Disclaimer: I don't own the characters

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling.

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The day had come and gone without anything truly interesting happening and now Ginny sat on her bed reading the book she had taken from the library. Her roommates had long since given into the seduction of sleep as had the rest of Gryffindor Tower. Her eyes prickled with the desire for sleep, but she knew that even if she laid down and shut her eyes, sleep wouldn't come, or if by some miracle sleep did come, it would be unrestful and she would wake every hour or so.

But as she sat reading, her eyes prickled with another desire. The desire was to see the green ring just like almost every other night. She had managed to stay interested in the book until the last of her roommates had fallen asleep. When she knew that it was only her that was awake, was when her mind began to wonder from the book and into the bathroom where the mirror was. For the past hour she had been trying to keep herself from slithering off of the bed and into the bathroom. She was still reading the book in her hands, but the words held no meaning any more. They dissipated as soon as her eyes skipped over them.

Ginny couldn't tell you exactly why she always tried to fight of the urge to go stare into the mirror. Perhaps it was because she didn't want to admit to having feelings for a sociopath that had turned into the wizarding world's most feared wizard. That was definitely a good reason. People would think her a loon, and she would most likely end up in St. Mungo's if anyone found out about her little obsession, but Ginny didn't think that was why she always tried to fight off the urge. She believed it was a simple power struggle. Tom had manipulated her when she was younger; there was no doubt about that. He had twisted her quite cleanly around his slim pale finger, and even now after five years she couldn't seem to hate him. And her attempt to stay away from the one thing that showed his claim on her was just to try and show that she was in control, even though she always seemed to lose the battle.

She snapped the book shut with a sigh. Her fingers drummed quickly over the book cover as she tried to consciously relax her tensed muscles. It was taking all her self control not to jump from her bed and sprint into the bathroom. Not to stare deeply into her own eyes that were inhabited by him. Not to think of the way his elegant almost foppish hand writing swirled over the old yellowed paper of the diary as he wormed his way into her trust. It was a disgusting way to live. Ginny knew this, and in a way she was ashamed for her behavior. Ashamed that for some reason she could stand the thought of getting help for her "problem". She couldn't imagine gazing into a mirror and not seeing the little reminder of what he had said to her five years ago when he had taken her down into the Chamber of Secrets.

You're mine. He whispered. She had been so overwhelmed with shock and happiness when he had materialized out of the diary. You're mine. He repeated. No matter what happens, you'll always belong to me. Her vision flickered out, and the only thing she could remember after that was waking up to the wounded Harry Potter.

There was a tap on the dormitory window. Ginny jumped clamping her hands over her own mouth to muffle a scream that almost escaped her. Taking a shaking breath she glanced over at the window. A rather plain looking brown owl tapped on the glass again. She frowned, climbing out of her bed and inching her way to the window. She welcomed a distraction, but couldn't help wonder who would want to owl something so late at night. As Ginny opened the window, the brown owl swooped in dropping a letter onto her bed before swooping right back out again. Ginny's frown deepened. She shut the window before going back over to her bed.

Taking a seat, she picked up the letter, and almost threw it back down again. Her name was written in swirly elegant script. It was none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle's handwriting.

Ginny began to shake. She managed to strangle a sob that threatened to erupt from her. Her nearest roommate, Ariel, groaned and rolled over. Hiccuping, Ginny reached over and grabbed her wand. She put a quick silencing charm over her bed before letting the hiccups turn into loud dry sobs. She wasn't quite sure why she was sobbing, or what exactly it was she was now feeling. Whatever it was, it was strong and the emotion took over her with such as strong grasp that the only thing her body could think to do was sob.

Only when her sobs quieted down, did she attempt to even touch the letter again. Her hands shook so violently that it was a miracle that she got the envelope open. She read through the letter and only managed to get past the first couple sentences before passing out cold. The letter read:

Dearest Ginerva,

I hope the past five years have been more eventful for you than they were for me. It would be quite an understatement to say that reliving the same memory for such a long time was boring at best. Hopefully you've remembered you're place even after all these years. I'd hate to kill anyone than Potter after I am finally released, but if you've bedded anyone during my absence, I'll be more than willing to push Potter aside for the time being to kill your paramours. I meant it when I said you were mine no matter what. Remember that.

Regards,

Tom Marvolo Riddle

P.S. – Don't tell anyone about this letter, or else there will be consequences.

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Lord Voldemort did not receive letters. The idea was almost laughable. The Death Eaters head quarters had far too many curses and charms placed on it for a mere owl to get through to the inside of the house, so needless to say when the Dark Lord opened the window after hearing a tapping noise emit from it, he was quite surprised to see a plain brown owl swoop into the room, drop a letter onto a table, then swoop back out of the room, and fly off without a care.

The letter had his name written out on the front of it in his very own handwriting. Suspicion welled in him. He tried spell after spell to try and discover whatever dangers the letter was hiding, and time and time again he only proved to himself that the letter was nothing more than that: a letter.

But, he would not let his guard down to the envelope and whatever it may have held inside. He called Wormtail up to his quarters and had the man open the letter himself. Wormtail had stared at the letter fearfully, clearly not wanting to touch it, but fear for his master won out and he opened it under the harsh scrutiny of the Dark Lord. The letter didn't do anything when it was opened and unfolded onto the desk. Wormtail didn't die, or break out into some hideous plague. Voldemort took that to mean that the letter was safe.

He picked it up, a nonexistent eyebrow perking up onto his forehead as he glanced over the handwriting. It was most definitely his own. As Voldemort read through the letter, a sort of angered smirk stretched itself over his near translucent skin.

"Wormtail," Voldemort said, causing the round man to flinch. ", fetch Lucius for me. I have important matter that I need to discuss with him."

Wormtail waddled as quickly as he could out of the Dark Lords room, happy to get away from his master.

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A/N – Oh wow! I haven't updated this in ages! I was just re-reading some of its old reviews and decided to see if I could write another chapter to it. And look! I did. Well I hope it was worth the wait. If not, I'm terribly sorry. I wonder if any of my old readers will even see this. X.X

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!

Sincerely,

Ms.WritingFantasy