Gaslight-Part 1 Tom/Ginny

[black_hat]

For [Unknown site tag]nokomis305

Title: Gaslight
Characters: Tom Riddle (Lord Voldemort...I just call him Tom all the time :-)), Ginny Weasley, and Harry Potter
Pairing: No pairing, really.
Rating: R

Feathers.

 

She was twenty-two years old when her mother found her outside in the family chicken coop, holding a hen by its neck. Her nightclothes were white and her legs were thin, as they were when she was a little, little girl with freckles.

 

She had precisely twenty-two freckles on her left calf. He had counted.

 

She was still in her nightclothes when they rushed her to St. Mungo’s. She was thankful, and she cried in relief as they bound her arms together. No more.

 

She cried as they walked her down the hall, past the glass rooms. Lockhart pressed his nose against the window, waving. Safe.

 

“Hello, Ginny.”

 

Her heart stopped. He was standing in a Healer’s robe, smiling. “Long time, no see. But don’t worry. I’m going to take good care of you.”

 

He opened her cell—her new home—and it was a gaping mouth, full of darkness.

 

Not there again, she tried to speak, looking desparately at the mediwitches that held her body pinned in between them.

 

“Be gentle with her. No bruises this time. I want this one lucid.”

 

They nodded, and their faces were as  white as birch, carved clean of any expression. Her old dolls, his new toys, and they carried her towards the darkness as if they had been wound up.

 

“Please, tell me my little girl will get better.” Her mother cried into her home- stitched handkercheif, and he patted her arm.

 

“I assure you, madam, once I work out the all the kinks, you’ll never notice the difference.”

 

And in the darkness, a hand with ragged nails, long with age and insanity, gripped her face. A horrible, nearly rancid breath hit her face.

 

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

 

 

She gulped at the water greedily.

 

After she was sure she had drowned that hollow, sickly feeling, Ginny held the cold glass against her forehead.

 

“Nightmares again, Gin?”

 

She jumped. Harry stood in the doorway, stifling a yawn. She noticed that his pajamas were too short for him. She could see his bare ankles. It was adorable.

 

Ginny was proud of Harry. He was next in line for the Minster of Magic position, she just knew it. And here she was, keeping him up all night.

 

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” she said. “I was just thirsty, is all.”

 

“You didn’t take your Sleeping Draught, did you.”

 

“I took it during dinner. You reminded me, remember,” she said cheerfully.

 

He sighed, straightening his glasses, a motion that meant he was displeased about something. This time that something was her.

 

 “You totally faked it. I can’t believe you even stirred whatever the hell was in your glass. I mean, what’s the point?”

 

“I’m so glad you prefer my company when I’m knocked out,” she muttered, crossing her arms with some familiar twinges of pain.

 

“I prefer you all the time, you know. Awake, asleep. As long as you’re happy during both, I don’t care.”

 

Ginny pouted. How was she supposed to have a scalding response to the whole caring husband bit? He smiled slyly.  Then promptly tripped as he entered the room. Ginny had no mercy for she had warned him that she had cleaned the floor. Harry turned his trip into some sort of twirling skip, and she stifled a giggle. He pretended nothing had happened and leaned against the counter. And she was instantly warmed when he put his hand over hers. It was like drinking a whole cup of peppermint delight.

 

“So—as an old hat to nightmares—what did you dream about?”

 

“I dreamt about him, again.”

 

“Oh. Well-.”:

 

“Don’t say it. I don’t want to be dependent on draughts the rest of my life, okay.”

 

 Ginny shifted on her feet. “I…I don’t know. It sounds like tempting the fates.”

 

“I like to think of it as challenging the old biddies. And it’s not just taking back a year lost. It’s taking it back from him.”

 

There was nothing Harry could have said that would have baited her more. His words held a hook hidden behind their mirth.

 

“…All right. It sounds like fun. I’m never too young to relive my youth.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Harry said. “I’ll owl Minerva tomorrow.”

 

“Minerva?” Ginny asked, laughing.

 

All the professors insist that I’m on a first name basis with them,” he said, shaking his head. “Sounds weird, I guess.”

 

Then something occurred to her, and she gasped. “Harry! I’m so sorry! I forgot.”

 

“Hmm?” Ginny saw that he was feigning confusion, and she felt absolutely wretched.

 

“The anniversary is coming up.”

 

“In some countries, that day is already here. Time zones and so on. Can’t beat them,” Harry said.

 

“Well, surely we’re not traveling now. How can you even want to?” Usually, Harry wanted to be alone on the anniversity of the day that he finally defeated You-Know-Who.

 

“Because I’m not about to look a gift-horse in the mouth,” he said.

 

He looked like such a solemn child that she nearly laughed but something—the hook—stopped her.  “To second chances, then,” he said, holding up an invisible glass for her to toast.

 

“Here, here,” she said weakly, thankful for a break in the veil that had consumed them. “I-,”

 

Harry pressed his mouth against hers, taking her words from her.

 

 

 

 

 

On the train, Harry behaved like a toddler entranced by his first visit to the beach, his nose up against the window. The world’s greatest hero still gets excited about a train ride, Ginny thought dryly.

 

“We could have just Flooed, you know” she said, poking him in the shoulder. She made sure that she used the finger with the longest nail.

 

“Oh come on. Floo to Hogwarts,” he scoffed. “I want to relive the whole experience again.”

 

“Well, for your first ride, I wouldn’t be here. Sure you don’t want to ‘take back Hogwarts’ with Ron?”

 

“Hey, hey. Not too bitter, there,” Harry said, frowning as if she had broken his new toy. “Of course, I want to do this with you.”

 

“You haven’t said one word the entire time.”

 

“The thoughtful silence was for the atmosphere. And for the idle hands theory…” He reached over playfully to lift up the edge of her skirt, and she pushed his hand away. Ginny couldn’t remember Harry being quite this sarcastic but he did have all his burdens lifted from his shoulders

 

“I’m surprised you chose this day,” she repeated, looking to have those burdens back on his shoulders.

 

There was something about the way he was touching her that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. His hands were warmer than usual, and Harry had always given her a slightly lost, almost bashful look, as if afraid he’d be scolded. Or, in his own words, being with her was too good to be true, and the world would fall just to drive them apart. Today, however, it seemed as if he was dissecting her with his eyes.

 

“Really? I was kind of hoping to avoid the reporters who swarm upon our house. It’s not good for you.”

 

“Or you,” she said. He shrugged in good humor. Which pissed her off. “Are you taking the mickey?” she snapped, and switched seats. Now she had to look at him, but at least, he wouldn’t…do what husbands do, she thought grimly.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly as he began to open his mouth. “It’s just…It just seems like you’re being really…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Nevermind.” Ginny blamed her imagination and the heat of the compartment, and settled for looking out the window, trying to calm her nerves. Harry took off his glasses and placed them in his pocket.

 

“Surprise,” he said.

 

“Erm…”

 

“I had my vision improved. Hermione’s been telling me to do it for ages. I’ve taken her up on it, and now I can see you without looking through glass.”

 

Ginny laughed despite herself. “So how’s the view?”

 

Harry tilted his head. “If I look, just like this, it’s as if you have a halo on your head.”

 

“Harry…” she whispered, feeling overwhelmed by his compliment.

 

“You know what we can do to pass the time?” Harry mused. “I know something that I can’t do with Ron.”

 

“Here? Now?”

 

“Here, no. We can do it right over there,” he said, pointing to the empty compartment across from them. “Now, most definitely.”

 

“…You’re not kidding.”

 

His mouth twitched. “No.”

 

She shook her head, and he changed seats again, closing in the space.

 

“No, Harry,” Ginny repeated, frowning. He leaned forward, and without his glasses, his face was more chisled.

 

“Why? Give me one good reason, and I’ll refute it.”

 

“I don’t want you to refute it!” she said. “Can’t you wait until we get a bloody room.”

 

“…All right, then.” A dark look passed over his face. “I’ll wait until the room.”

 

She bit her lip and nodded tersely, the feeling of sickness growing with every mile the train brought them closer to Hogwarts.

 

“I’m going to get some air,” she said, and hurried out the door. She paced up and down the halls, wondering why the mere thought of their solitude made her want to scream.

 

When they reached Hogwarts, however, Harry acted like nothing was amiss. Looking shyly over his shoulder, he carried her bags for her, in what Ginny thought was a show of good will, considering the situation. Yet she desired to carry her own belongs and made a desparate claim for the smallest bag.

 

Professor McGonagall met them on the platform and to Ginny’s consertnation, immediately plucked the only bag right from her hand.

 

“This isn’t the first time that students have returned to Hogwarts but usually more than two years pass by,” she said.

 

“Well, we missed it-,” Harry began.

 

“Um, so what’s the schedule during the summer? I know Hogwarts still has some professors about. When should we be down in the Great Hall?”

 

“There is no one here for the first two weeks, Mrs. Potter. But I trust you can manage. We’ve made special provisions for the two of you. And no, Mr. Potter—we have keep your presence here a secret,” McGonagall added, smiling at Harry.

 

“I don’t understand,” Ginny said. “At least Hagrid should be…”

 

“Ah, Rubeus is with Madam Maxime,” McGonagall replied, making her way to the carriages that were guided by the now visible Thestrals. “I believe he shall be starting a family of his own soon.”

 

 “You don’t say,” Harry said, an undercurrent of disbelief illy disguised in his tone.

 

“Indeed,” McGonagall said, glancing at Harry as if to read his expression. She senses it too, Ginny thought, her hands starting to tremble.

 

“You know…I’m sorry, but I’m having second thoughts. I know you’ve gone to all this trouble, but this just isn’t a good idea,” she blurted out.

 

“Are your arms hurting again?” Harry asked, looking at her hands, and soon McGonagall was following his gaze. She stuck her hands in her pockets.

 

“No, it’s not my arms, I’m-,”

 

“Tired from the journey,” McGonagall said kindly. “Once you get to Hogwarts, I’m sure it will be fine, dear. I’ve held you up for too long, I’m afraid.”

 

“Here, let me help you up,” Harry said, and moved to guide her into the carriage.

 

“I can do it myself,” Ginny growled, and he backed away. She grabbed the handles of the door, and using her frustration as leverage, pulled herself into the small interior.

 

‘Right then’ she heard him utter weakly to McGonagall and mentally she called him every dirty name under the book. “Thanks again. It means so much to us. More than you could ever know.”

 

Ginny shivered and closed her eyes, burrowing herself against the old cushions.

 

“Well, that was pleasant,” he said, when he closed the door. “I’m glad no one else is staying here with us. They would have poisoned the food before long.”

 

She flinched at his complete about-face of behavior. “Wh-.”

 

“You’re unpleasant. Actually, you’re more than unpleasant, and it’s quickly boring me.”

 

“Is that a threat?” she bristled.

 

“It’s a promise, really,” Harry said. “I can only do so much.  Now, let’s lay the ground rules. I shall list them in terms that are easy for you to comprehend.”

 

“Ex-.” Her voice failed then, as if drowned away.

 

“You’re excused. Number one, don’t wander away from me. Do you realize how many places there are that people can get lost? Ah, I thought so.”

 

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!” she roared, reaching for her wand and finding it gone.

 

“Do you really not get it? It’s a do-over, Ginny. What do you think that means, exactly?”

 

“…I don’t…” she whispered.

 

“It’s quite simple. Think. Hard.”

 

“The anniversary,” Ginny said slowly. “You…you were sick and I had no idea...oh, God. Harry, you’re…”

 

“That’s good enough for me,” Harry said, laughing. “I had no illusions about your intelligence. Let’s try this again.” He raised his wand, and the last thing Ginny saw before the blackout was his eyes, dark and luminous.

 

“Obliviate!”