerously close to being a compliment. More importantly, it was true. There was a whole world of options between giving up and taking Tom down with her in a slow and painful death. Namely withholding only his food and weakening him to the point of taking back her wand. But that would be next to impossible if he went back to Stunning her every time she woke up.
Both hating herself for being taken in and desperately seizing to faint hope, she crossed her arms. "You're offering me something you could take back the moment you set foot outside this room. I want your word and your best weapon."
"Very well. I will no longer subject you to the Cruciatus Curse."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "That's not giving up anything. You haven't been using it anyway because you're worried that you might kill me on accident."
That earned her a self-satisfied smile. "Your counter-proposal?"
She shot large to start. "I want you to get rid of the tether."
"Don't be absurd. You would attempt escape the moment I Vanished it."
"I don't want you to curse me at all unless it's in self-defense or preventing my escape. And I want my D.A. coin back."
"I won't curse you with any spell you have not used on me. Except the Imperius." He waved one dismissive hand. "And you can have your coin, but I will check it when I want."
She thought for a moment and then said, "If you won't use any of the Unforgivable Curses on me, and no Stunners, I'll ensure you always get at least one meal a day."
"One substantial meal."
That teased a smile from Ginny, who had already been thinking of how little food on a plate could still be considered a meal. "If you can prove that your meal was less than mine, then you can try one Imperius."
"And water whenever I want."
"Water if you see me have water."
"Agreed."
It came so easily that Ginny felt a spike of fear. "In addition to your word on my family."
"I thought my word was worthless."
"I won't hold my breath, but I'll have it anyways."
"Very well, in addition, you have my dubitable word to spare your family."
Ginny eyed him warily, for he looked too calm for what he had given up. Her family spared and no more Unforgivable Curses. She could not help but feel that it was a good deal. She had not expected him to give up the Imperius, his best weapon by far. She had to assume it was because he believed he could manage without it. It was probably the appearance of the portrait. If she was required to feed him once a day, he would have at least one chance a day to pry it open.
Her mind was already spinning through ideas of how to underfeed Tom, or perhaps poison him, when he spoke again. "You will get no such reprieve. I have no desire to pretend with you, to comfort you or assuage your guilt. You are in my way and nothing more."
"Don't pretend then," she answered, distracted.
"I will though, if you make me."
Ginny looked at him more fully. Her stolen words were wielded without irony, but she could not fathom why. Surely he could not think to fool her with false charm after countless betrayals.
"Don't waste your time. You can't be anyone but yourself with me," she replied. "But if you could do anything else when you're bored besides threatening me, we'll both be happier for it, I promise you."
"We may as well not be miserable?"
"Exactly."
He was silent for a moment and then said, low and hard, "I want you miserable."
Ginny met him with every ounce of hate in her. "So do I. But not while we're trapped together in a small room, or else I'll be miserable too."
The corner of his lips turned up and he gave a short nod of concession. "In that case you ought to ask the Room for some new books. Merlin knows I can only feign interest in seventh-year Potion theory for so long."
Ginny laughed out loud despite herself. She knew it. "You should read up on Quidditch," she answered, smirking. "Maybe then we could have a halfway intelligent conversation about it."
Shaking his head, he waved a hand over the fallen cards to gather them back into the deck. Wandless magic, she thought, to remind her that even if she wrestled her wand back from him, it might not be enough.
Poison, she decided.