|Smichiko (smichiko) wrote in smichifics,|
@ 2008-05-17 04:50:00
|Entry tags:||fandom: hp, ginny weasley, het, rating: pg-13, requests, tom riddle, tom/ginny|
[Tom/Ginny] Testing the Limit
Title: Testing the Limit
Rating: PG-13 for dubcon and darkish stuff
Character(s): Tom Riddle, Ginny Weasley
Summary: He knew her limit.
Word Count: 989
A/N: Originally posted here.
By all outward appearances, Ginny Weasley had only become stronger with age. It took time, but the farther away her first year became, the easier it was to forget her weakness, her insecurity. She was actually quite proud of herself; she seemed to be doing so well, in fact, that her family was convinced that she hadn't come out worse for wear and seemed to have quite forgotten about it. She was stronger now than she'd been then, she was sure of it. And certainly less naive.
But the moment she encountered him again, it seemed as though the five long years she'd spent building her resolve had been all for naught. She could feel the walls that had taken so much time and effort to construct being torn down in an instant. So much work, so much mental and emotional conditioning--all wasted.
And because of what? Him?
"Ginny," he whispered. The way her name rolled off his tongue made her shudder. (Whether in fear or anticipation, she wasn't sure.) How was it that something so simple could inspire such a strong reaction from her? How was it that he looked just as she remembered him, despite it having been more than five years now?
She clenched her teeth in frustration; she wasn't going to give in that easily.
"My, my, the years have been kind."
I'm imagining this, it can't be real, it's not happening, she thought, closing her eyes, as if that would make it so.
As it turned out, it didn't make much of a difference. She could still see him smirking coldly, despite the fact that her eyes were squeezed shut. Damn him, she thought, feeling the familiar build-up of tears behind her eyes. She willed herself to keep them from falling; she wasn't eleven years old anymore. She could handle this. He didn't control her anymore.
No, said a part of her, the strong part of her. I'm not weak. All these years...it hasn't been a waste of time. I can resist. I know I can. She steeled herself against him as best she could, awaiting the inevitable.
"You don't have power over me anymore," she said, in as even a voice as she could muster, still not daring to open her eyes.
A low chuckle was his only response. She bit down on her lip, hard, trying to prevent herself from lashing out at him. She hated how he could do that to her--elicit whatever response he wanted.
There was silence for a long, agonizing period of time. She thought of opening her eyes several times, but each time, she decided against it. If they stayed closed, she could convince herself that everything was alright.
After it had been about five minutes (or so she guessed), she let out a sigh of relief. She felt her body relax; she hadn't even realized how very tense she'd been until now. She was right before; she was only imagining things. It certainly hadn't been the first time.
He laid a finger on her cheek, gently. So gently, in fact, that she couldn't be quite sure if he was touching her at all. But it was enough to cause her body snap back to attention and her breathing to become rather irregular. Ginny cursed under her breath, angry at herself for responding.
"It would seem that you are wrong, Ginevra."
A choked sob escaped from her throat. Dammit, she thought, unable to prevent the tear from rolling down her cheek. She opened her eyes, finally, to see him staring back at her, frowning in a seemingly concerned manner. But she knew better than that. She met his gaze with a steely glare.
He cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed the lone tear away gently; it was almost painful. She smiled bitterly, amused by her own thoughts.
"You have missed me."
"No, I haven't. I hate you."
"I don't think so," he responded, completely unfazed by the venom she thought had reflected in her voice (or maybe it had sounded a lot weaker than she'd meant for it to).
How do you know? she wanted to scream, but she refrained. You think you know me better than I know myself?
As much as she hated the idea, she realized that it was probably true. But she was going to do everything in her power to prevent him from knowing it.
"I don't think so," he repeated. The utter calmness of his tone made her clench her teeth in frustration. "Though your outside may have changed, you're still a scared little girl."
"I am not," she said forcefully, removing his hand from her cheek. "You know nothing about me. I'm not as stupid as I once was."
"Dear Ginny, you were never stupid," he said, boldly placing his palm on her throat. She gave him a hard stare in response, but he pretended not to notice. "You were merely lonely. There is no soul easier to manipulate than a lonely one."
So loneliness turned people into idiots. Or perhaps raving, murderous lunatics. She wasn't sure which she preferred.
"You are beautiful, Ginny."
"Shut up." She knew that she was done for, but somehow, keeping up the facade of resistance was making her feel much better about herself. She had a limit, and he knew it. He'd always known her better than anyone. Even now, after so long...
Her stomach was beginning to twist painfully; she wasn't sure if she felt sick or excited. Maybe a bit of both. The sensation of his fingers trailing down her shoulder was making her shudder again and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out.
When she finally gave in, she didn't cry, she didn't protest, she didn't regret; she was simply proud of the fact that, even if she had surrendered, at least she'd been able to extend her limit a little more.