A/N: I think this chapter is really sweet, but at the same time, kind of creepy… anyway. I'll leave you to decide for yourself. :D Read and review, please!
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Backtrack
Chapter Fourteen: Explain That Static As Best You Can
"And by the way, Riddle – don't give me that crap about how hard life is not being pureblood…" she continued, subdued but glacial. "I'm Muggleborn. I am, so quote: 'one of those filthy Mudbloods'." Tom would have been shocked in silence had he not already long surpassed that stage. "Goodbye." She walked away.
At least he now understood why he'd attacked her. It was annoying, actually, how even his subconscious knew that she was Muggleborn before he did. It was impossible, though. Ginevra couldn't be Muggleborn. Muggles… Muggles were, supposedly, mud. There was no way that any mud could possibly be that intelligent – brave – fierce – loyal – beautiful – dangerous – This dazzling mystery was one that he wished he'd left alone.
xxx
I started looking in a purple burst
I started looking for excuses
Come on in
I've got to tell you what a state I'm in
Omelettes.
Tom moved quickly to breakfast, hungry. He slipped through the crowds, unseen despite being in clear view of everyone around him. The Great Hall was filling slowly, and, as usual, he chose to sit alone, near the end of the table.
He filled his glass with pumpkin juice, forked an omelette onto his plate, and reached towards the fruit bowl for a pear. He loved pears. Amazingly, he ignored his omelette, and went straight for the pear.
Mm… pear.
Only three bites through the pear Tom managed.
Then Ginevra came in.
His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and the small green pear slipped through his fingers, bouncing off his metal plate with a clatter and then rolling across the floor.
She was a smaller, more fierce model of some unknown flame-haired Greek goddess. She had actually brushed her hair; scarlet tresses spilling smoothly like molten sunset down her back. Her eyes had never been so big.
She sat down alone, for once, instead of with Hartwin and Philips, and began to eat, still pouting a smirk, evidently quite pleased with herself. Did she know that she was stunning?
Tom couldn't take his eyes off her.
Malfoy appeared a moment later, and Ginevra began to talk to him. Tom paid no attention to Malfoy. It was only her. His hand was still frozen in the air, curled around the shape of a pear that had fallen to the floor long ago. He had no idea what he was supposed to be doing, and he didn't care that he wasn't doing it.
She was bloody beautiful.
Ginevra looked uncomfortable, and she quickly stood and hurried from the Hall. Malfoy followed a moment later.
Tom stared after her.
"Um. Are you gonna eat that?"
He jolted back into reality, and looked down to see a nervous second-year eyeing his omelette, holding his fork and knife up as though ready to pounce on the eggy delicacy at any moment.
"What?" Tom blinked. "Oh. No." He didn't care for omelettes or pears anymore.
Standing, he made to follow Ginevra and Malfoy. He had been so distracted by her that he'd almost missed how the blonde male had been looking at her. Almost missed it. He hadn't though, and he didn't like that look at all.
Hartwin and Philips seemed to have the same train of thought, as they were abandoning their meals and pursuing the redhead out of the dinner hall, urgent looks on their faces. They found her before he did. He didn't know yet what they found, but it caused two horrified cries of 'Ginny!'
Tom shoved through the Great Hall doors, walking as fast as he could. His head snapped sideways, looking for her-
GINEVRA-
Malfoy-
Pinned against a wall-
Mouths-
Struggling-
Trying to get away-
An attempt at a scream-
The deepest, darkest fury that Tom could remember feeling in a long time exploded out of him. "Peregrine!" he roared, and he didn't even know what spell he was casting, but he wanted it powerful and he wanted to hurt – by God, he wanted it to be agonising-
Purple light so bright that it scarred his eyes for several seconds flashed, filling the whole room.
Philips and Hartwin were saying something to Ginevra – she'd collapsed to the ground – was she alright – MALFOY – breathe –
He could hear his heart in his ears. It was echoing so loudly that it seemed, to him at least, that it was reflecting off the stone walls of the Entrance Hall. He couldn't feel anything. There wasn't a single emotion left inside him – everything – everything – had been replaced by this scorching, dominating rage.
He wanted to kill something. Someone. Preferably Malfoy.
The urge to laugh was unbelievable. To laugh, to storm over to the blonde, to point his wand down at his chest, to let out the worst curse he knew, to watch as the younger male writhed in absolute ruddy AGONY, and laugh and laugh, chuckling as he went down screaming-
NO. STOP IT.
Tom struggled to calm down.
Breathe.
The effort of staying as Tom Riddle rather than as someone else was incredible. He dug his fingernails into his palms.
Calm down-
GINEVRA-
Breathe-
MALFOY-
Breathe.
There was a soft, faltering gaze on him, and Tom's eyes flashed to the weak figure on the ground. Their distance was at least ten metres, but he could see her eyes in perfect clarity from here, like two green suns, only much brighter. She was so beautiful. So fragile.
Who the hell would want to hurt her?
The anger boiled up again faster than lit mercury, and he moved quickly towards Malfoy, his fingers tightening on his wand, to curse that-
"Leave him."
Tom turned to stare at Ginevra. Was she insane?
With an evident struggle, she stood, and then moved towards Malfoy. "Ennervate."
Annoyance fizzing through him, Tom snapped, "What are you doing?", but the younger Slytherin was already awake, and despite the fact that it looked as though part of his brain was coming out of his ear (that was interesting… Tom had sworn he didn't have a brain), he managed to stand up and smirk.
Then Ginevra punched him with everything she had.
Tom's eyebrows flew up into his hairline.
Nice.
"Merlin!" Philips exclaimed. "That was one hell of a punch."
"Never underestimate the power of short redheads," Hartwin agreed.
Ginevra turned to grin at them, but then, with only a gasped groan to give any indication as to what was happening, she collapsed backwards.
An unexplainable pain grabbed Tom's stomach, and before he even considered what was happened, he found himself crouching next to her, paying no heed whatsoever to the possibility that he might fall over if he put himself too close to her, because all that mattered now was her-
"Oww…" She grabbed her head, holding onto it with a wince. Then, as if realising that he was there, she looked up into his eyes, and the rest of the world faded out.
It was like looking at one clear picture in the midst of static – something so perfectly lucent, surrounded by blurs of darkness.
"Peregrine, are you-"
Hartwin and Philips pushed in front of him, breaking the connection, and he quickly got to his feet, stepping backwards and away. He didn't like being so close to people.
Yet you didn't mind Ginevra.
Go away.
A small crowd was gathering around them, poking Hartwin and Philips' shoulders to ask what was happening. No-one asked Tom, though he was clearly involved, standing close enough to be seen, and probably everyone in Scotland had heard him bellow her name upon seeing what was going on.
"Come on. Let's get you checked up at the Hospital Wing," Philips suggested, and they took Ginevra away.
Blood was still racing through Tom's ears. He took a deep breath, and walked towards his next class more slowly than his normal pace. He moved at a sluggish speed in a vain attempt to slow the rest of his – his brain, his heartbeat, his stomach – which was moving as quickly as possible in a whirlwind of confusion.
It wasn't because it was her. It was just… I don't like Malfoy.
That excuse didn't even fool him, let alone anyone else – as though he was ever going to tell anyone else.
He let out a rough sigh, staring down at the material of his schoolbag.
He hated her. She was everything he went against.
And yet there was no other explanation for this protectiveness of her, this insane anger whenever Reeve had used to hold her, this pain when something hurt her… the explanation that he never thought that for him what be anything near possible:
He didn't hate her nearly as much as he had intended to.
To be precise, he liked her – and a great deal more that was ever supposed to happen.
xxx
I think it's so cutee… because Ginny had to kiss him unconsciously before she even began to consider that she might like him… and Tom is already working out that he might be falling in love with her… that's so lovelllyyyy… hehe, I'm on a fluff high.
Sorry that this chapter was so short.
It's so great to write up Backtrack at the same time as Press Play, because this is nice and fluffy, and at the moment, PP is really depressing, and I'd probably kill myself or something. Anywho, please review, maybe leave a hug or two!
(I'm a poet and I don't even know it.)
Heart, me.