A/N: Honestly, the perfect song for this chapter is That's What You Get by Paramore. It goes: that's what you get when you let your heart win. Aw. How sweet. This is when Tom watches Scott and Ginny meet on the stairs and snuggle. D: Unhappy!Tom comin' up.
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Backtrack
Chapter Seven: Poison
You saw how her face fell, froze – just before she spent the rest of the evening getting drunk. What did Reeve say? Was it something that Reeve said at all? Was it something I said?
The notes on his guitar rang clear, but Tom didn't play. The idea that had just struck him was a chilling one. Ten metres down a flight of stairs. That could have killed her. He could have killed her.
xxx
Tom frowned, trying to work out how to phrase the final paragraph of his History of Magic essay. He wanted to finish it before the Prefect meeting which was – he glanced up at the clock on the wall, above the fireplace – in approximately ten minutes. It should be okay.
There was a creak as the portrait of the Robin the Rich. Someone came in very quietly.
"Fionn, the meeting isn't for ten minutes," Tom said icily over his shoulder. He wasn't in the mood for coping with her for a full ten minutes. "You can return to your silly friends."
No-one answered. He frowned.
He set down his quill and turned to see who was there.
The person that he least expected was standing silently in the middle of the entrance area for the common room. Instantly he noticed that she wasn't hiding behind a smile. All that was on her face was a flat, blank mask. He realised instantly that she was upset, but said nothing. He didn't really care.
"Peregrine," he said. Then he frowned further. There were ten minutes until the meeting. Did his eyes deceive him? It would explain why she was so quiet, if she was only a hallucination. However, having hallucinations, that wasn't very good. "You're… early." He checked the clock behind him. She was, indeed, early.
"I'll go," she said shortly, and turned.
"Why did you have a seizure?" he demanded, getting the question out before she left.
"Why weren't you at your own ball?" she retorted.
Yes, I was. Why… was she looking for me?
"Looking for me, were you?" he sneered. "I'm touched."
"Looking for something to throw at you," Peregrine said, and he was alarmed by the level of sheer hatred in her voice. "I'm leaving."
"You're dodging the question – and you have to stay here for the Prefect meeting, unfortunately," he reminded her.
"Oh yes, how unfortunate, to be stuck with a stupid little sixth-year who occasionally has screaming convulsions on the floor," she hissed vehemently. "I apologise for any inconvenience it causes you."
"Why don't you just to the Hospital Wing, if you're that unwell?" Tom snapped.
"Because it's not something that Madam Royce can fix," Peregrine said coldly.
Instantly, things were beginning to piece together, like a puzzle that he'd finally found the last piece to. He started to say that she was being stupid, and that if it was that bad then she would be hospitalised for having mental disorders, which wouldn't be that far off the mark, but the others came in just then. He settled for glaring at her.
"Hello, Ginny! You're early," said Fionn in surprise, looking over at the clock just as Tom had. She sat, and waiting for everyone to settle down, before announcing, "I convene this Prefect meeting, the fourth of November, 1958. Right. We're here to discus the ball and disco, then. I thought that it was brilliant, and I reckon we should have another one at Christmas!"
"No," Tom hissed, and was accompanied by the disagreements of Harris and Swithin.
"Yes!" the others exclaimed delightedly.
"Seven-three! We win, you lose!" Brown yelped, jumping into the air. She was precisely the formula of person that he detested above all others. Actually, that wasn't true. That formula had changed a few weeks ago – the formula now was: small, thin, red hair, hazel eyes, freckles, fierce, brave, loud, irritating, no regard for time-keeping.
"We have to run it by Professor Dippet first, so don't get your hopes set too high," Tom told Brown icily.
"Just destroy every happy feeling," said Peregrine, so suddenly that it caught him off guard, so quietly that he barely heard, so glacially that it was enough to make a lesser person shiver. "Riddle, you're like a Dementor, for God's sake. You feed off everyone else's misery, don't you?"
I've had it with you!
"What is your problem, Peregrine?" he snarled. "One moment you're an annoying brat, and the next you're like a bloody cobra, spitting poison!"
"Do you really think that you're in any position to talk to me about poison, Riddle?" she spat.
Anger built up inside him.
Poison? I came down to the Hallowe'en disco – I sacrificed myself to the wrath of Fionn and lots of excited eleven-year-olds, just to make sure that you didn't get yourself killed by having another spastic attack… and what do I get for it?
"Poison, yes, but also comes the antidote. And what good that got me," he said blackly.
She understood immediately, while the others looked confused. He supposed that it was a Slytherin thing. Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Then fool you for playing with snakes," she spat.
He glared at her, and then Durrell said, laughing, "Like the view?"
Peregrine stood, and for a second her lip curled as she battled for something to say to him, but then she turned and stormed away. He stood immediately, staring after her.
"Obviously not!" Fionn giggled.
"This meeting has just been adjourned," Tom said, his tone final.
"But we haven't finished-"
"This meeting has just been adjourned," he repeated, much more sharply this time. He glared around at the Prefects. "Get out."
They were only too happy to obey, scrambling out of their seats and fleeing the common room, sensing that a storm was brewing, and that they were currently sitting in the eye of it.
"What was that for?" Fionn said angrily. "We weren't done!"
"I don't care!" he snarled.
For the first time, the blonde stood up to him. She tilted her chin up bravely. "I do."
"We can discuss it another time," he growled, and then stalked up to his bedroom. The instant, however, that he had slammed the door, he realised that this wasn't where he wanted to be, and he opened the door again. Luckily, Fionn had already flounced away to do her own thing, and so he was able to slip out of the portrait-hole and make his way through the castle to find Peregrine.
It wasn't too hard, as she hadn't gone far. He heard her voice and moved towards it.
"I miss them so much and I didn't think I could live without them but I have and I don't want to anymore and I want to go home…" a familiar voice sobbed.
Tom frowned. She was… she was crying. He wasn't very good with crying people. It would be best to retreat-
"Don't worry, Ginny," said a second voice, and Tom's blood boiled.
Reeve.
Now he crept closer, pressing himself against the wall to stay hidden in the shadows. There they were. Sitting on the stairs together, curling up… they fit. They were like two pieces of a perfect puzzle.
Tom watched in silence as she cried into Reeve's shoulder. He wasn't bothered by her crying – after all, he loathed her. He was surprised, but he didn't really care.
"Thank you," Peregrine finally whispered, lifting her face from Reeve's shoulder.
"It's okay." He smiled at her, looking down into her eyes.
There was a silence where nothing happened; they just gazed at each other. And then he kissed her. It was a light kiss, innocent enough, but somehow it didn't seem right to Tom. It seemed ugly, and it made the hot anger that he didn't recognise start up again.
Tom didn't move. He remained, close to the wall, seeing them kiss. He wondered why the sight made his stomach hurt. His jaw tightened, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He dug his fingers into the stone wall behind him.
A moment or two later, and then Peregrine drew away. "Sorry," she mumbled, standing up.
"Ginny," said Reeve, following her lead. "You don't have to be sorry for anything." He took hold of her face, his thumb by her ear, his fingers in her hair. He kissed her again.
This one wasn't as chaste as the first, and Tom's head started to spin. He was finding it difficult to breathe, and for some reason he felt slightly sick. Poison? He felt like he'd swallowed poison. He stared straight ahead, looking at, but not seeing, the display of affection in front of him.
"I have to go…" Peregrine said apologetically, pulling away first. There were tear-tracks standing out brightly on her pale face. "Thank you for everything, Scott."
Reeve smiled. "Come on, I'll take you… where it is that you're going." He touched his lips to Peregrine's freckled nose, and then took her hand, walking away with her.
Tom remained there for a second, pressed tight to the wall. Then he breathed for the first time since he'd seen them there, a sigh. That first breath made his stomach hurt even more. He didn't want to know why. He went back to his dormitory.
xxx
Actually, I have writer's block on Press Play – I have the whole plot, but I can't word it right, so I'll be updating them equally still, because I have time to write Backtrack. 'Cause there's still a billion chapters left of Press Play to update. Well, review!
Heart, me. x.
