A/N- Just a songfic inspired by pop-pop-bananas Rewind trilogy. Is just memories (scenes from Rewind, Press Play, and Fast Forward) and the song (Love Story)

Disclaimer- I don't own the Rewind Trilogy or Harry Potter or Love Story. I don't own any content on this except the fact that I wrote down things. I take no credit!

It would also be great if you listen to Love Story by Taylor Swift while reading this, it helps the mood.


"We were both young when I first saw you

I closed my eyes and the flashbacks start

I'm standing there.

On a balcony in summer air.

I see the lights, see the party the ballgowns. See you make your way through the crowd and say hello."

"Why don't we put this delightfully interesting conversation starter on hold, and instead assume that, to my offer of a dance, you have said yes," Riddle said formally, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

He extended a hand.

Ginny took it.

Side-by-side, Riddle walked her out a few feet onto the dance-floor – enough so that they were on it, but not at the center of attention. Then they turned to each other.

A half-smile quirked the corners of Riddle's lips as he shifted his hand awkwardly into the proper position for holding hers, and then after a moment of hesitation, placed his other hand on Ginny's hip.

A warmth rapidly spread through Ginny, only visible on her glowing cheeks, though she was certain that she was nearly on fire; a burning sensation that might have come from the feel of Riddle's hand on her waist.

But it was probably just the faulty heating.

She slid her spare hand around his neck, and then, avoiding his eyes, started the clumsy attempt at a slow waltz whilst not breaking all of Riddle's toes.

Preferably breaking none of his toes, Ginny thought to herself. But that's very unlikely. I'll just keep my hopes up for not breaking them all.

Taking a deep breath, she looked up into his face. Time seemed to freeze with the snow that they stood in, and in her strange dancing tranquillity, everything else was tuned out – like how she didn't step on Riddle's feet once. Like how people were staring, whispering, and giggling, "Look at how short she is compared to him!"

All that existed was the poignant, smooth, tuneful ballad that rang like fairy bells; their soft, shallow breathing; that one dark wave of hair that had come separate from the rest and was curling into his eyes; the slightly dark, but comforting smell of sandalwood and ink; the rustling of Ginny's wide merlot skirt against the snow-

"Little did I know

That you were Romeo and you were throwing pebbles and my daddy said stay away from Juliet"

Agony tore through her, and then she couldn't see him anymore as all of her friends ganged up on him.

"Get out-" Grace was yelling.

"Get the hell away from here, Riddle-" Alden was snarling.

It was a vast confusion of threats and the pain was building up until she wanted to scream. She needed him. She needed him. And yet she couldn't bear to have him anywhere near her.

"-don't give me another reason to kill you-"

"No!" With a strength that she didn't know she had, she cried out. Don't kill him. Don't let him die. Let him be happy, even while I waste away. Please – but don't let him be here.

"And I was crying on the staircase

Begging you please don't go

and i said

Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone

I'll be waiting

All that's left to do is run

You'll be the prince and

I'll be the Princess

It's a Love Story

Baby just say yes."

Somehow he must have guessed that she would run this way, because he was there, halfway up the stairs, and grabbed her before she could run past him.

"No!" She twisted sideways. "Let go of me," she sobbed, beating his chest and struggling to get away.

Tom didn't. He held her even tighter. "I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear.

She had been holding it in, but now tears streamed openly down her distraught face, and these fuelled her fury. With new strength, she wrenched away from him, and held herself. She couldn't look at him. Not when she would see that face that would be torn from her forever.

"Ginevra, please say something," Tom said after a moment, and there was a rare tone of begging in his voice.

"I hate you!" she screamed, and spun and slapped him as hard as she could around the face. She hadn't hit him since Hallowe'en, her seventeenth birthday, a year ago, back when they still hated each other.

He didn't do anything. He just turned his face with the strike. Accepting his fate.

"It was useless, Ginevra," he said quietly. "They had me on camera."

"But it wasn't you!" she screamed at him. "They can't send you to Azkaban, when it was supposed to be some stupid evil thing inside you they sent away! They've got it wrong! It's all wrong! Go back – go back, and tell them! Tell them they're wrong! Tom!"

"So I sneak out to the garden to see you

We keep quiet cause we're dead if they knew

So close your eyes

Escape this town for a little while"

"You know, you don't have to pretend that you don't think I'm pretty," Ginny teased.

But, with a serious look in his eyes, and pink on his cheeks, he said quickly, "You're not pretty, you're so much than even beautiful." Then he gained that familiar look of thinking he'd done the wrong thing, like an awkward nine-year-old boy trying to hand over a box of Love-Heart candies to his crush, instead of a seventeen-year-old young man.

She didn't really have anything to reply with. What was she supposed to say? Thanks? Nah, I'm not? That was corny? She wasn't really the type of person who dealt with ridiculously romantic situations very often.

Deciding that her safest option was to not say anything, the seventeen-year-old red-haired Prefect moved closer to her beau, curling her arms around him comfortably. She was surprised but pleased when he plucked up the courage to shyly hold her around the waist, the majority of his arm resting softly on her stomach, his chin leaning against the top of her fluffy-haired head.

"Goodnight," she said gently, closing her eyes and floating towards that inner peace that was slumber.

"Goodnight," whispered Tom in reply. And he didn't cut off the word 'good'.

"Cause you were romeo I was a Scarlet Letter and my daddy said stay away from Juliet, but you were everything to me I was begging you please don't go

And i said

Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone

I'll be waiting

All that's left to do is run

You'll be the prince and

I'll be the princess

it's a love story baby just say yes

romeo save me they're trying to tell me how to feel"

"Hey."

Ginny jumped about a foot in the air, jerking back into reality. Tom straightened up, startled.

Standing a metre away was Scott Reeve, looking slightly annoyed, but smiling, looking only at Ginny.

"Can I have this dance?"

Fury flared inside her. Stupid, stupid Scott! He always had to spoil everything!

And, just to make everything better, the jive drew to a close and a slow song struck up.

Her eyes narrowed to hazel slits, glaring at Scott. "Fine," she snapped, and stormed past him. She didn't say goodbye to Tom – all that she was going to do was give Scott a good telling-off and then come back.

"Right." She set her hands on her hips and glared. "What is your problem?"

"He gave you that necklace, didn't he?" Scott said softly, staring at the swirly pendant lying against her collar-bone. "Paired with my bracelet… conflicting feelings?"

"No," Ginny snapped, and, to prove it, she tugged off the pearls and threw it at him. "Why the hell did you get me over here? This had better be freakin' important."

"I wanted to dance with you," Scott replied simply, but he was smirking, and Ginny wanted to slap his smug little face.

"You could have waited five minutes!"

"No, because then you would have kissed Riddle."

AAAARGH! She reached up and slapped him. "Stop it! You stupid, jealous retard!"

"That's me." He seemed strangely proud of this. "Dance?" He held out his arms.

"No! Scott, I was trying to be nice to you about this, but you have pushed me to breaking point!" Ginny hissed furiously. "I – do – not –like – you! In fact, right now, I just about hate you! I am this close to strangling you! What is your problem?"

"I think I'm in love with you," Scott told her.

"This love is difficult

But it's real

Don't be afraid we'll make it out of this mess

it's a love story baby just say yes"

"…Will you marry me?"

She stared at him. This was the last thing on her mind. Her heart would've swelled a hundred times larger at the thought of spending the rest of her life with him – images flashed through her head – a ring – a white dress – flowers, lots and lots of flowers – a house by the seaside – him - but it was punctured and she felt nothing.

"I know, the timing is stupid… but I thought that I had years and years to organise it better… I mean, I haven't even got a bloody ring… I don't even know how to kneel properly…" Tom raked his hands frantically backwards through his hair, the dark waves contrasting with his skin, paler than usual, shadows like purple bruises under his eyes; then he dropped clumsily to one knee, nearly falling over, and looked up at her. "This hardly makes it any better, I know… I just… I just love you, and only you… and if I can't have you then I don't want anyone else… and… I want to marry you…"

His dark eyes had lost all primary, secondary, and even tertiary defences. They weren't unreadable, they weren't bottomless pits. It was just Tom, and nothing more. His strong face was alarmingly vulnerable. It wasn't really any surprise how weak he looked now – she understood that he'd just, literally, given her his heart. And she could do whatever she wanted with it.

And she chose to break it.

"No." Another tear joined the first.

"But I got tired of waiting

Wonderin if you were ever coming around

My faith in you was fading

From when I met you on the outskirts of town"

Within a day and a half, the whole school knew. Everyone knew that Ginevra Peregrine had struggled and fought to get Tom, her beloved, her one true love, out of Azkaban… and then he ditched her, not even a week after coming out.

What hurt more was the passing of February the second.

The day that he'd kissed her a year ago, in the library, in front of hundreds of people, showing that she was worth more to him than the suspicious gazes of watchers.

February the third.

The day that he'd asked her out.

This, here, now, was more agonising than when he'd been sent to prison. Because this… this was his choice. He wanted to do this.

She didn't want to fall to pieces, but she fell apart anyway. Yet, for some reason, this time she didn't even think about going up to the tallest Eastern tower again and jumping. It didn't even cross her mind. There was nothing but pain.

And I said

Romeo save me I been feeling so alone

I keep waiting

For you but you never come is this in my head

I don't know what to think

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said

Marry me Juliet

You'll never have to be alone

I love you

And thats all I really know

I talked to your dad

Go pick out a white dress

It's a love story baby just say yes"

"The majority of you probably recognise me; I-I'm the one who was arrested about two months ago for killing all of those Muggles… you saw my photograph, I'll presume, in the newspaper, and then I was released by this girl called Ginevra Peregrine-"

Ginny dropped her pumpkin juice. It sprayed across her skirt. Philippa and Grace began to laugh.

"-who is, without a single second of hesitation, the most amazing, beautiful person I've ever met, and who… who…" Tom coughed nervously, and on the magical speakers displayed everywhere in the audience, it was fairly obvious to hear the starting syndromes of hyperventilating, "…who I happen to be completely in love with."

A loud "awww" came from the whole audience, including a slightly shocked Grace. Philippa nearly had a fit, she was squealing so loudly. Ginny slumped back in her chair, hiding her face in her hands.

Tom was flushing on screen. Ginny knew why this was the final proof. He hated his emotions. He hated anyone knowing that he had emotions. He hated telling people his emotions, even in private. And now he was telling a million people, in a Quidditch stadium, which was also going to be recorded on the radio.

"However, I'm horrified to say that I did something terrible to her. It… it nearly killed her, when I thought that I was helping her, saving her. I thought that I was setting her free – I didn't care if it hurt me, as long as she was happy… but she nearly died."

Tom swallowed hard, and anxiety suddenly flooded his face.

"Er. Actually… I-I bought her tickets to this Quidditch match, and insisted that she be here… I said it was important… but I have no idea if she's even here…" he admitted.

Whispers went through the audience. Someone yelled, "Get out with the match!"

Tom coloured more at this, but ignored that outburst. "Er. She's kind of small, and thin, and she's got really bright red hair," he explained. "She's the beautiful one."

Oh, God. Let me die now.

A woman on the other side of the pitch hollered, "I'M PRETTY!", to the laughter and amusement of people listening.

"SHE'S HERE!" Philippa, standing up, suddenly yelled at the top of her lungs. "OI, RIDDLE! OVER HERE!" She flailed her arms frantically, leaping up and down. "HERE!"

Ginny shrunk back into her chair while laughter echoed and echoed around her, and more shouting came from the helpful audience, who she made a mental note to kill later. She could feel her face on fire.

Philippa and Grace dragged her to her feet and pushed her to the front of the box they were in, squishing her against the balcony. "HERE!" they screamed.

"I HATE YOU," Ginny screamed straight back at them, much to the glee of everyone in the entire world who was listening. Then, reluctantly, she turned back to the screen.

"Hi," she said weakly, waving at him with her massive foam hand.

To her utmost horror, an unseen camera zoomed in on her, and her orange face, suddenly more scarlet than orange, appeared on the big screen. It then flashed back to Tom again.

"Er. Hello," he said, lifting one hand briefly in a feeble wave. "Er. I… I love you, Ginevra. A-and I don't blame you at all if you just want to ignore me now and run away from the stadium, because personally I wouldn't find this romantic at all, I'd just find it really embarrassing, and also because… because I know that… that I destroyed you. So all that I have left to say before I let you all get back to your Quidditch game is, er… is that if you can bear to even look at my hideous face again, then I'll meet you… er. Somewhere. Oh, crap. I can't remember where I decided to meet you. Er. Crap. Sorry for the language, if there are small children here."

Tom was practically bright red now.

"Forget where I'm going to meet you, just ignore that whole last part of my speech," he said hurriedly, "and… yes. That's all that I can do to prove that what I say is true. Except…" he swallowed. "Except for one thing."

She had a very bad feeling about this.

"I know that this is stupid and not really traditional because you probably hate me right now and I haven't asked your best friend's permission or anything-"

Ginny instantly knew what was coming next. Her head spun.

"-and in fact, I can't even see you – I mean, I know roughly that you're over there somewhere… in that corner… but I actually have no idea where you are, so it's about as untraditional as it gets-"

Ginny's eyes lost focus as she stared blankly into space.

"-but… but I… I l-love you so much, and this is the only way that I can think of proving it, so Ginevra Aiobheann Peregrine, I was wondering-"

She stopped breathing.

"-if you wanted to marry me?"

"Cause we were both young

When I first saw you."

Immediately, there, standing right in front of her, was a boy. With a Head Boy badge gleaming on his chest. That meant that he was Head Boy. And that meant that he was Tom Riddle. And that meant that he was Voldemort.

Her breath stopped in her chest, and her heart skipped several beats as she stared up at him in fear. He was the one who'd haunted her childhood nightmares, though he had always, in dreams, had crimson eyes and vampire-like teeth. Now he was before her, living and breathing and very real.

And he was very tall.

Ginny had always been short, and Tom Riddle was tall, even for tall people. He was quite literally towering over her – but he was not how she had expected him, or remembered him.

I'm sure that the Tom Riddle who possessed me was shorter. Maybe its because that was when he was fifteen. Did he grow a mile in two years?

He was tall, as said previously, and lean. His hair was not in the standard fifties' ducktail-cut that every other boy sported, but rather combed neatly in thick waves, and it was very dark – but Ginny knew that it wasn't black. A few strands fell into his eyes; sharp, dark, and calculating. Ginny couldn't tell the colour, but there was a sudden pang inside of her that told her something she did not need nor want to hear.

Tom Riddle was good-looking.

Click. Ginny turned the radio off, sighed deeply, and sank against the couch. She heard the sound of the door opening, and Tom's voice, and she knew that finally, she was happy. She was safe. She was right where she wanted to be.