Tom/Ginny: Addicted When Ginny was a little girl, she dreamed of handsome princes and beautiful castles and happy endings such as only children can imagine. She thought of love as beautiful and simple: candy hearts and bouquets of flowers. For a while, she wanted her happy ending to be with the famous Harry Potter. Unfortunately, contrary to popular belief, that didn’t last more than a year; her brother Ron’s first year. It didn’t last much longer than that because as she prepared to enter into her first year at Hogwarts, Ginny met another dark haired boy, much different from the previous one. Oh he seemed like a hero from a fairytale just the same. He was tall, dark and handsome and he was always there for her in a way nobody else was. It was like he truly cared about her. He listened to all her troubles and complaints and it never bothered him, unlike her brothers. He was always offering advice and tips and she lapped it up. She simply loved him.
Ginny used to think love was simple: butterflies in the stomach and happiness. Standing now in front of her mirror, looking at her dishevelled self after one more dream of him, she thought otherwise. How can something that one seemed so beautiful and such a precious gift become such a curse? Love wasn’t simple. Love wasn’t happy. Love was this beast that rose in your stomach, twisted in your gut, tearing you apart. Love was being unable to breathe just one more second while your loved one was away. It was dark and painful and left you wanting more. It was like a drug, an addiction. As her first year progressed, Ginny had become more and more dependent on Tom. She had stopped talking to anyone else because, really, she only needed him. And needing him she did….a lot. She needed him to get through her days. The few times when Tom was crossed with her and refused to talk to her, she felt as if she could die of pain. The idea of ever being separated from her Tom was heart wrenching. No, she needed him like she needed to breathe. Years later, looking back on her first year, she realised that there were many signs of Tom’s involvement in the chamber incident; she should have realised sooner that something was wrong. But she hadn’t. Not because she was stupid but simply because acknowledging those little pieces of evidence would mean having to separate herself from Tom and that would be the end of her world. Without him she would, after all, become all alone. And how do you live alone when you put your entire self completely in the hands of another? At ten, if someone had asked her who had the power in a love relationship, Ginny would have answered that power didn’t have its place in love. She would have believed in equality. Reality was, however, much different. She knows now that Tom had all the power, and not because he took it, no, if that was the case things would be easier; if that was the case, everything would be his fault. But the truth was, she was the one who gave him all this power over her. She let him lead her, control her. And now she still paid the price for it.
When Harry rescued her from the chamber and her parents brought her to the infirmary, everyone thought it was over. Everyone thought it was finished and she would heal from it with their help. It didn’t work like that. She had tried quitting Tom. She had. She had thrown away her precious diary and had run for it. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t eat, she couldn’t stop wondering what Tom now thought of her, if she had hurt him, if he thought she didn’t love him anymore. Her hands were always shaking, starting to write ‘Dear Tom’ in her books when she didn’t pay attention. It scared her. It scared her that everywhere she went, she felt like he was looking at her, accusing her of abandoning him just like everyone else had. She swore she could hear his voice inside her head, commenting on things. Soon, she couldn’t take it anymore. The urge to be near him won out and she went into the boys’ dormitory in search of him. In the end, she hadn’t been able to deal with their separation. And years later, she still couldn’t.
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When Ginny was a little girl, she dreamed of handsome princes and beautiful castles and happy endings such as only children can imagine. She thought of love as beautiful and simple: candy hearts and bouquets of flowers. For a while, she wanted her happy ending to be with the famous Harry Potter. Unfortunately, contrary to popular belief, that didn’t last more than a year; her brother Ron’s first year. It didn’t last much longer than that because as she prepared to enter into her first year at Hogwarts, Ginny met another dark haired boy, much different from the previous one. Oh he seemed like a hero from a fairytale just the same. He was tall, dark and handsome and he was always there for her in a way nobody else was. It was like he truly cared about her. He listened to all her troubles and complaints and it never bothered him, unlike her brothers. He was always offering advice and tips and she lapped it up. She simply loved him.
Ginny used to think love was simple: butterflies in the stomach and happiness. Standing now in front of her mirror, looking at her dishevelled self after one more dream of him, she thought otherwise. How can something that one seemed so beautiful and such a precious gift become such a curse? Love wasn’t simple. Love wasn’t happy. Love was this beast that rose in your stomach, twisted in your gut, tearing you apart. Love was being unable to breathe just one more second while your loved one was away. It was dark and painful and left you wanting more. It was like a drug, an addiction. As her first year progressed, Ginny had become more and more dependent on Tom. She had stopped talking to anyone else because, really, she only needed him. And needing him she did….a lot. She needed him to get through her days. The few times when Tom was crossed with her and refused to talk to her, she felt as if she could die of pain. The idea of ever being separated from her Tom was heart wrenching. No, she needed him like she needed to breathe. Years later, looking back on her first year, she realised that there were many signs of Tom’s involvement in the chamber incident; she should have realised sooner that something was wrong. But she hadn’t. Not because she was stupid but simply because acknowledging those little pieces of evidence would mean having to separate herself from Tom and that would be the end of her world. Without him she would, after all, become all alone. And how do you live alone when you put your entire self completely in the hands of another? At ten, if someone had asked her who had the power in a love relationship, Ginny would have answered that power didn’t have its place in love. She would have believed in equality. Reality was, however, much different. She knows now that Tom had all the power, and not because he took it, no, if that was the case things would be easier; if that was the case, everything would be his fault. But the truth was, she was the one who gave him all this power over her. She let him lead her, control her. And now she still paid the price for it.
When Harry rescued her from the chamber and her parents brought her to the infirmary, everyone thought it was over. Everyone thought it was finished and she would heal from it with their help. It didn’t work like that. She had tried quitting Tom. She had. She had thrown away her precious diary and had run for it. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t eat, she couldn’t stop wondering what Tom now thought of her, if she had hurt him, if he thought she didn’t love him anymore. Her hands were always shaking, starting to write ‘Dear Tom’ in her books when she didn’t pay attention. It scared her. It scared her that everywhere she went, she felt like he was looking at her, accusing her of abandoning him just like everyone else had. She swore she could hear his voice inside her head, commenting on things. Soon, she couldn’t take it anymore. The urge to be near him won out and she went into the boys’ dormitory in search of him. In the end, she hadn’t been able to deal with their separation. And years later, she still couldn’t.