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Chapter Ten: Lower Your Defence
"Madam Royce? I'd like to remain anonymous," he said coolly, as though it didn't really matter to him. It did matter. It mattered a lot. She was never to know that he'd been watching her sleep.
"Of course, Mr. Riddle," said Madam Royce, friendly enough, though she frowned slightly at this request.
Tom didn't bother to thank her. He walked away. His mind was concerned. He found himself wondering how powerful his hatred for her really was.
xxx
Ginevra was down at breakfast the next day. Tom saw her come in looking angry, followed by an ashamed-looking Reeve. They ate separately, which was unusual, as they had been staying in each other's company whenever possible since they had begun to go out.
Perhaps they had a fight, Tom mused, drinking some pumpkin juice.
Hartwin and Philips were sitting a lot closer to him than they usually did, he realised, and when Ginevra sat with them to eat, he noticed that he was within eavesdropping distance.
"Hey," Ginevra said to Philips. She then leaned over him to greet Hartwin. "Hey, Grace!"
"Are you feeling better?" Hartwin asked. Tom wondered if the brunette had mentioned to Ginevra that he had given her a health-check on her birthday while she was unconscious. He hoped not.
"It was so scary, Ginny," said Philips. "We didn't even know what happened! One minute you were acting, and the next you had collapsed – off the stage! Rosalind thought that you were pretending, but me and Riddle were next to you, and she could see that we were both panicked, and-"
"Wait." Ginevra's eyes were wide. "Riddle was panicked?"
Tom frowned. I wasn't. Was I? He hadn't thought that he was panicking… at least, not much… not noticeably…
"I told you so," Hartwin sang cheerfully. "He fancies you. You should chuck Scott so that I can marry him, and then you should go with Riddle."
Tom choked on his toast.
The first-years that he was sitting opposite looked frightened; he glared at them, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by him coughing his lungs out halfway through the glare.
I what now? He swallowed the toast, this time getting it down his throat as opposed to his windpipe, which was helpful. Since when do I… 'fancy' Ginevra? "I told you so"? They've discussed this before?
What the hell?
"When – pigs – fly," said Ginevra firmly, piling bacon onto her plate.
Yet, somehow, despite being adamant in his opinion that he didn't … 'fancy' her, this last comment made him lose his appetite.
Bastet was approaching, sashaying her hips from side to side in a manner that Tom supposed she thought was supposed to be attractive… honestly, from a male's point of view, it really wasn't.
"So is it true?" Bastet sneered, sitting opposite Ginevra.
"Is what true?" the redhead asked, not bothering to look up.
"That you collapsed in Muggle Studies. I mean, I know that anything to do with Muggles is repulsive, but considering that you are one, I think you should be able to hold back," said Claude snidely.
Two things whirled through his skull. The first was: What does she mean? Ginevra's not a Muggle.
The second was a low, angry growl: Muggles – are – not – repulsive –
"Shut it," Ginevra snapped.
"Oh!" Bastet swooned sideways, smirking. "Oh, help me! I feel faint!"
"I said shut it!"
Tom narrowed his eyes dangerously, glaring at the three girls who dared to insult his blood status-
"Claude…" Xau whined. "I don't feel comfortable."
"Me neither." Mohana shivered.
"What? Pull yourselves together," said Claude crossly. Then her face furrowed. "What is that?"
"It's like someone's watching us…"
Ginevra became totally still. Then she turned, scanning the table… and found him. Their eyes collided for a bare few seconds before her face screwed up, and she excused herself from her friends, leaving.
Tom pushed his plate away. He grabbed his schoolbag, slung it over his shoulder, and followed her, moving quickly so that she didn't get to the Slytherin common room before he could catch up. He couldn't stop thinking for some reason that apologising to her while she was unconscious wasn't enough. He sped up.
She was a couple of metres away, down the stairs already, kicking walls and stomping her feet.
"Peregrine."
The female kept going as though she hadn't heard him, despite how his voice had echoed of the stone walls and floor all around her. She stared at the ground and moved faster.
"Peregrine, wait."
She turned, glaring an impressive death-glare. "Yes?" She put one hand in her pocket. Probably getting her wand ready so that she could hex him into oblivion. He'd better get this over with.
"Look, Peregrine," he said uncertainly. "I… I apologise for what I said last night." He'd never before been so unsure of what he was saying. He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling above her head, so that this apology wouldn't have to be made so much harder by looking at her. "I realise that my words may have been," he cleared his throat, "rather harsh." That was an understatement.
"Rather?" Apparently, she thought it was an understatement, too.
However, annoyance flashed in his eyes and he looked down at her. "Peregrine, if I were you, I'd shut up and take the apology," he said icily. "They're rare things, coming from me. Somewhat like a solar eclipse; they only occur once every seven years."
Ginevra's eyes narrowed. "Why seven?" she demanded.
What the hell? Why not seven?
He eyed her for a second. Was she serious? "It's my favourite number."
"Oh."
The next thing that she did didn't go unnoticed – she looked at him. She met his gaze, looking into his eyes… but, for the first time, without a trace of hatred or coldness. He'd never noticed before because he'd never seen it before so directly, but when her eyes were anything close to friendly, they were like smiling gold… drawing him in… breathing was becoming difficult… he couldn't remember what he was supposed to be doing… what was he supposed to be doing... er…
Leaving?
Right, he recalled. Leaving. He cleared his throat a second time, to check that the little episode of her warm eyes hadn't left him horribly verbally-impaired, swallowed, and then walked away.
"Riddle?"
Tom stopped. He didn't bother to turn around, but, curious, tilted his head to show that he was listening.
"Um." Her stammers echoed and echoed. "Thanks. For taking me to the Hospital Wing. And… it might have been my fault that I fell." She paused. "Maybe."
He turned his head slightly towards her, though still not turning around, and nodded. Then he continued up to the Entrance Hall.
Observantly, in the reflection of a gold lamp on the wall, he didn't miss seeing Ginevra pull her wand out at lightning-speed and point it at the back of his head. For a second, his heart stopped. Still moving – he mustn't look suspicious – he moved his hand to his own wand, ready to defend his life if he had to, though he had no idea why he would need to…
And Ginevra lowered hers.
Surprise making him raise his eyebrows, he watched her scowl and move back into the security of the Slytherin common room.
What the hell, Tom wondered as he made his way towards Arithmancy, was all of that about?
xxx
Hahaha… he forgot what he was doing… I can imagine this awkward silence where Tom just stares at her, not moving, and nothing happens. Awwwkwaaard… LOL. Anyway, please review.
Heart, me.