Lady Darkness

Title: Lady Darkness

Author: Emcee
and rain

Summary: Ginny's plans to resurrect Tom progress, while Harry and Hermione's
relationship takes the next step.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Pablo for the beta. Lyrics in the
chapter title from "#1 Crush" by Garbage

Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and the characters, places and things related to it do not belong to me. They are from the brilliant mind of JK Rowling. They belong to her and her publishers. I am not making any profit from this fan fiction.

****

ii. 'I've been dying just to feel you by my side, to know that you're
mine.'

With the diary tucked safely against her chest, right over her heart, Ginny made her way to Diagon Alley. She really had no need to go there, but she supposed she had to stop in the twins' joke shop and at least attempt to go through the motions of her date with the imaginary boyfriend.

Ginny leaned against the counter, waiting for one of the twins to appear from the backroom.

"Ah, welcome valued customer, to Weasleys' Wiz-- Oh, it's you." The twin who appeared was wearing a jumper with a large F on the chest. That could only mean it was George. "Mum said you'd be stopping by. You got her in a right state. So wherehis his bloke who's supposed to be escorting you? Ron told me to dress him down good and proper."

"He wasn't able to come." Ginny pouted. "Sent me an owl. His mum is making him weed the garden. Wish he would've told me before I got myself all prettied up. Takes a lot of work to look this good."

George snorted. "Yeah, sure, Ginners. You look fab. So since you've been stood up, what are you going to do?"

"I have not been stood up!" Ginny protested. She brought a hand to her chest, feeling the diary beneath the fabric. "Figured I'd just head back home. Or, you know... there." She gave him a wink. "You know, I miss the Burrow."

George nodded sympathetically. "Know what you mean. Not really the same all being crammed in that place. I mean, the Burrow could get crowded, but blimey! How many people are there now? Twenty? Thirty?"

"I think it's impossible to tell these days," Ginny sighed. "People keep on coming and going. Well, they don't 'go' as much as they used to. Unless you count when they die."

"Even then," George said, laughing. "That's no guarantee they ain't coming back."

Ginny laughed with him, nodding. "Suppose you're right on that one. Oh well. I think I'll just head back. I just got a fabulous book I want to dig into."

George rolled his eyes. "You have been spending too much time with Hermione, kid. Come on, stay a while. Just put the new stock out." He grabbed a box from the counter, waving it in front of Ginny's face in what appeared to be some sort of attempt at hypnotism. His voice took on a sing-song quality. "Spell to make a person's knickers jump a foot to the left..."

"Haven't got any money fou!" u!" Ginny sang back, skipping to the door. "And I'm telling mum you offered your baby sister a very naughty prank!"

"Oh-ho! Look at who's the prim and proper lady all of the sudden!" George called after Ginny, hopping over the counter. "You know, sooner or later people are going to discover you're not nearly as innocent as you try to make youf ouf out to be!"

Ginny clutched the diary closer to her chest. She smiled. "That, George... I do guarantee."

****

Hermione stretched out on the floor in the study, books piled in front of her. Crookshanks balanced precariously on the back of her legs. The tip of her quill was pressed against her mouth, leaving a tiny ink stain on her lower lip.

Though break had onust ust begun, Hermione was already studying hard. Next year would be the worst school year yet: the Nastily Exhaustive Wizarding Tests. She had been preparing for this since she started at Hogwarts. Now there were only a few months left. Of course, it didn't hurt to cram.

Harry leaned in the doorway watching her closely, a smile playing on his lips and his arms crossed over his chest. "Have I ever told you how great you look when you're studying?"

"No, you haven't," Hermione replied, not looking up from her book. She brought the quill down to her parchment, scribbling notes in very tiny writing. "I don't suggest you start now. You'll distract me."

Harry crouched low, reaching out to touch Hermione's hair. "Distracting you is what makes you studying so much fun. Come on."

Hermione looked up finally, crinkling her nose. "Harry, someone could walk ine."

Sliding close, Harry ran his thumb over Hermione's lower lip. "I can't take you seriously while you've got that ink stain on your lip." He leaned in closer, their lips a breath apart. "I'll get it."

Hermione pulled away, sitting up. Crookshanks jumped, hissing at the surprise displacement. Hermione furiously scrubbed her lower lip with her hand. "Why do you do this?"

Harry frowned, sitting down beside Hermione. "Do what?"

Hermione sighed, pushing her bushy brown hair over her shoulder. She gestured emphatically, if sloppily, at him. "Be like this. All sweet and sexy and irresistible and just... Harry!"

Harry started to creep towards her again. "Irresistible? You're doing a pretty good job of resisting me right now."

If only he knew. Hermione had never been able to resist Harry. Since the first moment she saw him, awkward and unsure on the Hogwarts Express, all he needed to do was say the word and she would have been his. It had been a long and arduous process getting him to notice her as a member of the opposite sex. She even went as far as to give up. During the summer between their fifth and sixth years, Hermione had dated Ron. The relationship ended amicably when they both realised that if it progressed any further they would kill each other.

Then, in October, it happened. They had remained in the common room late, trying to find a way to bring Ss bas back from behind the veil. Ron had long since gone to bed, exhausted from Quidditch practice. Mourning the loss of Sirius, Harry hadn't even bothered to rejoin the team once his ban was lifted.

Frustrated from lack of information, vulnerable from the loss of his godfather, Harry began to rant about the unfairness of his life. Hermione could think of only one way to quell his anger. She kissed him on the forehead. Harry's anger had evaporated, turning to tears. Hermione could do nothing but comfort him. The comfort turned to longer kisses on the mouth. The kisses turn to awkward caresses. There, on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, Hermione and Harry stumbled their way through sex, the first for both.

Several more encounters occurred afterwards, usually following periods of great stress for Harry. Hermione allowed him to fall into her arms. Maybe it was just comfort, but it was Harry. Even if what they had was just solace, she did not want to give that up.

Then, things became better. Sirius was returned, alive and relatively unscathed. Harry rejoined the Quidditch team. Yet still Harry came to Hermione. Over the months, the relationship grew, solidified. They giggled with each other over private jokes. When out with Ron at the Three Broomsticks, Hermione would feel Harry's foot caress her leg. They were becoming a real couple.

Then why hadn't they told anyone about it yet?

"Someone could walk in," Hermione whispered, frowning slightly. "They would see us doing things proper friends aren't supposed to do together."

Harry nodded, getting a very serious look on his face. "I suppose you're right." He reached forward, brushing a lock of Hermione's hair out of her face. "So why haven't we told them yet?"

"I don't know. I was about to ask you that." Hermione leaned into the touch. "Should we tell them?"

"It's been almost eight months." Harry pulled Hermione into his arms. "You realise they-- and when I say they I mean Ron-- are g tog to be furious we've kept this from them for so long?"

"Reason number one." Hermione leaned against his shoulder, sighing deeply. "Two, we will both get the sex talk."

"Little late for that, wouldn't you say?" Harry grinned cheekily. "Sirius'll just be glad you're not preggers."

Hermione pushed back against him. "Yeah, and I'll get it from Mrs. Weasley. She'll either declare me a harlot--"

Harry shook his head. "Come on, Hermione! Mrs. Weasley thiyou'you're great."

"--Or," Hermione continued, "we'll have a double wedding with Bill and Tonks."

Harry buried his face in Hermione's hair. "Would that really be so bad?"

Hermione pulled away, mouth agape. She could almost feel the synapses going in her brain. The whole thing was just shutting down. She was fairly certain she would never be able to do Arthimancy again. "I don't think I heard you right."

Harry shrugged, looking down at the floor. "Way I it, it, I'm probably going to be dead by the time I'm eighteen. I might as well get married while I've still got the chance."

Hermione finally shut her mouth, frowning deeply. "That is not funny, Harry."

"Which?" Harry looked up, green eyes shining slightly from unshed tears. He knit his brow. "Me dying or us getting married?"

"Both," Hermione replied, voice weak. "You don't joke about that. Either of those things."

"I wasn't joking."

Hermione abouabout to reply when Ron burst in, grinning. "All right, Hermione. You are not going to spend this whole summer studying. I just set up the chess--" His smile faded, eyes darting between Harry and Hermione. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Hermione plastered on a smile, brushing away the tears that clung to her cheeks. "Chess, huh? You know, I would prefer if we used a Muggle set. I hate when the pieces yell at me. Breaks my concentration."

"It's not nothing." Harry grabbed Hermione's hand, helping her to her feet. He didn't let go once they were level with Ron. "We've got something we have to tell you. It's important."

Ron looked back and forth between them again. His eyes then drifted down to their joined hands. Slowly, he looked up at Hermione. "He ever hurts you, I'll kill him. I don't care if he is my best friend in the whole world, I'll kill him dead."

Harry smiled. "You're okay with this? Wait, you know about this?"

Ron shook his head, chuckling. "You two actually thought you could keep something from me? I'm your best friend and I'm more perceptive than I look." He then stopped laughing, going serious. "I'm just hurt it took you so long to tell me outright."

"Didn't know if there was anything to tell." Hermione managed a small, but genuine, smile.

"And now there is?" Ron's mouth opened and closed as if he were a gigantic redheaded fish. He pointed at Hermione'sly. ly. "He get you in trouble, Hermione?"

"No!" Both Harry and Hermione cried in one panicked voice. Harry had abruptly let go of Hermione's hand, jumping a foot away from her.

"Good." Ron nodded assertively. "I didn't want to have to get physical or nothing. Especially considering I'm certain Harry could beat me in a duel."

"We didn't want you to feel left out," Hermione explained. "It's always been the three of us. And if we were together and you were al.."<.."

"Couldn't be the three of us forever," Ron said with a shrug. He then grinned. "Unless you're into something very dirty and un-Hermione-like."

Hermione gaped, slapping Ron in the arm. "Ronald Weasley--!"

"If you two want to snog each other, go ahead." Ron then slapped a hand over his eyes. "Just don't do it in front of me. I've seen enough evil, horrible, wretched things to scar me for life, I don't need to add another." He uncovered his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Hermione. "And it just so happens, Hermione Granger, I am dating a very beautiful-- slightly daft-- blonde who think I'm absolutely spiffy."

Crinkling her nose, Hermione surveyed Ron. "Slightly daft blonde?"

"Luna," Harry explained, slinging an arm around Ron's shoulders. "Saw them saying good-bye to each other on the train while you were on your Prefect rounds."

"Oh." Hermione nodded. She paused for a moment, thinking that sentence over. Her jaw dropped. "You were supposed to be on your Prefect rounds!"

Ron pushed Harry in front of him, creating a human buffer between him and Hermione as he headed towards the door. "Protect me from your girlfriend, Harry!"

Harry jumped out of the way. "Are you off your bird, Weasley? I know better than to get between the two of you!"

Ron laughed so heartily he woke up Mrs. Black's portrait. "Some hero you are!"

****

A thin layer of dust had settled across what was left of the Burrow. Ginny carefully padded across the floor, afraid any heavy movement would cause the house to falln fun further. The top two floors had been demolished in a full-scale assault by the Death Eaters at Christmas. As Harry had left Hogwarts for the holidays, it was assumed he would be there. The Weasley clan had been at Sirius' when the attack commenced. If they hadn't, they would have been crushed beneath the crumbling ceilings.

The abandoned homestead was the perfect place for Ginny to execute the crux of her plan. Twelve Grimmauld Place was too crowded, too many people lurking to spoil the spell.

Everything had to go perfectly. There was no room for errors. The process of bringing a god back to life was delicate.

Kneeling on the musty floor, Ginny reached into her robes. She tightened her fingers around the diary, pulling it out. She examined it closely, becoming re-acquainted with every centimetre. Her thumb idly caressed the gaping hole left by the Basilisk fang.

The poison couldn't have completely spoiled it, could it? There was still a way to bring him back, wasn't there? There had to be. Ginny hadn't dedicated the last four years of her life to a fruitless cause. She would be no better than the Order of the Phoenix if that were the case.

No, she reassured herself. The book said the magic of the diary, of Tom's memory, went past mere poison. Tom would be ged,ged, but his inherent glory would remain.

Ginny turned the diary on its side. She brought it to her mouth, laving her tongue over the spine. As she licked the slick leather, flawed by minor imperfections, she shuddered. She could feel the power emanating from its core.

Oh, Tom Marvolo Riddle was still very much alive in the pages. Her heart cried out this truth to her.

Now it was only a matter of bringing him out of the pages to face her.

It was all too simple, really. There was just one ingredient required for the spell.

Ginny rose from her kneeling position, striding back outside. She smiled tightly, seeing someone walking up the dirt road. This was not the best situation. She would have preferred a stranger, someone no one would miss. Oh well. "Mr. Lovegood!" She ran up to him. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I saw someone going into the Burrow from my garden," Mr. Lovegood replied. "What are you doing herinnyinny? It's not safe."

"I needed to get something from the house. For..." She was coming up blank. "Our new house." That was a lame excuse. She scuffed her toe in the dirt. "I think it's too big for me to carry. Can you help me? I'm not old enough to do magic myself."

"Of course." Mr. Lovegood walked towards the door. "Why are you doing this alone?"

"Bill was supposed to help me." Ginny reached into her robes. This had to be timed perfectly. "He got held up."

Mr. Lovegood crossed the threshold of the house, stepping into the kitchen. "Are you sure you don't want to just wa--"

Ginny pounced on Mr. Lovegood's back. She slid the knife across his throat, feeling the hot, rich blood spill onto her hands. He convulsed helplessly as Ginny wrestled him down on top of the diary.

When Mr. Lovegood stopped moving, Ginny let go of him. She stepped a f a few paces, watching the scene unfold.

As the blood slid to the floor, the diary absorbed it, leaving no trace. Ginny chewed her lower lip, her heart beating a furious tattoo.

Take his essence, Tom, she prayttake his essence and make yourself whole.

It was Ginny's first murder. But if you took a life to make a life, it all balanced itself out, didn't it?

Then, there he was, standing on the other side of the diary. Ginny broke into a euphoric smile. "Hello, Tom."