A/N: I'm really, really, really sorry that it's taken so long to update. I was revising for exams, and then my laptop broke down, and then I was on a boat with as much electricity as a pigeon, and then I had to go to Spain on a school exchange. Plus I had writer's block for a while. But don't worry, because in that time I not only developed the plot for Fast Forward, but I also started doing research for my next fic, which I think you'll like when it comes out. Hopefully, should be out by summer. (:

And yes, by the way, the chapter title IS very random.

Disclaimer: It's mine. And so is Buckingham Palace. And a cement racoon. And Dan Humphrey from Gossip Girl.

Fast-Forward

Chapter Thirty-Five: A Baker's Dozen

"Don't know. Nasty Eugene died when Merope was born. Nasty Merope died when Malfoy born." Morfin shook his head again. "Nasty, nasty, shame, shame."

Ginny seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. She remembered what Mrs. Cole had said to her at the orphanage about how Merope Gaunt had died: "Deluded, she was. And then, suddenly, all the strength was draining from her so quickly, like someone had pulled a plug. Fevered – hot first, then cold, then coughing like her lungs were on fire… then she died. Brain haemorrhage, or something like that." And she recalled how ill Tom was at the moment.

xxx

A large duck waddled underneath Ginny's eyelids, quacking happily. It came towards her, sat on its fluffy bottom, and stared at her. It tilted its head – and then coughs ripped through the duck, through the air, through the silence-

She cracked her eyes open, bleary and confused. It was dark in the bedroom, and she couldn't see anything, but there was the silhouette of Tom beside her, sitting up, and shaking with coughs that seemed threatening to tear him apart. There was a whimper from the other side of the bedroom; his noise had woken Marianne.

Still only half-awake, Ginny twisted and stretched, kneading her eyes with her knuckles. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching a hand out for her husband, but he moved away from her outstretched fingers and nodded hastily.

Seeing that she was going to get no more of a response from him, stubborn as ever, she rolled out of bed and stumbled blindly to Marianne, whose sad cries were getting louder with positive correlation to the strength of Tom's coughs. As she bent to pick up her daughter, Tom brushed past her to the bathroom, still spluttering.

"Sshh," Ginny murmured. "Quiet... good girl, it's okay. Daddy's just hacking up his lungs." Holding Marianne to her shoulder, she glanced over at 'daddy' and saw him bent almost double, gripping the sides of the sink tightly for support. The coughs seemed agonising now, even for her. Now quite concerned, she set Marianne back in her cot, tucking her gently under her little baby blanket, and moved through to Tom to check that he was okay.

By the time she reached him, he had stopped coughing, though he was breathing heavily, raspy, as though the sides of his throat were made of sandpaper.

"Tom?" she asked worriedly, resting a hand lightly on his bare shoulder, peering around to look at him.

Her breath caught.

He was washing blood down the sink.

He caught her staring and his jaw tightened. "It's nothing," he muttered, drying his hands.

"Nothing?" she repeated. "Nothing?" She exhaled angrily. "You listen to me – coughing up blood is not nothing, alright? That's – that's not good, you know! You're – why didn't you tell me you were this ill, I would have-"

"I'm not ill," he ground out from between his teeth. His statement was a complete contrast to the stark paleness of his skin, the purple shadows under his eyes almost black.

She laughed at that, a high, humourless laugh. "Oh, is this normal for you, then? Because you should probably see a doctor about that, they'd probably be delighted to find an amazing subhuman species which could-"

"I'm not subhuman, either," he snarled, and she realised that, for him, that had been the wrong choice of words.

"You could stop biting my head off, considering that I'm only worried about you – I'm sorry for caring!" she snapped. She turned on her heel and walked away from him, back into the bedroom. Her heart was pounding. She hadn't realised just how sick he was. She had believed that maybe it was all a big coincidence; maybe he had a cold at a bad time; maybe he was going to be fine. But this illness, this disease, if it was that, was progressing too fast for anything normal...

"And then, suddenly, all the strength was draining from her so quickly, like someone had pulled a plug. Fevered – hot first, then cold, then coughing like her lungs were on fire… then she died. Brain haemorrhage, or something like that. I don't know exactly."

It was all coming true. One by one. Weak. Then a fever. Then the cough.

And then death.

She only understood that she was shaking when she sat down on the bed – the sheets began quivering in time with her own trembling. She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them tight, fighting back tears. She couldn't do this alone. She didn't want to.

A long, shaky breath was drawn in her past her lips, and she was so close to breaking down, tears biting her eyelashes. She clung to her knees like a life-ring, keeping her afloat.

Tom came back into the room, the side of the bed sinking with his weight as he sat down, and for a moment he was silent. Then he looked across at her. "I didn't mean to shout at you," he said quietly. "I apologise."

Ginny didn't answer. She didn't trust herself to. Her voice would give away the hurricane inside her. A tear spilled silently down her cheek, and another.

"Ginevra?" He looked intently at her through the darkness. "...Are you crying?"

"No," she choked out.

He reached for her, his arms easily long enough, and he pulled her across to him, holding her tight to him, kissing her hair. "It's fine," he said softly, but there was still the raw scratch of his cough in his voice, and her tears continued to stream.

"Don't die," she burst out, wrapping her arms around him, as though if he held onto him then he couldn't go.

"What?" he said, alarmed.

"Don't – please – I can't-" She buried her face in his shoulder, trembling.

"I'm not going to," he said, a mixture of bemusement and concern in his tone. "You don't have to worry about me."

"Promise." She sat back and stared at him, her eyes wide. "Promise me. And make me actually believe you."

He sighed. "What would be the point in-"

Ginny's voice cracked. "Please," she whispered.

His head bowed in the shadows. "I won't die," he said, and, for all of his bravado and this-is-stupid talk, his voice was strangely subdued. "Is that enough?"

She took his face in her hands and lifted it to make his eyes meet hers. "Look at me."

"Ginevra, this is ridiculous."

"Promise."

"Ginevra Aiobbheann Molly Peregrine Weasley Riddle, I promise you that I am not going to die for at least another sixty years," he said firmly, sincere despite the mockery of her many names. He stayed quiet for a moment, just looking at her, weaving a hand into her sleep-tousled hair, and, then, butterfly-soft on her lips, kissed her.

xxx

"Are you excited, eh?" Ginny cooed to Marianne. "Big day out! It's going to be fun!"

She and her daughter – Tom had work conference to take in the place of Mr. Flourish; work which he still insisted on attending despite his slow demise – were going out for the day with Beth, Louise and Will Gallantree. They were all meeting in The Leaky Cauldron at twelve-thirty, and though it was now twelve-forty-five, Ginny, Marianne and Beth were the only ones who had arrived.

They had sat down at a table with Butterbeer to occupy themselves while they waited and were chatting amiably – mostly about Marianne, who was now a month and a half old, and still growing. She now had hair, which was black and faintly wavy. She had also reached the stage of liking to hold onto people's thumbs and not letting go.

"How long do you think Marianne will have to hang on this time before Louise panics?" Ginny joked, grinning over her glass.

"Who exactly is coming?" Beth asked suddenly.

"Er." Okay, ignore me completely. "You and me – obviously. And Louise and Will."

"Oh." Beth's face darkened a shade.

Ginny set down her Butterbeer. "Why do you hate everyone's boyfriends so much?" she challenged. "I mean, before I married Tom, it was always – oh, he's an idiot, he's stupid, it'll never work out, blah-blah-blah. And it has worked out, thank you very much. And even after I've married him, you're still blaming him for everything-"

"Okay," said Beth, and her voice was definitely icier than it had been a moment beforehand, "I'll admit that it's working – now. But I work in the Prophet, remember, and I know that it hasn't been easy getting here. He was arrested on suspicion of mass murder, proven guilty, and imprisoned. You somehow got him out. After that, you were like a celebrity couple... but then you disappeared. And he turned during a Quidditch game, asking you to marry him, and apologising for breaking your heart... I also know that your pregnancy was accident. I know that he was furious. And I know that you were hospitalised during your honeymoon."

"That had nothing to with him," Ginny said, her blood running cold at the very thought of Bernard.

"What more proof do I need that it's not going to work?" Beth drank deeply from her Butterbeer, her stone-grey eyes fixed on Ginny over the rim of her glass.

"Whatever, Menzies. Just leave Louise and Will out of this. She's so painfully shy that I never thought this was actually going to happen. And now that it has, I refuse to let you screw it up for her. It's completely unfair."

"Unfair?" Beth muttered. "It's perfectly fair. I have my reasons."

"Go on, then."

Beth's gaze flashed back up to her friend's face, even colder now. "I just told you," she said stiffly.

"No, you didn't. There's more. I know there is." Ginny paused, and tried to install some sympathy into her tone. "No-one is here yet, and I'm not going to tell anyone."

Silence.

"...Fine. Fine." Beth slammed her glass down onto the table, glaring. "I don't know about you, but I didn't have to world's best father. He never spoke to me, but I suppose I was the lucky one. He left my brother disabled. We decided it was kinder to let him go. My mother was barely strong enough to stand it, but what could she do? For some idiot reason, she actually loved him. And every night, when she came to me after whatever my father had put her through, she always said the same thing. 'Don't worry, Lizzie,' it was. 'They're not all like this. Don't let your father discourage you from love. It's a beautiful thing'. She died of internal bleeding, but I was still fool enough to believe her."

She said these last words with a vehemence that surprised Ginny, though the redhead probably should have expected it.

"At Hogwarts, in my final year," she continued darkly, "I met someone. I'd been too scared to be with anyone until him, but I found courage in him." She swallowed. "Love, even." She stared at the table, her eyes narrowed. "The year after we left school, he asked me to marry him. I did. I moved in. I was only eighteen. And he was everything my father had been and more."

Ginny suddenly found her eyes attracted to the thin pink scar cutting through the skin near Beth's hairline. She suppressed a shiver. All of her annoyance and fierce loyalty for Louise had drained away, and been replaced with a stinging guilt.

"I'm sorry," she said awkwardly, shifting in her seat.

"Yeah, well." Beth lifted her glass and drained it. "So am I."

An uncomfortable silence ensued, but, thankfully, Will and Louise showed up shortly. They both looked slightly flushed; Ginny suspected that either they had to run here, or that they had become side-tracked somewhere along the way.

"Hi, Louise," said Ginny cheerfully, hugging the blonde tightly. Louise mumbled something that could have been a hello, and squirmed as though she didn't really appreciate the close-contact. She probably didn't. Ginny then proceeded to hug Will, quite pointedly glancing at Beth before she did so.

Ignoring Ginny's attempt at equalising the friendship of Louise and Will, Beth greeted them. "Hey, Louise," she smiled. "...Gallantree."

"Beth," said Will good-naturedly, who was by now quite used to her anti-social behaviour.

"Hello, Marianne," Louise said quietly, ducking over the little green pram. Everyone found it strange how much more talkative she was with the baby that with people her own her age. "Do you remember me?"

Ginny felt that it was necessary to point out that her daughter couldn't talk. This only made Louise flush scarlet.

"So, where are we going to eat?" Will asked.

"I was thinking of this little Muggle place near Piccadilly," Beth said, speaking generally and not looking at Will except for a disdainful glance in his direction. "Apparently it's really good." She gave a cheesy grin and held one thumbs up at a jaunty angle. "Prunella recommends," she quipped, naming the woman who critiqued restaurants in the food section of the Daily Prophet.

"What kind of food is it?"

"All sorts. French, Italian, Mexican. Whatever, really."

Will shrugged. "I don't know what anyone else thinks, but it sounds good to me."

Agreeing on the restaurant in Piccadilly, they set off. It was a fairly long walk, but they thought it would be nice to show Marianne the sights of London – deciding to detour to show her some more. Of course, Marianne seemed to be asleep, but Ginny firmly denied this, and 'ooh'ed and 'ah'ed for her, just in case.

Big Ben; ice-cream shops (Ginny was very enthusiastic); the Tower Bridge; the Tower of London; red double-decker buses; Trafalgar Square; taxis; a musical displayed everywhere declaring, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers; Piccadilly Circus; lots of EXTRA! EXTRA! signs...

A BAKER' DOZEN?

TWELTH PERSON INJURED IN LUNATIC ATTACKS – IF THIS WOMAN IS SIGHTED, PLEASE CALL 012793635

"What exactly happened?" Ginny finally asked, after having seen the bulletin at least five times.

Beth chuckled. "Peregrine, you need to need to get out of interviews and into the real world," she said. "Either that, or actually read the paper once it's published."

"That's boring, though," she huffed. "Tom reads the articles. I look at the comics and the sports pages. So, what's going on with this lunatic?"

"Oh, just some crazy woman going around attacking people," said Will, who she recalled worked in the crime department. "I mean, if I'm honest, it's quite often that this sort of thing happens. We're just quite lucky that so far she's only killed one person. I mean, it's been a lot worse." He looked over at Beth. "Do you remember the Gaunt case?"

Ginny stopped stock-still and stared. "The Gaunt case?"

"Oh, God, yeah." Beth cringed, seeming to forget her animosity towards Louise's boyfriend. "That was awful."

The Gaunt case? As in... Merope Gaunt? Morfin Gaunt?

"What was the Gaunt case?" Ginny asked slowly, pushing Marianne to the restaurant steps, which was only a few metres away.

"Pretty much the same as now – woman psychopath - but instead of London, it was Southern Scotland. But it was quite a lot more serious back then."

"Details?"

"You're nineteen, aren't you?" Beth asked. "It's before your time, then."

"Details?" Ginny pressed.

"Alright, calm down," said Louise softly, surprising everyone by speaking up. "It was before my time, as well."

"It was about twenty-odd years ago, I think. I was about seventeen; I had a summer job at the Prophet. There was a woman named Merope Gaunt in the South of Scotland who went ballistic – though it was expected, apparently, because her whole family were crazy..." Will explained. "She basically went on a rampage killing loads of Muggles. They never caught her, but someone found her dead in alleyway in the end."

"She killed Muggles?" Ginny repeated, bewildered. That didn't make sense, though, because... because Merope was the good one. Wasn't she?

Her mind flashed back to how calm and – well, un-lunatic-y, if that was a word – Morfin had been. And now, to hear how crazy Merope had been. Perhaps Morfin was the moral twin, and Merope the immoral one. What did that mean, though? If Merope was bad twin, and she had died...

She jolted with sudden, painful realisation.

Merope was the immoral one.

She had to a child.

And shortly after, she had died.

Died of symptoms similar to Tom's.

Tom, who had a child.

Tom, who had the immoral twin inside him.

So that's what it meant. For some reason, the curse included that as soon as the next pair of twins were born, the immoral of the previous pair would die. The question was, would Tom's second soul be strong enough to take him with it?

xxx

A/N: RAGHR! Yeah, I'm so sorry that it's taken forever to get this up. The next one isn't going to be too quick, either, because I had the rest of the plot written up on a piece of paper... which I had beside the laptop before dinner... which is now gone... and, plus, my main point, is that I'm doing my GCSEs all this month and the next. So... yeah. But I'm trying, honestly. Dedicated as a brownie-scout. (salute) Please review!