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Ginny stood in the middle of the Chamber of Secrets, the diary in her hand and Tom in front of her. The hem of her robe was damp from the puddles that littered the floor surrounding and she had felt it dragging behind her when Tom had led her through the maze of tunnels.
All she could see was his face. It was a stark smear of white against the shadows of the Chamber, making him seem all the more ethereal.
He reached forward a cold finger to tilt up her chin, and she became absorbed into his chestnut eyes. "Oh, my darling," he purred, smiling down at her, and Ginny smiled back, "you have done exceedingly well to last this long for me. Your core must be stronger than I had thought, to sustain me for such a time"
At this praise, Ginny beamed. But then, Tom's face hardened, and his finger on her chin became a grasping hold on her face.
"You have not served me faithfully though, have you?" He tightened his grip, and Ginny whimpered. "You tried to rid yourself of me - tried to flush me away. Did you even stop to think what would have happened if I had fallen into the wrong hands?"
His face was inches from hers, and she feared what he would say next. "I'm sorry Tom, I didn't - it was a mistake I swear!"
Tom nodded slowly, but he neither moved away nor loosened his vice-like grip on her face. "I suppose then, if that is truly the case - a mistake, rather than malice - that I might be able to forgive your transgression—"
Ginny's eyes shone with her unshed tears, and she was nodding, "Yes, please Tom, I'll do better please forgive me -"
"—provided," he interrupted her rambling, "that you atone."
"Yes of course, anything you say! Just let me make it up to you Tom, please! I'll do whatever you want, anything you say, please forgive me!"
"Anything I say, hmm?" Tom's voice was a low murmur as he regarded her pitiful state. Ginny had to strain to hear him over the faint, but steady, dripping of water around them. "Now, there's an idea, isn't it."Tom paused as if deep in thought, and Ginny's fervour faltered. What would she do if he didn't want her anymore, if there wasn't anything she could do to make it up? But then he spoke again, and she knew it would be alright.
"Tell me, dearest," there was a cruel glint in Tom's eyes that she had not seen before, but she only focussed on his words, "Would you swear to happily obey me in all, and to never cross me?"
Ginny nodded quickly. "Anything, if you ask it of me!"
"Would you kill for me Ginny?"
Again she nodded, but she hesitated and he continued harshly.
"If I asked you to kill Dumbledore, who has let this school fall to shambles? Harry Potter, who has ignored you all year? Your own parents, if I wanted it so?" His nail dug into her cheek and she cried out.
"Yes, I- I would kill them if you asked." Tears were rolling slowly down her cheeks. With his free hand, Tom traced the path of one down her face, then brought it to his mouth.
"And what about you, my darling. Would you slit your own throat if I asked you to?" His voice was a purr, smooth and calm as he asked his final and most horrible question.
Ginny nodded shakily, "If that was what you wanted me to do, Tom."
"Good."
He released her face and stepped away, but she dared not move. He flicked her wand with his left hand, and a knife, long and thin, appeared in his right.
He offered it to her, and she took it.
"Prove it," he commanded.
"Tom, I-" She held the knife loosely. Did he really mean for her to —
"Slit your throat for me darling," he replied easily, as if he were just asking to borrow some ink. "I want to see your smile."
Slowly, hoping he might change his mind, Ginny brought the knife to her neck. She pressed it into the skin below her ear and felt the sharp sting, heard more than felt her blood rushing out. She looked at Tom again, wondering if that would be enough, but the hard set of his mouth said otherwise.
She closed her eyes
and
pulled the knife through her skin.
Ginny looked at Tom one more time as she tried to smile, but her eyes fluttered closed.
She dropped the diary, which she had kept close to her for so long.
She dropped the knife, hearing it clatter to the stone floor as though through a tunnel, the sound echoing in her ears.
And then Ginny Weasley crumpled to the floor, her red collar spilling out, dousing herself, the diary, and the knife in blood.
Tom Riddle watched impassionately, waiting for his diary to absorb enough. When all was done, he picked it up, vanished the knife, and healed Ginny's neck. Then, he called the basilisk, and left.
Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever had been daubed on the wall above. And he was nothing, if not true to his word.