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She slams the door, locks it behind her. Runs to the window and slams that shut too, but leaves the blinds up. The sun is almost gone, painting the sky into a tangerine sunset streaked with pastel pinks and pretty orange. She'd like to admire the view but she can't. She needs to ward the room, she needs to silence it, she needs to do everything she can to keep him away.
By the time she lowers her wand with a shuddering breath, the sun has lowered completely and it is almost dark.
There is a sound; a bang. Something- or someone flashes by. Ginny prays it's something, something, something. A butterfly. Yes, a little, nice, pretty butterfly.
She cowers back and away from the window, dread curling in her stomach, and her heart thundering loudly in her throat. She has trouble swallowing, and is unable to see almost anything in this darkness.
An inhale right next to her left ear, she screams and whirls around. Something cold brushes her left hand and she whimpers, the sound like a hurt dog, and fumbles for her wand.
"Lumos," she whispers, shining it all around. Again something flashes by, so close she feels it brush her hair. Her wand is yanked out of her hand, there is the sound of wood snapping in two and then it is dark again. Completely dark: the blinds are down. The blinds are down, but a second ago... they were up.
"No, no, no, no," Ginny says lowly, "no, no."
She stumbles back again, away from the window and collides with something. Something that wraps a cold arm around her and pulls her back firmly. Her bum nestles against his hips, her back rests on his chest. His other hand brushes her hair from her throat and something sharp scrapes her neck.
"No!" She screams and he laughs. He laughs fully as he releases her slightly to do something behind him and she has to blink a few times as the lights turn on.
"That was fun, wasn't it?"
He turns her around. His dark eyes chilling, amused; beautiful.
Folding his hands causally behind his back, he starts speaking again. "Now. To continue with our lesson: silver and garlic do not affect us in the slightest, but vervain does." His smile turns wicked when her eyes widen, too late she realises she has given herself away.
"Your friend Hermione always has that slight scent. She neglected to tell you, I assume? Or maybe it's a coincidence. A soap, tea. She doesn't seem like the type to not... share her knowledge." His sneer tells her what she thinks he means: that she's an annoying know-it-all.
He tilts her chin up with a long, elegant finger. Their eyes meet. "Ginevra. Tell me about my diary."
She watches his pupil dilate and then some sort of haze seems to come over her, a pull inside not unlike a portkey. She finds herself telling him all about it, sees without really noticing how his lips quirk; his eyes sparkle.
He strokes her long hair away from her face and throat, plaits it neatly along her back. "Such a good girl," he coos. He tells her to drink as he bites his wrist and she does, as if she has been dying of thirst for days.
Gently, he tugs her hair until she tilts her head and exposes her neck fully. His other hand is on her shoulderblade, holding her steady; holding her still.
His lips trail over her neck until his mouth hovers over her shoulder. Suddenly she realises, coming out of the trance. She tries to jerk away, to no avail. His hand tightens his grip, he chuckles and then--
He bites.
Sharp piercing pain, and then drowsiness as he starts drinking. Her eyelids heavy, her knees shaky. "Tom," she gasps out, "please," she tries to say but it is lost in a gurgling sound.
"Not to worry, little girl. I'll see you tomorrow."
The last thing she sees is Tom, fangs coated in red and blood running down small rivulets on his chin. He smiles. It is not a gentle smile. It is one that chills her to the bone.
"After all," he says as he releases her and she falls down; down. "I still have a lot to teach you."
Ginny closes her eyes, and a single tear drop drips onto her cheek.