Chapter Text
To Thee My Tender Grief Confide
Thou silver deity of secret night,
Direct my footsteps through the woodland shade;
Thou conscious witness of unknown delight...
A hymn to the Moon
-Lady Mary Wortley
Ginny Weasley stood staring in the mirror.
In the dim light, long red hair framed her face. Brown eyes sparkled back at her, widening with anticipation. Pale hands clasped the sides of the white porcelain sink, and she stood very still, breathing slowly.
Waiting.
The nasty habit began shortly after she started her fourth year. One sleepless night, she heard a familiar whisper.
She sat up slowly, listening, peering into the darkness of her dorm. The ghostly whisper called to her, and in a daze, she followed it. Not bothering with a wand or robe, her small form descended barefooted from Gryffindor tower, wandering down into the castle.
Her movements were slow, her eyes were unfocused, and clad in a white nightgown, she could have passed for the undead.
Ribbons of darkness wrapped around her, gently pulling, leading her, guiding her to the source, and she let them. The darkness wrapped around her wrists, snaked up her bare arms to her shoulders, around her neck, around her waist. The tendrils of darkness that surrounded her were not cold, but warm. Like many pairs of soft hands holding her. She did not feel the chill of night, nor the cold stones under her bare feet. She did not fear the dark corridors. She found herself completely unafraid. In fact, she felt like she was soaring, her mind ascending to blissful unawareness. The darkness gently pulled her to the bathroom, and released her in front of the mirror.
She stared at her reflection, moonlight giving a soft glow to the dark room. Her reflection stared back. She was unworried. She was unconcerned. There were no ill feelings within a million miles of her to be had. She met her own eyes, a goofy grin of contentment on her face.
And then it happened.
Afterwards, she vowed to never tell a soul. She vowed the secret would be buried in an unplottable, inaccessible recess of her mind. Never. No one. No one could know. The thought filled her with shame. But it was not enough to stop.
It was pathetically easy, really. Harry, Ron and Hermione were so wrapped up in a cocoon of their own little world, they never had spare minute to notice anyone else, much less a little sister. Though, they really had no obvious reason to. Up until two years ago, she had considered herself very happy. Many friends were drawn to her bright smile and warm heart. She had a loving family. She had her first kiss. She had more kisses. She had fun. She started dating Harry. Who cared about one tiny insignificant secret? She played quidditch. She laughed. A lot. She loved to laugh.
And then it all went to hell.
Dumbledore died. Harry broke up with her. But worse than that, more painful than she’d ever care to admit, was when he, Ron and Hermione left her behind. Without a word or a note or a goodbye, they left her, and she felt utterly abandoned. Death Eaters took over the school. There was a great battle at Hogwarts between the Order and the Death Eaters. The death eaters won and took over the already corrupt ministry. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had not been at the battle, but were still searching for the remaining Horcruxes, insisting that Voldemort could not be killed without them. Charlie went missing. Soon Bill and Fleur were missing too. She tried to write to Ron but he insisted she stop so that they could not be traced. She went months at a time without news from them.
She felt like her loved ones were being plucked off one by one.
But the worst, the absolute worst, was that horrible night, when Ginny had left her family home for just a few hours to visit Luna and when she came back to the Burrow, all she found was ashes...
And then she was truly alone.
The ministry required all purebloods to be fully educated, and so she found herself back at Hogwarts for her last year. The habit continued. Perhaps it was egged on by her pain. She smiled less. She laughed less. But even so, she was sure no one knew, so sure no one would ever guess. Even Luna, her best friend and so intuitive, did not detect an oddity. Though it was something she would never voice, whether out loud or in her own head, deep down in her bones it had become something she knew she could not live without. Especially now, in her pathetic deep-seated loneliness.
Every week, without fail, her body carried her while her mind lapsed pleasantly into a blissful fog. Again and again, she made her way to the same bathroom. A bathroom she had no reason to be going into. A bathroom that should fill her quickening pulse with dread. No, she had absolutely no business in this place filled with dark memories that bubbled so close to the surface.
At first Myrtle was alarmed and confused by the frequent intrusions, but she had a deep-rooted discomfort of Ginny after what she had witnessed the girl do those years ago. After the first few visits Myrtle always seemed to be otherwise engaged when Ginny entered. Ginny did not question or seek out Myrtle on any of her visits. She preferred the solitude. After all, she didn’t dare even let a ghost find out...
Her secret was both shameful and precious to her. It was a pull she could not resist. It was a siren calling her, clouding her mind. Her footsteps to the bathroom were always light and easy, like she was floating. In vain she had attempted to staunch the habit, but it consumed her. She couldn’t escape from it, so what the point of fighting it? But, then again, did she really want to stop? She didn’t allow herself to ask that question.
And yet, here she was again.
No better than an addict in denial, she thought. Perhaps it was time to tell someone? Perhaps it was time for Luna to stage an intervention, where some beefy armed wizards dragged her to Saint Mungo's where she would be locked up and given treatments and potions and-
-and tested on…
She couldn’t suppress the shudder. No, nothing was worth that. She wouldn’t bring herself back to Saint Mungo's if she had lost an arm by a wild hippogriff.
For the millionth time, she began to stare in the mirror. Brown eyes met identical brown eyes. Pale skin for pale skin. Dark red hair mirroring itself.
And then, the silence.
Ginny placed her small hand on either side of the sink, bracing herself. Her breathing slowed even though the anticipation of what was about to happen began to fill her. Her pupils dilated, and she held very still.
“Ginevra.”
x
Tom Riddle did not like surprises.
He had had many in his long life, and each surprise seemed to be more despicable than the last.
Finding out about his father, learning of his blood status, hearing the prophecy of his downfall, and having his own spell backfire on him while attempting to kill a baby, were just a few examples.
All surprises.
All unpleasant.
His most recent surprise hadn’t been much better to say the least.
Years of good breeding and grooming, all gone to waste. His perfect pureblood protégé, future leader of his death eaters… turned out to be nothing more than a self-serving, lascivious, traitorous…
Well, disappointment .
Tom Riddle did not like disappointments.
In fact, he loathed disappointment with about as much zeal as he did surprises.
It was the ultimate culmination of these two heinous factors that resulted in today being one of the worst, most inferior, most unfavorable days that Tom Riddle had experienced in years.
And that is why Tom now found himself in the dank decrepit Malfoy dungeons, wand in hand, standing with one foot pressing into Lucius Malfoy’s back, who lay sprawled on the stone floor.
Tom let out another sigh of disappointment, ignoring the moans of pain being uttered beneath his foot.
“I spent many agonizing hours on the preparations for tonight, Lucius.”
Lucius coughed and sputtered, trickles of blood spilling out the corners of his mouth and nose.
“Of course, my Lord, forgive me, forgive my son-” His weak voice croaked.
Tom put more weight on his foot, hearing the satisfying crack of ribs breaking underneath him.
“I was so looking forward to this night. It would have been such a sacred day… ancient magic at its finest display, one ultimate liturgy. I would have amassed and reaped the power I had sown all those years ago. My ascension to the gods would have been sealed in blood. Her blood. My Ginevra. We were to become one tonight. Odd that something planned so perfectly could go so wrong, and yet, I find once again, that my trust is misplaced. That I once again underestimate the sheer stupidity, the idiocy of my supposedly loyal followers…”
Another shove with his foot, another crack of bones. Lucius moaned in pain.
“For-forgive me my Lord. I was blind to his plans. I did not know, I did not see-“
“No, of course Lucius, you didn’t see, did you? You didn’t see your own son begin to break right in front of your eyes. You didn’t see the cowardice that has seeped into his bones and tainted him. You didn’t see the way he looked at Ginevra, did you? He couldn’t hide his lust, his desire for her. Tell me, how many times did he put his hands on her and you had to intervene? How many times did you catch his eyes straying to her and away from his loyalty?”
“N-never my Lord! I didn’t see-“
“Well then you must have your head up your pathetic arse! Or perhaps you’ve been walking around with your hood on backwards? I saw him Lucius, he’s a talented Occlumens but I saw him. I cannot tolerate your level of blindness, Lucius. You no longer have control of him. He is lost. A failure.”
Tom removed his foot from Lucius, who groaned and rolled onto his side, unable to sit up. Tom strolled casually to the dungeon window, peering out into the dark of night. He wrapped his hands behind his back, and straightened up before continuing.
“Draco will pay with his life… and more. Whatever he’s done with Ginevra, I will find out everything. Every time he has looked at her, every time he dares touch her, each of these transgressions will be another agonizing moment of prolonged suffering for him. His first punishment, in what I assure you is a very long list of suffering I will plan for him, will be to watch me consummate my bond with Ginevra. He will see that she is mine, that she was mine all along, and all his foolish actions were forfeit.”
“Forgive me Lord, I was a fool.” Lucius rasped, spitting blood on the floor. “Draco is young and impulsive, but I believe he can be persuaded. Allow me, Lord, to take the responsibility. Take my life and spare him, please my Lord.”
Tom Riddle rolled his eyes. “Oh, spare me , Lucius. He is beyond help, beyond reason. Most importantly, beyond control. I think you know that. He will try to help Ginevra, he will try to make her his. He desires her for himself. He will feel like he has no choice but to try to help the Order, if he is to keep her. A predictable series of unfortunate choices. But alas, no matter his choices, all outcomes end with his doom. No, Lucius, his suffering and death will make but small dent in this trespass against me.”
He turned back to Lucius. His voice cold and flat.
“And of course, as his father , you will pay your dues as well.”
Fear passed over Lucius Malfoy’s face, and he bowed his head to the floor.
“Y-yes my Lord, I will accept my punishment.”
“Yes, yes you will. And once you have been appropriately reeducated , you will bring the boy and Ginevra to me immediately.”
“Yes, my Lord, I will begin searching for them right away. We won't rest until they’ve been found.”
“Oh,” Tom smiled wickedly to himself. “I’m not worried about finding them.”
Tom drew his wand.
“Now, let's begin.”
For the next hour, screams echoed off the dungeon walls.
Tom exited the dungeon cell, using his wand to clean the blood off his robes.
Tomorrow would most certainly be a better day.