Ginny had noticed the diary in her things the day after her father and Mister Malfoy had gotten into their fight.
She didn't really question it at first, things often popped up in her room that were once her brothers, and if they didn't go looking for them, well—finders keepers, she'd tell them.
The diary was heavy in her hands, though it couldn't have weighed more than a few ounces.
She opened the diary, the pages crisp and unmarked, newer than anything else she had ever owned.
It was unassuming really—a worn leather cover, the pages inside brittle and yellowed, smelling faintly of dust and age but something whispered, coaxing her fingers to trace the name etched into the cover.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Ginny blinked and ignored it, another hand me down it seemed. Thank you, Tom, for never writing in it. She threw it back onto her desk.
After it had sat on her desk for a good week, after another dinner which she spent most of her time hiding from Harry Potter, aka theBoy-Who-Lived— Who was in her house for Merlin's sake— That she wrote in the book.
Dear Diary, My name is Ginny—She wrote, the words scratching across the page. The ink bled into the fibers, and for a moment, there was nothing. Then the letters began to disappear as if the paper were drinking them in. Her eyes widened, that wasn't supposed to happen.
Hello, Ginny,the diary replied, the words etching themselves into the page in elegant name is Tom. It's nice to meet you.
Ginny felt panic, she knew magical books and cursed things were serious things— it was her father's job to get rid of things like this after all.
She snapped the book shut vowing to never write in it and tell her father about it the next morning.
But... Then she didn't.
Ginny was curious. More curious than she had any right to be, her mother would say. She wasn't foolish, not exactly—she knew the world was full of things that were better left untouched, unspoken, unknown.
But when she stared at the blank pages, she felt an undeniable pull, as though the very emptiness of them was calling out to be filled, as though they were whispering to her, telling her she could do it—she could make something of this.
She wrote to Tom the next night.
The summer of 1992 was hot, the days long and oppressive, filled with the sounds of her brothers' laughter, the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen, and the rustling of leaves in the wind.
But Ginny found herself retreating more and more into the cool, dark quiet of her room, where Tom waited for her, always ready to talk, always ready to listen.
What are you thinking about, Ginny?He asked one evening as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting her room in shadows.
She hesitated, chewing on the end of her quill. What was she thinking about? Everything. Nothing.
The way the world seemed to spin without her, the way her brothers treated her like a child, the way she felt so small, so insignificant, like a speck of dust floating in the vastness of the universe.
After Ron left for Hogwarts, she'd been afraid.
I'm thinking about how it feels to be forgotten,she finally wrote, the words stark against the page.
Forgotten by who?
By admitted, the ache in her chest tightening. She hadn't meant to write that, but the words had come spilling out, a torrent she couldn't control and Tom was patient. He didn't push, didn't probe too deeply, but he was there unjudging, curious, smart.
I haven't forgotten you, Ginny.
After that, she began to tell him things she had never told anyone—about the way her brothers always seemed to forget she was there, about how her mother's overbearing love felt like a cage, about the way she had cried herself to sleep the night before Harry Potter had arrived at the Burrow.
It was easy to talk to him.
Magic is neither light nor dark,Tom told her one night, shortly before the Hogwarts term started, the words curling across the page like is simply power. And those who understand that power can shape the world as they see fit.
Ginny's fingers tightened around the Dumbledore says—
Dumbledore is a interrupted, the words sharp, almost fears what he doesn't understand. He wants to keep you in the light because it's easier to control you that way. But you are more than that, Ginny. You have potential, power, and a fire within you that could take the world if you let it.
She had always felt that fire, that burning anger that simmered just beneath the surface, the anger that came from being overlooked, dismissed, and forgotten. And Tom—Tom saw it, stoked it, nurtured it.
I can help you,he promised,I can show you how to harness that power, how to make you stand out—I was head boy, you know. Greatness is within your reach, Ginny. If you have the courage to seize it.
I don't feel courageous,she confessed, her quill trembling slightly as she scratched the words onto the page.I don't feel like I could be... anything.
The response was , bravery isn't everything, you have many good qualities.
But what if I'm not enough?She wrote the letters smudging slightly as she pressed too hard with her quill.
You are more than 's response came as if he had been waiting for her to just need to believe it. I can help you, Ginny. Let me teach you, I've never told anyone this but I've always wanted to be a professor.
You've always wanted to be a professor?She wrote back, curiosity mingling with a quiet desperation she couldn't quite name.
is something deeply satisfying about imparting knowledge, about helping someone else see the world through new eyes. But my ambitions in my life... well, they went beyond teaching.
Ginny's pulse ?
Yes. I had plans, Ginny. Great plans, I wanted to create a world where every magical person or creature could live freely but those who fear the potential of true magic... They got in my way.
How?she wrote, the question trembling on the page.
They banned all of the old magic,Tom's words were almost the ministry didn't like, the harmless things that gave the people power, they burned from the world. Magic is more than just what they teach you at Hogwarts, more than just charms and potions and silly little spells. Magic is sentient, Ginny. More powerful than anything you've heard of. And this power isn't evil, just those who hate it paint it that way.
Teach me.
Of course,Tom answered, and she could almost hear the satisfaction in his writing.
The train hummed beneath her, the steady rhythm a backdrop to the thoughts swirling in Ginny's mind.
She stared out the window, watching the landscape blur into a wash of green and gold as the Hogwarts Express carried her toward a world she had only ever dreamed of.
Her brothers had disappeared as soon as they boarded, leaving her alone, and though she had half-expected it, the sting of their indifference cut deeper than she wanted to admit. Even Luna had vanished somewhere.
Ginny had searched briefly, but the compartments were full of students chattering excitedly, all of them more interested in catching up with old friends than noticing the quiet, redheaded girl who lingered in the corridor.
She felt like an outsider.
The familiar ache of loneliness settled in her chest, heavy and suffocating, but she pushed it down and forced herself to breathe.
Ginny closed her eyes, her hand resting on the worn leather cover of the diary, feeling the coolness of it seep into her skin. She could almost hear him, could almost feel his presence beside her—steady, reassuring, everything she had never known she needed.
With a glance to ensure the compartment door was securely closed, Ginny pulled the diary from her bag, the weight of it familiar and comforting. She settled it on her lap, her fingers brushing over the embossed letters of Tom's name.
Tom?She wrote, the ink pooling for a moment before sinking into the page, disappearing into the parchment.
I'm here, Ginny,came the reply, the words appearing almost the Express now? Did you find your friend?
She hesitated, unsure how to put her swirling emotions into words. But with Tom, it was easier. He never judged, never dismissed her feelings as silly or childish. He listened.
Yes, I am and No, I didn't. Tom, I feel... nervous,she confessed, her quill scratching across the also excited. And alone. My brothers left me as soon as we got on the train. I thought I wouldn't care, but I do.
It's natural to feel that way, Tom soothed, his words calm and remember, you are stronger than you think. You don't need them, Ginny. You don't need anyone but yourself.
And you,she added quickly, her heart giving a small, grateful lurch at the thought of his presence.
And me,he agreed, a hint of something warm in his 're in this together, Ginny. Are you excited to be sorted?
The Sorting Ceremony—the moment that had occupied her thoughts since the day she'd received her Hogwarts letter.
Every Weasley before her had been sorted into Gryffindor, and while the idea of following in their footsteps was comforting, it was also stifling. The pressure to fit into a mold she wasn't sure she belonged in weighed heavily on her.
I'm not sure,she wrote after a expects me to be in Gryffindor, but... what if I'm not?
And so what if you're not?Tom's response was immediate, his words curling across the page like a gentle 's nothing wrong with being different, Ginny. You don't have to follow in anyone's footsteps. You can create your own path.
She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Tom's words were a balm to the insecurities that gnawed at what if I'd put somewhere I don't belong?
Trust me,Tom replied, his tone Sorting Hat will see your true potential. It's not about where you belong in others' eyes—it's about where you can thrive. Where you can become the best version of yourself.
And where is that?She asked, downtrodden.
Someplace where you'll be seen for who you really are,he responded cryptically, leaving Ginny to ponder his words.
What if I'm sorted into Slytherin?She wrote nervously.
There was a pause before Tom's words appeared, as if he were carefully considering his words.
Would that be so terrible?He is not the dark place everyone believes it to be. It's a house that values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness. Qualities you and I have in abundance.
But my family...she began, hesitating as she thought of her parents, of Ron, of Fred and George, of Percy, and Charlie and Bill, all proudly wearing the red and gold of Gryffindor.
Your family loves you,Tom replied, his words gentle, and you are your own person, Ginny. Don't let their expectations hold you back. I think you'd learn a lot in Slytherin, you'd make friends.
You really think so?She asked, doubt still lingering in her mind.
I know so,Tom assured no matter what house you're sorted into, remember that I'll always be here, guiding you, helping you. You're not alone.
Thank you, Tom,she wrote, her quill moving smoothly across the page.
Always, Ginny,he replied,I'll be with you every step of the way.
The train slowed, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks growing quieter as they approached the station.
Ginny closed the diary, tucking it carefully into her bag. She straightened her robes, taking a deep breath.
The doors of the Hogwarts Express opened, and the air was filled with the excited chatter of students disembarking, the thrill of the new school year buzzing in the air.
Stepping off the train, the cool evening air brushed against her face, Hagrid, the enormous groundskeeper, called for the first years, his voice booming over the crowd.
Ginny joined the group of wide-eyed students, her heart racing as she looked up at the towering silhouette of Hogwarts Castle in the distance, its windows glowing warmly against the darkening sky.
The boats glided silently across the water, the reflection of the castle shimmering like a dream on the lake's surface.
Ginny barely noticed the cold spray of water against her face, her thoughts were far away.
What if she really was sorted into Slytherin? What would her family say? Would they still love her, or would they see her as different, as wrong somehow?
She shook her head slightly as if to clear it of the doubt gnawing at the edges of her confidence.
Tom had said she could thrive in Slytherin, that she could make friends, learn things she wouldn't in Gryffindor. He had made it sound... tempting, and the idea of carving out her own place, separate from her brothers' shadows, was attractive.
The boat bumped gently against the shore, and Ginny looked up to see the imposing gates of Hogwarts looming ahead.
The other first years were already disembarking, their excited chatter filling the cool evening air.
She followed them, her feet feeling heavy as she stepped onto the gravel path leading up to the castle.
Inside, the castle was even more overwhelming—stone walls that seemed to stretch endlessly upwards, flickering torches casting long shadows, and the distant echoes of footsteps and voices reverberating through the halls.
The first years were herded into a large chamber, where Professor McGonagall waited, her expression stern but not unkind.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," She began, her voice carrying easily over the nervous murmurs of the students. "In a few moments, you will be sorted into your houses. The house you are sorted into will be like your family for the rest of your time here at Hogwarts. You will sleep in your house dormitory, attend classes with your housemates, and earn or lose house points based on your actions."
As McGonagall finished her explanation, Ginny's heart pounded in her chest.
The Sorting Hat, perched on a stool at the front of the room, looked ancient and worn, sang its song and McGonagall began calling out names.
One by one, the first years were called forward, each name followed by a brief moment of silence before the Hat shouted the name of a house.
The cheers that erupted from the various tables in the Great Hall were almost deafening, but Ginny barely heard them.
Finally, "Weasley, Ginevra," McGonagall called, and Ginny's breath caught in her throat.
She stepped forward, her legs trembling slightly, and sat on the stool. The Hat was placed on her head, and everything went dark as the brim fell over her eyes.
"Well, well," a voice purred in her ear, soft and contemplative. "Another Weasley. But not quite like the others, are you?"
Ginny swallowed hard, her heart racing.
She could feel the Hat sifting through her thoughts, her memories, her fears, her desires.
It was an odd sensation, like someone gently turning the pages of a book she hadn't realized she was carrying with her.
"Courage, yes, but also doubt," the Hat mused. "A yearning to prove yourself, to step out of the shadows. And there's ambition too, a hunger for something more... something greater."
Ginny's breath hitched. She could almost hear Tom's voice, encouraging her, guiding are your own person, Ginny. Don't let their expectations hold you back.
"Yes, I see it now," the Hat said, almost as if in agreement with Tom. "You would do well in Slytherin, indeed. But there's another path... a path of fire and loyalty, where you could blaze your own trail, where your courage could be nurtured, not overshadowed."
Ginny's heart pounded in her chest. Slytherin or Gryffindor—two paths diverging in front of her, each with its own challenges, its own promises.
The words of her brothers, her parents, and her friends, all echoed in her mind, but louder still was Tom's voice, whispering to her, urging her to choose, to take control of her own destiny.
"Make your choice," the Hat whispered, its voice fading into the background as Ginny's own thoughts took over.
Ginny took a deep breath, her hands clutching the edges of the stool beneath her.
She had always known she was different, hadn't she? Different from her brothers, different from the other girls her age. And Tom... Tom saw that in her, saw the potential she had, the fire she could wield if only she embraced it.
The thought sent a rush of something heady and exhilarating through her veins—independence, power, the chance to be seen, truly seen for who she was, not just another Weasley sibling. Tom hadpromisedto help her, to guide her, and at that moment, she believed him.
"I choose..." she whispered, barely audible, but the Hat heard her all the same.
There was a moment of silence, a pause so pregnant with anticipation that Ginny felt the air around her crackle with it. Then, the Hat spoke, its voice resonating with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Slytherin!"
The word echoed through the Great Hall, and Ginny felt her breath catch in her throat. Silence echoed through the Great Hall before whispers overtook it.
Ginny stood, the Hat removed from her head, and for a brief moment, she caught sight of her brothers' faces.
Ron looked utterly bewildered, his mouth hanging open in shock. Fred and George were exchanging incredulous glances, while Percy's expression was a mix of confusion and concern.
She didn't dare look at where Harry sat, nor did she look up at the staff table where she knew McGonagall and Dumbledore would be.
Instead, she turned toward the Slytherin table, her heart pounding in her chest. As she walked toward them, her footsteps seemed to echo louder than the silence, the whispers, everything. She was hyper-aware of every eye on her, every murmur of disbelief, every questioning glance, but she forced herself to keep her head high.
When she reached the Slytherin table, she was met with curious eyes and appraising looks. The students shuffled to make room for her, and she slid onto the bench, her movements stiff and uncertain.
Her thoughts were a whirl of emotions—fear, excitement, a strange sense of loss, but also a burgeoning sense of something new.
She caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy from across the table, his silver eyes watching her with thinly veiled interest.
Pansy Parkinson, sitting beside him, raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on her lips.
Blaise Zabini leaned in to whisper something to Draco, who nodded thoughtfully.
No one spoke to her directly, not yet. But she could feel their curiosity, their speculation, and it made her stomach twist in knots.
You've made your choice,she reminded you have to live with it.
Dumbledore stood to address the school, Ginny felt the weight of her decision settle heavily on her shoulders.
When the feast began, the chatter around her grew louder, students exchanging stories and jokes as they piled their plates with food. Ginny hesitated, her appetite suddenly gone, but she forced herself to reach for a piece of bread, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself.
"Weasley in Slytherin," she heard Draco mutter to Blaise. "Who would've thought?"
Ginny's hand paused mid-air, the piece of bread hovering between her plate and her mouth. She felt the weight of Draco's gaze on her, and a flush crept up her neck, but she refused to let it show.
Instead, she set the bread back on her plate with deliberate calm, meeting Draco's eyes head-on.
"And yet, here I am," she replied evenly, her voice steady despite the rapid beat of her heart. It was a small victory, but it felt important—asserting herself in this new, unfamiliar territory.
Blaise gave a noncommittal shrug, his dark eyes flicking toward her briefly before he returned to his conversation with the others.
Pansy, on the other hand, continued to watch her with a calculating expression, as though she were trying to piece together a puzzle.
Ginny focused on her food, chewing mechanically, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions. She had done it—she had made her choice. She was in Slytherin now. But what did that mean for her? For her family? For Tom?
Draco's lips curled into a slight smirk, not unkind but filled with a knowing edge. "Indeed. You might just surprise us all, Weasley."
Pansy Parkinson leaned forward, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. "You're certainly the talk of the evening," she said, her voice lilting with amusement. "I mean—who would have ever guessed? What do you think your brothers will say?"
Ginny forced a smile, though it felt tight on her face. "I suppose they'll say what they always do," she answered, trying to keep her tone light. "But that's their problem, not mine."
"Good answer," Blaise Zabini commented, his voice smooth and approving.
Ginny nodded, her fingers brushing over the diary hidden in her robes, seeking the comfort of Tom's presence.
She didn't know what to expect from her new housemates, surely something had changed since Tom's time?
The students weren't openly hostile, but there was a sharpness in their demeanor, a careful calculation in the way they spoke and observed each other. It was as if every interaction was a test, every word weighed and measured.
As the feast continued, Ginny focused on blending in, watching the other Slytherins with quiet intensity.
She noticed the way they moved, the subtle glances and unspoken signals passed between them, the hierarchy that seemed to shape their interactions.
But more than anything, she felt the lingering eyes of her brothers from across the hall.
She dared a quick glance at the Gryffindor table and saw Ron still staring at her, a deep frown creasing his forehead. Fred and George seemed to be in the middle of a heated conversation, no doubt trying to make sense of what had just happened. Percy was rigid, his expression unreadable.
A pang of guilt tugged at Ginny's chest, but she pushed it down. Tom had been right—this was her choice, her path to carve. She needed to embrace it, to prove to herself and everyone else that she could be more than just the youngest Weasley, more than just another Gryffindor.
"So, Weasley," Pansy Parkinson's voice cut through the chatter, drawing Ginny's attention. Pansy's eyes were sharp, her smile not quite reaching them. "What made you choose Slytherin? Was it a family rebellion thing, or something else?"
The table quieted slightly, and Ginny felt all eyes turn toward her again. She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest.
What was she supposed to say? That the thought of following in her brothers' footsteps had felt like suffocation? That she had found something, or someone, in Tom's words that had made her feel like she could be more?
She met Pansy's gaze, summoning every ounce of courage she had. "I wanted to be my own person," she said, her voice steady despite the nervousness twisting in her stomach. "Something like that."
Draco raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, you certainly seem to havesomeSlytherin traits."
This was only the beginning. How would she fit in here, where cunning and ambition were prized above all else? How would she navigate the complex web of alliances and rivalries that defined Slytherin House?
She vowed to read up on pureblood family and culture the next chance she got.
The feast dragged on, and by the time the plates had been cleared and the students were led to their dormitories, Ginny felt drained.
She followed the other Slytherins down into the dungeons, the air growing cooler and the stone walls closing in around her.
The Slytherin common room was as imposing as she had imagined—dark, with low ceilings and rich, green furnishings.
The windows looked out into the depths of the Black Lake, the murky water giving the room an eerie, but comforting feel.
The other first years were quickly absorbed into conversations, finding their places among the older students. Ginny, however, lingered on the edge, her hands clutching her robes as she tried to figure out where she belonged in this unfamiliar place.
"You'll find your way," a voice said softly beside her.
Ginny turned to see a girl with long, pale hair and pale green eyes watching her with a calm, measured gaze.
She looked a bit older, perhaps a second or third year, and there was a quiet confidence about her that made Ginny feel a bit more at ease.
"Thanks," Ginny murmured, managing a small smile.
"I'm Daphne," the girl said, extending her hand. "Daphne Greengrass."
"Ginny Weasley," Ginny replied, shaking Daphne's hand.
"I know," Daphne said with a faint smile. "Don't worry about what the others think. Slytherin can be... difficult to navigate at first, but if you're smart and careful, you'll find your place."
Ginny nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope. "I'll try."
Daphne's smile widened slightly. "Good. And if you ever need any advice, you can always come to me or my sister, she's in your year."
Maybe Slytherin wouldn't be so bad after all.
That night, after they had all settled into their rooms as she lay in her four-poster bed in the Slytherin girls' dormitory, Ginny pulled out the diary from under her pillow. She opened it, her quill poised over the blank page.
Tom?
Ginny,Tom's response came almost was your Sorting?
Ginny hesitated, her thoughts swirling in her was... strange. I was sorted into Slytherin. My brothers looked so shocked.
That's because you are different,Tom wrote, his words different is good, Ginny. It means you're not bound by the expectations of others. I'm sure your brothers will accept you eventually.
Ginny's heart swelled at his words, the doubt that had been gnawing at her beginning to you, Tom. I don't know what I'd do without you.
You'll never have to find out,Tom replied, his words a quiet promise.I'll be with you, every step of the way. Now let's make a plan for tomorrow.
Ginny smiled, poising her quill to write back before the voice of her dormmate talked into her ear, "Writing?"
Ginny spun around, Astoria Greengrass, her dormmate looked a lot like her sister but her hair was much darker and she had a much more curious look on her face, Ginny quickly hid the diary under her pillow, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Oh, uh, yeah. Just, you know, jotting down some thoughts."
Astoria raised an eyebrow, clearly not entirely convinced but also not pressing further. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just wondering if you needed any help settling in, I know my sister talk to you but it's a bit overwhelming at first, isn't it?"
Ginny nodded, grateful for the offer. "Yes, it is. I'm still getting used to everything. I suppose you've been taught what to expect?"
Astoria smiled softly. "Yeah. I can give you some tips if you like. Slytherin can be a bit... daunting, even if you're told what to do."
Ginny hesitated, then decided to accept the help. "I'd appreciate that. I don't really know where to start."
Astoria sat down on the edge of her own bed, facing Ginny. "Alright, first things first. It's important to understand the dynamics here. Slytherin values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness. You'll find that people are always testing each other, seeing who they can trust and who's worth their time."
Ginny listened intently, taking in every word. "I guess that makes sense. I've already noticed that people seem... careful."
"Yes," Astoria said, nodding. "But don't let that intimidate you. If you show you're smart and capable, you'll earn their respect. And remember, not everyone here is as cutthroat as the stories might suggest."
Ginny sighed, her tension easing slightly. "I hope so. I just want to fit in, you know?"
Astoria's gaze softened. "You will. It takes time."
Ginny smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Thanks, Greengrass. That really helps."
"Also," Astoria continued, "It's good to be aware of the social structure. You'll want to be cautious about aligning yourself too quickly with any particular group. Some are more influential than others, and making alliances early can be beneficial, but also risky."
Ginny nodded, taking mental notes. "I understand. I'll keep that in mind."
As Astoria continued her explanations, Ginny felt a small pang of gratitude. It was comforting to have someone like her to offer guidance, especially when everything felt so overwhelming.
When Astoria finally bid her goodnight and turned off her light, Ginny remained awake, her thoughts racing. The diary lay hidden under her pillow, a secret comfort she couldn't quite part with. She longed to share her thoughts with Tom, but she hesitated, aware of the curious eyes in the dormitory.
The silence of the room was punctuated by the soft rustle of the other girls settling into their beds. Ginny waited until she was sure everyone was asleep before reaching for the diary.
She opened it carefully, her quill poised over the page.
Tom?She wrote, her hand steady despite her exhaustion.
I'm here,Tom's reply came left so suddenly are you alright?
I'm alright. Just had a bit of a moment with Astoria Greengrass. She's been really helpful, but I didn't want to share too much.
I'm glad to hear you're finding some support. It's important to build connections, but remember to stay true to yourself. Don't let anyone sway you from your path. You don't want to be a follower.
Ginny nodded silently, feeling the weight of Tom's words. She could still feel the eyes of her brothers, the surprised stares, and it made her question if she had made the right choice.
I hope I did the right thing. Slytherin is so different from what I expected. Everyone seems so... cautious.
That's the nature of Slytherin,Tom replied, his writing 's a house where people are always measuring each other up. Embrace the challenge, and you'll find your way.
Ginny's heart steadied with Tom's reassurance.I'm trying. It's just a lot to take in. I don't want to make any mistakes.
There's no shame in making mistakes,Tom wrote key is to adapt, to learn from them, and to use those experiences to become stronger, plus I'm here to help, aren't I?
Ginny smiled softly at the words, feeling a sense of calm wash over you, Tom. I feel like I have so much to prove.
You do. Now go to bed, Ginny. You have a long day tomorrow.
Okay, but what are we doing tomorrow we never planned?
I'll teach you to ward your bed after dinner, maybe a charm as well, since you can do magic now.
That sounds fun, Goodnight Tom.
Goodnight, my brave little serpent.
Ginny shut the diary gently and settled into the warm velvet sheets and downy comforter, eyelids heavy as she drifted off to sleep.