Harry Potter 1. Hello, my name is Tom

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Okay so here is my next fic! It's going to be a slightly dark Ginny-sorted-in-Slytherin story. This is un-betaed so I'm sorry for any typos there may be. I don't know what else to say here except get to reading people!

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That summer was horrible. Sticking my elbow in the butter dish just _had_ to be the worst moment in my life. At least that's what I thought then.

I know better now.

I was such a cute little girl, wasn't I? So small, so shy, so _Gryffindor_. My life revolved around a boy who didn't even know I existed.

I realized that on the train ride. I was so excited to finally be going to Hogwarts I was practically jumping up and down as we entered the platform and I ran directly onto the scarlet engine, barely giving my mum a hug good bye. I must have walked up and down the train at least five times trying to find my brother and Harry, with no success. I finally gave up and ran to the girls' room and locked the door to cry my eyes out, positive that they were intentionally avoiding me.

Who was I kidding? Fancying Harry Potter, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived? To him I was probably just Little Ginny Weasley. Just Ron's baby sister. Just the tiniest end of a string of red heads. That's how everyone saw me.

Is that all I would be at Hogwarts, too? A nameless face under a mop of Weasley hair? Was there anything I could do about it?

Yes! I would do something. I would change how they all saw me. I would prove myself. To my teachers, to my family, to my friends. To Harry.

I would show them all that I was more than ickle Gin-Gin.

Next year it will be _them_ looking for _me_. And I _might_ let them find me.

Of course now I know what really happened. That crazy elf wouldn't let them through to Platform 9 ¾. But at the time I was hurt and angry and filled with a sense of righteous antipathy towards the world and my red hair. I was shaking in that tiny, slightly smelly lavatory. Partly from the after effects of crying so hard for so long, but mostly from my new found revelation. I could step away from the clan. I was determined to. And it was empowering.

How? Well, I had no clue. How does the youngest of seven shine? I spent the rest of the train ride contemplating just that.

If only I'd known….

Getting out of the boats I realized I was one of the shortest first years. That annoyed me. At least I was the only red head in the crowd, quite a rare occurrence for me then.

I still wasn't sure what I was going to do to stand out, so, like any sensible 11-year-old, I decided to do exactly the opposite of my peers.

So when they all jumped at the opening of the giant front doors, I took a step forward. When they all flinched under McGonagall's stare, I fought the urge to slouch into the background and straightened up, matching her stare. When they all crowded together as we waited to be let into the hall, I stood a few feet away, eyes trained on the door. I was scared shitless, but I felt I had to do it. I'm sure the rest were eyeing me warily, but I never let my eyes leave the doors. I _had_ to stand out, at all costs.

Only problem was I didn't realize just how high a price I'd have to pay.

The girl next to me was shaking. I don't know why I remember that. I don't even remember which of my classmates she was, just that she was afraid of a hat. After everything else we had to do that day, putting on a mangy old hat should be a piece of cake. Then we actually _would_ get cake, if my brothers' praise of Hogwarts' food was to be trusted.

I was obnoxiously confident by that point. My plan had been working so well! All the other first years were looking at me, and not just as the littlest Weasley. No _hat_ could mess me up. And besides, every Weasley _ever_ had been in Gryffindor, I had nothing to worry about.

Gods, I hate that stupid bloody hat.

"Weasley, Ginevra," I usually hate my full name, but under my new ambition it felt right. It was unique and classic and no one else in the school could claim it.

I confidently stepped up to the rickety old stool and the professor placed the hat on my head.

_Oh, another Weasley. _ I heard coming from somewhere near the inside of the back of my skull. I nearly jumped off the stool in surprise.

_A strong Gryffindor line you come from, missy, I hope you know. _ The voice had an ancient feel to it, as if it had seen more than its share of the world.

_Yes, sir. There has never been a non-Gryffindor Weasley in recorded history._ I felt I should be polite. After all, this hat did have the power to influence the next seven years of my life.

_Very true. But what is this? Ambitious I see. A hunger to be more than just another red head in a sea of Weasleys. But courageous, too… Oh, yes. This goal takes a great deal of courage to undertake, and even more to accomplish. Where to put you…_

I honestly wasn't really paying attention to the hat's ramblings. There was no doubt in my mind that I would soon be joining my brothers. Not to mention Harry. I was humming quietly to myself, impatiently waiting for the hat to get on with it.

_Hmmmm… You will be notable, young lady. I see that. You will be unlike any other Weasley. And I will help you._

My foot started tapping to the beat of my humming.

_You will make your mark in—SLYTHERIN! _

I've never heard the Great Hall _that _silent. I'm talking crickets.

I didn't move. I couldn't move. My world was crumbling. My heart was breaking.

Time seamed to slow as I sat on that stupid stool. I sought out my brothers' faces at the Gryffindor table, where I would never sit. They registered shock, anger, confusion... all directed at me.

"Miss Weasley!" McGonagall barked, trying to get me to move. I turned to look at her, hoping to find some kind of answer in her face. To what question, I didn't know. But the professor was blank.

To this day I don't know how I did it. How I made my feet move, how I made it to the far end of the Slytherin table. It was as if I was in a trance. A very out of body experience.

I don't think I ate anything that night. I just alternated from staring blankly at my golden plate to trying to catch my brothers' eyes. They were staunchly avoiding looking anywhere near my direction. My eyes stung, but I refused to let a tear fall. Not there. Not then. Not with the whole hall stealing not so subtle glances at me.

I crumpled in on myself. As hard as I had been trying to be noticed not even half an hour before, I was now trying to hide in plain sight.

The rest of the night is a blur in my memory. I somehow followed the Slytherin prefects to the dormitories. It was cold down so low in the dungeons, and slightly damp. I felt at home in that moment. I entered the dorm marked "FIRST YEAR" and collapsed onto the bed next to my trunk without looking at my surroundings. I didn't notice that the walls were a very rich shade of green or that I only had one roommate or that she sat on her bed watching my every movement with her calculating dark blue eyes.

I yanked my curtains closed and cried myself to sleep as quietly as I could.

The next morning I woke up cold in my bed. I was surrounded by yards of fluffy down comforter, but I was cold.

All I had to do was open my eyes and see all the green around me to remember why.

Don't get me wrong, I love green! It happens to be one of the only colors that compliments both my pale complexion and deep red hair. Green also brings out the gold flecks in my otherwise boring brown eyes. Green is good for me.

Just not when I was expecting to wake up in a sea of crimson.

Every second I spent in that dungeon made my heart freeze over a bit more. Even the scalding shower that left my skin raw and red did nothing to help thaw the frost.

Putting on my striped green and silver tie nearly made me run back to my bed to hide for the rest of the day. But that was when I finally felt her eyes on me. I turned to see her sitting on her bed in the same position from the night before, a stance I would get used to in the next couple years.

She was just sitting up from putting on shoes that were probably more expensive than my whole wardrobe. It felt as if her eyes pierced through me from under her heavy lids and delicate eyebrows. That would be a good word to describe her: Delicate. At least if you didn't look too closely. Her glossy black hair waved gently past her slim shoulders. Her bottom lip was slightly fuller than her top, giving her a perpetually pouty look. She looked like a porcelain doll.

Until you looked into her eyes. There was a glint there, even at 11, of something hard, something fierce, something… dangerous.

She didn't speak a word, her face was expressionless, and yet I could tell without a glimmer of doubt that she didn't like me. No that's not right, she hated me. Passionately.

I don't know how long our staring contest lasted, her sitting on her bed and me standing in the middle of the room on the plush silver carpet. It could have been seconds or it could have been hours, but as I felt her hatred bore into me I felt myself wanting to slouch, wanting to give in to her silent pressure, her mute superiority. I wanted to slink away into the shadows.

And I almost did.

I was about to drop my eyes, to give up and solidify my place of shame and inferiority among the snakes. It's easier that way, right?

She seemed to sense my intention to fold. A slow smirk started to spread across her face as she felt herself winning this power play. And it made me falter.

Why should I give in to this girl? Who was she to make me ashamed in my own room? What makes her superior to me?

Nothing.

In that moment I made a resolution that would stick with me to this day. At the tender age of 11 I made the most important decision of my life.

I would not be cowed.

No person could make me feel little. Only I could do that to myself. And even if their taunts and stares make me want to run screaming from the room, they would never know. Yes, I was a Weasley and a Slytherin, but I would be strong. I would be seen.

I didn't realize it at that time, but what I thought was Gryffindor courage was actually Slytherin cunning and self-preservation. Maybe I really was a snake, even back then.

So instead of backing down to this intimidating girl, I jut my chin out stubbornly and straightened my shoulders. Looking down my nose at her, I saw a brief flash of shock cross her face before she schooled it back to a guarded neutrality.

I turned on my heal, grabbed my book bag, and left, closing the door behind me with a decisive click without glancing back. I walked with all the confidence of my 11 years through the common room, ignoring the stares and whispers following me. They couldn't hurt me then. I was empowered and invincible. I had just passed my first test in Slytherin.

I would find out later that day in classes that her name was Daphne Greengrass. I would realize upon hearing McGonagall call role in our first class that she was one of _the_ Greengrass's. It would be a few months before I realized she was an heir. It would be years before she changed my life.

In hindsight I shouldn't have let my victory over Daphne make me forget why I had been dreading going down to breakfast. But you know what they say… 20/20 and all that.

I didn't notice it at first, still glowing as I replayed the scene from the dorm in my head. As I passed people on my way to my seat at the end of the Slytherin table they would stop all conversation, whip their heads around to stare at me, then start whispering furiously. It was like the entire hall was doing the wave. Quite impressive, that.

When I finally found my seat and looked around at my classmates I noticed the stares. My first reaction was to blush and hide behind my hair, but I fought against that impulse, and it was an epic battle, indeed. Instead I started a mantra flowing through my head. It was something I'd heard Mum telling a scared Charlie when he first started playing Quidditch with the primarily older Gryffindor team:

_Fake it till you make it…. Fake it till you make it…. Fake it…_

It was just enough to keep my features calm as I spooned eggs onto my plate and poured pumpkin juice into my glass.

Snape moved up and down the table handing out schedules. He tossed mine down onto the table in front of me with barely a glance. Nice. Transfiguration was first. I glanced up at the Head Table where McGonagall was organizing her house's timetables. I caught her eye and saw only calculating distrust in them. Joy. I hadn't even had my first class and already I was on a professor's shit list. How do I do these things?

Oh, right. Being the first Weasley in Slytherin.

Deciding I'd had enough breakfast, not to mention more than enough hostile looks, I got up to leave the hall, figuring that a little extra time to find my class wouldn't be a bad thing.

I was readjusting my bag on my shoulder as I walked through the double doors so I didn't notice them till I practically ran into Ron and Harry, who were entering the hall. They had a distinctly disheveled look that screamed "WE'RE LATE."

"Oh! Sorry," I murmured and caught the strap as it slipped down my arm. "Morning Ron. Harry." I tried to speak as calmly as possible even though my heart was pounding in my throat and nerves were causing a bead of sweat to run down the back of my neck. I couldn't even glance at Harry.

"Morning?" Ron's ears started to match his hair. Not a good sign. "Morning?" he repeated, his voice rising a few notches. _Definitely _not a good sign. "Morning is all you say to me? After what happened last night?" His voice rose even higher and I was glad no one else was in the Entrance Hall. Harry placed his hand on Ron's arm, trying to calm him down.

Ron glared at me expectantly. He obviously wanted some sort of reply, but I didn't know how to answer his questions. I probably had more than he did. If only because I had a higher brain function.

"Well? Ginny, what do you have to say for yourself?" he demanded. I focused my gaze on a spot just past his shoulder so I didn't have to see the anger, and worse disappointment, in his eyes.

"I… I…" words wouldn't come past the massive lump in my throat. Ron started tapping his foot.

"I… don't know," that was probably the truest thing I could have articulated.

"You don't know?" The foot stopped tapping. His voice dropped and he sounded almost… sad. Disappointed. "Well, I guess I don't really know you," he started to turn away from me. To turn his back on me.

Something in me snapped.

"Don't you walk away from me, Ronald Weasley! Don't you _dare_ turn your back on me!" I was _seething_. "You say you don't know _me,_ well I don't know _you_. Any of you! I thought my brothers would stand by me! What is it Dad's always telling us?" I took a step towards him where he stood, frozen by shock. "He says that when you don't have anything else, you always have family. That's what it means to be a Weasley," my voice dropped to a dangerous low. It was clear from the look in Ron's eyes and the step he took back away from me that he preferred me yelling. "Well, you know what, _Ronald_? Ever since that stupid bloody hat said Slytherin not one of my brothers have come to me. The rest of them avoid me and when I literally run into you, you yell at me. It seems I don't have anything _and_ I don't have family. And you want me to comfort _you_? Fuck that."

Now he was the speechless one. It felt good. It felt _powerful._

"Um…" I had all but forgotten that Harry was still there. I was so livid I didn't have the emotional room to be giddy that he was looking at me with his perfect green eyes. "I'm sure Ron's just in shock. I mean it's not like he was expecting this to happen…" his meek tone annoyed me to no end. Show some conviction if you're going to speak up, Potter.

"Oh, _no_! How positively _horrible_ for him," sarcasm dripped like venom from every word. Quite an amusing thought if you think about it. "If only I'd known Ronny dear would be so put out by my sorting! Why, it distresses me to think how much inconvenience this causes _him_!" Harry shrunk a little under my withering glare.

A group of students chose that moment to leave the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy among them.

"Get out of it, Potter. Ron doesn't need saving from you. I may have fangs now, but at least _I_ remember who my family is." With that parting jab at the boy I still adored, I turned with a flick of my hair and headed to the Transfiguration classroom.

"Looks like our newest little snake will fit in quite well, don't you think, Potter?" I heard Malfoy taunt as I started up the stairs.

Classes were a relief that day. I had to focus on paying attention to the professors and finding my classrooms and dodging stink pellets dropped from the ceiling by Peeves. Most people didn't even notice me in the hallways, being too busy shouting to friends they hadn't seen all summer or rushing back to get books and quills they forgot in their dorms.

All in all, I'd say the day was a success.

That is until after dinner. The professors had decided to be nice to us firsties and not assign us homework on our first day in the castle. This is all well and good, I didn't _want_ homework, but that meant I didn't have any distractions.

I saw Malfoy leave to head back to the common room, and after the looks he'd been giving me throughout the meal I knew that option was out. I decided the library was probably my safest bet.

I got lost three times and found my first secret passageway.

It was pretty deserted, what with it being the first day of school and all. I rushed past Hermione sitting in one of the center tables surrounded by mountains of books and headed to the furthest, dustiest corner I could find. I found the perfect spot. It was in a little nook behind the shelves that housed such respected tomes as _Caring for Flobber Worms_ _and Other Rewarding Creatures_ and _Dirty Toe Nails: A Helpful Guide to Self Grooming._ Obviously it was a heavy traffic area.

It had a disgusting looking armchair that had a bit of spring sticking through the upholstering and you felt as if the whole thing would collapse whenever you sat down and a tiny table that was never steady because each of its legs were a different length.

Like I said, perfect.

It was then that I first pulled out the diary I thought my mum had bought for me as a surprise. The first few lines I wrote down were mostly expletives. What? I grew up with six older brothers, deal with it.

I loved that the ink disappeared. It made me feel as if I could write anything because no one would ever see it. _I_ wouldn't even see it later so I could say all the things I was ashamed to really even think. Like how much I missed my brothers and how I thought that _maybe_ Malfoy would look okay if he stopped slicking back his hair. Sometimes I would just make angry slashing marks across the pages that wouldn't tear.

You see, Tom didn't respond for a few weeks.

I don't know if that was because he wasn't strong enough yet to interact, or if he was letting me get attached so he wouldn't scare me away when he finally did make contact. Either way, it worked well. Too well.

Tom became my everything.

The first week of class passed in a blur. By the weekend I found four more secret passageways and was probably able to get around the castle faster than any of the other first years. This was also helpful to keep me out of sight of the rest of the school, especially my brothers who still gave me dirty looks whenever they saw me.

Since I didn't have any friends in my house and the brothers prat refused to talk to me, I had a lot of free time to study and do homework in my little nook. In that short space of time I was already able to set myself above the other first years in the classroom. All the professors seemed to take an instant liking to me: my homework was always done neatly, I was prepared for all my classes, and the absence of friends meant I wasn't disruptive. All the professors except for two.

McGonagall was subtle about it. She never treated me overtly different from the other Slytherins in the class, but her eyes tended to linger on me a bit longer than on the others with a guarded glint to them. She couldn't figure out how this red hair went with this green tie and it infuriated her to no end not to have me in her lion's den.

Snape, on the other hand, glared at me with thinly veiled disgust. Tuesday after lunch I used that first secret passage way I found to get me to the potions lab before all the other Slytherins and Gryffindors for my first potions class. I'd found that if I was the first to class the other students had to choose to sit next to me, I wouldn't be the one burdening them with my presence. It was a good plan, all in all.

I took my seat at the far front corner of the classroom and started setting up my desk. I was just pulling my textbook out of my patched messenger bag when the professor walked in. I glanced up from the slightly hunched over position with my arm half in my bag and caught his eye. The already cool room seemed to drop to below freezing and I shivered at the ice in those coal black eyes.

His sneer unfroze me as he turned to the board as if I wasn't in the room at all. He flicked his wand and the chalk began writing notes on the board as Snape went to his desk without a second glance at me to start grading the piles of papers he already had on the second day of classes.

Well, fine. If I don't exist to him then he doesn't exist to me! I started meticulously copying down the notes in the still empty classroom. Snape never once glanced up from marking D's on what I'm sure was a stack of perfectly decent papers.

When the other students began filing in the seats next to me were the last to be filled. It ended up being some unfortunate, mousy haired Gryffindor. Calvin or something. It was my first Gryffindor/Slytherin class and I was interested to see how many explosions would arise. Both magical and not.

Snape, of course, started out with some trite speech about how we are all idiots and would no doubt blow up the castle by the end of the year. While he would never openly show hostility to one of his Slytherins in front of a room full of Gryffindors, the menace dripping off his tongue as he called "Weasley" during attendance left no doubt that I was at the bottom of the Slytherin monkey barrel. The Gryffindors didn't even notice, but the Slytherins' eyes gleamed with the knowledge that their head of house was behind them.

_Fake it till you make it…._

Head held high, I brewed half a perfect potion before Mr. Mousy Gryffindor blew up his cauldron forcing us all to exit the classroom as quickly as possible to avoid the noxious fumes.

The first time Tom wrote back to me I nearly wet myself.

I had been complaining about my life in Slytherin when it happened:

"_I HATE them! I really HATE them!!! All they do is stare at me! I can't even walk through the common room without feeling them glaring at my back or muttering about 'blood traitors'!! I try not to look at them, really I do! But I see the malice out of the corner of my eye. And Greengrass! What is her PROBLEM!?! She only ever sits on her bed and STARES at me!! No emotion, just stares! That's probably the creepiest thing of all! Yeah Malfoy's vile taunts make me want to hex him to next week, but those stupid blue eyes staring at me are what really creeps under my skin! I sit there with her eyes on me and I can feel myself cracking… I'm breaking down and I don't know how I keep myself together, I really don't… I'm cracking from the inside out…"_

"_It's going to be okay, Ginny. I know just how you feel… I was an outsider in Slytherin once, too."_

I squeaked and jumped out of my seat and threw the diary at the bookshelf across from me. My mind raced. Was I going crazy, was this some sort of elaborate prank, was it the other Slytherins, was it Fred and George…

When my heart finally started beating again and my breath was almost back to normal, I took my wand out and stepped tentatively towards where the book landed on the ground. I poked it with my wand once and jumped back quickly. Nothing happened. I poked it a few more times. Nothing happened.

Finally deciding it wasn't going to explode and turn me into a rainbow colored gerbil, you can never be too careful when the twins may be involved, I picked the diary up and went back to my seat. Going back to the same page as before I wrote:

"_What are you?"_

"_I'm sorry, Ginny. That was very rude of me. Hello, my name is Tom…."_

And the rest, as they say, is history.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Okay guys so there was the first chapter! I have a couple more written, but I wont post them till I get farther so don't expect super quick updates. I would really appreciate any feedback, especially constructive criticism. And I respond to each review personally! Each review touches me in a way and inspires me to write more, so if you're dying for the next chapter be sure to push that little button down there and tell me if you loved it, hated it, or think it needs some fluffy, pink, man eating bunnies!!


	2. An extraordinary love

**Author's Note:** Hey guys! So here is the second chapter, I hope you enjoy it. I want to give a special shout out to my buddy edwardhpsam for all the help she's given me on this chapter and the story as a whole.

I actually have a request for you guys: I need help writing a better summary. I'm not good at condensing what the story is about it such a constricted amount of characters... so HELP! ;)

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The weeks went by and I got into a bit of a routine. I'd wake up, eat, go to classes, eat, a few more classes, eat again, then go to my library nook to write to Tom. It was a pretty good system, really.

Now this is the hard part, explaining my relationship with Tom. People only ever think of him as this evil snake man. Yes, he _was_ evil, but he was also very charming. He knew just what to say to make little 11-year-old me feel comfortable and understood and accepted. The more I told him, the more he knew me, the easier it became for him to control me and influence me. At first it was little things, helpful things. He would tell me to work on my potions homework or that I should use this book to add a few inches to my transfigurations essay. Following his suggestions changed from a choice to an impulse. I started to feel like I _needed _to find that book, that it was _imperative _for me to accomplish this charm.

That should have been my first warning sign.

One positive to the whole Tom situation was that I stopped noticing how my classmates treated me. Tom was on my mind for everything I did. Would this please him? He's going to be so mad about that. I can't wait to tell him about this! I was so consumed with Tom that I even forgot to be sad about my brothers.

He was there for me through everything. He sympathized with my Slytherin problems (he had been an orphan with a muggle surname in the snake's lair), he let me cry to him when, weeks later, my mum finally wrote me a short, stiff letter that didn't really talk about anything, and he kept me on top of my studies. He was the perfect best friend, pocket size for my convenience. He had hooked me body, mind, and soul.

I still remember waking up the morning after my first blackout.

I didn't open my eyes at first. You know that place right between asleep and awake? You know, when you're lying there and you can still vaguely remember your dream, but you can feel it slipping away so you keep your eyes shut tight hoping that would bring the memories of your sweet dream back to you? Well that's what I was trying to do, except the few fleeting sensations I was able to hold on to sent a bead of sweat down the back of my neck.

I slowly opened my eyes, confused at the sense of dread curling in my stomach. I looked down and saw that I was clutching my diary, not an all together uncommon occurrence. There were many nights I would fall asleep with a quill in my hands, my bedspread had the ink marks to prove it. What _was_ unusual was the blood covering my hands and splattered up on my wrists and arms. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to let loose the loudest scream of my life at that moment.

I thought I was dying there was so much blood.

I did a quick self-evaluation, looking all over my body expecting to find some hideous gash. There was nothing. I looked and looked trying to find the source of the mostly dried blood all over me. The fact that I was uninjured was half a relief and half more worrisome. If it wasn't my blood where did it come from?

It was a very out damn spot moment.

I searched my memory of the day before for some sort of answer. It had been Halloween. I was really excited about the feast that was to take place that night, the whole castle was abuzz with rumors about what Dumbledore had planned for the festivities. It was the first thing I had been excited about that had nothing to do with Tom since term started. He was excited about it, too. I could tell from the way his normally perfect script looked a bit rushed. I figured he was reminiscing about all his Halloweens spent in the castle.

In fact, everyone seemed exceptionally thrilled about the holiday. Even the normally stoic Slytherins had a bit of an extra bounce in their steps. One 7th year girl actually almost smiled at me when I walked past her on my way to breakfast. If I hadn't been so caught up in the excitement sizzling through my own veins I would have been shocked.

I didn't notice it that year, so entranced was I in the feel of the day, but there were a few students who weren't quite so enthralled. There were only a few Slytherins who fell into this category. Those few seemed to be even more testy than normal, prone to sending disgruntled and jealous glances at their energized classmates. Not noticing any of that, I also didn't notice that the unhappy ones were those without last names like Malfoy and Nott and Greengrass.

Classes that day were a bit of a joke. _I_ couldn't even pay attention to the lectures. Most of the professors decided to give us fun practical magic assignments instead of fighting the loosing battle for our attention; in charms the tiny professor taught us how to charm faces onto the pumpkins he had floating around the classroom.

Then I had a couple hours till the feast started so I decided to go to my secret corner to pass the time with Tom. He was telling me a funny story about when he was in 4th year a group of students charmed all the professors' heads into jack-o-lanterns then… then… nothing. Just nothing! My mind is blank, no explanation for the blood. When I tried really hard I was able to get a bit of feeling in that blank, black spot in my mind: fear.

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 20 minutes after when I should have gotten out of bed.

"Shit!" I yelped as I frantically rubbed as much of the blood off me with my blanket as I could. House elves can work magic, literally, on any type of stain so I wasn't overly worried about my blanket, more about what my roommate would think if she saw me covered in blood.

I threw the curtains aside and stumbled gracelessly out of bed fully prepared to sprint into the shower. That was before I saw that my morning freak out caused me to be late enough that _she_ was already dressed sitting in that hated spot on her bed. It always bugged me that she stayed sitting during our daily power struggles; it was like I was such a pathetic opponent that she didn't even need to use the advantage of her height.

She still had a bit of the glow we all had from the day before. She looked so serene in her stillness rather than the harsh restraint that normally kept her a mute statue.

I snapped.

I was so tired of these stupid Slytherin games! No interaction among the snakes occurred without at least a subtle superiority contest. There was a very rigid hierarchy down there in the dungeons and everyone knew their place and asserted their authority as often as possible. Even a 6th year laughing at a 4th year's joke would be a carefully calculated move to prove some sort of point. And after everything that had already happened in the half hour I'd been awake I was in no mood to play this stupid game. I was freaked out and confused and generally scared shitless so forgive me if I wanted to screw Slytherin politics.

Like I said, I snapped.

"Fuck you, Greengrass," I spoke in an even, neutral tone, keeping my hands hidden in the loose fabric of my pajama pants. I held her eyes just long enough to see them widen in shock before I rushed to the shower to scrub my body with the hottest water I could stand. Despite everything, I couldn't keep a small smile off my face knowing that with just three words I was able to shake her, to break her of that annoying self assurance that she was better than me in some fundamental way.

I had won a Slytherin battle in a very Gryffindor way.

I didn't even think to suspect Tom. The whole castle was talking about the message written in blood. The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs were itching to know what the Chamber of Secrets was. The Slytherins, on the other hand, strutted through the corridors with knowing smirks on their faces. It seemed that just about all of the upper years knew all about the chamber, and even most of the younger years did, too. Those few, like myself, who had no clue what was going on wouldn't let that show. They would smirk at all the right jokes and sneer at the other houses' ignorance. Luckily for me I didn't have to pretend because I didn't talk to anyone.

Okay, I'm not stupid. Of course I connected a message written in blood on the wall and waking up covered in blood. When I walked by that girl's loo the first time my stomach clenched in unexplained terror. I avoided that corridor wherever humanly possible. While it was somewhat of a major inconvenience (the fastest way from the Great Hall to the dungeons was through that hallway), I was able to find a secret passageway behind the tapestry of the Third Great Goblin Rebellion on the second floor that cut a good five minutes off my commute.

I don't think I ate anything that day. I missed breakfast and I wasn't hungry for lunch so I just went to my nook to tell Tom about what happened.

"…_Tom I'm so scared. I don't remember anything from last night! I think I attacked a cat. And there was so much blood! So much blood EVERYWHERE! What happened to me, Tom? And what is this whole Chamber of Secrets thing? All the Slytherins seem to know about it! You were in Slytherin, too. Do you remember anything about a chamber?"_

"_Well, Ginny, there was this time my 6__th__ year… Students started getting attacked and there was a lot of talk about Salazar Slytherin's monster…"_

And so Tom told me his story. When he got to the part about the muggleborn dying a chill ran down my spine.

Could I be the heir of Slytherin? No! It's impossible. My family is a firmly light devoted Gryffindor family. But the blackout… and the blood… Was I going mad? Was all the stress of being in Slytherin and my brothers being angry with me finally making me crack?

Tom was able to calm me down.

He talked me around in circles with empty platitudes. And when that didn't work, he distracted me by changing the subject to Harry.

Oh, Harry. Don't get me wrong, I may have yelled at him and I may glare at him whenever he caught my eye, but I was still hopelessly infatuated with him.

Every spare second when Tom wasn't in my head, Harry was. When I didn't have terrifying nightmares of attacking students with a horrible monster at my back, my dreams were filled with his perfect green eyes gazing at me in love. Sometimes I would write in the diary stories in which Harry professed his love for me. Tom humored me. He would tell me that someday Harry would truly see me and we would ride off into the sunset together on his Nimbus 2000. He would feed into my obsession then ask for more information about Harry, a subject I was more than happy to talk about.

It never seemed weird to me that he was so interested in Harry. I mean he _was_ Harry freakin' Potter! Who _wouldn't_ be interested in him? He was very interesting… and cute… and nice… and brave…

And someone _Avada_ me now, please! Insert puking noises here.

A few weeks later the castle was buzzing with excitement again, this time over the first Quidditch game of the season. And, of course, because everything in this school seems to love to feed the rivalry, Slytherin and Gryffindor played each other in the first match of the year.

The gossip channels were positively squealing with the news that Draco Malfoy got the empty Slytherin seeker spot and that the whole team _just so happened_ to be generously donated a complete set of Nimbus 2001's by Malfoy senior. Imagine that.

Malfoy became completely insufferable. He started strutting through the castle like he was the king of the world and as the match got closer and closer he used every means possible to torment Harry, and my brother by association. His favorite tool being yours truly.

Ever since that first breakfast where Malfoy walked in on the tail end of my argument with Harry and Ron, he knew that using me was the quickest way to get under their skin. I was still angry enough at them and apathetic enough towards everything else, thanks Tom, to let Malfoy use me to torment the saintly trio.

Really, I shouldn't blame Tom for my actions where my brother and his friends were concerned. I was young and angry and I felt turned on by those who I expected to stand by me always. I was hurt, and at 11 I may not have seen things as clearly as I should.

One day, about a week before the game, I was heading back to the castle after a pretty relaxing walk around the lake, when my path was blocked by the group of arguing idiots.

It was a very familiar scene, really. Malfoy, incessantly smirking, flanked by Dumb and Dumber, facing my brother, face redder than his hair and being restrained by Harry and Hermione. It would have been completely unremarkable and not worth noting if it wasn't for the fact that they were directly between me and the lovely front doors that, incidentally, I needed to pass through to get to my lovely dorm where the lovely books were that I needed to finish my lovely homework. Lovely. I hadn't found the secret tunnel under the archway to the north courtyard that lets you bypass all the major hallways on your way to the dungeons till after Christmas my second year, so this was my only path inside.

As I approached them I turned my head away, hoping to be able to pass them without comment or being drawn into the conflict. Isn't that naivety so _cute_?

"Oh, look here! The only Weasley even remotely worth the air she breathes," Malfoy's pre-pubescent tones rang out, drawing all attention to me.

I fought down a scowl as I turned to the six of them. My hand tightened around the diary, taking strength from Tom to get through this confrontation.

"Why, Malfoy, how heartwarming it is to know you think so _well_ of me! Seriously, my world is complete," I deadpanned, focusing on those ice blue eyes so as not to have to look at the Gryffindors.

Malfoy's smirk widened noticeably as I went to stand next to him. He knew that while I couldn't stand him and was in no way on his side, I _was_ willing to play. The ignorant Gryffindors across from us, of course, completely missed that little Slytherin byplay.

"Feisty little snake we have here, don't we, Potter?" he threw the question out as he tauntingly rested his arm across my shoulders.

I smirked the few inches up at him as I wrapped my arm around his waist, pinching his side. Hard. Malfoy was barely able to contain a wince. He tightened his hand on my shoulder, silently telling me to behave.

Again the Gryffindors, as unsubtle as they tend to be, missed it all.

I looked over at them for the first time to see three pairs of eyes widen in shock and betrayal. They actually thought I was _flirting _with Malfoy! The absurdity of that notion nearly made me crack up laughing.

"_Feisty_ isn't the word I would use to describe her," Ron spat, answering for Harry. He narrowed his eyes dangerously at me.

"Oh, Ronald, how _would_ you describe me, hmm?" I sneered at him in contempt I only half felt. Without giving him time to respond, I turned to the other two. "Or I'm sure Potter and Granger could answer that. What are all the nasty little things my _dear_ brother says to you? Do you let him cry on your shoulders about his evil, disgraceful, _Slytherin _baby sister?" They withered slightly under the heat of my glare.

"He's just worried about you, Ginny… we all are…" Hermione spoke up, barely finding the courage to look me in the eye.

"You're worried about me?" I scoffed in derision, "Save your worrying, Granger. I neither want nor need it. Especially from a bunch of self-important _Gryffindors_," I spat the last word as if it was something gross I found on the bottom of my shoe. I could feel Malfoy shaking slightly next to me with suppressed laughter, the feeling of his silent gloating practically emanating from him.

I ran my eyes up and down the trio, sizing them up. For a moment I nearly faltered in my game. They were so… _Gryffindor_. They were bright and shining and brave. They were everything I had ever wanted to be. Even at 12 they had a certain bond, it was impossible to describe. In years to come it would become more noticeable. You would be able to glance at them and just _know_ that this was a special type of friendship, one that was very rare and probably hadn't been seen in centuries, if ever at all. Theirs was an extraordinary love that can only be gained through shared experiences, both life changing and mundane, and the knowledge that nothing, magical or not, could ever truly separate the three of them.

I should have felt jealous, they had everything my lonely 11-year-old self wanted. I have been jealous of that several times since then. More times than I'd like to admit, actually. But in that moment all I felt was shame at trying to hurt something so pure.

Then it passed.

I let my eyes run over them, silently judging and finding them wanting.

"Let's get out of here. The air suddenly seems a bit foul, for some reason," I blithely comment up at Malfoy.

He used his arm around my shoulders to steer me towards the castle, remarking loudly, sneering back at them, "Don't worry, Ginevra. That's just the stench of dirty blood. We'll be free from it in the common room."

I let him guide me back to the castle, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind us like lost puppies. Really ugly, stupid puppies. Not once did I look back. Partly because I had to concentrate on the game I was still playing with Malfoy. With just a few biting comments I was able to leave him standing with his goons, fuming and stunned, in the Entrance Hall.

But mostly because I knew that if I had taken the time to really see the hurt and anger and betrayal I knew was shining through the eyes of the three friends, I would have been helpless to stop the tears from running down my cheeks.

I'll admit, I took maybe a little too much joy out of being able to get one up on both the trio and Malfoy in one go. Tom had convinced me that I had no reason to apologize to my brothers so I was still waiting for them to approach me. So yeah, I enjoyed reminding them of what I was now while they took their sweet time to grow a pair. I never denied my vindictive streak… in fact, I fully embraced it. I wanted to hurt them as much as they had hurt me.

I focused on that joy so I could forget the other feelings brought up that day.

Despite everything, I was pretty excited to watch my first ever Hogwarts Quidditch game. I'd always been fascinated with the sport, ever since I was little watching Bill and Charlie fly around our little makeshift pitch.

My first time on a broom was an unmitigated disaster. I'm glad none of my brothers had been around to see that. There are some advantages to sneaking out in the middle of the night to fly your brothers' brooms. Unfortunately, it's not advantageous to have no one there to tell you the proper grip to use so you slip off the back about a million times before you figure it out. My backside was so bruised, I sat funny for a week; bit hard to explain, that.

I was a little late waking up the morning of the game, but nothing could put a damper on my bubbly mood that day. Everyone else had already gone down to breakfast so I practically skipped down the stairs to the empty common room. I stopped at the bottom of the stair case to adjust my Slytherin scarf then continued toward the entrance when I noticed there actually _was_ someone still there and I stopped in my tracks.

It was Malfoy. He was already dressed in his Quidditch robes sitting on the couch directly in front of the fire, staring intently into the flames. It was clear my presence went unnoticed because there's not a chance he would just let me walk by without a comment.

I should have just left, I mean I was already late enough and I really wanted to be able to eat a little bit before the match. I should have, but something about the scene before me kept me frozen in place.

He was just sitting there. Expression emotionless, his feet were up on the couch in front of him, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, cradling his knees against his chest. His face from the nose down was hidden; all I could see was the fire reflected in his piercing blue eyes.

They were so intense, so focused, so… scared.

That's what really threw me. Every inch of him, from his normally slick hair looking slightly disheveled to his comfortably worn trainers, screamed fear. He was tucked in a tight ball on a couch where he would normally be found sprawled languidly; he was completely out of place.

I was mesmerized. I knew that Malfoy would never intentionally let anyone see him in such a vulnerable position. I felt a vague horror at being witness to such an intensely private moment, but I was unable to move. There was a terrifying beauty to the way the fire cast an orange sheen to his platinum blonde hair and a deep shadow under his eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, I was broken out of my reverie when a shudder went through Malfoy's body. It was the kind of shudder that you can tell shakes the body to the bone. He shut his eyes tightly and the spell was broken.

As quickly and quietly as I could I exited the common room. The wall could have slammed shut and I doubt Malfoy would have noticed.

I wanted to root for Slytherin, really I did. But it was just so hard to when all my life I thought I'd be roaring along with the students now sitting on the other side of the pitch from me. And Harry. Watching Harry fly made my heart speed up and slow down at the same time. Every movement, every flip and turn and dive, looked on the brink of out of control and yet so very perfectly _in _control. He flew with the ease of a seasoned professional and the joy of a novice. All in all, it was very exciting to watch.

And that was just the warm up.

All the players touched down to listen to Madam Hooch's speech and to wait for the whistle. The sun broke through the thick overhang of clouds for a split second. In that moment a flash of light drew my eyes to the group of Slytherin players. Of course the sun reflected off of Malfoy's perfectly blonde head.

He was smirking then. As I watched, one of the older players said something that made the rest of the team snicker. It was probably something completely foul. But again I found my eyes glued to the blonde prat. He couldn't have looked more different than he had that morning in the common room. He was back to his usual cocky, vile self. But I couldn't forget, and still can't ever forget, that scared boy by the fire.

That memory would haunt me for years to come.

I'm surprised my heart didn't just stop during that game. Stupid bloody elf! Why must they insist on meddling? Every time that bludger turned back around towards Harry my heart skipped a beat and when it actually broke his arm? I didn't think my lungs would ever work properly again.

And speaking of idiotic meddling, what the hell is wrong with Lockhart? It's almost as if he _wanted_ to get found out as a fake. If you know you fail at magic, don't flaunt your ineptitude in front of a stadium full of students and teachers by removing all the bones in the Boy-Who-Lived's arm!

Okay Ginny, breath in, breath out… breath in, breath out…

Okay, I'm better now. I don't think I'll ever be able to think about my first Defense professor without getting seriously miffed. I heard about how he wanted to just leave me in the chamber, he actually actively worked against my rescue. Bloody wanker.

So that night I did what I normally did when I was stressed or scared or anxious: I wrote to Tom.

The Slytherins were on a bit of a warpath. Everyone was angry about the outcome of the match both because we lost, and because Harry didn't die like a decent human being would when getting attacked by a mad bludger. No one had seen Malfoy since he touched down after the match; he was probably holed up in some empty classroom licking his wounds after being so humiliated. There was a lot of talk in the common room about whether or not keeping Malfoy was worth a new set of brooms if he couldn't even catch the snitch when the other seeker just broke his arm.

But then they remembered the other seeker was Harry.

An angry Slytherin house was not good for my health. Just walking through the common room to the staircase I was pushed into three walls, shoved into six people, and subsequently knocked into five pieces of furniture. I don't even want to think about the bruises I got on the climb up the stairs.

I know what you're thinking: way to have a backbone, right?

But really, what could I have done? Little firstie me challenge the entirety of Slytherin to a duel? Yeah, right! And it's not like I could go to Snape. If the way my head of house treated me in Potions was any indication, he would probably just push me into a cauldron of something nasty to the applause of my housemates. This scene played through my head as I entered my mercifully empty dorm room. Me, covered in some sort of green slime, getting laughed at by the faceless Slytherins in the shadows…

Ew.

I yanked my bed curtains tightly closed as I massaged my sore left shoulder. It had become intimately acquainted with several of the tastefully decorated common room walls and one very ornately carved high backed chair.

I could tell Tom was getting frustrated with my whining after only 20 minutes of writing to him, which was weird because he usually had an endless store of patience for me. I was so upset about the Quidditch game and what could have happened to Harry, I didn't care that Tom was obviously annoyed. His responses got shorter and shorter and his handwriting became very stiff.

"_But, god, Tom! What if that bludger hadn't hit his arm? What if it hit his HEAD?? He could have DIED!! And we have no clue who did it, too. If it had been someone in Slytherin, I'm sure they would be bragging about it, but no one's claimed credit! And who else would want to hurt Harry? And you should have seen how PALE he looked after Lockhart—"_

"_ENOUGH!!"_

The next thing I knew, I had fallen back against my pillow. I sat up slowly, wondering why there was a weird ringing in my ears. I looked down at the diary, closed in my lap. Did the book shake right before I fell back?

No. That's impossible, I was just tired. It _had_ been a very long day; first the whole Malfoy thing, then the Harry/bludger/Lockhart thing. I just needed sleep. I opened the book back to the page I was on last.

"_I'm sorry, Tom. I think I need to go to sleep. I'm not feeling too well…."_

All of a sudden I found myself lying on the wet floor of a bathroom.

I sat up slowly, my hair heavy from holding so much filthy water. Looking around me, I saw a solid layer of water covering the entire floor, noisily trickling down the drain a few feet away from where I sat. My heart was pounding in my chest as if I had just run 10 laps around the Quidditch pitch.

My soaking wet robes made getting to my feet a struggle. When I was finally fully upright I had to grab onto the sink next to me to remain standing. The room started spinning, my vision started clouding, and my breath hitched in my throat. I gripped the sink so hard my fingers started cramping, and it was only that pain that brought me back to myself. I forced myself to take several long, deep breaths to steady myself.

I reached shakily out to grab the sink with my other hand. I gingerly turned and supported most of my weight on the chipped porcelain.

Looking up at the mirror in front of me, the first thing I noticed was the sopping tangles of harshly red hair cascading around my face. My hair was normally thick and wavy and vibrant, reaching down to the middle of my back. In that mirror I saw ratty tangles of a gritty, blood red mess.

Then my eyes traveled to examine my skin. I'm a naturally pale person in general. Even in the sun I don't really tan, I just burn and get more freckles. But what I saw in the mirror was an impossibly pale face. My skin looked almost translucent, as if I had lost a massive amount of blood, and the dusting of freckles across my nose and cheekbones stood out abnormally.

My lip started to tremble as my eyes met their reflection. The breath leaving my lungs stopped in its track and my heart started beating erratically, but the face in the mirror didn't move a muscle. The expression didn't change and the eyelids didn't blink, but something in me shifted. What I saw in those glassy eyes, eyes I couldn't think of as mine, chilled me to the bone.

They were completely lifeless.

I stood there for several hours, my entire body shaking though I didn't feel cold. I stood there until, finally, I swallowed the lump in my throat and crept through the still sleeping castle as the sun rose over the grassy hilltops on the edge of the grounds.

The early morning sunlight shining through the windows as I staggered down the corridors did nothing to stop the shaking in my body, nor did the long, scalding hot shower I took while my roommate slept soundly in her bed.

I walked through that day in a blur, not seeing where I was going or whom I was bumping into; just that face in the mirror. Most people just walked by, not caring to think about the anomaly that was the Slytherin Weasley. The few that did notice me would do a double take, often times running into something or someone in their confusion, before shaking their heads vigorously, either from disbelief or to rid their minds of the disturbing image now planted there.

That entire day not a single tear fell from my cold, dead eyes.

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**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading guys! Let me know what you think so far or if you have any suggestions for a better summary in a review. Come on guys, you know you wanna!! The little green button is calling to you!


	3. Replaced speech with laughter

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! So here is my third chapter. I think I'm doing pretty good at getting the chapters out relatively quickly considering I'm taking a crazy school schedule and work is always time consuming... Sorry that I can't get them out sooner!

On a brighter note! My 20th birthday is tomorrow!! I can't tell if I'm stoked or freaked out about getting so old... truly I'm 5-years-old at heart. So this chapter is my birthday present to all you awesome readers! But isn't it the birthday girl who is supposed to get a gift, you ask? Well if you guys want to make this an awesome birthday for me, your gift to me can be a review! All reviews are greatly appreciated, especially constructive criticism.

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It took a couple weeks to get that image out of the forefront of my mind. I would dwell on it for hours. By that point I knew I was somehow involved in the attacks. And it killed me that I couldn't remember any of it.

I felt myself shrinking. Not literally, of course. In fact, I think I grew an inch or so in the time I had been in the castle. But… it felt like my spirit was shrinking. My essence, all the 'Ginny-ness' in me, was seeping out of me slowly day by day. I was getting hallowed out and it terrified me.

The Tuesday after the match found me sitting in my usual seat in Potions. I got there early, as per usual, and watched as the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years filed in individually or in small groups. Finally Snape stalked into the classroom and started lecturing before the door closed behind him, but the seat next to me remained empty and I knew. I knew that this was the boy who had been attacked the night I woke up on a lavatory floor with a bruise on the back of my head.

He always annoyed me. It was because of him that I was getting a poor grade in Potions. While Snape wouldn't single me out with Gryffindors in the room, blaming my failures on my partner achieved the same result. Any little mistake made by the mousy haired boy caused us both to be docked points in the class. So I didn't like him. Was that reason enough for him to be attacked?

I would never again forget Collin Creevey's name.

I withdrew even more into myself. I couldn't bring myself to meet anyone's eye and carried Tom with me everywhere. He became like a drug to me. If I went too long without writing to him, I would begin to feel sick. I'd break out in sweat and feel my stomach start to heave, only to be alleviated when I set quill to parchment. It got so bad that sometimes I would be woken in the middle of the night with severe body aches and would be forced to write to Tom to be able to get back to sleep.

But even sleep wasn't a respite for me. At night my dreams were haunted by crimson eyes set in a handsome, pale face under a sweep of dark hair.

I started to hate Tom with every fiber of my being.

Even my studies began to suffer. Most of the professors figured I had finally just hit a bit of a plateau. We can't all be Hermione Granger's, right? Besides, I was still quiet in the classroom, not disruptive in the least even though I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs every second of the day. I was easily forgotten in a crowd of rowdy students. If a set of dark eyes did tend to follow my movements through the Potions classroom with a bit more attention than usual, well that was to be expected. Especially if my lack of focus could have some quite explosive consequences.

It was walking back from a particularly strenuous double Potions class when I ran, quite literally, directly into the twins.

I landed hard on my backside, causing the diary to fall out of my pocket and slide across the floor till it hit the opposite wall of the corridor. My heart skipped a beat in panic at Tom being so far away and I scurried on hands and knees over to it, hastily shoving it securely in my book bag.

"Whoa, little sis!" Fred chuckled. I'd always been the best at telling them apart.

"Yeah, don't worry! We wont steal your little diary… again," George continued, reaching a hand out to help me up. Fred shuddered.

"I still don't understand how Mum reached quite that decibel," Fred rubbed his ear theatrically for affect as George hauled me to my feet.

I stood stunned. They were standing there, talking and joking as if nothing was wrong, as if they hadn't shunned me all year. But wait, had they? Had I been near them at all since term started? No. I'd seen them a few times across the Great Hall or casually passed them in the corridors, but they would normally have their heads bent together, mischievously plotting something or other, or else yelling boisterously to friends.

Twin looks of concern slowly spread across my brothers' faces as I stood there silently staring at them. They were there, right in front of me, looking just as they always had. I knew I could end up getting hurt, but my need for something to hope for outweighed my self-preservation. Suddenly I smiled, the muscles in my cheeks protesting this unusual action, and I launched myself at them, pulling both into the strongest hug I could. Fred laughed lightly at my impulsiveness, while George rubbed my back soothingly.

I buried my face into the nook where their chests met, never wanting to leave the protection of their strong, beaters arms wrapped tightly around me. A few tears of relief managed to slip from the corner of my eyes and immediately disappeared into the black student robes that smelled vaguely of combustion and something unnamable, but distinctly that of the twins themselves. It was a comforting smell and I let it fill me up and surround me. It reminded me of summers at the Burrow, times when I felt safe and loved and happy. My room was right above Fred and George's so this smell would always seep up through the floorboards after a particularly loud BANG! or CRASH!

For a moment I was able to forget everything and imagine myself back the Burrow and the twins had just let me in on their next prank. They were always the best at including me. They said they saw the makings of a great prankster in me and I was never sure whether or not that was really a good thing. I sighed contentedly at the memories.

I pulled away and smiled up at my two favorite brothers. Leave it to the twins to be so caught up in mischief making that I thought they were avoiding me.

"So Gin-Gin, where you headed?" George asked with a patented crooked twin grin. I punched him gently on the arm for the nickname and Fred grinned to match his brother's.

"Well, I was thinking about taking a walk down by the lake. You know, I want to take advantage of it before it gets too cold…" I trailed off, not sure if they would think it weird that I wanted to walk outside alone.

Their grins turned jovial and they turned to stand next to me, each resting an arm across my shoulders. They turned us around and started leading me down the corridor. We became a three-person brick wall walking down the center of the hallways, students having to move to the walls and groups having to break up to get around us. The twins laughed and joked over my head that reached to about their mid chests.

We spent the rest of the afternoon till dinner throwing fistfuls of crunchy brown leaves at each other and giggling while we watched the giant squid bring his long tentacles out of the water to pop the brightly colored bubbles my brothers conjured and sent over the lake.

I didn't talk much during those few wonderful hours; truthfully, I didn't have much to say. But the boys had enough crazy anecdotes to fill the silence and when they ran out of stories, their antics replaced speech with laughter.

We strolled into the Great Hall linked again, this time arm in arm. George had just told a joke about a goblin, a house elf, and the Headmaster walking into a bar, so we entered the room in a burst of hilarity, gathering quite a bit of attention. Reactions varied: Ron glared, of course, Percy just shook his head at the racket we were making, Hermione looked nervously at Ron, Harry just seemed curious, and most of Slytherin huffed in disdain at how un-Slytherin I was behaving.

I realized then that my family had just been shocked at my sorting, not angry. Fred and George obviously still loved me, although I could see myself tiring of all the Slytherin cracks _very_ soon, Percy was probably just too caught up in being the perfect Prefect to spend time with his baby sister, and Ron always had a quick temper, he would get over it all soon enough.

The twins walked me to the end of the Slytherin table, both giving me a hug before heading to their own table. Fred pulled my ponytail to annoy me while George embraced me, but I was in too good a mood from the day to really mind. I smiled contentedly at the crazy duo as I took a seat with my housemates, feeling more peaceful than I had since the beginning of summer. I had family and they loved me and tomorrow I would write a letter to Mum apologizing for not responding to her first owl.

The entire time I spent with my brothers, I hadn't once felt the need to write to Tom.

My time with the twins was little and far between, but I cherished every second spent in their company. It was only with them that I would laugh. When they were around an invisible weight seemed to lift off my shoulders and I felt like I could finally breathe properly where my lungs normally could never fully expand in my chest.

Fred and George were two shining stars in the dark night sky that my life had become.

A bit melodramatic, you say? Well, when I was around them was the only time I felt free of Tom. I started feeling his presence everywhere I went, not just when writing in the diary. Where he had once been charming and understanding, he started to change. He would no longer soothe my worries over my family accepting me or calm my fears that the other Slytherins would always hate me. He became vicious and critical, tearing through every bit of confidence I was able to grasp with just a few words.

"_Come now, Ginny. You can't _honestly _think your brothers could ever truly love you again? You're tainted, Ginny. You are attacking the other students…."_

"_But-"_

"_No. You are dark, Ginny. That's why you were put in Slytherin. You are a dark witch and you're soul is tainted by darkness. And you still think people would be able to love you?" _I could practically hear the sneer in his written words.

About a week later I was walking into the common room after classes, my hand twitching by my side, when my path to the girls' staircase was blocked by a group of snickering students surrounding the notice board. I wanted to just shove past them all and race up to my room before the shakes turned into all out sweating and cramps, but a voice in the crowd stopped me in my tracks.

"Do they think we'll be able to duel Salazar's monster?" came the sneering voice of the fifth year beater on the Quidditch team.

"Oh yeah," one of his friends joked back, "I'm sure if a little mudblood bowed properly to the heir he'll call off the beastie and set about a nice little duel." He scoffed and continued, "then they'll head down to the kitchens and sit down for a pleasant afternoon tea!"

A wave of snickers washed through the group of Slytherins at the absurdity of a dueling club as I finally made my way through the crowd. I hurried up the stairs and barged into my dorm, the door hitting the wall with the force of my entrance. Thankfully, my roommate was nowhere to be seen. Just imagining the look that would appear on her face if she had witnessed that scene made me scowl.

I sprung onto my bed and yanked the curtains tightly closed around me as the door clicked closed. My hands immediately steadied as I wrapped my fingers around a quill and the headache that was beginning to form started to subside as I opened the diary to the correct date. I carefully dipped my quill in the inkpot I'd placed on a little ledge on my headboard, tapped it against the mouth of the bottle to prevent dripping, and brought the tip to hover just above the page.

I stopped myself then, elbow braced on my knee, poised to begin writing. A silent battle started to rage within me. I didn't want to do this, not really. I hated Tom. I hated that he was cruel. I hated that he scared me. I hated that he made me feel weak. But mostly, I hated him because I still wanted his approval. I longed for the days that he would soothe me and tell me that, no matter what, he would always love me. My brain told me that I should tell someone about him, that he was the true cause of the attacks and needed to be stopped.

But my heart loved the boy who had been my sole confidant when my life seemed so upside down.

I knew it was foolish and would probably just get me hurt, but I could not bring myself to stand up to him. I naively felt that if I was just _good_ enough, my Tom would come back to me. Not this bitter, cruel boy who mocked me, but _my_ sweet, caring friend. So I would give in and write in the diary, all the while hating myself for this weakness and pitying Tom.

That's right. I felt sorry for Tom. I wished he were more than just a memory inside a diary. I wanted to hold him in my arms and stroke his back and tell him everything would be all right. I was convinced that he was hurting and that caused his anger and aggression. Sometimes, I would cry at night, imagining what kind of suffering he must have gone through to make him so spiteful.

I never let on to my thoughts. No. I instinctively knew Tom would be too proud to accept comfort from me. So I kept my worrying to the brief moments I wasn't writing to him, but still, I'm sure he knew. How could he not? He knew everything without me telling him. So I loved him, and hated him for it.

And I wanted to save him.

Doesn't that just make you want to vomit? How like a little girl to think I could change the world, or at least his little world in the diary, with a few kind words and a loving heart. After all the shit that monster put me through, I wanted to save him. He possessed me and tried to kill me and I wanted to save _him. _There are very few times in my life that I would admit it, but during my first year, I was the one in need of saving.

So there I was, on the verge of spilling more of myself into Tom, and violently fighting against myself. Those few moments of pause brought all the sickness back to me. My head started pounding, my hands trembling, and I felt bile rise in my throat. My body started rocking slowly back and forth, but my hand stayed in its place at the top of the page. I was choking on my own silent screams while salty tears flowed freely down my cheeks.

_No… No… No… No!_ was the only thought spinning through my head.

My mind was just about to win, I could feel it. I wasn't going to succumb to that torture. Then, right as I was bringing my hand away from the cursed diary, the ink at the tip of the quill was jostled. I watched in horror as a single drop of ink fell onto the page. It seemed to happen in slow motion as I watched my victory fall.

The second that drop was absorbed into the parchment, I felt every bit of control leave my body. I let out a long, slow breath, and as my lungs emptied, any will power I had gained in my struggle was lost as well. I felt dizzy, the edges of my vision blurred for a moment, and I swayed slightly forward. As my sight cleared, I looked down and saw the words written where the drop of ink had been:

"_Ginny… Ginny… Ginny… Oh, silly Ginny. Did you really think you could be rid of me so easily?"_

I couldn't bring myself to go to the dueling club. Don't give me that look; would you want to go and watch the majority of the student body learn how to attack you? No, I didn't think so. It wasn't weak of me… I just knew I wouldn't be able to stomach it… Whatever.

It doesn't matter anyways. By lunch the next day I had heard the story ten different times from seven different sources; I remember it now as if I'd been there. When I first heard Malfoy crowing about Harry being a Parselmouth as I walked through the common room on my way to breakfast, I thought they were just having me on, but then I passed a group of third year Ravenclaws talking about it as I was heading to History of Magic.

But Harry? The heir of Slytherin? Impossible! He's the Boy-Who-Lived, there's no bloody way. And that's all true even if I hadn't known for a _fact_ that it couldn't be him.

The castle, it seemed, could not stop talking about this interesting turn of events. I couldn't escape the whispers. It was everywhere; you couldn't turn a corner without bumping into at least one gossiping bunch.

"Did you hear how Potter…"

"But it _can't _be him! He's the Boy-Who…"

"I _saw_ it! He chased that snake right at…"

"I can't believe he's a Parselmouth!"

Before, when it was only fear that fanned the flames, the chatter was hushed and tense. Now that the fear was tinted with a bit of scandal, people were hysterically interested in the whole ordeal. Students took great delight in theorizing about how the great Harry Potter had fallen into the dark arts. Why, maybe it was all that dark magic inside him that _really_ defeated You-Know-Who? Oh, my!

But I don't think they truly believed it, not really. It was just something new and exciting to gossip about. Focusing on the intriguing news that Harry could talk to snakes let them all forget, at least for a little while, the terror of the truth. People will let themselves believe anything if it helps them to sleep at night.

Something somewhat surprising came of the whole Potter's a Parselmouth debacle: I began to feel a sort of bond between Harry and myself. While he obviously didn't know exactly how I felt about the Chamber situation, he probably knew more than anyone else what it was like. The only difference was that whereas he was getting glaring accusations from the rest of the student body, I was getting it all from the inside of my head.

And you really can't escape your own thoughts the way you can hide under an invisibility cloak.

That next day I ran into Harry as I made my way from lunch to the Charms classroom. Really I almost literally bumped into him when we were both rounding a corner at the same time. What is it with me constantly walking into that boy?

His arms came out instinctively to steady me, both hands gripping gently right below my shoulders. Which was a good thing because I would probably have fallen to the floor. When I felt that I wasn't about to topple over I looked up and was shocked to see a pair of startlingly green eyes peering the couple inches down at me.

Time stopped as I was captured in that intense gaze. In that moment I knew that Harry Potter would never be able to make it as an actor; his eyes gave far too much of himself away. I was mesmerized as I could practically read his train of thought as the emotions played across his face.

At first I saw something very familiar: there was a lifeless, haunted look to his eyes that I had seen only too many times in my own mirror when things began to feel so upside down I would question my sanity. Slowly that started to fade as he seemed to come to the present and was able to focus on something outside his spiraling thoughts. It was only then that I could tell he really _saw_ me, that he realized where he was and what was happening around him. I was so caught up in reading the boy who still held me at arm's length, that I didn't even feel that stab of self-consciousness that would normally accompany being the center of his attention, even for such a short amount of time.

I watched carefully as his eyes took in my face, moving steadily from feature to feature. His eyes first found my chapped lips, perpetually on the verge of cracking they were so dry. His attention made me aware of the fact that I had been biting nervously on my bottom lip, no doubt adding even more damage to that sensitive skin. Even so, I refused to release it for fear of breaking this spell we seemed to be under.

His gaze then traveled up the side of my face, noting that one lock of limp hair that was never able to find its way into my ponytail where it was meant to be, preferring to hang right next to my left eye just waiting for a chance to get in the way. This didn't hold his attention long as his eyes moved to take in the general pallor of my skin.

I knew what he would see. It was the same picture I scowled at every morning in the mirror: sallow, sunken in cheeks and skin so pale that the deep bags under my eyes stood out in sharp relief. His eyebrows knit together in concern and confusion. He was probably trying to figure out how a corpse was able to bump into him.

Then his eyes, his beautiful green eyes, locked onto my dull brown ones and it was as if some sort of light came on inside them. The second our gazes met a spark seemed to jump between us and I could tell instantly that he knew. Harry _knew_ that there was something we shared, some big secret understanding that no one else would ever be able to relate to. He didn't know what it was, but he could feel that same bond I felt upon learning of his Parseltongue abilities.

It all happened in a split second that ended all too soon as I let out a small gasp, sucking in a barely audible little puff of air into my chest. That tiny movement was enough to jostle the strap of my book bag, still precariously placed on my shoulder from nearly being knocked to the ground. It slipped down over his hand, now placed gently where it had been gripping me earlier, and onto his arm. He did an awkward little stagger sideways as he caught the bag before it fell to the floor.

We both paused for a moment staring at the traitorous bag, blinking rapidly. We were dumbstruck, trying to understand what had just occurred. Harry let out a small clearing of his throat as he composed himself then held the bag out to me.

"Here's your bag, Ginny. Sorry about that," Harry said in a quiet, almost lost voice.

My hand seemed to move of its own accord as it slowly reached out for the proffered bag. I wanted to have some sort of snide comment to throw at him. I wanted to sneer in his face and smirk. I wanted to pull up that Slytherin haughtiness that I had been using as an emotional buffer all year, but I couldn't. I was still so shaken up that I was only able to swallow the lump in my throat and squeak out a tiny, "thanks…" as I readjusted the strap on my shoulder.

He shook his head, probably trying to jostle his thoughts into some kind of order before looking back at me. Without another word, I turned my head away from him and continued down the corridor that would take me to a portrait of a room full of witches drinking tea. If one felt the desire, one could have a conversation with this group of witches (all quite eccentric personalities) or, if one was of a like mind with the little first year me, could tap the correct pattern with a wand onto the witches outrageous hats to reveal a passageway that ends directly across from the Charms classroom. Of course, that option was only viable if one doesn't mind breaking countless school rules.

I felt his eyes on the back of my head until I turned the corner, probably trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, but I would not turn back to look at him.

How could I when I understood so little myself?

I made it to Charms a few minutes early thanks to my liberal use of secret passageways. I got to my usual seat in the back corner of the classroom and was pulling out some parchment for notes just as tiny little Professor Flitwick entered the room. He immediately climbed up on to a stack of books and began writing his lecture outline on the board. He always did that, wrote out the key lecture points by hand before class and left it up the entire class period. It was very different from Snape's method of charming the chalk to write exhaustive notes that you were supposed to be able to copy down exactly before it would be magically erased to be replaced with even more notes.

I appreciated the quirkiness of this kind professor.

The professor took his position behind the podium and started lecturing promptly on time. I began dutifully writing down notes, secretly glad this was to be a lecture day and I wouldn't have to try to concentrate on spell casting. I'm sure with how jumbled my brain was at the moment I would probably turn everything in the room pink rather than levitate the heavy materials we were moving on to. Besides, unlike most of my classmates, I found the theory behind magic just as interesting as performing the spell itself.

I was just starting to be fascinated with the concept that changing the angle of your wand effects how much power is put into the spell, which is very necessary when trying to lift denser objects, when my hand started trembling, leaving an unfortunate inkblot in the middle of my notes.

_No. Not now, Tom! I'm in the middle of class, I can't write to you now… _I silently begged the boy in the diary. I started to panic as I felt my stomach constrict in pain. I let out a small gasp of pain.

This was bad. The symptoms had never come on so quickly before! I usually had at least a half hour from the initial tremors before the aches came and Tom had never called to me in the middle of class. This was bad and getting worse by the second.

I started feeling dizzy and my breaths came in shallow and painfully. My head felt so light I was afraid it would float off my neck, but at the same time as if there was a massive pressure pushing in on every inch of it. This was a completely new sensation and I knew something was very wrong. My gasping breaths began drawing the attention of the entire back row and I knew I needed to get out of the classroom. Fast.

I stood up quickly and had to grab the desk in front of me to keep from falling over as the room spun around me. My classmate's tittering and whispering behind their hands was momentarily covered by the loud clattering of my chair falling over behind me.

"Miss Weasley," I heard the squeaky voice of the professor from the front of the room even though I couldn't see him by that point, "is something wrong?" The concern in his voice made me want to vomit. Or was that the intense vertigo being on my feet caused?

"I-" my breath caught in my throat and I had to swallow painfully before I was able to go on. "I… think I need… to go to the Hospital Wing…" I finally managed to choke out. I started to stumble towards the door before even finishing the sentence. I heard the indignant squawks of the other students as I knocked into a desk or two before finding the wall to lead me to the exit.

"Yes, of course! Should I send someone with you?" Several students groaned behind me, no one wanting to be chosen as the escort. Panic rose in my throat at the thought of anyone accompanying me.

"No!" was all I was able to say as I practically fell out of the classroom and into the hallway, letting the door slam behind me.

I leaned against the wall for a moment as my head spun, trying to think of what I should do. I suddenly doubled over in pain, clutching my stomach in fear that I would throw up. I had to move. Nothing else mattered except getting as far away from people as possible.

So I ran. I had no destination or direction in mind; I probably wouldn't be able to stick to one if I had. I just knew I needed to _move._

I don't know how many corridors away I was before I started using the walls for support as I ran, too focused on my task to keep count. Very suddenly my legs gave out beneath me, unable to support the weight of my body. I started crawling, heaving myself forward a few inches at a time. No real thoughts ran through my head, only a litany commands for myself:

_Move… Get away… A little farther… Move!_

That and a desperate need to keep conscious. I knew, without knowing _how_ I knew, that if I succumbed to the darkness at the edge of my vision very bad things would happen. If my brain wasn't so fuzzy and I was able to think properly, I'm sure I would have realized that those 'bad things' would be another attack on a student, but I wasn't able to process thoughts through to that level. The second a notion came by it was immediately swept away on what felt like a heavy fog in my mind.

I fought harder than I had ever fought before. I _couldn't _let this happen, not again.

_No! Gods, _please_ no! You can fight this, Ginny. You _can!

My mind went black before my head even hit the hard floor.

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**Author's Note:** Thank you all so much for reading! The longer this story gets, the more fun it is to write. It's the same for the amount of reviews and story alerts I get. All the support you lovely people have given me makes the whole process a joy!

Again, it's my birthday tomorrow! How did I get so old?? Please send me a review! They keep me young ;)


	4. Christmas cheer

**Author's Note:** Wow, it's been MONTHS since my last update.... SORRY!!! Now, please, before you all grab your pitchforks and light those torches hear me out! I wrote most of those first three chapters while on winter break, then school and work started up again and I had absolutely no time to work on this. But I still feel really bad about the horrendously long time between updates! I promise I'm not abandoning this story.

I realized last weekend that I haven't updated since right before my birthday so I decided I had to get the next chapter out by this weekend, which means that in the last two days I wrote like 2500 words... See, I procrastinate in more than just homework! ;) Anyways, last update I was excited about my birthday, so this time I'll tell you something else exciting: I'm getting an award from the fire chief today for saving a man's life (literally- I'm a lifeguard)! I'm pretty stoked about the award, though not so much about the reason I'm getting it. The day after the rescue, the man had to get open heart surgery so it was pretty serious... But hey, after today I can put that I got a "Fire Chief Commendation" on my resume! That's pretty cool.

So enough of my babbling trying to distract you all from my despicable updating habits! (Warning: I literally just finished writing it 5 minutes ago and I haven't read through it as thoroughly as I normally would so I'm sorry if the whole thing is a bit rough) Read and please review!!

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The next thing I knew, I was standing outside the hospital wing. I was trembling from head to toe and I felt a wetness trickling down the side of my face.

I reached my shaking hand up slowly and when I brought it away there was sticky, partially dried blood smeared across my fingers. The spot right above it was tender and slightly swollen.

_Must have been from when I fell…_ was all I could think before pushing open the door and wandering dreamily into Madam Pomfrey's domain. I was almost immediately bustled onto a bed by the fussy school healer.

"Oh, dear! How did this happen?" she asked as she busied herself inspecting the wound.

"I fell…" my brain was still pretty fuzzy. I don't know if that was from hitting my head when I blacked out or just that I'd never been around other people so soon after an episode. Something in my voice must have caught her attention, though, because her fingers momentarily stilled on my temple as she brought her face a bit closer to catch my eye.

"And how hard did you hit your head, dear?" her voice sounded slow and steady, as if she didn't want to startle me.

"I'm fine, really." She raised one eyebrow skeptically so I went on, "I promise, Madam Pomfrey, I just tripped is all." I was shocked at my own acting skills as I looked down bashfully before continuing in a shy voice, "I'm so clumsy sometimes. Quite embarrassing…" I looked back up at her hopefully.

"Well, okay. I should be able to heal this cut in a jiffy," she said, more to herself than to me, as she waved her wand next to my eye. Instantly the pain vanished and my head cleared a bit more. "Now I don't think you have a concussion, but I have a potion I want you to drink, just to be safe, dear," she held my eyes just long enough to assure herself that I was, in fact, all right before shuffling off to her office to find the potion she wanted.

I sat, patiently waiting, swinging my legs back and forth at the end of the bed. I refused to let my eyes wander over to the curtain hidden bed where I knew Collin Creevey was. But while I could control the movement of my eyes, I couldn't stop the thoughts spinning through my head.

_If I had passed out again, did that mean another student was attacked? What if this time they weren't just petrified, but killed? What if I _killed _someone? _I started hyperventilating when two things occurred simultaneously and distracted me from my freak out.

First, Madam Pomfrey seemed to have finally found the potion she needed and was coming back to me.

But I barely noticed that because at that same moment, the door to the hospital wing banged open as Professors Flitwick and Sinistra marched in with a body floating behind them.

A weird rushing sound in my ears blocked out all the other noise around me. It was as if I was standing under a waterfall.

My lungs started burning as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over the supine body and I realized I had been holding my breath for I don't know how long. I sucked in a gasping breath, loud enough to draw Flitwick's attention.

"Ah, Miss Weasley, I see you found your way here all right," he squeaked, looking flustered, as if he had forgotten I would be there.

"Who… Was it… Is he…" I rasped, unable to complete a thought. I looked around the tiny professor, trying to get a look at the boy in the bed. I vaguely recognized him as a Hufflepuff, but I don't think I had ever heard his name.

"Oh, well," he twitched his eyes back to glance over at the medi-witch nervously. "He… will be fine," it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me. The professor smiled at me in what I'm sure was meant to be a reassuring manner, but was really more of a grimace. "Once Professor Sprout's mandrakes—"

"Come, Miss Weasley. You seem fine to leave," Madam Pomfrey cut in, grabbing my shoulder to steer me out of the hospital wing.

"But who…" I needed to know, I was _frantic _to know who I had attacked this time. But Pomfrey rambled on over my queries.

"Be sure to come straight back if you start to feel even the least bit dizzy," she opened the door and gave me a slight shove out. She then turned to walk back to her patient on the bed.

"But Madam…" my voice came out as barely a squeak. I had to clear my throat twice before being able to speak, "But Madam. Please. Who was it?" I paused, trying to ask the real question, "Who was attacked?" _Who did I attack?_

She stopped and without turning to look at me muttered, "Justin Finch-Fletchley," then continued walking away from me as if her stride hadn't been interrupted.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley…" I whispered as the door to the hospital wing swung shut in my face with an echoing click.

I stood rooted to the spot staring at the closed doors in front of me. I stood there as ghosts floated by and students took notes. I stood there as teachers lectured and kids tried not to doze off. I stood there as the world kept spinning slowly and I stayed perfectly still. I stood there with the same three things chasing each other in circles around my head.

_Mrs. Norris… Collin Creevey… Justin Finch-Fletchley… Mrs…._

I'm glad I held on to those names. Even as an 11-year-old I knew it was important to remember them forever. I still do remember, every one of their names and faces. Sometimes I still wake up from nightmares with those names on my lips. It was important to me.

Because if I forgot those names, if I forgot what I did and to whom I did it, if I pushed it to the recesses of my mind and didn't think about it, then I would be just as bad as Tom. I refused to see them as just bodies lying on a bed. They were people, individuals, and always would be. They were tragedies.

So I'm glad I was able to feel the pain of them. I still keep a place in my heart for each name. It's a constant ache, but I'm glad for it. That pain would prove to save me.

Not my life, but my soul.

I stood there long enough that I was still there when the Gryffindor ghost was brought in, being wafted down the corridor. Another name to add to my list.

_Nearly Headless Nick… Mrs. Norris…_

I bolted pretty quickly when I saw them coming so I was able to avoid seeing the look of pure terror I'm sure was on his translucent face.

I raced down to the dungeons, wanting the peace and quiet of my dorm. My feet slowed only when I neared the entrance to the common room.

News had apparently already spread about the most recent attacks and the fact that Harry Potter was again found at the scene. The room was abuzz with chatter as I made my way to the staircase.

Daphne Greengrass always startles me. Not because she's particularly startling or anything. In fact, she's perfectly ordinary in most respects. She does well in class, but not Hermione well. She's pretty, but not stunning. She's quiet, but not shy. In all, she's not the type of person you would expect to stop you dead in your tracks. But that's exactly what I did.

The door closed behind me as we locked eyes. Her dark blue eyes narrowed for a moment, her brow creased as if she was trying to figure out how two pieces of a puzzle fit together. Her scrutiny ended as quickly as it had began as she walked to her bed and set down the book she was holding.

"Feeling better?" she enquired in a voice that was impossible to read.

"What?" How eloquent, I know. But it _was _the first time she had ever said anything remotely cordial to me, so forgive my jaw hitting the floor.

"The way you stumbled out of class, it looked like you were on the verge of death," she stated, not seeming too upset at the prospect.

"Oh… Yeah, that. All better, thanks for asking," now it was my turn to be suspicious.

"So I'm sure you've heard about the heirs latest victim," there was an odd lightness to her voice as she gracefully fell back to sit on her bed. She leaned back on her hands, legs crossed at the ankles out in front of her, a bit of a smirk matching the quirk of her brow. "In fact, I hear you may have even seen it."

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about," I sat down, mimicking her pose and trying to keep my voice just as light. By the way her smirk widened at my response I'm sure I failed and she could see just how tense her line of questioning made me. Trying for a bit more confidence I added, "And I don't think you do, either."

"But you were in the Hospital Wing when they brought in the Hufflepuff, were you not?" her mocking tone annoyed me so much that all I could do was nod in response. She looked off haughtily as she continued, "Perhaps I'm not so clueless, then." Her eyes came back to mine with a surprising fierceness. It was as if she wanted to bore into me to retrieve the truth simply with the power of her stare.

"Or perhaps you shouldn't be sticking your nose in places it doesn't belong. _Perhaps_ you should think twice before opening your mouth. Perhaps some things are dangerous to say," I said, practically shaking with rage and fear over her insinuated accusations.

Far from the reaction I had expected, her face broke out into a full smile as she answered simply, "perhaps."

I watched, vaguely shocked as she languidly rose to her feet and sauntered across the room to the door, seemingly without a care in the world.

"But, perhaps not." And she was gone.

I fell back on my bed, exhausted for the rest of the day.

"_She's suspicious, Tom. I don't know how, but I think she knows… or at least suspects."_

"_She couldn't possibly know anything! You're just scared, Ginny. She wont find out about any of it."_

"_But—"_

"_She may suspect, but she doesn't know. She has no proof, so quit worrying!" _

"_I don't want this, Tom. Please…"_

"_Oh, of course you do, Ginny. This is who you are."_

"_No, please. I don't. I don't! I do—"_

"_There's no use fighting it. I know your inner self, Ginny. You've said it yourself, I know you better than anyone. I know you better than even you do. Your soul is purely dark. This is who you are."_

"_But—"_

"_Shut up, you silly girl! Stop crying!"_

Despite what Tom said, he seemed to agree that Daphne might be getting suspicious. Or he at least realized how foolish it was to call me out of class like that. After my rather conspicuous exit from the charms classroom he began to hold back a bit.

That desperate need to write to him lessened in any case. He seemed a bit more cheerful, too. Maybe it was just the approaching holiday season affecting his mood.

Christmas cheer seemed to be suddenly springing up everywhere. The first snow of the season fell and I spent an amazing Saturday morning at the edge of the forest having an epic snowball fight with the twins and Lee Jordan. The teams seemed to constantly change as alliances were made and broken. For about 10 minutes I hid behind a tree watching the three boys attack each other with snowballs, all thinking they were my sole ally. When they finally discovered my duplicity, they found me holding onto a tree trunk to support me as I giggled hysterically.

I continued laughing as a mischievous glint entered Fred's eyes, soon to be mirrored in George's, too caught up in my joke to be properly wary. That is until I was tossed bodily into a particularly large snowdrift.

Not knowing who won or lost, when my lips started turning purple the boys decided it was time to take me inside and show me what would turn into my favorite secret passageway.

Tickling a pear? That may just be the silliest secret in the castle.

But, wow! I still remember my awe at first seeing the flurry of activity as house elves raced around preparing for lunch. House elves running around. Food whizzing through the air. Vegetables chopping themselves. I didn't get nearly enough time to marvel before we were interrupted.

"Masters Weazy! Master Jordan! What can Blinky do for you? Would masters like Binky to get snacks?" It seemed the tiny bouncing creature would explode with its barely contained excitement at the prospect of serving us. I didn't hear another word they said to each other, being far too preoccupied trying to take in all the commotion around me.

I spent the rest of a marvelous evening simply enjoying being in the presence of my two favorite brothers.

After what felt like an eternity spent in the castle, Christmas break finally came to Hogwarts. While most of the student body went home to spend the holiday season with their families, my brothers and myself decided to stay in the castle. I claimed that I just didn't want to go to Romania and suffer through a winter even colder than the Scottish snow season, but really I wasn't sure if I was ready to see the rest of my family yet.

After my twin-induced revelation that my family didn't really hate me, my mum and I had started a bit of a correspondence. I was overjoyed at first, thinking that nothing had changed with my parents, but as more and more letters were exchanged I could see clearly that, with my mother at least, things weren't quite so happy. Her letters remained stiff and slightly impersonal. She avoided all mention of my house or housemates, preferring to ask about classes such as transfigurations and charms. I couldn't really tell how my dad felt as all his letters consisted of what new _fascinating _muggle trinkets he'd found at work.

So I was a bit reticent to see my parents. I hear it's a common reluctance for children who feel a disappointment to their families.

Another good thing about staying in the castle over the holiday was that it became practically deserted. In Slytherin, only Malfoy, the two goons, and a seventh year girl who spent the majority of her time studying for her N.E.W.T.s in the library, stayed behind. I got a couple glorious weeks as the sole occupant of my dorm.

Of course, as you can probably tell by now, fate hates me. That's the only explanation I can find for why the trio would also decide to stay behind in what should have been a completely trio-free time for me. Fate and I seen to have a bit of a perpetual antagonism towards each other. Don't believe me? Can anybody say Tom Riddle? How about Slytherin?

I spent most of my time in the mostly empty castle either writing to Tom or exploring for new secret passageways. I was determined to surprise Fred and George with my knowledge of the castle. But this seemed pretty doubtful as they had an almost unnatural ability to find the secrets of Hogwarts.

Now as for Tom, our already strange relationship began to get even weirder while I had so much free time to devote to him. As time went on his eerily physical presence in my life seemed to grow day by day.

While writing to him in my nook I would suddenly whip my head around, sure that I saw someone standing next to me, only to be all alone. Or sitting in my bed at night Tom would say something he found particularly amusing and I was positive I could hear faint sounds of laughter reverberate around my bed.

To say this freaked me out would be an understatement. Was I loosing my mind? Did my loneliness make me hallucinate Tom being in the room with me? Tom seemed to not notice my sudden silence in these situations. He didn't notice my fear and uncertainty. At least that's what I told myself. I never said anything to him about it because I was afraid of what he would say. I didn't want to read words of malice and scorn from him, telling me that I was crazy. But even more, I think, I didn't want him to tell me I wasn't crazy. I didn't want to believe that there was something really happening.

I'd rather believe myself crazy than accept that Tom's presence could actually leave the diary.

Only two things happened over the holidays that need to be said. The first incident occurred a few days before Christmas as I was heading out of the common room for a castle exploration expedition.

Remember the whole fate and hatred thing I have going? Well it was in fine form as I walked down the stairs and found Malfoy and his cronies directly in the path to the exit. I sighed as I stepped off the last step, knowing I was soon going to have another Malfoy confrontation, but that was when the strangest thing happened: Crabbe (or Goyle… I never did bother to figure out which was which) looked up shocked and exclaimed, "Ginny!"

Now let me say this, I had never once had an even somewhat civil conversation with any of the boys in front of me. So it's reasonable to expect me to stop dead in my tracks at this outburst. After taking a moment to process, I crossed my arms over my chest defensively.

"Ginny? Don't you mean Weasley?" I scoffed then continued, "Who do you think you are, my brother?" scorn dripped from every word I spoke.

But this was when the truly weird thing happened, his jaw dropped and his cheeks flushed bright red. His face got so red it almost seemed as if the blush extended to his hair.

"Er… of course not… er… Weasley…" he blustered, about as articulately as he ever is.

I looked down my nose at him in distaste, masking my utter confusion with haughty disdain, and turned to continue through the common room with a flick of my long red hair. Behind me I could hear Malfoy start to mock his friend.

"What was that? Don't tell me you fancy the she-weasel!"

"Er, no I—"

"That is truly pathetic. I should think—" and the door snapped shut, cutting off what I'm sure turned into a rather pompous rant about blood traitors and the proper ways for purebloods to behave.

Weird right? It makes sense that I try to avoid those boys as much as possible. They're crazy, the lot of them! I just shook my head and let all thoughts of the event fall from my mind.

As Christmas day approached, I got more and more nervous. With the strained relationship I had with my mother I wasn't sure what kind of presents I would get. If I didn't get the traditional Weasley jumper I just didn't know what I would do. If that happened I was sure that my relationship with my family would be irrevocably changed. And I was terrified.

Of course the more emotional I felt, the more I wrote to Tom, not that he really even helped me anymore. Gone were the days when he would comfort me. Now I confided in him not because I felt he would make me feel better, but because I was afraid of withholding things from him. I knew it was irrational, he was just a memory in a diary after all, but I couldn't help but be somewhat fearful of him. I guess in the end I had good reason to be.

By Christmas Eve night, my gift anxiety was at its peak. I was near tears and scribbling frantically to Tom.

"_But Tom! What if she forgets me? How will I ever be able to go back home this summer if my own mother doesn't want an evil Slytherin in her family? Oh, Tom! I'm so scared."_

"_Ginny you need to face it; they can't possibly love you any more. You are far too dark now. Everyone knows it. It's plainly written all over your face."_

"_You don't know that, Tom! I can't be! I don't want to be. And you can't know what is or is not on my face! You're just a silly memory inside a stupid book!!"_

"_Are you quite sure about that, Ginny?"_

The tears stopped streaming from my eyes as I stared at the words on the page. I literally felt my heart skip a beat then start a rapid _thump-THUMP_ against my chest. For about the millionth time that year my breath caught in my lungs. But this reaction didn't really have anything to do with the sentence that had yet to fade from the page. No, it had everything to do with the sound.

The sound of the curtains at the end of my bed rustling.

I couldn't look up. I _wouldn't _look up. I did not want to see what I knew I would once I raised my eyes. I didn't allow myself to think about what I would find. But that didn't stop the thrill of terror from running down my spine.

Slowly, so slowly, I tore my gaze away from the page in front of me. I ran my eyes down the length of my legs stretched out in front of me, taking special note of the overly worn pajamas that had once belonged to Percy. Anything to prolong this false sense of blissful ignorance. My focus stopped at the end of my feet. I was paralyzed with fright. My whole body started trembling with the emotion that I was trying so desperately to hold back. My vision began to blur and I felt as if I would pass out at any second until I heard an all-together new sound.

My eyes whipped up as a ghost of a chuckle seemed to pass right through me. The anticipated fear was nothing compared to the actual terror that coursed through my veins as I finally caught sight of the end of my bed.

There, smirking in that too familiar way, sat Tom Riddle. The exact same Tom Riddle I had seen in my dreams almost every night since the start of term. The same handsome face with its high cheekbones. The same hair swept elegantly across his forehead. The same full lips in a smirk meant to weaken and scorn those it was aimed at. And the same haunting, intense eyes that could mistakenly be called beautiful. There was nothing beautiful in the gaze that held me still as a statue.

"Hello, Ginny." His voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere and for a moment I thought I saw his eyes go from the deep blue to scarlet when he continued, "surprised to see me?"

I couldn't speak. I couldn't move a muscle. I don't think I even blinked. His smirk widened and his impossibly cold eyes became even colder.

"Why are you so speechless? It's normally impossible to get you to shut up," he raked his eyes over me and went on in a high pitched voice, obviously meant to mock me, "Oh, Tom! I'm so sad! Tom, I _love _Harry Potter _soooo_ much! No one understands me but you, Tom!"

This couldn't be happening. It just _couldn't_! It wasn't possible. Yet an all too sensible part of my mind disagreed, the part that trusted what my eyes saw and my ears heard. The rest of my thoughts were just a mindless scream of pure terror.

My pulse began to slow slightly as my body went into autopilot while my brain tried to process what was in front of me and I finally looked past those eyes. I finally saw what was really in front of me.

He was kind of… transparent?

For one crazy, wonderful moment I thought he was just a ghost. Ghosts couldn't hurt you, right? I mean, they just go right through you. If this was Tom's ghost then I shouldn't be afraid of it.

But, no, this wasn't a ghost that sat before me. Yes, he was transparent, but not in the opaque, colorless way of the dead spirits that do not pass on. He was more like… a shadow. As if the second I turned the light on he would be driven away. I would have tested that theory if I had any sort of motor function within my control. As it was, I just continued to stare at the spectral being in front of me.

"You're wondering what I am, are you not, Ginny?" he paused for a moment with an eyebrow raised. "No need to answer. I know how you think even better than you do, remember?"

Blink once. Twice.

"I am what you made me. All the power it took to give me this form came from you." Apparently my shock showed clearly on my face. "You don't believe me? Well, didn't you wonder why you were feeling particularly weak today?" Only then did I feel the unusual slouch of my shoulders, the fatigue that bordered on physical pain that was bone deep. It wasn't all that different from the way I felt most days, truthfully.

Without warning his whole disposition changed. He went from scornful to suddenly cheerful. Well, as cheerful as an evil son-of-a-bitch can be.

"Oh, Ginny. Dear, sweet Ginny," his smirk turned into what could passably be called a smile. He leaned forward intently, as if he was in the throws of a captivating conversation, though I had yet to even squeak a word out past the lump in my throat. Then he did something that chilled my already numb body to the bone.

He reached out and touched me.

It wasn't the icy touch of a ghost, or the warm touch of flesh. His hand didn't go through me, nor was there pressure against my skin. As his fingers ran delicately along the top of my foot all I could feel was a strange tingling. It felt almost like the pins and needle of when your foot falls asleep, but not really painful.

I took a sharp breath that seemed to burn my lungs. He chuckled, enjoying every moment of torture his new-found freedom caused me.

"It's been 50 years since I was able to touch anything, did you know?" he remarked in a matter of fact voice, as if we were having a pleasant chat over tea. "Of course, I can't really feel. Yet," that spiteful smirk was back, "But don't worry, in time that will change. Too bad you wont be around to see that."

His hand moved up to my ankle.

* * *

**Author's Note: **There it is folks! Sorry it's a little bit shorter than normal, by a couple hundred words actually... I just really wanted to get a chapter out to you guys as quickly as possible! The semester is nearly over so hopefully soon I wont struggle so much getting these up.

So as some of you have seen, I have a sort of companion story to this one called _Save Me: Outtakes_. This is a perpetually complete story that has scenes from this one told from other characters' points of view. Right now there's only one chapter up, which just so happens to be the scene that originally inspired me to write this story. I wanted to do that because this story is told strictly from Ginny's, often skewed, perspective. I really like seeing what other characters make of the same events seen through her eyes. Anyways, if there is any scene that you are just dying to see from someone else's POV, just let me know in a review and I'll see if I can write it for you and add it to that story! Just be sure you are specific about the exact scene and character you would like. This goes for the remainder of this story, though I can't guarantee that I'll write the scene you ask for. So if you want to, check out that story and/or give me a suggestion for another scene!

Again I live and breathe reviews, so PLEASE review! Yes, I know I'm begging, but if even half of the people who have me on their alert and/or favorites list reviewed I would be the happiest person alive!! (possibly a bit melodramatic, but you get the picture!)

Now it is past midnight and I have to work at 7 in the morning so I shall go to sleep and dream happy review-filled dreams!


	5. I will always win

**Author's Note:** *Ducks sharp objects thrown at head* I am SO sorry about the inexcusably long wait between updates! And yes, I realize this is a bit short, But I really wanted to get a chapter out before midterms killed my soul... But in my defense, even though I know you guys don't really care, life is CRAZY! Moving out and work and new school and life... Yeah I know I suck... But hey here you go! And on a bit of a positive note, I have now discovered the wonders of livejournal. So if you want to yell at me for my abysmal updating skills, like my ever-frustrated beta, that is the best place to do it! There's a link on my profile. I'd also like to give a huge thanks to all of you sticking with me through all my struggles; I will finish this I promise, so please don't give up on me! So enough of my ramblings... ON TO THE READING!

* * *

I fell asleep that night with Tom's ever-watchful eyes never leaving me. Well that's a bit of a lie; I never actually slept. How could I, knowing that _thing _was watching me?

I just closed my eyes and made my breathing even, hoping that he would go away once he thought I was no longer awake. I have no clue if I actually fooled him. Probably not. I never seemed able to properly keep anything from him.

But I tried, anyways. I stayed still as I heard the house elves deliver my Christmas presents and through the long hours till I saw the clock read 8 o'clock through my squinted eyes, only then feeling it a safe time to "wake up." You know that saying "she didn't feel safe in her own bed"? Well I never truly appreciated that statement until that night. I couldn't even hide under the covers.

Very few nights in my life have ever felt so long as the night after Tom showed himself to me for the first time. Seconds stretched to minutes and minutes to hours and hours to decades as my mind reeled in terror imagining all the things that Tom might do, unable to think of anything else or at least fall into the respite sleep would bring. Even nightmares would have been better than the hours of just _thinking._

And remembering. I kept reliving over and over in my mind the feel of his hand running up my foot to my ankle then continuing to my shin. A sickened shiver still runs down my spine remembering the look on his face as he touched me. It was a horrific combination of joy and triumph and hunger. It was as if he was sucking out my soul through his fingertips and consuming it. Well… I guess that's a pretty apt description of what was happening, isn't it?

So when 8 in the morning rolled around I couldn't hold still any longer. Opening my eyes, I slowly sat up. Not looking at the end of the bed, I knew that he was gone; at least his somewhat physical presence wasn't there.

Without glancing at the presents that not even 24 hours ago seemed so important to me, I walked in a daze directly to the shower. I turned the water on painfully hot and stood under the steaming fall till my entire body was raw and red and the heat made me feel on the verge of passing out. I wanted the feel of him off me. I felt so dirty.

Dirty in a way no amount of hot water could ever wash clean.

Sooner than I thought possible the castle filled up again with students. Of course, time does tend to move rather quickly when you're walking through life as a zombie.

I had completely shut down. I refused to let myself feel all the fear and pain and uncertainty that the holidays brought. So I felt nothing.

Better to be numb than in pain.

The autopilot that my body went into never fully left me. I would eat, go to classes, do my homework, and sleep just as I should. Probably better than I had before, actually; I gained back a bit of the weight I lost due to all the meals I had skipped earlier in the year. But I wasn't really present for any of it.

Still my silent hell went unnoticed by the masses.

One notable exception was Professor Snape. The first Tuesday after the holidays saw me in my new bright purple jumper sitting front row in potions. Yeah, I know, probably the worst color _ever_ when it comes to complimenting my complexion, but hey, at least my mum didn't make me a Gryffindor red one.

Without really knowing how I did it, by the end of the class period I had a nearly perfectly brewed potion sitting in front of me. I finished before the rest of my classmates, so for the rest of the double period I sat staring at the wall, listening to Tom's voice whispering in my head. I didn't notice a particularly intense gaze lingering on me.

When the class was finally over, I was jerked out of my reverie by the racket signaling that the other students were cleaning up preparing to leave. Slowly following suit, I was the last to exit.

"Miss Weasley," said a voice I would have loved to ignore as I walked past the lectern.

"Yes, Professor?" It shocked me for a moment how dead my voice sounded to my own ears. I couldn't even remember the last time I spoke aloud. Snape appeared a bit startled as well.

"Are you…" he seemed unable to find the right words, or at least unwilling to speak the ones he had, "are you quite all right?"

By the look on his face he was just as surprised to hear those words leave his mouth as I was. His expression quickly returned to neutral, but half a year in Slytherin wouldn't let me miss the slight widening of the eyes and the stiffening of the lips before he caught himself.

"Yes, Professor. I am… quite all right," I answered slowly, as if talking to someone mentally unstable. Of all the people I might confide in, Professor Snape didn't even make the list.

I would have been perfectly happy to end the conversation, the first I'd ever had with the greasy professor, there. I was even already planning to turn and walk out of the classroom, when suddenly I heard myself speaking again.

"Why do you ask, Professor?" my voice came out stronger and fiercer than I'd heard it in months.

"You just don't seem quite yourself," Snape said, trying for a note of finality.

"Was there something wrong with my homework, sir?" I found myself asking, gaining strength from his obvious wish to end the conversation he probably regretted starting. It wasn't seemly for the potions professor to show interest in any student, let alone a Weasley.

"No," was the professor's succinct reply.

"What about today's potion? Was it in some way inadequate?" I pressed.

"No."

"Well then, have I been disruptive to you or the learning of the other students?"

"No," he snapped, losing all patience he had with the direction of my questioning.

"Then, _sir,_ I don't see how anything that may or may not be happening in my personal life would be any of your business."

He seemed about ready to explode in what I'm sure would have been quite an impressive telling off, most likely including quite a few detentions for my insolence, when I crossed my arms over my chest and brought my eyes up to match him glare for glare.

Suddenly, much to my surprise, his eyes widened in what appeared to be shock and he was momentarily struck dumb.

"Good day, Professor," I said. Using this moment to make my leave, I whipped around and exited the classroom before I could be called back. I spent the rest of the evening wondering what had come over me and what could have possibly lead Professor Snape to let me leave without punishment.

I didn't realize at the time that the answer to both questions was the same.

I wasn't the only student whose mood had only worsened over the holiday.

I thought our relationship was strained before, but Daphne came back to school in January with what could only be called a chip on her shoulder. I hadn't noticed till term resumed that the anger and intensity in her eyes had dimmed the more time she spent in the castle.

This came back full force, and, if possible, became more pronounced. When we were alone together in our dorm the hostility radiating off her was positively suffocating. So it should come as no surprise that I spent as much of my time out of her company as possible.

One particularly cold February night found me in an unused sixth floor classroom at midnight, far past the time I should have been back in the common room.

By then I was seeing Tom everywhere. He would walk me to classes and chat to me while I ate in the Great Hall. The first time he appeared to me in the middle of a crowd I nearly screamed out loud. In any case, I stopped dead in my tracks, causing a fifth year Ravenclaw to run into me from behind and give me a withering look. But strangely, no one seemed to notice him standing there smirking at me. A few seconds later a third year Hufflepuff walked right through him and I understood. He was only real to me.

He was my own personal walking nightmare.

I was barely able to take a single note in Charms, too busy trying to drown out the sound of his voice whispering in my ear. But soon I became adept at giving no outward sign that anything strange was happening. In fact, most of the time my brain had absolutely nothing to do with what my body did. I would follow Tom's instructions without a thought and later be unable to say how it happened.

But that night I was alone. Well, as alone as I ever was that year.

"So, Ginny, that was an interesting potion today, wasn't it?" he crooned sweetly, _evilly,_ as he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

"_Please, Tom, just go away! Leave me alone, please…" _I wrote in response, refusing to acknowledge that he no longer needed the diary to communicate.

"Silly girl! Aren't you tired of this little game yet?" his smirk widened. He seemed to truly enjoy my stubbornness.

"_You don't need me anymore! Aren't you bored of me yet? I'm nothing special. I'm sure you could find someone much more interesting to be with," _I frantically pleaded.

"Nice try, Ginny!" his eyes suddenly darkened, "You know I cannot yet truly live separately from you." The maliciousness intensified as his eyes bored into me and his smirk returned, "and you also know very well that I won't be able to until I have consumed every drop of your dark little soul."

The sound of his cruel laughter was what finally made me break down in tears.

Even with my extensive knowledge of secret passageways, the trip back to the common room took me more than twice as long as it should have because several times I had to take a quick detour to avoid Filch or a prefect doing their rounds.

The common room was completely empty when I crept in at nearly 1:30 in the morning. I tiptoed up to my room and when I got there I did that doorknob trick to make as little noise as possible. Two steps into the room and all of a sudden I was faced with a lighted wand about an inch from my nose.

"What the—" I exclaimed, falling backwards a step and knocking into a nightstand in the process. It took a couple moments for my eyes to adjust to the brightness. When they did I was face to face with an obviously livid Daphne Greengrass. "Can you get that out of my face?" I whispered as furiously as a whisper can be. She lowered it about a centimeter. At least it wasn't completely blinding anymore.

"Where have you been?" she spat back.

"Oh, were you waiting up for me, Greengrass? I'm touched, really I am," I brushed her wand aside as I walked around her to set my book bag on my bed.

"Oh, you think you're special, do you?" she sneered as I turned back to look at her. "You think that just because you're _precious_ Ginny Weasley that you don't have to follow the rules like the rest of us?"

"Leave it alone, Greengrass," I deadpanned, brushing by her shoulder as I crossed the room to the lavatory. I busied myself finding my toothbrush, pretending not to notice that Daphne had followed me and was standing, staring at me, in the doorway.

"Too good to listen to me, too, are you?" She pitched her voice higher in what was clearly supposed to be a mockery of me, "Oh, _I'm _baby Weasley! I'm so _perfect_ and _special!_ I don't know _how _I could _possibly _have been sorted Slytherin. Boo-hoo! And now my whole family, my lovely _Gryffind—"_

"Don't talk about my family," I whipped around to face her, unused toothpaste clinging dangerously to the end of my toothbrush. "Don't you _dare_ talk to me as if you know anything about me or my family. Don't stand there telling me how I feel," I fumed. I was seeing red. I wanted to claw her perfect blue eyes out.

"Hit a bit of a sore spot, did I?" she smirked and leaned over to rest one shoulder gracefully against the doorframe. "Does Baby Weasley have family issues? Is she so sad that the rest of the ginger clan just can't understand her? You are just _so_ misunderstood, the little black sheep" she scoffed, that damnable smirk still begging me to slap it off her mean little face. Her eyes darkened suddenly, her expression morphing from amused and condescending to bitter and angry without any physical shift in feature. "Like you know anything about _real_ family issues."

"You don't think I've lost anything?" I shouted back, finally forgetting the time and that I should stay quiet. My ire had hit its breaking point and with every word I spoke, my self-control slipped away a little bit more, "You haven't a clue what I'm dealing with. Not only do I have to put up with _you_, which, let me tell you, is quite enough of a bother for anyone's life, but most of my brothers wont even look at me! And my parents can hardly even get through a letter without blatantly telling me how much of a disappointment I am. Even with all that, getting sorted Slytherin is the least of my problems! You have absolutely no idea what it's like to ha—" I snapped my mouth shut hard enough to make my jaw hurt. I couldn't believe how close I came to slipping up.

"You really don't want to play the 'who's life sucks worse' game with me," Daphne's voice came out soft and intense.

"Oh, really, and why's that?" I spat, annoyed that she seemed to have lost steam in the argument.

"Because," she seemed almost wistful now, "I will always win."

And she shut the bathroom door in my face.


End file.

Harry Potter, Angst, Romance