Chapter 1

I

Ginny Weasley frowned. With a sigh, she turned on her back and covered her eyes with her forearm slowly dropping it to her side as she sat up.

It was early, too early attending the hours she had gone to bed the previous night, but she was awake either way. It was the pick of the Summer, the Sun liked to pop into existence at 4.30am and everyone had to pop out of sleep with it. Though, despite all the light in an unclouded sky, the person under the tree outside her garden appeared unmoved by any of it and kept, apparently, sleeping.

She rubbed her eyes, maybe she was seeing things. Maybe all that light had imprinted something of her dreams in the interior of her eyelids. He seemed kind of familiar, on the way he was leaning, she was not sure. He was completely passed out. With a head full of black hair, it wasn't any of her brothers and she knew Harry was… somewhere.

Weird.

She pulled a sweater on and left her bedroom, walking down the stairs to the main living area of the Burrow. The house was silent, it was only her parents and her that morning, maybe her parents were still asleep, or did not felt the need to go check the unconscious wizard sleeping under a tree by the border of the protective spells that still enclosed their property.

Bringing the fire back to life in the heart with a wave of her wand, she floated the kettle to its support over the new flames and let it boil as she stepped outside, stretching. She was not feeling like dealing with a drunk, but she couldn't let the poor creature outside like that. A good coffee would certainly bring some life into him and provide him with enough energy to get on his merry way.

Crossing the garden, ignoring the giggling gnomes in the bushes and the chickens that called her to feed them, she opened the small gate with its cracked old dark green paint, her feet becoming cold against the grass under them. The man was to the side of the house, or maybe not anymore, hopefully, and she walked there trying to decide how to wake him up. A call? A gentle nudge to his shoulder? A bucket of cold water?

She wouldn't dare, Ginny thought with a smile.

There he was, covered in his black robes, the collar pulled up to protect his neck and half of his face.

Ginny stopped in her tracks, her mouth opened in surprise and she stepped back, quickly hiding her lips behind her fingers to stop the scream that wanted to come out.

That was not a random wizard, randomly sleeping under her tree. That was fucking Lord Voldemort.

She held herself, kept her composure and did not fell round to the floor. She was not going to give him the pleasure of coming anywhere near a bow.

Lord Voldemort looked horrible. Not like he had come back the last time, not like that at all. For Ginny, this view was much more terrifying than she could ever make up on her own. It combined Voldemort with the source of her deepest nightmare. Half his face was skull white, his left eye was blood red. A massive disfiguration, that disappeared under his hair and stretched over his nose, leaving an indentation in its bridge and curved down to catch the corner of his lips. The rest was the Tom Riddle she met in her first year in Hogwarts. Older, much older, than he was back then.

How was it possible?

He was dead.

He was completely dead.

It had been years ago, but she still remembered it as if it was the night before. His body had hit the floor with the sound that all dead bodies make when they fall, and he had never moved again. He laid beside his father in Little Hangleton. She had been to his funeral, holding hands with Harry as the muggles lowered his body into the ground ignoring the identity of the men they were burying.

It was impossible for him to be sitting there, under that tree, inside those black robes.

He pulled the collar closer to his disfigured face, as if conscious of his looks, as if he was concerned about frightening her. He probably thought it was that, that she was horrified by his face, not by who he was.

That made no sense.

What was he doing here? Did he remember the house from before? Was he looking to finish Harry?

He looked annoyed, and Ginny started to feel sweat forming around her temples.

"Can you give me some water, please?"

"What?" Ginny almost screamed. She was not expecting to hear that. She was expecting some sort of curse.

His voice was harsh and there was a high pitch there that she didn't remember him having, but the rest was the same. There was a flatness, a lack of emotions and no tricks where there was no need for them. It was just like she remembered him.

This strange Lord Voldemort had asked for water, a human request. A basic need that was not denied to the worst of the worst. He did not expect to be denied that kindness, even with the way he looked. But Ginny had all the reasons to deny him water or whatever it was that he wanted or demanded or… or simply asked for in an educated and kind way.

He did not deserve anything, not even the air that was keeping him alive.

"Your name is Ginny, am I right? He asked again, pulling his collar more up against him. "From Hogwarts?" He paused, staring at her uncertain. "We studied together."

She couldn't do much but stare back, she was officially transitioning from scared out of her mind to deeply confused. She articulated those last words without a sound, feeling herself just fall more and more into the darkness of uncertainty that he was raising around her.

"Yeah..." Kind of… she did not say that part. If she was not dead by now, it was better to just go along and see where this all would take her. Death, in the hands of Lord Voldemort, was almost certain, but if she could understand what was going on and pass the message along to the Aurors or the Order, better for everyone. "It has been a while… Tom." She managed to say. His name like poison in her lips.

"Can I have that water, please Ginevra." That took her aback, it did not sound right.

"Sure… can you stand?" He nodded. "Let's go inside..." She turned, firming her hand in the fence for a moment. That fence was real, the rough cracked paint against her skin also felt real. She looked over her shoulder, to the man doing his best to keep his face covered. He might as well be real too.

She should not be doing this, it was a terrible idea. But what else could she do? There had to be a trick somewhere, but if there was, she was trusting the magic around her house to protect her. It would never allow him to cross the gate to her garden.

If there was something, not even he would be able to hide it.

She would be safe, out of his reach and there was nothing that he would be able to do about it.

II

Lord 'Tom' Voldemort was standing under the door frame to the kitchen as if he owned the entire cottage. Even despite the fact that he was still hiding his face away from her. It was weird, it was the weirdest thing she had ever seen, and she had seen some weird things in her life, cordiality of her twin brothers and you know, the war.

This kind of outmatched them.

What would Fred say? She wondered with a pang of something between fury and sadness. What was she doing? Inviting him this way, trusting him, buying into what seemed a half untold story of him losing his memory?

If it was even that. She was not sure.

She was going to have to call Harry and explain this. Explain way this wizard, that no good had brought into the world, was doing in her house. She tried to think of something, a reason, an idea, anything, but there was only this gut feeling that something was not right with him. That whatever had happened to him, had left him hurt and he was honestly confused and unaware of who she actually was and the wizards she would bring into his life in this frail state.

"Ginevra?" Her name being called brought her back to reality. The water she was pouring into a glass for him was overflowing and running down her fingers into the marble sink.

"Oh…" She gasped quietly, taking her a moment to react and turn the water off. "Yes. I am sorry." Drying the glass with the nearest towel she crossed the kitchen and stopped at arm's reach from him, extending the glass to him with a surprising firm hand. He raised his eyebrow, his only eyebrow, at her and turned away from her to drink.

"I should go." He said, putting the glass on the counter beside him.

He should go, no doubt on that, but she would not allow it.

She was going to regret it, she was already despising the idea, but it was what she should do. It was her duty. He was clearly confused and missing on something, who knew what could happen if he went? If one of his followers found him? She needed time to understand what was going on.

"Please stay…" She reached a hand to touch him, but could not exactly mutter the courage to do it. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she did give a step closer. "I am sorry, it had been so long since I saw you, I was not expecting to find you here…"

Looking like this…

She hoped those were the concealed words he would finish her sentence with. Not something along the lines of him being alive.

"You can stay in the guest room. Rest for a bit? A couple of hours…" Ginny smiled and rose her palm to stop him when he opened his mouth to what was going to be a protest. "It is not going to be a bother at all. I am sure you had a good reason to come here and I do not want to let you down. You can rest here. It's not a problem." She assured him.

He stared at her for a moment and then let his eye roam the inside. The living room, with the couches and armchairs, opening into the kitchen with a table big enough for ten people. Things were a bit worn down but everything was clean and tidy.

"I think I have been here before…" He muttered, more to himself than her.

Ginny was staring at him with her best poker face, stirring up the few occlumency techniques she remembered Harry teaching her. He did not seem to notice.

Defences up, she evaluated his words. There was something truly wrong with him.

"You came to visit once…" She started. "Or twice…" He did not reply, he seemed to be interested in her bookshelf. "Did you sleep?"

He was not there.

Ginny licked her lips. "Tom?" She called him, feeling the name leave a sour taste in her mouth.

A red eye glowed at her over the collar of his coat.

"You are safe here, Tom." She said, waving to the room. "We have defences up, against Muggles and whoever tries to enter with bad intentions."

"Why would you need those spells?" He asked, reading through her words exactly into what those protective spells were. What kind of intentions they were intended to keep at bay.

"Do you remember how many brothers I have?" Ginny asked with a small smile. "It was easier for my parents to keep us safe. You never know who can be walking by and they wanted us to have free access to the gardens."

She did not felt he was buying it, but she guessed he was confused about many other things and this one was the least important. She did not dare guessing what those things could be, but she did wonder.

Ginny walked around him towards the stairs, ignoring the very loud voice of her conscience that was screaming at her from inside her head. She did not need any screaming voice for her to know that what she was doing was not only dangerous as it was incredibly stupid.

She was going to regret this.

Tom, or whatever he was, let go a deep sigh and followed her up the stairs. There was a guest room beside her bedroom, rarely used, which gave her some privacy and a bathroom just for her.

She could drop him higher in the house, in the empty floor where Charlie and Bill used to sleep, or even higher, in the attic with the family's vampire. It would not help, he needed rest, he needed to feel safe and she needed him to trust her. There could not be a bigger sign of trust then leaving him in a room next to hers, even if was just for a couple of hours.

She was moving out after all.

They were going to be all about trust from now on.

III

The house was quiet.

Ginny had made herself some tea and left out a couple more mugs out to her parents. They should be getting up soon. Her dad had to go to work and her mom was going to Diagonal Alley to buy some of the few herbs for potions she couldn't grow in her garden. It seemed sort of odd that their day, normal and average, was about to come to such a dramatic end. How was she going to tell her parents that Lord Voldemort was back? That not only was he back as he was resting in their own home?

She got up and stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air of the morning, the kitchen was starting to feel claustrophobic and she needed space. Ginny knew what she should do, she should be walking up the stairs into her parents' bedroom as quietly as possible and tell them what was going on. She should call Harry and let him know that the Dark Lord was back.

She should be calling him right now, telling him exactly what happened.

That was the right thing to do.

He would come with Aurors and they would take him away and get him fixed.

Get him exactly what he deserved and in the process… in the process, there would be some power abuse and maybe Voldemort would remember what was going on and kill them all. Kill everyone in the Aurors' Department, everyone on that floor… it would bring his followers and in an act of madness and chaos, the Ministry would fall right there and then.

Ginny gave a deep breath and sat on the stone step of the kitchen's door. She was being dramatic and irrational, that last part wouldn't probably happen but the other one, where he killed a lot of people because an Auror had unsolved problems, with all the reason to have them of course, but still, it could start something that they were not ready for.

What was she going to do?

She had just moved out.

Yesterday had been her last day in the Burrow. Her bedroom was bare and the only things left behind were the furniture she did not need. She bought everything new for her new place and she expected half of it to be already in her new home, waiting for her to unpack.

She had found a cottage in the small village of Luccombe, a bit far from everyone, but she didn't mind. It was not like she intended to spend a lot of time there. Most of her time was spent in Grimmauld Place with Harry.

If she took him there, she could hide him away for some time. She had already made clear that she wished to arrange her house by herself and didn't want help. People would be understandable about her desire of having it up to perfection before inviting anyone around.

Maybe by then, she would have a better idea of what to do with Voldemort. Or maybe by then he would have recovered his memory and killed her, which was probably the same thing her family and friends would do if they found out what she was about to do.

Voices from the inside of the house told her that her parents were coming down for breakfast. She hoped he didn't open the door to see what was going on.

Ginny walked back inside and started breakfast, serving the tea the moment her parents walked into the kitchen.

"You are up early!" Molly greeted her with a smile and walked to her to give her a kiss. "Thank you for getting the breakfast started." She said and pulled the apron from the chair.

Arthur walked close and gave her a hug. "What are we going to do now that you are leaving?" He asked moving away and looking at her with affection. "All our children are gone, Molly."

"Maybe we could cut some floors off now," Molly said with a raised eyebrow, "it would make cleaning a lot easier."

"Or we could have more children!" Arthur walked to his wife and gave her a kiss, as she told him that maybe it was time to get some pets amid laughs.

Ginny smiled at their exchange, she was going to miss it. The decision of taking him with her to Luccombe became more solid. She couldn't destroy this, not when there was a change of Voldemort never recovering his memory.

There was a small apothecary in her village that would be a perfect place for him to work. She was sure she could buy it for him if it came to that, if he never remembered who he was and whatever happened to him.

She stared at the fire, ignoring her parents chatting and the nagging voice in the back of her head telling her she was stupid and she was going to regret this.

With a last offer to help her settle in and a kiss, she was left alone.

It was time.

She took a moment to steady herself and decided what she was going to do.

First, she was going to have a shower, get dressed and pack the rest of her things, then she was going to knock on his door wishing that, somehow, she was going to find him dead and that way, solve all her problems.

She took her time, her mom was not coming back until almost lunch time and none of her brothers was thinking about calling by. Everyone was at work, everyone was busy. She had all the time she needed to get ready and gather her courage to face him again. She was starting to feel like she was in some sort of dream, one of those where we have deep conversations with people you never talked with but saw regularly.

She had dreamed a lot about Voldemort, not the boy in the Diary but the one that came back in her second year. She never exchanged a word with him, but they had shared many talks.

What happened that morning had felt exactly like one of those dreams.

She stopped by his door and listened. It was like he was not there and she wondered if she was not hallucinating the entire thing.

Ginny took her shower and got dressed in the bathroom where there was a lock on the door. Tinny and easy to break, its only intent to prevent people opening the door while someone was inside rather than grant safety against intruders. It didn't matter, she felt safer that way, even if it was silly.

She put her hair in a messy bun and eyeliner on her eyelids, making sure it was sharp at the edge, just like Harry liked to see on her.

He used to say, "Ginny, you look like you can pierce the other team rings with that." She would laugh and make fun of him for saying things like that, but she always used her eyeliner like that.

Today, it made her feel protected.

Harry would be horrified when he found out about any of it, but she didn't care. She was doing it for him.

For everyone.

IV

Holding tight to the strap of the backpack on her shoulder, to the point of her fingers becoming white. Ginny drew her breath and knocked on the guest room where he was.

No answer.

She knocked again.

Silence.

Maybe he was asleep.

She tried again and when he didn't answer, she decided to enter.

He had pulled the curtains closed and only a small line of light was coming into the bedroom, lighting the wardrobe across the bed. He was sitting on the side of the bed opposite the door, his back to her.

"Did something happen?" He asked in a coarse voice, looking over his shoulder with the good side of his face.

"Nothing happened," she walked in and stopped near the bed, "did you sleep anything?"

"Yes, I think so." He looked away and rubbed his face.

"You will have time to sleep more once we arrive at my place." Ginny forced a smile to make herself sound cheerful. "You happened to pop on my last day living here."

"You are moving." It was not a question.

"Have you ever heard about Luccombe?" She asked. When deciding to take him with her she had not thought about if he wanted to go with her or not, she just assumed he would come. Fear started to settle in. If he didn't come with her, she would be forced to call Harry on him and that, that, was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Not really." He replied after a moment.

"Well, then let's go," she turned and left the room and waited for him outside, "I bought a cottage there, with a big garden." She looked at him raise, awkwardly; he was hurt, maybe with some broken ribs.

She had not noticed that before.

He pulled the collar of his jacket up to hide his face, that he had not undressed as if he wanted to keep himself ready to go at any time, and walked to her.

"We need to go outside." She said turning around and leaving.

Ginny wanted to say something, make it less awkward, but she couldn't think of anything to say that would be appropriate. She wanted to ask him about his face, the broken ribs, about where he was before, but it didn't seem like the right time at all.

They went down the stairs, walked across the kitchen and stepped outside into the garden, crossing the small wooden gate, Ginny turned to him.

"Ok!" She exclaimed pulling the other strap of her bag over her shoulder and looked at him for a moment. "Right, just hold my hands and don't let go."

Tom seemed to want to touch her as much as she wanted to touch him, but she guessed that for him it was because his right hand was also disfigured. A vivid scar crossed the top of his hand and she could feel it against the palm. Looking closer, it was some sort of magical burn from a spell, but she was not sure.

"Ready?" She asked looking up at his cold eyes with what she hoped was a convincing smile.

"Yes."

With that, they were gone.