A/N: Yay! I can update quickly! I'm on the holidays now, so I have loads of free time. Just yesterday, I wrote four chapters of Backtrack (finishing it) and a chapter and a half of Fast-Forward. I am on a roll! So, yeah, daily updates for Backtrack, and then hopefully not too long a wait before I start posting Fast-Forward!
Listen To: Love Is The End by Keane. I just got the new album – I LOVE it! :D
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Backtrack
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Twenty-Four-Seven Effort
In response, Ginevra grinned, but he demolished that smile with his lips, pressing a hand flat against each wall on either side of her head. She awkwardly lifted her arms from her sides to wrap tight around his neck-
"Miss Peregrine! Put that boy down this instant!" came the sharp voice of Professor Ornella from in the corridor behind them. Ginevra abruptly let go of him and turned around to face the Herbology teacher, blushing and pushing her hair behind her ears. "What the devil are you wearing, girl?" Ornella exclaimed, but then her eyes travelled past the redhead and landed on her companion. She blinked. "Mr. Riddle?"
Clearing his throat awkwardly, very aware of his messy hair and swollen lips, Tom straightened the front of his robes. "Yes, Professor?"
It took ten minutes to enlarge the walls of the corridor and back her down it out the other entrance, and then to shrink the corridor again to its normal size. Once they were free, Tom received his first detention (for unacceptable public displays of affection), which he didn't really mind, as he took the detention also with Ginevra (for inappropriate attire, for blocking a communal pathway, and for unacceptable public displays of affection).
Getting in trouble had never been so much fun.
xxx
Sing to me the song
Of the stars
Of your galaxy
Laughing and laughing again
Night was falling, and for some reason he knew not, as Tom looked out of his dormitory window at the fading sun, he felt as though something was ending – and not just a day.
Something that was going to change everything.
He rubbed his eyes and closed his curtains. He was just being stupid. He grabbed his cloak off the back of his door, pushed his feet into his shoes, and headed down to the common room.
Curled up on the sofas were Fionn and her friends, but he paid no attention to them.
"Where are you going?" Fionn chirped after him.
Tom sighed irritably, and turned back to face them. He had hoped that he would be able to leave without having to talk to or even look at any of them, but that didn't seem as though it was going to happen. "I'm going on patrol, due to the fact that you haven'tfor the past week, and for all we know, there could be several psychopaths hiding behind tapestries ready to attack."
"Oh, how sweet of you to protect us," one of Fionn's friends, Corgan, simpered.
He flashed her a cold look. "No – on the contrary, I'm telling them where to find you." He arched one cruel eyebrow. "The Gryffindor Tower's password is fortitudo animus, isn't it?"
Without waiting for any of them to say anything in reply, Tom turned his back on them and disappeared through the portrait-hole.
He highly doubted that there would be any psychopaths hiding in Hogwarts, but seven years had taught him that Fionn's friend were easily scared. They probably wouldn't sleep tonight.
A smirk was present on his lips as he checked the last secret corridor before the stairs down to the Entrance Hall, and then he descended-
What the hell?
Silhouetted against the night sky outside was the figure of a small person clutching a large bundle… a very familiar figure.
Tom hurried down the steps after her. "Where are you going at this time of night?"
Ginevra froze, and then turned to face him, biting her lower lip. "Um."
Now that he was closer, and now that she was face on towards him, Tom could identify what the bundle in her arms was that she was carrying. "With blankets, no less." He lifted one eyebrow at her.
She fidgeted with the hem of the quilt that was gathered in her slim arms. "I want to sleep under the stars-" She sounded as though she wanted to say more, but cut herself off, looking at her feet.
"Right." Tom folded his arms. "And you're going to pay no attention to safety or security or the fact that a number of paedophiles, psychopaths and prisoners might get into the Hogwarts grounds and attack you… because you want to sleep under the stars."
"I can look after myself." Ginevra scowled up at him.
"I know you can," he replied, even though the idea of her lying unconscious in the grass in early April, when it was still cold, was not an idea that he particularly liked. "However, in Dippet's eyes, every student has the mental capacity and maturity of a ten-year-old, and therefore must be coddled and looked after at all times."
"But-"
Tom interrupted. "Just…" he sighed. "Do what you like. I'm not really bothered. Sleep outside if you must – be careful, though." He gave a short nod, and a small smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He turned back to continue with his patrol, but was stopped again:
"Come with me."
Tom stopped… walked a bit further… stopped again… turned. He stared at Ginevra, trying to sort out what was going through his head.
Dangerous-
Not if I'm with her-
I'm the most dangerous of all-
Not if she's with me-
Sleeping under the stars-
With her-
The feeling of something drawing to a close… the feeling that something would be lost, and it would never be tangible again… the feeling that something might not even exist anymore…
"Please."
Tom swallowed. "I… I don't want to get in trouble."
This was the least of his concerns. Head Boys had done far worse in the past, and there was no doubt that Head Boys would do far worse in the future. His problem was that he loved her. His problem was that she didn't love him in return. His problem was that he was terrified that he would fall even more in love with her… and then he'd have no chance of going back.
He couldn't go back now from this point anyway. He didn't want to go back from this point.
"Neither do I," said Ginevra, and for a moment of confusion, Tom thought that she was addressing what he had been thinking – then he understood.
"You're not making any sense," he told her. If she didn't want to get in trouble, then why was she sneaking out in the first place?
She smiled. "I know."
Tom bit his lip, thinking, deciding.
It isn't as though you could possibly love her any less if you didn't go with her now.
He sighed. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you," he said, and glanced back into the Entrance Hall cautiously for anyone watching them, and then closed the doors behind them. He listened to them lock.
No going back now until six-thirty tomorrow morning.
Then he turned to her, looking down into those most astonishing eyes, and lifted one eyebrow expectantly.
Five minutes, a slightly twisted ankle (Ginevra had spun in a circle and fallen over), and a lifetime's worth of happiness later found them sitting atop her quilt under the willow tree by the Black Lake.
And every star sprinkled in the clear sky sang for them.
"Do you do Astronomy?" she asked out-of-the-blue, seeming to follow his gaze upwards.
"No," he replied. "I have never done it, and never will."
"Why not?" she twisted in his arms to peer up at his face, suddenly so close that he could count freckles, categorise the colours in her eyes.
"It is… a stupid subject."
"No, it's not!"
"Prove it," he said amusedly.
"It's really interesting." She turned away again, and stabbed a finger at the sky. "See that star there? That's called Ariel."
He couldn't see the star that she was pointing at. This was probably why he'd never been anything close to remotely good at astronomy. All of the stars looked the same to him. He decided to cover up his idiocy by just pretending that he was too bored to care. He dropped his head onto her shoulder and gave a loud fake snore.
"Hey!" Ginevra protested, elbowing him in the ribs. "You've at least got to pay attention, you berk."
"Ow," he complained. "Yes, yes, Ariel, stars, got it." He rubbed his sore ribcage. She had pointy elbows.
"It symbolises good luck and wealth," she continued to explain happily. "It makes a formation with six other stars, and the constellation looks like a big shoe. Or at least, I think so. Professor Rowney says that it looks like a spade, but it's a bit of weirdly-shaped spade if it is… and it can only be seen once every two-hundred years."
"Hm," Tom mused. "So this is the one and only time we'll ever see it."
"Well, unless you live to be two-hundred-and-seventeen, then yeah, basically," she said gently.
"I might," he yawned.
"And we could be the longest-standing relationship that the world had ever seen."
Tom looked down at her, surprised… hopeful. "Would you stay with me that long?" he asked, not daring to think that there might be a life for him where he never needed to lose her.
Ginevra's faint smile was genuine, and she curled both of her arms around his left elbow, settling the side of her head on his shoulder. "Definitely."
A sigh pulled from his lips, ruffling her messy red hair by his cheek. A world where she was always there, always with him, always in his arms… it seemed far too good to be true. Far too perfect to be possible.
"Tom?"
She was turning again in his arms, now accidentally nestled against his chest – not something that he minded in the slightest – and looking up into his face.
"Yes?"
There was a slight pause before she spoke, seeming awkward, biting her lip (the space where her teeth had dug in left the tiniest of dents behind in her lip – a dent that he could imagine exploring with his own teeth, with his own tongue)-
"Sorry for bringing it up… but… why does it happen?"
He blinked. Well, that was a killer of romance and hormonal daydreams.
Without any doubt, Tom knew immediately what 'it' was, but was confused as to why she was asking. He thought that he'd explained it all quite thoroughly a while ago in his dormitory, when he had first told her about his problem.
"No, wait, hang on." Ginevra frowned. "I didn't phrase that right. I meant… like sometimes… like, now, you're fine. And then, a few weeks ago…" she trailed off, not finishing her sentence.
"Well…" he shifted uncomfortably. "I worked that… it's – it's…" he took a short, deep breath. "Emotions. I think."
"I don't get it," she confessed after a moment.
"If I'm angry, or upset," he said, very quietly, "then it's easier, for… for… it to happen." He hadn't wanted to tell her this part about his little supernatural problem. He hadn't wanted for her to find out just how much she meant to him – which she surely would, if she could work that he was always happy when he was with her.
"A few weeks ago… what happened then?"
He tensed, his muscles stiffening at the memory. If there was any person he loathed above all – more, perhaps, than Fionn and her friends, and Dippet, and Dumbledore, and the people from the orphanage, put together, then it was: "Yaxley."
"What about him?"
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
"No."
"Tom…" she said warningly, "whatever trouble Yaxley may be in for because of what he said will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you if you don't tell me."
Abruptly, he remembered Ginevra's multiple threats on Reeve's child-making abilities, and decided that it would be best to tell her.
"He… he called you a Mudblood. He also said… he said that I was little better, and at least we could only contaminate each other," he said tiredly, not caring to get annoyed at the memory. "Don't worry, though," he told her, seeing the dark expression that cut through her face. "You don't have to hurt him. I did enough of that."
The redhead's eyebrows rose. "What did you do?"
"I punched him a few times. I think I definitely broke his nose, and maybe his jaw as well, but I'm not certain," Tom said quietly.
"Nice." Her eyes widened appreciatively.
A silence followed her exclamation, and it was one that not even the slight chatter of her teeth could break when a cool breeze swept from the Forbidden Forest – wordlessly, he pulled her closer, one arm slipping around her shoulders to keep her warm. He didn't care if she took all of his warmth. She could take everything.
"I would join in," Ginevra suddenly said, snuggling into his side, "but firstly I don't know the song, and secondly, my singing is best compared to that of a cat being stood on by someone in spike football-boots."
Warmth flooded Tom's face. Damn. He hadn't realised that he was singing. "Sorry."
"No, it's nice."
"It's strange having someone who knows what football is," he commented softly.
Ginevra laughed. "It's strange having so many people who don't know what football is."
Of course. Before now, she had pretty much been a Muggle… except home-schooled magic.
"I keep forgetting that this is only your first year here," he chuckled.
"Fit in that well, do I?"
Tom watched the side of her face – all that was visible of her expression was the slight crinkle at the edges of her eyes, and the twist of her smile. She fit in so much better than she realised. She fit in better than he ever had. She was so perfect…
Tell her.
He swallowed.
You don't even have to look at her. You don't have to see her expression while you say it. You don't have to know her reaction until you're ready.
Say it.
I love you.
Then his plans were shattered, as she turned around to look up at him.
His stomach and chest hurting from the twenty-four-seven effort of trying not to love her, he tore his eyes away and stared into the distance. It was stupid, imagining that he would ever be able to tell her. Maybe he should just stop trying – before he ruined what they already had.
"You know, you don't have to pretend that you don't think I'm pretty," she teased, her voice full of laughter.
Tom didn't answer. There was nothing that he could say in response. Every outcome was far, far too much… too much everything - when he tried it out in his head.
Okay, I'll stop pretending. You're beautiful.
You're not pretty - you're so much more than that.
Hearing that he was not going to respond, Ginevra didn't either. Instead, she closed her eyes and settled her arms more comfortably around him to sleep, smiling when he held her around the waist.
"Goodnight, Tom" she said, already drifting towards a peaceful sleep.
"Goodnight," Tom murmured back to her, but the slow ease of her breathing told him that she was probably already dreaming and wouldn't hear him.
He sighed, watching the flutter of her cinnamon eyelashes with every movement she made in her dreams. He wished that he could know what she was thinking of. Her friends? Her family? …Him?
In her slumber, she twitched slightly, pushing the side of her face into his shoulder, the top of her head tucked under his chin, her red hair tickling his jaw.
"…I…" he tried to say it, now. I love you. It wasn't hard – especially not now, when she was asleep. She couldn't hear him. It was easy. And yet he still couldn't do it.
Letting a rough breath that held all of his frustration towards himself, Tom rested the back of his head against the trunk of the willow tree that he and Ginevra lay beneath, staring blankly up at the canopy of new green leaves above them.
If he couldn't even tell her that he loved her when she was unconscious, then what hope was there for him?
xxx
Aw… we know what happens next. Please review!
HUGE THANKS TO:
storm-brain: made a freakin' brilliant trailer for Rewind, which is posted on Youtube (search pop pop bananas, I think).
I haven't been getting any PMs, so if I haven't been answering, then that's probably why. But I honestly adore you, and I would comment the amazing trailer you made, if A) I had a youtube account, or B) my internet let me post comments. It doesn't let me post FF reviews, either, which sucks.
MadeNew: is in the process, I think, of writing up Press Play from Tom's POV for me! It's wonderful!
WOW, I LOVE YOU! I honestly do. You have no idea how hard it is to write up Tom's POV, thank you so much!
Heart, me.