Ginny and Tom, Tom and Ginny.
Swim in the dark, deep water.
Ginny falls down and starts to drown
And Tom whispers beside her.



In the Chamber, they sit on the basilisk's corpse. Ginny sits at its head, her bare legs dangling above the water beneath. She sips tea from a blue china teacup, the slender, delicate handle between her index finger and thumb. Tom lies sprawled beside her, stretched out on the dried skin. A crystal tumbler dangles from his hand.

"I've never really liked tea, you know, but Mum always makes me drink it." Ginny holds the cup away from her.

"Of course I know, Virginia. You told me first year."

"Can't I have a bit of yours?"

"When you're older."

The glass falls from his hand, and for a moment it glistens in the darkness--she can see green and red and silver all shine--and splashes into the water. Droplets of water catch on her ankles and calves.

"Oh!" She rears back. Tom catches her by her wrist. His hand is cold. She stares at the long, slender fingers, pale as parchment paper. His grip tightens as he draws her close.

"Don't want to fall, do you?" he says.

She wakes in warm darkness. The curtains are closed around her, and the sheets are twisted about her body. She feels the moisture and dampness against her legs, but that could just be sweat.



"Lie down," he says, "No, move your arm a bit to the right. That's good." She lies before the great statue of Salazar Slytherin. The stone is cold and damp beneath her back. She can feel it through her robes.

He settles next to her on his stomach. "Really, the only thing you need is the diary. Pity that's gone."

"Can I move, Tom?" she whispers.

"No, not quite yet."

He hums beneath his breath. Her arm begins to numb, and she can feel the cold seep deep into the middle of her stomach.

"Have you heard this one?

Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey,
Along came a spider who sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

It's a Muggle nursery rhyme."

"That's horrid," she murmurs, "And so are you. I can't feel my arm."

He leans in close and whispers into her ear, his tongue flickering against the skin. "That's the way it's supposed to be, Ginny."



She won't sleep. She sits in an armchair in the common room, knees against her chest. The fire before her is only embers. She likes to watch the patterns of shadows and light on her hands and knees.

She watches Harry, Ron, and Hermione creep out of the common room. Harry holds Hermione's arm as she struggles with the three books she's carrying. They do not see her.

"You're certain about the ingredients? And that Snape has them?" Harry asks.

"Of course I am!"

"Well, a Panakeia Potion isn't exactly something you can be sure about," Ron says.

"Oh, hush!"

They whisper ingredients as they disappear into the darkness.



"Don't breathe."

She lies face up in the water. It laps against her cheeks. She shivers.

"Don't move." He stands above her. In the shadows, his face looks like Salazar Slytherin's.

"Tom?"

"Hmm...yes, Virginia?"

"What is a Panakeia Potion?"

"A cure-all. It can heal anything. Don't you remember? Snape told you that second year."

"Did he? I can't remember."

He stares at Slytherin's statue and says, "They forgot about the snake scales. The potion won't work without it."

"Oh."



"I know you're doing something, Ron. I know it."

He moves a bishop forward. "I'm always doing something, Gin."

"Something secret. With Harry and Hermione. I wish you would tell me."

"It's dangerous stuff. You're too young."

"I'm always too young," she sighs.

"That's what little sisters are for." He grins at her. "Checkmate."



"I know another one:

Jack and Jill went up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water;
Jack fell down, and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after."

"I wish you wouldn't tell me these, Tom."

"I thought you wanted to know them."

"I just--I--"

"Listen." And then, "Do you know the dead man's float?"



"How can you tell if a dream's a premonition?" she asks Ron at breakfast.

He slathers some jam onto his toast and says distractedly, "If your scar hurts."

"I haven't got a scar."

He looks up and peers at her. She can count the freckles on his face. "Well, if it comes true then."



"I think I'm going mad. Am I? Are you real?" She holds on tightly to the lapel of his robes.

"I'll tell you when you're older."

"I'm fourteen."

He lifts her chin up with a finger. "Wait a few months. You'll be fifteen then, won't you?"



She sees Harry leave the library. He glances at her from beneath his fringe and waves.

"Hullo, Gin."

She blushes. "Hi, Harry. I thought Ron said you didn't have much work this week."

"Oh...there's some other stuff I'm working on."

"It's--it's the potion, isn't it?"

He looks sharply at her. The green of his eyes reminds her of her dreams. "Potion? How do you know that?"

"I accidentally overheard you. It won't work right, you know. You're missing the snake scales."

"Really? Hermione said that we had everything."

"Snape told us about the potion second year. He mentioned the snake scales specifically. I remember."

"Ah." Harry pushes his glasses up. "I'll tell Hermione. She'll explode when she hears she's wrong. You're great, Gin. Thanks!"

She watches him walk off. She is late to Transfigurations, but that doesn't matter.



"It would be a shame if something happened to Ron and Hermione. They're working on the Panakeia Potion, aren't they?"

"No! I won't hurt them!"

"Virginia."

"I won't!"

"I never said anything about hurting them. You have detention tomorrow night, don't you?"

"Yes. I was late to Transfigurations."

"And you have to wash and mop all the stairs between the third and fourth floors?"

"Yes."

"I see. Drink your tea, Virginia."



She is tired, and the mop is heavy against her palms. Her shoulders ache. There is still a small puddle of water at the top of the stairs. It drips down to the steps below. The surface is slick and slippery. She leaves it; it will dry.

She walks up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. In the common room, Harry is sitting by himself at a table. He is working on hexes. The red crest on his robes glows in the candle light. She sits next to him.

"Busy?"

"Yeah. I don't know how Dumbledore expects me to learn all of these."

"Where's Ron and Hermione?"

"Working on the potion. Won't get back until past midnight. They're mad about it. Haven't been able to really talk to them in days. I haven't even been able to tell them about the snake scales yet."

"Do they work in the dungeons?"

He laughs. "Close to Snape? Never. We use an abandoned classroom on the third floor."

She remembers water and nursery rhymes.



"It's all your fault!"

"Mine, Virginia? That's silly. I didn't do anything. It was a tragic accident."

"You killed them!"

"Me?"

"You made me do it!"

"I never told you to kill them. I never told you to leave the water on the steps. I didn't make the staircase move when they stepped on it. It's not my fault they fell. I'm not the one to blame. I'm not the one who killed them."

"Shut up! Oh Merlin, I'm going mad. You're not real. You're not real. This is just a dream."

"That's right, Virginia. Keen observation. Not such a child anymore." He drinks from his crystal decanter.

"I hate you."

"Now, now. I did remind you of the snake scales, didn't I? Everything will be okay."

"Y-yes."



She suddenly remembers. Potions class, the smell of toad, and Snape's beaked nose. She remembers his low, silky voice. For all its potency, it can be easily nullified by the simple addition of snake scales.



"I'm going to tell him."

"Why? You'll look foolish."

"That doesn't matter. He thinks it works. He could die."

"We must all die someday. Besides, hasn't he always survived before?"



Harry shivers and pulls his cloak closer.

"I don't know if I can do this," he says. He holds a vial out before him. The liquid is smooth and silver, like mercury.

"You're the Boy Who Lived. You'll be okay. You have the Panakeia Potion."

"I know. I just--Ron and Hermione--"

"You'll be wonderful, Harry. You'll defeat him again. I know it."

He straightens and nods his head firmly. Dumbledore waits for him at the entrance. As Harry walks out the door, he turns back and looks back at her. She smiles at him.



She stands, the water pooling about her calves. The broken shards of a blue teacup float about her. She watches them drift in intricate, vague patterns.

"I hate tea."

He looks at her for a moment, and then smiles. He shows only the barest hint of teeth.

"Here. Drink this. You wanted to before." He holds the crystal tumbler before her. She takes it with both hands. It is heavy and cool. The clear liquid sloshes in the glass.

"I shouldn't."

"Then don't, but I thought you wanted to."

She holds the glass to her mouth--the glass is cold against her lip--and tilts her head back. The liquid burns against her throat. It feels like wind, like fire, like magic rolling through her flesh. Her limbs shudder, and the glass shatters in her hands. The pieces fall from her fingers into the water. She stares at the ripples--the play of shining crystal and blue china--before looking up at Tom.

"I don't think I should have done that."

"It'll be okay, Ginny."

"There's something wrong with me. I know it. Everything's all wrong."

"Shh. Don't worry." He brushes her hair away from her face.

"Just trust me," he says.

End.