Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

A/N: This takes place in place of HBP. Draco has been ordered to kill Dumbledore, and Narcissa is being held hostage to ensure his cooperation. Dumbledore is still wounded, but he isn't dying, and Snape never made the Unbreakable Vow. Also, Harry and Ginny started dating early in the summer. AND Sirus never died. He almost did, but astonishingly made it out. He's too amazing to die. They don't see him much because Ginny is so sick, but he makes an appearance around Christmas.

Keep in mind that this is D/G but they won't be romantic right away, give them time. Also, it won't always be so morbid, I've just always wondered why Ginny never seems to be traumatized by the events in the chamber, or at least never seems to really think of it again.

Chapter One: Memories and Voices

Ginny sat anxiously on the edge of Harry's bed as he took off his shirt. They'd been dating for over a month now, and he'd been suggesting (nicely of course) that they may want to take things to the next step. Ginny didn't like the idea, but she decided to go along with it. After all, he is my boyfriend, she thought, biting her lip, if not with him, then with who?

He crossed the room towards her, and she wasn't sure what to do. She could tell he was nervous as he kissed her gently, and she sighed inwardly.

Things began to heat up, and Harry began fumbling with her blouse. When he eventually got it off, she bit her lip again, and sighed. Harry mistook her sigh for pleasure, and slid a hand into her skirt. As his hand brushed aside her panties, she tensed. This was not what she wanted. This was not good.

"Harry, stop, I've changed my mind," she whispered fearfully, eyes wide and filling with tears.

"Ginny, I won't hurt you, trust me," replied Harry, and, having divested himself of his own pants, he slid inside her.

Ginny screamed at his words, and at his touch. Memories of her first year came rushing back. Memories which had haunted her in dreams since she had awoken in the Chamber, and which woke her screaming and sweating almost every night.

"No, please don't," she whimpered, "Stop, Tom, please!" Her anguished voice rose to a scream, and Harry pulled away immediately. He knew why she was afraid, and he cursed himself for not thinking about it.

"Shit, Ginny," he whispered touching her hair, "Ginny, I'm such an ass, I'm so sorry!"

She didn't see him. All she saw was Tom, and she felt Tom's hands touching her, and she saw the horrible things he had made her see. The horrible things he had made of intimacy.

She fled. Hermione looked up anxiously as she ran by, as it was well after curfew, and Ginny's abject terror made her turn on Harry, who had dashed down the staircase after her.

"What the bloody hell did you do to her?" asked Hermione angrily.

"We," he stammered, "I... We were going to, you know, have sex, but then she went all blank and started screaming for Tom to stop."

Hermione stared at him, and he collapsed on the couch. "I'm such an ass, Hermione. I forgot what he... what that damn bastard did to her. I didn't listen, and I hate myself. She was just a kid..." he whispered, holding his head in his hands, "She was just a kid."

Meanwhile, Ginny was running blindly. She had to get away from there. She knew it wasn't Tom, she knew it was Harry, and he loved her, and she was supposed to love him, right? But somehow the ghost of Tom had risen in Harry's eyes, in his voice, in his touch. They had said the same words, both of them, before invading her body. The very same words.

When she looked around, she was in the second floor girls' toilet, the place where it had all really gone to hell, and the place where it had all ended. She threw up in the nearest toilet, and pressed her face to the smooth stone floor, tears pouring down it.

Tom's silky whisper filled her ears, and, even with her eyes wide open, she saw all the things he had shown her. Shuddering, Ginny pulled her legs up to her chest and began to rock back and forth, face blank and mind full of horrors.

Directly above the girls toilet was the prefect's bathroom. The huge tub was full of scalding water, and behind the steam, a blonde boy sat low in the water.

If anyone looked closely, they would see that his eyes were ringed red with tears and black with dark circles born of sleepless nights. His pointed face was thinner, more angular than usual, and his hair did not shine like silk, the way it normally did, but rather hung lank and dull.

Draco Malfoy was seriously contemplating killing himself. Another deadline was coming up tomorrow, and it too would pass without completion. And, without a doubt, another lock of his mother's beautiful hair would be sent to him. The problem set him by the Dark Lord was impossible, but with his mother as a hostage, he was helpless to obey.

At least if he killed himself, she could go free. Unless, whispered a part of his mind, unless He kills her in rage. Or in revenge. You know Him better than that. You know he will not simply let her go after you betray him and take yourself out of His reach. He will rip her apart in the hope that her pain will in some way reach you. And no one will care that you died. You have one meaning in life: to serve the Dark Lord. Death Eater. Coward. Fool.

Draco hated himself. He hated that his father and his master. He hate the damn voice inside himself which accused him of all of the things he feared to be called. All of the things he knew he was.

With a groan, he heaved himself out of the bath, and headed back to the common room, where no one would have noticed his absence. Where no one would have cared if he had killed himself. In fact, the school probably would celebrate.

As he left, the little voice whispered in his head again. Pathetic. You're too much of a coward to kill yourself. Too much of a coward to run away. Pathetic.

The voice reminded him of his father's.

Note: I've already written a few chapters so I'll try to have them up soon so you can see where this is going. In the meantime, please read and review so I know how I'm doing.