Written for the amazing Em for figuring out my impossible clue. Enjoy, my love.

Ginny wakes with a start, shivering. She sits up, looking her room, wrapping her arms around her body. Nothing there. Even though the dim moonlight, she can see that everything is very much the same.

Except for the window. She frowns, climbing to her feet and crossing her room. She sleeps with it cracked because she likes the hint of a cool breeze that it brings, but now the window is open.

Somewhere in the distance, she thinks that she hears hurried footsteps falling across the fields beyond her home.

…

"Maybe you just forgot to close your window, dear," her mother suggests.

Ginny shakes her head. "I didn't! Someone had to have opened it!" she insists, slamming her fist against the table.

Her mother watches her nervously, and Ginny regrets the small outburst. She isn't supposed to be like this anymore. Therapy is supposed to be working.

"Maybe you're right," Ginny says softly, though she knows in her heart that her mother is wrong. "My medicine does make me quite drowsy. Maybe I was sleepwalking."

Her mother relaxes at that. She adds an extra sausage to Ginny's plate, smiling a little too brightly. "You can talk to Doctor Riddle about it," she says. "Maybe he can adjust your dosage if you're worried about it."

Ginny bites the inside of her cheek until she can taste blood. Doctor Riddle. She'd almost forgotten about her appointment today. "Can't I just skip it?" she whines. "I feel fine."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. But the therapy is important for your recovery."

Ginny scowls at the word. Recovery. Her body made a quick recovery after the attack a year earlier. But her mind has proven to be slower to heal. Therapy, medication… They seem pointless. Her mind is never going to come back from that.

But she can't tell her mother that. Her mother has cried enough over her.

…

"Whenever you're ready, Ginny."

Doctor Riddle always says that. It doesn't matter how long Ginny sits there, staring at her hands. He never pushes her to talk.

She digs her fingernails into the arm of the worn out sofa. She hates opening up. It doesn't matter if he's a doctor, if he's helped people like her recover from trauma. It doesn't make it any easier.

She turns her eyes to him, watching him. He looks young to be a doctor, and he's quite handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes. But there's not kindness in his features. However patient he is, however much he tells her that he cares about her recovery, she doesn't believe him.

"Are you sleeping well?" he asks.

She swallows dryly. Should she tell him? What if he thinks she's crazy? Are hallucinations enough to have someone sent away?

"Not really," she says.

Maybe honesty is best. If she's cooperative, maybe he'll decide she's okay. One last refill of her medication, and off she goes.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She almost laughs. He asks as though she has a choice. Keeping things from him means that she'll have to keep coming back.

"Last night, my window was open when I woke up," Ginny explains. "I- I don't remember opening it. But I must have. There isn't- I-"

"You're worried that whoever hurt you is back?" Doctor Riddle guesses.

Ginny nods. Doctor Riddle scribbles something in his notepad.

"Mum says that maybe it's something with my medication," she says. "She thinks that maybe I just forgot."

"Confusion can be a side effect. Tell you what. I'm going to add another prescription for you. Should help you sleep better. How's that?"

Ginny purses her lips. Truthfully, she hates the idea. Having to take one pill is bad enough, but she deals with it. A second one would make it all feel more real, like she'd have to come to terms with the fact that there really is something wrong with her.

"Whatever you think is best," she says.

She just wishes this was all over.

…

Ginny stares at the pills in her hand. One green, one orange. She wonders what would happen if she just pretended to take them, if she spit them out when her mother wasn't looking.

But she can't. She's afraid. A year of medication, and she doesn't remember who she is when she doesn't have a pill to make her brain work right.

She puts them in her mouth, chasing them down with a glass of water.

"There you go, dear. You'll feel better soon," her mother says.

Her words make Ginny want to cry. It's the same thing her mother would tell her and her brothers whenever they had scraped knees or the flu. But this isn't like that, and Ginny feels so useless because she knows that she will never feel better again.

"Thanks, Mum," she says, forcing a smile before pressing a kiss to her mother's cheek.

…

Her eyes flutter open, but they're heavy with sleep. Her vision is blurry, and her body feels like it's paralyzed.

But she sees it. The figure that hovers over her body. She can't make out the person's features in the darkness, but she knows he's there.

Cold sweat covers her body. Suddenly, she's sixteen and helpless all over again. Suddenly, she's young and vulnerable, and she knows it's going to hurt.

Ginny opens her mouth and screams. There's a flutter of movement, and the figure is gone. Ginny sits up, her head spinning. She watches the figure disappear through her window.

Her door opens, and her father turns on the lights. "Ginny? Talk to me," he says. "What's wrong?"

"He was here!' she sobs. "He was here!"

Her father pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her. "It was just a dream, honey. That's all. Just a dream."

"It wasn't! He escaped!" she insists, pointing at the window.

Her father releases her and crosses the room, peering out the window. "There's no one there, sweetheart."

"There- There was," she says weakly.

But she can hear the doubt in her own voice. She's heard of sleep paralysis before. Sometimes, the mind plays tricks while it's trying to wake.

"It felt so real," she whispers.

Her father closes the window and walks back to her bed. He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Get some sleep, sweetie. Everything is okay."

…

"I'll see you tomorrow," Luna says when they reach her house.

Ginny hesitates. She wishes her best friend didn't have to leave. As weird as everything has been, she wishes Luna could walk her home and stay over. But it's selfish to want that. Luna has her own life to live. Ginny shouldn't burden her with her baggage. "See ya," she says, adjusting her backpack straps before continuing down the road.

She's halfway there when she hears the footsteps. She turns, but there's no one there.

Ginny swallows dryly and quickens her pace, keeping her head down.

…

It happens more and more. She feels like there is always someone watching her. At night, she catches someone out of the corner of her eye.

But she stops talking about it. They will just say it's the medication. It's the trauma playing with her mind. No one will believe her. Hell, she isn't sure if she even believes herself.

…

Doctor Riddle watches her. Ginny doesn't know what it is about his gaze, but it makes her squirm. Sometimes she feels like he's looking into her soul.

"Still having trouble sleeping?"

"Getting better," she says.

"No more hallucinations?"

There's something in his tone that she can't quite place, something off. Ginny shakes her head. She's just being paranoid. That's all.

"None," she says with a fake smile.

Doctor Riddle climbs to his feet and walks over to her. He places a hand on her shoulder, and Ginny has to force herself not to pull away. "Excellent. You've made a lot of progress. I think we can cut the sessions down to once a month, and that will mostly be to discuss your medications."

Ginny exhales deeply, relieved. Maybe her brain isn't so broken after all.

…

Ginny is grateful to find the locker room abandoned when she finishes running along the track. She's always felt weird having shower around other people.

She drapes a towel over the bench along with a clean set of clothes before stepping under the shower head, turning the water on as hot as she can stand it. The warm water feels glorious. Her sore muscles relax almost instantly.

Ginny closes her eyes, letting the water spray her face. It's been so long since she ran. Everything that's been going on has kept her from it. But things are better now. She can be an athlete again.

The door to the locker room closes, and Ginny groans. She had wanted some peace and quiet. Now, she'll probably have to listen to the giggles and chatter of the girls' football team. She had thought she'd timed her shower right, that she'd have at least half an hour.

No sound comes, and Ginny feels a flicker of fear shoot through her body. She should have heard something by now.

"Hello?" she calls.

Silence.

Ginny shrugs. Maybe she imagined it. She goes back to her shower.

Footsteps.

Ginny trembles, backing against the wall of the shower. The footsteps are slow and heavy, calculated as though the person is aiming to scare her. Honestly, they're doing a great job of it.

"Did you really think I'd go away?"

The voice is familiar sends a chill down her spine. She remembers it all too well.

"You will be mine. I own you." he had said.

Tears streak her wet face and she slides to the floor, her body shaking she sobs. She wraps her arms around her knees, hugging them close to her chest.

"This is my gift to you. You will never escape me. I will always be with you."

"Go away," she cries. "Go away!"

"You can't escape me. I thought I told you that. You belong to me."

There's something else to that voice. The accent that accompanies it. She's always thought that it sounded a little too stiff, like an actor trying to disguise his voice. Something about the tone, the chill. It's in the back of her mind, but she can't place it.

"Go away," she sobs, and she repeats it over and over again.

By the time Coach Hooch finds her, the water has run cold as ice, and Ginny shivers. Coach Hooch wraps her in a towel. "It's okay, dear. It's okay."

…

"He was there," Ginny insists.

"They searched the grounds. No one was there who shouldn't have been," her father tells her.

Ginny tugs at her hair. She doesn't even wince when she rips out several strands by the roots. Somehow, the pain feels good, welcome.

"He was there. I heard him."

Her parents exchange nervous glances. Ginny wants to scream. They don't have to speak, but she can tell what's going through their minds.

She's lost it again. I thought she was going better, but look at her. Where did we go wrong?

"Your father and I were thinking. Maybe we should send you away for a bit. A change of scenery might be nice."

Ginny tenses. They want to send her to a hospital. She shakes her head. She's not crazy. She doesn't belong in an institution.

"Bill and Fleur want you to visit. They have an extra room," her mother continues. "It will be temporary. Maybe a week or two."

She relaxes. They don't want to lock her up. Thank God. Fleur may be annoying, but at least she won't try to shove sedatives down Ginny's throat.

…

"Hey, sis," Bill says, smiling at her.

She doesn't meet his eyes. She already knows what she'll find there. Concern, doubt, pity.

"Thanks for letting me stay," she says.

"It's no problem. You'll be… I mean-"

"You don't have to tiptoe around it, Bill. I'm not fragile."

Color floods his cheeks. "Right. Sorry. It's just good for your health to get away," he says.

Ginny takes a deep breath. She hopes he's right.

…

Ginny wakes up, a thick fog in her brain. Her heart hammers painfully in her chest as she looks around. No one is there. Not this time.

Miraculously, she slips into a deep sleep.

...

It takes three days for the nightmares to find her. She bolts upright with a start.

He was there again. He would always be there. It didn't matter where she went or how far she ran. He would always find her.

She climbs out of bed, pulling a jacket on. Her mind is too restless for sleep tonight. Maybe a walk along the shore will help her.

…

She isn't sure if she's imagining it or not. But there, by the sea, Doctor Riddle stands, his pale skin almost silver in the moonlight.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

He turns, offering her a cold smile. "Did you really think that you could escape me, Ginny?" he laughs.

She takes a step back, shaking her head. "No. No. No," she whispers, her stomach sour.

He takes a step closer. "You let me in your pretty little head before, remember? You were drunk at a party. I was a shoulder to cry on," he says. "I was curious. How much would it take to make you break? Are you breaking, Ginny?"

"Not real. Not real."

But she can't bring herself to believe it. He's there. She can see him. She can hear him.

"Are you sure about that?" he asks with a smirk. "I thought I broke you last year. Imagine my surprise when you came to my office. When you started getting better. You're strong. So very, very strong."

She blinks rapidly. It's all in her head. He'll go away.

Her eyes are so heavy now. She shouldn't have come here. She should have stayed in bed.

"Break. It'll make you feel better."

…

Ginny screams when she feels hands on her. She flails wildly.

"Ginny! Ginny! Calm down. It's me!"

"Bill," she croaks.

Just a dream. That's all.

But when she looks around, she realizes she has slept in the sand. The sea laps at her her bare feet.

"Doctor Riddle…"

"Do you need to see him?" Bill asks.

"No. He was here. He… He said…"

She trails off. Brows knitting together, she tries to recall the night before, but she brain is too foggy to latch onto anything solid.

"What do you mean he was here?" Bill asks.

"N-nothing," Ginny stammers. "It wasn't real."

Just a dream. A bad dream. She was sleepwalking. That's all.

But it felt so real.

…

She tries to remember the night of the party. It had been a week before everything went to hell; she remembers that much.

Demelza had invited her to some big party some university boys were throwing. Ginny had drank a lot to ease her anxiety.

"Are you okay?" Fleur asks her, setting a cup of cocoa before her, snapping Ginny out of her thoughts. "You had us very worried."

Great. Even Fleur was concerned. Ginny wants to hate her for it. "I'm fine," she mumbles.

Fleur sits across from her. "I was in therapy, too. After my sister Gabrielle drowned. I blamed myself. I should have saved her," she says.

Ginny shifts uncomfortably. She doesn't want to think about therapy. But this is the first time Fleur as ever really talked to her on a personal level. It would be rude to shut her out. "Did it help?"

"I say yes. But if I am honest, I still dream of Gabrielle. The mind, it snaps. It tries to protect you from the bad things. Medication can only do so much."

"I barely remember any of it," Ginny whispers, trying once again to recall details from that night.

She remembers the loud music. Demelza had slipped away with an older boy. Ginny wandered aimlessly before finding a couch in the basement.

"Perhaps that is a gift," Fleur suggests. "The brain hides things that are too terrible. I believed my sister was alive for months."

"It's been a year," she says.

She doesn't remember much about the bloke in the basement. Hell, until now, she hadn't remembered there being a bloke at all.

"It will come back to you," Fleur says sweetly.

Ginny smiles. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"We are family. Maybe not by blood. But family is family, and family cares for one another," she answers.

Ginny swirls her cocoa around in the cup. "Thank you."

…

She isn't crazy. She knows she isn't.

But it doesn't make sense. How could Doctor Riddle be there? It has to be a hallucination, just her mind playing tricks again.

Ginny dumps her pills into her hand. She curls her fingers inward, hiding them for a moment. Could she make the nightmares stop if she gave up her treatment? Were they just part of her life now?

She opens her hand again before dropping the pills onto her tongue.

…

There's a tapping at her window. Ginny hugs her knees to her chest, staring pointedly at the wall.

"Not there. Not there."

She rocks back and forth, but the tapping continues, faster, louder.

"Not there!" she screams, and she grabs the first thing she can reach, a small mermaid statuette, and hurls it at the window.

The glass shatters. Moments later, the door opens, and Bill rushes inside. "What the hell was that?" he demands.

Fleur follows behind him a few seconds later. She looks from Ginny to the window and sighs. "Ginny," she says gently, reaching out for her.

Ginny pulls away, shaking her head. Tears cling to her lashes. "I just want it to stop."

…

She knows that she isn't supposed to hear Bill on the phone. It takes only seconds to realize that he's talking about her, and that it isn't anything good.

"I thought she'd get better, Mum. I really did. But she's sleepwalking. She broke our window. I know she didn't mean to, but… Yes, I understand. Mum, she… What if she's a danger to herself? I don't know how to- Right. Sorry. I didn't mean to- Yes, I know. I'm just saying, maybe it would be for the best to…"

Ginny scrubs her hands over her face. She almost wants to laugh. Even Bill, her big brother, her rock, her protector thinks that she's insane. Hell, maybe she is. Maybe she's finally snapped.

…

She stands on the cliff overlooking the sea, her pill bottles in hand. How easy would it be to just take a step and fall away? Would the nightmares stop? Would the pain finally end?

Probably, but that's not the point of being here now.

She studies the bottles, swallowing dryly. She's depended on medication for what feels like forever now. At this point, the pills feel like they've become part of her life.

Taking a deep breath, she lets them drop, watching with satisfaction as the waves swallow them up.

…

At first, she's miserable. She spends days in bed, sick and shaking, wishing she had thrown herself off the cliff instead.

But then it happens. It's a slow, subtle change, but she can feel it. The fog begins to lift. She feels almost human again.

Her panic and anxiety are still there, but she's okay. She can maybe cope after all.

…

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me," Fleur says, kissing Ginny on the cheek.

"Don't worry about me," Ginny laughs. "I'm stronger than I look."

Bill ruffles her hair affectionate. "That's actually scary since you look pretty damn strong," he teases. "But seriously. If you need us…"

"I know. I'm sorry about the window."

…

It feels amazing to return home. Everything is clearer. She finally starts to think she had imagined it all.

There is no stalker. That was all in the past. And her therapist certainly would never seek to harm her.

There's a big smile on her face when she enters the kitchen.

"You're just in time for lunch," her mother beams. "Go wash up, dear."

Ginny offers her a salute. She has to put her bag in her room anyway.

Her room is just the way she left it. Bed still tidy. Clothes still draped lazily over the back of her chair and over her desk. Window still…

Her heart stops for a moment. The window is open again.

"Breathe," she tells herself. "It's okay. It's okay."

But it isn't. Her window shouldn't be open. She begins to look around for anything missing or out of place. She finds it in the form of a note under her bed.

Welcome to reality. You really shouldn't have thrown the pills away.

Ginny screams, throwing herself against the wall. It isn't possible. It was all in her head. That note can't be here. It can't. It can't. It can't.

She rips it to shreds, but that isn't enough. He was here. He was really in her room, touching her things.

She can't stop herself. This violation is too much, and it breaks her. She tears the blankets from her bed, throwing them across the room. Her mattress follows. She sends her chair crashing into the wall.

"Ginny! Ginny, stop!"

"He was here!" she wails. "He was in my room!"

Her father grabs her just as she reaches to topple her desk. He holds her tightly, and she slumps to the ground. And as she falls, the floodgates in her mind raise, and she finally remembers.

…

"Where are you going?" Ginny asks.

Demelza grins. "The bedroom. Just… I don't know. Have a drink or something."

And she does. Then another. And another. Maybe she shouldn't have come here. She isn't into parties. But Demelza had insisted, and Ginny couldn't say no.

She wanders around, looking for somewhere quiet and free of people. The basement seems to be her best bet. There's a couch there, and only one other person.

"Mind if I join you?"

The young man fixes his dark eyes on her. He studies her curiously, as though she's an abstract painting and he's trying to decipher her meaning. "Go right ahead. Tom. Tom Riddle."

His voice is strange, like it's not his own, like he's trying to hide something. It's unnerving, but she doesn't care.

She smiles. "Ginny. Ginny Weasley."

…

She feels stupid for opening up to him. He's a complete stranger. She shouldn't be telling him about all her hopes, fears, and insecurities. But Tom listens. Maybe he even cares.

"You're much too pretty to be so stressed," he says.

Before Ginny can tell him that she's really not pretty, that she's much too tomboyish for such a word to apply to her, he leans in and kisses her.

"You know," he whispers. "It's the ones like you who break the best."

She pulls away, brows raised. "What?"

He grins. "Sorry. I studied psychology. Statistics show that someone with your level of baggage are bound to have a complete breakdown."

"That's awful. Why would you say something like that?" she asks, horrified.

He doesn't bother to look apologetic. For the first time, Ginny sees the coldness in his eyes. "Just stating the facts," he says simply. "I do wonder how strong your mind is.

She feels uncomfortable now, but she's too drunk to even think about standing.

Tom strokes her cheek. "Would you like to help me with my experiment?" he asks, his face dangerously close to hers.

She should run. It doesn't matter how hard it will be. The bloke is a creep, and he seems a bit mental. But Ginny is drawn in. Maybe he's dangerous, but she can't bring herself to care.

"What do I have to do?" she whispers.

"All you have to do is break," he says, and he kisses her again.

She doesn't know what he means by that. It sounds terrifying, but he's so gentle. Ginny convinces herself that it's just a joke, just a little game he plays with girls.

"Okay."

…

It starts with the notes. At first, they're sweet, the types of things a lover would leave.

But then they turn dark. They promise violence and pain.

Ginny tosses them in bin. It's just a joke. Just someone's idea of a sick joke.

She vaguely remembers someone from the party two nights before. An older boy. A strange boy. She feels like it's connected, but she can't remember why.

…

The footsteps come next. They seem to follow her everywhere. Sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, she'll catch a flurry of movement. Mostly, though, whenever she turns, there's no one there.

...

The phone calls are the worst. Her mobile will ring and display a strange number. She doesn't want to answer. But she always does.

There's never a conversation. It's just quick sentence or two, then silence.

"Are you breaking yet?"

"You look so pretty when you're scared."

"Break for me."

"You are mine. You will see."

"I love those knickers on you."

…

She's scared. Every small noise makes her jump and look over her shoulder.

She wonders if she's going mad. That would be her luck. Strong Ginny. Brave Ginny. Insane Ginny.

…

It's a week later, and things are finally quiet. She feels like she can breathe again, like she's finally safe.

Her parents are out for the night. Ron has a new flat, and their mum insisted on decorating it.

First comes the knocking. For an hour, every few minutes, someone knocks on the door. But when Ginny answers, they've gone.

She convinces herself it's just a bunch of stupid kids and decides to ignore it.

As she settles in to watch a movie, her phone rings. Another unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"Still haven't broken."

"Who is this?" she asks.

"Think. Surely you weren't that drunk."

She shakes her head. The bloke from the party. Tim? John? She can't recall. "Very funny. Look, you've had your laugh. Now, fuck off, okay?"

"Who's laughing?"

"Just leave me alone. I'm asking nicely."

"What about popcorn?"

"What?"

He laughs. "I always make popcorn when I watch a movie."

Ginny feels her body grow cold. "How do you know I'm watching a movie?"

"Because I'm looking right at you."

Ginny throws the phone down and jumps to her feet. She rushes to the door to lock it, but it flies open.

"Hello, Ginny," he says. "Are you breaking yet?"

…

"Please," she cries.

It isn't fair. She isn't crazy. It's Tom Riddle, her bloody doctor. He made her this way. He wanted to break her, and he did.

She paces the length of the hospital room. They've made a mistake. They'll realize. He'll be arrested, and she'll be free. Free of this place, free of him.

The door opens, and she feels a rush of relief until Tom Riddle enters, wearing a cold smile. "It seems you've finally broken," he says, caressing her cheek. "But, I'm afraid, that's only the beginning. Now the real fun begins."