Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.

Summary: Ginny cannot help letting her gaze linger on him, but little does she know she is beheld by another pair of eyes.

Satan

Dreams are forbidden secrets meant to be kept, not shared.

The world of dreams is the domain of the impossible, where everything, however absurd it may be, makes the most perfect sense. In dreams, one's worst enemy could become the greatest of allies, and one's most trusted friend could become the most vicious of villains.

It was but for a second that Ginny Weasley unintentionally witnessed the unsettling truth, and yet it was a fleeting moment of revelation she was doomed to forget. A flash of green and a torrent of crimson bled into never-ending black, then brightened into a canvas of unmarked white.

When she returned to the world of wakefulness, she saw Professor McGonagall's grim face against the backdrop of the firelit corridor, her mind drawing nothing but a blank slate. It was only after Ginny was examined by the school matron, Madam Pomfrey, that she was able to piece together what happened: Someone had apparently cast a Cruciatus curse on her, before wiping away her memory of the incident.

The incident eerily echoed the events in her first year, which eventually led to a showdown with the Dark Lord's younger self. It was after the legacy of the Chamber was locked away in the vault of Hogwart's darkest secrets that she vowed never again to become a victim at the mercy of her enemy. And yet, her vow was easily broken by her mystery assailant as if it was made of paper. While in front of others she pretended to have suffered none too severely from the attack, bitterness at her incompetence gnawed at her pride, spilling angry red tears over her heart.

Like wild fire the news of the attack was spread rapidly amongst the student body in the following morning. Her brother, Ron, wrathfully swore to retaliate against the person responsible for torturing his little sister. Nevertheless, the investigation into the incident turned out fruitless, for the only known witness to the incident was Ginny herself.

For her part, Ginny put on a facade of normalcy and followed her usual routine as closely as she could. It was not merely for the sake of causing as little worries to those around her as she could manage; it was her act of defiance against her mystery attacker, who must surely be observing her in the shadow. And she would not allow her assailant the satisfaction of seeing her cowering in a corner like a hunted animal.

In the half-empty Gryffindor common-room, she sat quietly by the blazing fireplace with her old Transfiguration book open on her lap. Instead of studying, however, she was watching her brother playing chess with his best friend, Harry Potter. Judging by the deep wrinkles etched on Ron's brow, it appeared he was debating with himself over the next move. It was unusual to see Ron being challenged, particularly when the opponent was Harry. Out of curiosity, Ginny cast a glance at the chessboard; black had put white in check. Although she was hardly an expert in chess, she surmised that Harry's skill in chess must have improved considerably for Ron to feel threatened.

Inevitably she turned her gaze upon Harry: carelessly unruly dark hair, intense green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses, a good-natured smile suggestive of apology to his friend. Years ago she had given up on her unrequited adoration for her brother's best friend, for she wanted neither sympathy nor pity, not from one who had stood witness to her most vulnerable moment in the Chamber. And yet, there were times when Ginny could not help letting her gaze linger a second longer upon him than was healthy for her.

When Ron finally decided to sacrifice his knight to save the king, Ginny saw a most unexpected expression flash across Harry's face. One eyebrow arrogantly arched, a sardonic quirk of the lips almost too quick for the eye to see -- Harry reminded her disconcertingly of a certain someone, though she could not rightly tell who it was. The transformation lasted for a mere second before he returned to the Harry Potter Ginny had known and admired.

Suddenly losing interest in the game, she closed her book with a soft thud and stood up, only to be stopped by Ron, "Are you going out? I'll come with you."

Ron had been acting the part of the overly protective brother lately, accompanying Ginny wherever she went and not letting her out of his sight if he could help it. While such was his way of showing his concern and affection for his little sister, Ginny sometimes wished he could find a less intrusive method to express his feelings.

"I'm just going up to my room," Ginny said while attempting to suppress her exasperation.

"Oh, okay," Ron answered before directing his attention back to the game. "Make sure you stay there. And don't go wandering off without telling me first." To which Ginny replied dryly, "I'll do the best I can."

Smiling amiably, Harry said, "Goodnight," and Ginny forced herself to return the smile. She could not explain it, but she felt oddly uneasy by the smile; it was as though her subconscious had recognised something in Harry her consciousness had not.

The night was still young, and her roommates had yet to return to the dorm-room. Being alone in her room was a pleasant deviation from the unwanted attention she had garnered lately. Nevertheless, as she walked over to her bed, she was startled by a soft-spoken voice that resonated terribly with the chords of her soul. "Hello, love."

Her half-formed scream never left her mouth as her eyes fell instantly upon a tall figure leaning lazily against the ornate bedpost of her bed -- a boy dressed up as a Hogwarts student, his fluid black robe enveloping him like velvet shadow. Against the backdrop of the deep crimson draperies, his classically handsome face was tinted a bloodthirsty red. Those inky blue eyes of his were fixed upon her as a serpent's cold pupils would at its marked prey.

As soon as her gaze collided with that of the demon from her hateful past, every fibre of her being vibrated with disbelief and dread. Unconsciously she mumbled to herself, trying to deny the vivid vision that had presented itself before her, "You weren't supposed to exist anymore. You should've disappeared already."

The spectre that was Tom Riddle ticked his tongue, feigning a hurt expression over Ginny's blunt remark. "Now, now, is that the way to greet an old friend?"

After recovering from the shock, she found the reckless courage in her to exclaim, her liquid brown eyes flashing like those of a cornered animal, "Get out of my sight, Tom! Go back to whichever hell you came from! You don't exist outside that bloody diary!"

With a small twisted smile, Tom replied in an airy tone as soothing as Ginny's outburst was jarring, "But I do, love. After all, am I not standing before you right now?" At that he spread his arms in emphasis, a seemingly innocent display of cordiality that could fool anyone but Ginny. "I don't need the diary as long as I have you."

"What do you want?" Ginny questioned the despicable phantom before her, her voice laced with desperation and the slightest quiver of fear.

"I want to help you, love," Tom whispered in his silky voice, seductive yet patronisingly so, "since it appears you have gotten yourself into quite a predicament lately."

Unable to suppress her overflowing emotions anymore, Ginny threw her Transfiguration book at Tom, who nimbly dodged aside with the agility of a dancer. The book hit the bedpost with a dull thud, before crashing onto the floor like a lifeless corpse, limbs spread apart and pages scattered like blood.

"I suppose I shall take my leave for today," Tom said light-heartedly and made a courteous bow, before disappearing without a trace. "I'll be seeing you again soon, my pet."

A trill of dark amusement lingered in the air like fragrance refusing to fade. Feeling as if she was tainted by the malevolent presence, Ginny furiously rubbed her arms while fighting off the overwhelming urge to shudder.

Dreams could not be carried over to reality -- such was the rule being set in stone. If ever dreams were seeping into the real world, the one who broke the cast-iron seal would be branded an outcast to be locked away in the asylum. Ginny understood the rule well, therefore she told no one of her encounter with Tom.

White-washed light flowed into the cheerless corridor from the lattice windows, painting shadows of deformed rhombuses on the pallid stone floor. Strolling along the deserted corridor, Ginny could hear muffled sound trickling from behind closed doors. She was on her way to see Pomfrey, who insisted on performing one final check-up on her before declaring she had fully recovered from the ordeal. Nonetheless, Ginny was the only one who knew her wounded pride would not be so easily healed.

Brisk footstep was coming towards her direction, prompting her to tense in alarm, her hand inching towards her wand. A lean figure swiftly entered her line of sight, his blond hair swaying slightly as he halted -- it was Draco Malfoy.

Biting her lips in agitation, Ginny glared at Malfoy in defiance. If there was one person whom Ginny suspected of being responsible for her plight, it was Draco Malfoy. After all, his father was the mastermind behind the Chamber of Secrets incident that had plagued Hogwarts some years ago. Nonetheless, there was no evidence of any sort that could link the Malfoy heir to what had happened to her on that moonless night.

Expressionlessly Malfoy regarded her, his mercurial eyes narrowed as though annoyed. In a drawling voice bespoke of boredom, he asked, "Something I can help you with, Weasley? You are not lost, are you?"

"Very funny, Malfoy," Ginny retorted, before eyeing the white bandages wrapped around Malfoy's hand. "But it looks like you were the one who needed help."

"An unfortunate accident." Nonchalantly the Slytherin waved his injured hand while contemplating Ginny with a piercing look she could not decipher. "You, on the other hand, seem to have a tendency for playing a damsel in distress."

Pursing her lips at Malfoy's uncanny insight, she snapped spitefully at him, "And you have a tendency for playing the villain. So let us hope you are not involved in any shady business lately." At that she stalked away, not knowing the boy was watching her retreating back with a calculated expression on his face.

As soon as she escaped from Malfoy, she let out a frustrated sigh and walked on, quickly arriving at the entrance of the hospital wing. As she was about to step through the threshold, however, she caught a sliver of red and gold out of the corner of her eye. Pausing on her step to take a closer look, she found a small strip of scarlet-and-gold fabric lying on the floor by the wall. A spark of recognition prompted Ginny to pick it up, and to her surprise, she discovered that it was the burnt remains of a Gryffindor tie.

Turning the fabric over, she wondered why a Gryffindor would burn his or her tie. Then again, it was no business of hers. Carelessly she let go of the scrap of charred cloth, and like a feather it fell onto the ground without a sound, obediently accepting its fate.

The examination that followed went as well as it could be; not once did Ginny breathe a word about Tom. At last satisfied with Ginny's progress, Pomfrey announced that she did not need to come to the hospital wing for any further check-ups.

By the time Ginny left the hospital wing, the ashen sky had grown dim with the first blush of twilight. Warm, golden flame was lit along the corridor like a mirthful parade, chasing away the veil of dusk that had descended upon the castle. Classes had yet to end, and once more she found herself walking alone on the school corridor.

Nonetheless, like a poltergeist unwilling to remain silent for long, a damnably familiar voice rang out within the archaic corridor, "Hello again, my pet. It's good to see you are looking better."

Immediately Ginny snapped her head towards the boy who was walking casually beside her as if he had been accompanying her all along; Ginny's initial shock quickly gave way to fury. "I don't want to see you, so go away!"

Despite Ginny's strong words, Tom did not waver once; instead, he smiled a curious smile at her. "Ah, so spirited. But I like that." Ginny had the grace to blush in indignation, which only made Tom's smile broaden into a grin. "Don't worry, I'm not here to cause you any harm. I'm just here to offer you a word of advice."

Suspicious of Tom's motive, Ginny sent a sidelong glance at Tom and asked, "Why should I listen to you? You are good at deceiving people."

Ignoring her last comment, Tom spoke placidly while fixing his shrewd blue eyes upon Ginny's fiery brown, "But I'm going to say it anyway. Be wary of Harry Potter."

Reflexively Ginny stopped dead on her track; it was not what she had expected Tom to say. Forcing herself to stare straight into Tom's emotionless irises, she narrowed her eyes in aggravation. "You're just trying to manipulate me. Sorry to disappoint you, but I know Harry. He's my friend, and I trust him more than I trust you."

"Of course you do, since he's also the object of your unrequited affection," Tom added, almost triumphantly as if he could hear every thought that was running through her mind. "But my dear, love can blind a person from the truth."

Resentment seeped into Ginny's mind like ink being spilt onto pure white satin, for she understood well that Tom knew everything about her as no one else of this world ever could. From the moment she poured her soul out to the cursed diary, she had invited the demon disguised as her loyal confidant into the locked chamber that was her vulnerable heart.

Tearing her eyes away from the devil wearing an impeccable mask of geniality, she beheld the distorted reflection on the glass window; Tom was looming over her like a dark, ominous shadow about to swallow her whole. Stifling a shiver, she willed desperately for her voice not to tremble. "That's none of your business. And besides, I've already gotten over him."

Fully anticipating to hear mockery coming out of Tom's mouth, it was to her surprise and bewilderment that Tom merely shrugged in dismissal. "Whatever you say, love. Just be careful around him." There was an enigmatic note in his tone bespoke of undisclosed knowledge, and instinctively she turned to look at him, only to find a secretive smirk gracing his well-shaped lips. "Sometimes, you never know."

As Ginny was about to ask what he meant, Tom disappeared like a wisp of purple smoke. Seconds later, doors to various classrooms were unceremoniously opened, and students eagerly poured out onto the corridor, completely oblivious to what had taken place moments ago. And Ginny remained motionless by the window, that smooth, velvety voice of Tom's resonating in her mind like the summoning of a siren.

The atmosphere in the golden Great Hall was noisy as always, but Ginny was in no mood to appreciate the bustle around her. Being a past victim to Tom's devious manipulation, Ginny knew deception was one talent Tom particularly excelled in. It would be nothing short of folly on her part to believe in his words. And yet, why was she unable to drive his warning out of her mind?

Inevitably she cast her gaze upon Harry, who did not seem at all different from his usual self. No, there was something different about him. After scrutinising Harry more closely, Ginny found his tie conspicuously missing. Flashing back to the strip of fabric she had found near the hospital wing, she wondered if it belonged to him. Unable to resist her curiosity, she asked casually, "Harry, did you lose your tie?"

As though the fact that his tie was missing never crossed his mind, Harry stared blankly at her for several beats, before he gestured at his collar. "Oh, this? I took it off. Why do you ask?"

There was little reason for her to conceal her discovery, therefore she replied candidly, "Nothing. I just found some charred scrap that looks like a Gryffindor tie on my way to the hospital wing. So I thought I'd ask."

What happened next even Ginny herself could not rightly tell. A vague sense of panic sprung from a distant, half-forgotten nightmare was aroused in her as Harry's burning green eyes met hers. A sense of inexplicable unease clawed at her heart; she felt helpless as a sparrow staring at a predatory hawk whose wings could easily outstrip hers. But that was beyond absurd. Why should she be afraid of Harry?

So absorbed in her own rumination was she that she failed to notice those darkened ink green eyes flickered briefly at something over her shoulder before turning back to her.

After a tantalising beat, an unassuming, bemused smile wormed its way onto Harry's lips, the tension from before all but evaporated. A sliver of doubt crept into Ginny's mind, forcing her to question if it was merely her imagination and nothing more. And yet, what of her racing heartbeat and the overpowering desire to draw her wand?

"Perhaps someone simply isn't very fond of Gryffindors," Harry answered leisurely, his demeanour a flawless display of friendly bemusement. "I certainly wouldn't go around setting my tie on fire."

It was only afterwards that Ginny realised Harry had not given a direct reply to her query.

Days of unease and confusion languished on as if heavy iron chains were fastened upon the ankles of the prisoner called Time.

Within the vaulted underground Chamber, she was locked in a fierce sword fight with her opponent, every metallic clash rebounded from stone walls and back to her like thunder crashes. A furious storm of attacks rained down upon her without mercy; it was all she could do to parry with her own sword.

Her opponent never once gave her a pause, hailing attack after attack at her, exploiting her weakness with glee. No longer could she even attempt to retaliate; she could barely defend herself against such ferocious assault. With nonchalant ease, her opponent found an opening and struck. The sword pierced through her chest, and before she even registered what had happened, the blade was roughly pulled out of her, spilling her blood everywhere. Losing her momentum, she fell back and hit the ground with a thump, her sword laid useless beside her.

Her chest was burning as if her heart was set on fire. Although she could not see it, she knew she was bleeding profusely, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. An interlocking wave of pain and fear was aroused in her, prompting her to struggle for her life. She tried to back away from her assailant; and yet when she locked eyes with him, she froze.

Cold, midnight forest eyes were piercing into hers like the sharpest of steel, shattering her soul into million fragments. Painted upon his white shirt were splashes of crimson, and wound loosely around his neck was a tie of scarlet and gold. Gracing his lips was a sardonic, haughty smile transplanted from the visage of another. Cruelly and effortlessly her attacker raised the sword above her, before bringing it down in a flash to its grand finale with such swiftness she did not even have time to scream--

Snapping her eyes open, Ginny woke up from her nightmare. Her heart was racing furiously, and she clamped it down with her hand. Sitting up from her bed, she wiped away the sweat on her forehead and hugged her trembling body tightly, willing herself to erase from her mind the image of the boy looming menacingly over her.

No, she shook her head violently as if doing so would ward off the malevolent thought from her mind. She only dreamt of it because Tom had been putting doubt into her head, and she refused to be swayed by one who regarded people as toys to be manipulated as he pleases. Reclining on the bed once more, she urged herself to go back to sleep.

The insomniac night waned away in slow motion, and Ginny, tossing and turning in her bed, could take it no more. Stealthily she crept out of bed, and draped the ivory jumper her mother knitted for her over her pyjamas. Taking her wand with her, she quietly slipped out of the dorm-room and descended to the empty common-room.

Sensing her presence, the dying embers in the fireplace were at once reignited in greeting. Grateful for the warmth, she curled up on the sofa before the hearth and distracted herself by flipping through a book someone left behind on the table. She wanted -- needed -- to keep her mind occupied lest she dwelt on the dream once more.

"Staying up so late, love? If I may say so, sleep deprivation is not good for you." Tom's smooth and ever condescending voice trickled into Ginny's ear like silk.

Recoiling away as if bitten, Ginny stood up and drew her wand in a flash at the velvet-clad spectre sitting on the sofa, the dull sound of the book hitting the ground never once registered in her mind. "I've had enough of your damn charade! I'm not playing your bloody game anymore! Now get out of my sight!"

Lit by the roaring flame, Tom's pupils appeared to shimmer with a dash of unsettling gold. Tom coolly contemplated the wand trained upon him, before tilting the tip of the wand away from his face.

"That's not very nice, Ginny." For once he called her by her name, his voice deepened to a dangerous edge liken to the low growl of a beast before it pounces. "Am I not being accommodating all this time?"

"I've never asked you to do anything!" Ginny exclaimed loudly, momentarily forgetting that many of her schoolmates were still asleep upstairs. "You've been putting things into my head long enough!"

Languidly Tom leant into the cushioned back of the sofa with his legs crossed, before a wicked grin abruptly appeared on his lips, brightening his charming visage. Ginny was never more afraid of him than she was at this moment, for it was like staring at a devious serpent who knew every one of her unspeakable secrets.

"I haven't put anything into your head that wasn't already there in the first place, love."

Fury and terror and uncertainty for the past few weeks melded into the purest form of human instinct, crushing down upon Ginny in torrents. Driven by desperation and loathing and fear towards the malicious being before her, she uttered the first incantation that came to her mind, "Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of deadly green lit the room with an eerie glow, a colour that reminded her oddly of a certain pair of green eyes. But Tom was no longer there. The curse hit the sofa and burnt a hole through the thick upholstery, before scarring the stone floor and leaving behind its eternal mark. Panting heavily, Ginny stared at the sofa, unable to believe she had succeeded in casting the Killing curse. Instead of feeling victorious, however, she felt as though the venom of darkness was coursing through her veins, violating her soul and tainting her blood an inky black.

And Tom's voice rang out once more within the chamber that had stood witness to the unforgivable act. "You can't get rid of me, love. Deny me all you want, but I'll always be here." Ginny could feel a phantom finger gently tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear; she flinched as if she was slapped. "Don't worry. I will take care of Harry Potter for you. After all, I am a part of you, and I will always be watching over you. As long as you cannot forget me, I will remain by your side for eternity."

When dreams bled into reality, they metamorphosed into the most pristine and primal beasts called Nightmare.

Finis.

A/N: According to Binsfield's classification of demons, Satan is the demon of wrath. One manifestation of wrath is violence. This piece is different from the others in that its main focus is on Ginny (and Tom), and not so much on Harry and Draco. One should say that while she sees hints here and there, she is unable to connect the dots.