And here's the last chapter. This fic was short, but fun to write – thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed! I have responses for you…

Ninde Annare: Hope you're feeling better – being sick stinks. Your fic is amazing enough to make up for any gap between updates, so don't rush yourself. But when the next chapter comes, I'll pounce on it! ;) Thanks a lot for your review!

LupinLover88: I'm not offended at all; I can see where you're coming from. Thanks for reviewing, at least! I really appreciate it.

adcohen: I'm forcing myself to just stick with this one. I change it so much I'm stunned anyone still knows who I am. Thanks for your review!

Jay Ficlover: Interesting challenge, and I would have thought about it if I didn't already know how the story would go. I'll think about doing a separate fic based around that idea, though.

Strange Stranger: Wow, thanks! I'm glad you like it.

hi: I'm happy you think so! Thanks for your review.

Sinya: Yes, I took a leaf out of ShrugDuckie's book and looked at CoS to make sure I wasn't mixing up the order of events. Glad you noticed! Late or not, I always appreciate your reviews.

And that's all. Enjoy the last (sniff) chapter. I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, of course, as I'm not J.K. Rowling.

Fake

Chapter 6

The guilt was terrible. The searing, scarring guilt. It bit into her like sharp teeth, wrapped itself around her heart like a cold snake and squeezed mercilessly. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, homework was out the window…

Hermione. She had hurt Hermione. How was anyone going to forgive her now? She was pacing her dormitory like a caged animal, as if motion would keep the guilt far enough behind her to where it couldn't take hold.

So it was the book. Tom had lied – he could hurt her, just not physically. He had lied about everything. She stopped pacing and buried her face in her hands. How could she have let herself be so badly fooled? Not only had he gotten her to put unwavering faith in him, he used her – made her hurt other people! Every time she opened that book, some other disaster occurred.

Was he lying when he said that she had given him too much? She had poured out her soul to him, everything she had. Her darkest secrets, her deepest fears, all to a lying, evil piece of scum! Not only was it terrible, it was humiliating! She had befriended a murderer…and turned into one herself!

She had tried to tell Harry. He had looked so horrified, she couldn't take it. She couldn't have him wondering who the traitor was…but Percy had ruined it all. If he hadn't come along, she may have been able to tell Harry what had been going on, or at least that she was the one who stole the diary from him. He would have hated her forever, but at least she would have gotten it off her chest.

But maybe she deserved to suffer this way. It was all her fault, really. She had ignored the advice of her parents and wrote back to Tom. If she had just listened to them, none of this would have happened. She should have gotten rid of the book first thing. But now she was in so deep there would be no going back, not ever. She was so miserable and guilt-ridden the thought actually came: I wish I was dead.

As if in answer to that wish, a headache so ferocious it blinded her racked her skull. She tried to fight it this time. She used all her strength to escape the darkness she could see edging in from the corners of her eyes. She managed to hold out for a few moments…but in the end it all rushed in like an unstoppable wave, and this time, there was no glimpse of what she was doing, no clue as to what new horror she was unleashing.

-

When she came to, she was lying on a smooth stone floor. A drop of water hitting the ground echoed for a long way. She opened her eyes further as they adjusted to the dim light and looked around.

She had no idea where she was. There was a long row of statues that looked like snakes, several puddles and drops of water falling from the ceiling, which was high enough up to be obscured by darkness. She looked behind her and yelped, her cry echoing far back into the chamber.

She was looking at an enormous stone foot. Slowly she looked up, taking in robes, a midriff, arms…she had to stand up to see the face, which looked curiously like a monkey's. She gulped and sat down again so she wouldn't have to look at the face.

Was she even in the castle anymore? She had no clue how long she had been lost in the darkness of her own mind. She looked down to see flecks of red paint on her robes, hard to see under splatters of slime and dirt. She wrinkled her nose, and glanced down at the floor.

Tom's diary. Her stomach lurched.

It was open to a page in the middle, and ink was spreading out on the page, staining the whiteness with his now terrible-looking handwriting.

Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets.

"No…"

She scooted back in terror; her back was almost touching the stone feet. Tom continued.

It's been a long time to wait, and a terrible inconvenience, having to listen to the troubles of a little girl to grow stronger, but now you've finally given me enough. You gave your soul to me, Ginny…say goodbye.

The diary was engulfed in light. A scream wormed its way into her throat and lodged there. With wide, terror-filled eyes she watched as the light grew upwards, took on a human shape, and slowly dulled. As it became easier to see, she could feel herself weakening drastically. She slumped to the floor and watched with bleary eyes as Tom, who was a boy of about sixteen, with black hair and darkly amused eyes, glanced over at her.

"Thank you, Ginny." The tone was mocking in its very sincerity.

He laughed, high, long, and shrill. Her blood turned to ice, and fog obscured he consciousness. She couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, the stone floor felt as though it was swallowing her slumping, caving skeleton...

-

It was like waking from a long dream, coming out of that haze. She was barely strong enough to sit up, but someone's hands were on her shoulders, pulling her upwards. She couldn't focus properly…she could make out dark hair…Tom? She wanted to jerk backwards but couldn't.

"Ginny?"

That voice…was very familiar.

"Ginny!"

No, not Tom: Harry! Her eyes snapped fully open and she found herself staring into emerald eyes. Dizziness washed over her, whether from the sudden return to consciousness or from the boy in front of her, she didn't know. She saw the blood on his robes, the dead basilisk to the side…and the diary in his hand. It had a sizzling hole through its center.

She told him everything, even as he tried to pull her to her feet. By the end of her confession she was sobbing so hard she didn't think she made any sense, but he seemed to get the gist of it.

"It's all right," he said soothingly, helping her stand. "Riddle's finished. Look! Him and the basilisk."

He showed her the ruined diary again. She could answer only in tears.

"C'mon Ginny," he said, still gently. "Let's get out of here."

"I'm going to be expelled!" she wailed, hardly listening to him. It was as if she had suddenly lost the ability to keep her thoughts in her head – they had to come out of her mouth. "I've been looking forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and – what'll Mum and Dad say?"

The thought terrified her. They'd disown her, or worse. She felt herself crying again. She was an incessantly babbling water fountain. She was really stupid. And Tom…she glanced back into the darkness of the chamber as Harry led her out, as if expecting to see him standing there, smiling coldly after her.

"Thank you, Ginny." Was it really over? The dull ache in her head hadn't quite faded. She would be stunned if it didn't stay forever, an eternal reminder of what had happened, what she had done. It had been so horrible. And yet somewhere deep, deep inside her, she felt a pang of something akin to loss.

-

Ron was ecstatic – he wouldn't stop hugging her. And the more he asked Harry, the harder she cried. Ron seemed to think her tears were due to joy, but really she couldn't have been more miserable or terrified. She could barely hug him back.

Lockhart was there, saying stupid things as usual, but this time with a very vague, not-full-of-himself air. The bright bird soared past them and landed at the mouth of a wide pipe, holding its tail feathers out. It glanced at her briefly, and there was a human sort of gleam in its eyes, full of compassion directed at her. It made her feel a little better, somehow. Harry took hold of the feathers, Ron grabbed his hand, she grabbed Ron's, and Lockheart took hold of hers. She felt light, very light, and with a flash of scarlet and gold the bird took off, pulling them by its tail up the pipe as though they weighed no more than air, which is what she felt like just now.

She wished the exhilarating ride could have gone on forever, but it had to end. And as she hit the cold tile of what she recognized to be Myrtle's bathroom because of all the water, all the misery came back, colder than the floor. The tears started up again, unstoppable.

It was over, she told herself. It was over, at least no one would be hurt anymore. But there was still so much to be upset about. Harry, once it all sunk in, would hate her forever. Her parents would have a fit, and Mum would probably cry. Dumbledore would kick her out, her whole family would be so ashamed.

And she couldn't stop crying.

Some of it was for Tom. She couldn't help but remember how he had always comforted her. Even if all of it was a lie, she wondered briefly if he would have had the words to ease her misery now. Somehow she doubted even he would be able to make this seem like it could get better.

He had been her mentor, he had been her friend. In a way, she had cared about him as much as Harry, though it wasn't a crush. She had wanted to give something back to him, had wished she could make him feel better every once in a while. She had been grateful for him every day until things started to go wrong, and even then it was so hard to look past his kindness to her and find that it had all been a farce. The sense of loss she'd had in the Chamber of Secrets came back.

She wasn't sorry for losing the person that Tom Riddle really was. She missed the person he had pretended to be. It hurt her to think that the first real friendship she thought she had turned out to be a trick. Was everyone really not what they appeared to be? She didn't know if she could ever trust anyone again. Was every person, when you came down to it, really fake?

She looked at Harry and thought that maybe they weren't. She hoped not.

Fin