A/N: Quick an update as I could make. (: I hope you like it. Thanks for the reviews! This is a really long flash-back... and by the way, in answer to someone who said that the news-sign in Piccadilly had an error in saying "CALL THIS NUMBER" – no, it's correct. Because Piccadilly is a Muggle area... silly. Oh my God, this chapter was so long... I had to split it. Into THREE CHAPTERS. That's right. Three.

Listen to: Reverse This Curse by Escape the Fate

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

Fast-Forward

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Don't You Forget About Me

Tom didn't say anything, but he slumped slightly in defeat. It meant a lot that he was finally giving up his obstinacy and admitting that he was ill. It meant that the curse was progressing – and progressing a lot faster than she had ever expected. She lifted his hand and touched her lips lightly to his knuckles. "You know I love you... so much," she whispered, even if he wasn't listening. "And you're going to be okay." He didn't respond. Ginny wasn't sure whether he simply hadn't heard, or if he didn't want to answer. Either way, she continued murmuring to him. Time passed slowly, Marianne stirring quietly from her own sleep behind them, and then Ginny realised that Tom was breathing easy, his eyes closed, sleeping.

"Hi," said Beth. Then her voice and expression took on a disdainful edge. "By the way, can you tell your friend to stop stalking me? Thank you." She walked away, leaving the redhead utterly confused.

Her eyes flickered across the text and all of the air rushed out of her lungs. This fight has been going on for far too long. We know how this is going to finish. It's completely unnecessary. We need to talk. It ends within a fortnight. It's time to stop playing this game. And I assure you, I won't be on the losing team. It wasn't signed but she knew exactly who it was from. None other than Bernard Terby. Terrorising her when she thought that life couldn't get any worse, when she thought that she couldn't sink any lower. She was already watching a knife fall towards her skin, without the need of a hand driving it there.

xxx

Ginny rang the doorbell.

Glancing up at Tom, close beside her, she shifted Marianne on her shoulder and waited for someone to answer.

Eleanor Fionn lived with her boyfriend in an apartment very similar to Ginny and Tom's own (excluding the fact that it was in one of the poshest areas of London, and a penthouse, and ridiculously expensive) and it was there that they was taking Marianne, for safety. They thought that it would be best, until the fight with Bernard was over. If Bernard had been watching them as closely as she suspected, then he would know that she was closest to Grace and Alden, and that she would probably take her daughter there. She thought that Bernard would not guess that she would take her to one of Tom's friends, who she hadn't spoken to in a very long time.

The door clicked open, and a strangely familiar man looked out. He was of average height, with untidy dark hair, and a boyish face. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah - is Eleanor in?" Ginny smiled brightly, trying to act as though it wasn't at all unusual to turn up on someone's doorstep with a baby in tow. Not suspicious. No. Not at all.

"Er." The man turned away from the door and yelled, "Ellie!"

"Yar-huh?"

"Door."

"Who is it?"

The man turned a raised eyebrow on her.

"Tom and Ginny W-P-Riddle," she said, and then flushed pink at her own stupidity.

"It's Tom and Ginny Wuhpriddle!"

"Riddle," Tom corrected tiredly, making her feel even more stupid.

However, by this point, Eleanor had already arrived, clad in a pink dress and matching reading glasses. "Ohmigod!" she shrieked, pushing back her boyfriend and hugging Ginny tight, making sure to hug carefully around a rather alarmed Marianne. "What on earth are you doing here? And with little – what's her face – Marianne – I remembered! – Marianne as well? This is so unexpected!"

"You're not busy, are you?" Ginny asked worriedly.

"Oh, no," Eleanor gushed, moving on to wrap her arms tightly around Tom, who tensed but tolerated it. "Come in, come in. Well, Charlie's just going out somewhere, you know, a man-night, or something, you would understand, right-"

Ginny frowned. Not really. She doubted that Tom had ever been out on a 'man-night' in his life.

"-but I was just going to sit and get on with some work, you know... planning some stuff..." Eleanor beamed, and held up her left hand – showing them a fat gold ring topped with the biggest diamond Ginny had ever seen in her life.

"You're getting married?!" Ginny exclaimed, removing her coat with one hand while balancing Marianne on her hip with the other. "Why haven't I been invited? Hmph."

"Of course you'll be invited, silly," Eleanor scoffed. "We're still planning everything; he only asked me last week."

Tom, Ginny realised, was staring at the blonde's hand. She was about to ask if he was feeling alright when he abruptly asked, his voice rough and raw with sickness, "How much did that cost?"

Eleanor giggled. "I don't know," she exclaimed. "You're not supposed to ask, you know. I don't think it was too expensive – I hope not. I feel awful that he would have spent a lot of money on me..."

The line of thought going through Tom's head was now immediately apparent, as his face darkened slightly and he stared down at the floor, envy and wistfulness visible in what of his expression wasn't hidden. Ginny's stomach clenched. She found her wedding ring, on the hand holding Marianne, and twisted it absently around her finger. A simple gold band. Nothing more. No diamonds.

Waiting until their host wasn't paying attention, Ginny caught Tom's eyes and mouthed, "I wouldn't want that anyway."

Tom ignored her.

"Do you want something to drink?" Eleanor asked. "You remember my obsession with tea, right, Tom – hasn't gone yet? Oh, I'll make you some anyway – sit down, go on, over there – oh, are you going now, Charlie? Alright, see you later," she latched onto him with a kiss, clearly a lot less private about her relationship that Tom and Ginny were, "and I heart you, you know that."

"Love," her boyfriend said, ruffling her blonde hair affectionately as though she were a cat, and then disappeared out the door.

"Love-love-love!" she shouted after him, and then turned to her guests. "Right. Tea. I'll be right back." She disappeared, leaving the dysfunctional Riddle family in the hallway.

Ginny reached a hand for Tom's arm, and looked up quickly into his pale, unhealthy face. "I would only ever use something like that as a paper-weight," she told him quietly. "It doesn't matter."

"That's not the point," he muttered, throat like sandpaper. "The point is that Fionn's ring probably costs more than our apartment. ...And I could never get you anything like that."

"Come on." She linked her fingers through his and pulled him through to the luxurious living room that Eleanor had pointed out they could sit down in. "How are you feeling?" she whispered in an undertone, her gaze flickering over the dark shadows under his eyes, and the sheer whiteness of his skin.

"Fine," he said shortly. His tone implied that this was the end of the conversation.

She sighed.

Eleanor returned a moment later, Levitating three mugs of steaming tea. She set them down on the table. "I know, it's all so crazy... did you two feel like that when you first got engaged, or...?" Her eyes flashed across them, but lingered an especially long time on Tom, and a small, knowing smile lit up her lips. Ginny wondered what she knew.

Tom shifted uncomfortably. Observing him over the top of her mug of tea, which she sipped happily, Ginny suspected that it was something to do with his past relationship with Eleanor as annoying match-maker. She recalled the blonde telling her that she had been pushing Tom to ask her out ever since she first noticed that he allegedly 'forgot what he was doing every time he came near her'. She was curious as to what other things she hadn't picked up on.

Eleanor held up her hands defensively. "Okay, sorry if I'm embarrassing you or something," she laughed. "I wasn't trying to be mean, I swear. I'm just... I'm so excited!" She squealed, flapping her free hand, sloshing her mug of tea from side to side. "To think that I will be... Mrs. Eleanor Maeve Potter!"

Ginny choked on her tea.

Charlus Potter, father of James Potter. Charlus. Charlie.

Tom froze. His eyes snapped up to Eleanor's face, like shards of black ice. He stared at her for a very long time, and then his gaze flashed sideways to Ginny and back again. And once more. Very slowly, he said, "What?"

Eleanor looked confused. "What-what?" she repeated. "Did I say something? Mrs. Eleanor Maeve Potter? What's wrong with that?"

Tom's jaw tightened at the repetition of the name. He stared down at the floor, his lip twitching upwards slightly in contempt. "Nothing," he ground out. "Never mind." He did, however, shift infinitesimally across the sofa, closer to Ginny, and leaned forwards, as though shielding her.

From a scrawny teenage boy who hadn't even been born yet. Silly.

'What did I do?' Eleanor mouthed across at Ginny, bewildered.

'It doesn't matter', Ginny mouthed back. She set down her mug of tea (most of which was dripping, scalding hot, down her chin anyway), and in the meantime, jostled and nearly dropped Marianne. She yelped, and, at the last second, clumsily caught her daughter, and hugged her close to her. "Sorry," she said. "Mummy's too clumsy for a baby, honestly."

"Oh, do you want somewhere for Marianne, or-"

"No, she's fine," Ginny said defensively, holding her perhaps unnecessarily close, wanting every last moment with her to linger. Not long before Marianne would be gone for... a while.

"Babies are so cute," Eleanor said, sighing dreamily. "I wish I was pregnant. Well, if I ever am, I'll probably not want to be... still-"

"Actually," Ginny interrupted, loudly enough to drown out Eleanor's noisy chatter – which could often never be stopped. She glanced over at Tom for confirmation, but he was staring down at the floor. A green tinge had come into his face. Maybe it was all the jealousy. She hoped he wasn't going to be sick. Seeing that he wasn't going to join in, she continued, "that's what we wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh." Eleanor's face furrowed into a frown, clearly not understanding.

Ginny checked Tom again. He wasn't looking at her still. "Do you want to say it?" she asked him quietly, forcing him to acknowledge the turn of conversation.

"You can," he muttered.

"Righty-ho," said Eleanor. "Now that you've decided that, why don't you actually try telling me?"

The redhead flushed red. "Of course." She held Marianne on her knee and stared into the identical eyes in her daughter's face. Marianne made a small, bird-like noise, reaching her small hands forwards. An ache of sadness panged painfully through Ginny. "I need someone to take Marianne for a while," she said shortly. "And I was hoping it would be you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." she struggled. "I mean that I want you have Marianne. Baby-sit, sort of." She attempted a smile. "It would help you to prepare for the idea of having a baby, you know? And also, maybe it would suggest to Charlie that you wanted one."

The weak smile was failing. She dropped it.

"Are you going on holiday?"

Later, Ginny would reflect and wish that she had simply said 'yes'. However, stupidly, she mumbled, "We wish."

Tom fired a dark look at her, clearly thinking that she was giving away too much.

Eleanor narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously. "What is happening? Why are you all so secretive? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ginny tried to reassure her. She reached out a hand to pat her friend's arm.

"Don't patronise me; I'm not stupid." Eleanor folded her arms. "You tell me what the hell is going on right now."

"No," Tom growled at exactly the same moment as Ginny sighed and confessed, "She's in danger."

"Ginny," Tom hissed, furious.

Eleanor's blue eyes widened. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "What kind of danger – what – I don't-" She shook her head. "What have you done, killed someone?"

Tom went rigid, his jaw clamping tight. His eyes fixed on the floorboards, he fell silent and unmoving.

"I just don't understand..." Eleanor said. She pushed a hand over her hair and fixed her fringe, a nervous habit that she didn't whenever confused or faced with what she perceived to be a moral dilemma. "It's ridiculous. What danger could a baby possibly be in?"

"Please, Eleanor," said Ginny. "I just... I think she would be safest with you. No-one would expect me to come to you to hide her."

"What if that 'no-one' – whatever you've gotten yourselves into, yeah – what if he, she, it – what if they come here? Am I bait? Am I supposed to risk myself and Charlie and everything we have for you two?"

"He wouldn't," Ginny said. "You have no parts in what he's doing. If he does discover that Marianne's here, he'll just break in..." she swallowed around a lump in her throat, "...kill Marianne... and then leave. No damage. Maybe a note to pass on to us. You wouldn't be involved at all."

Eleanor didn't speak. She bit her lip.

And then the unexpected: "Just keep her safe," Tom said quietly. "I can take care of Ginny if you can take care of Marianne."

The blonde sighed heavily. "Okay." She forced a bright smile. "Let me know when it's all ready for you to have her back – I won't steal her, I promise – and she will be perfectly fine and dandy with us. Charlie won't mind."

Ginny was filled to the core with relief and she leaned over to give her friend a one-armed hug. She could always count on Eleanor to be cheerful in the worst situation. Maybe it was a Gryffindor quality. Or a blonde quality. Or maybe just an Eleanor Maeve Fionn Potter quality. "I actually love you right now."

"Do you have any water?" Tom suddenly interrupted. Ginny looked over at him and cringed. He did not look well. He was definitely green now, swaying slightly, and there was cold perspiration beading his forehead.

"Um." Eleanor looked alarmed. "Yeah, I suppose, let me just-"

Then he got to his feet, stumbling. "I'll..." His words were slurred with illness. "I'll be right back. Don't do anything stupid. Eleanor, make sure she's-" He jerked, his face crumpling, and disappeared down the corridor. He had probably been here before, and knew where he was going, Ginny guessed. She stared after him miserably.

"Is he okay?" Eleanor asked.

She slumped. "...Not really," she whispered. "I don't know what to do. I'm so concerned about him. He refuses to even admit that he's sick, but it's just so..." She flailed a hand helplessly in the air, searching for a word, but found nothing. She looked down glumly at her feet.

"It's not helping anything how worried he is about you, either," Eleanor pointed out. "If I were you, I would sort this 'danger' problem out as soon as possible. If anyone can get hospitalised for worrying alone, it's him. I have never in all my life seen anyone as permanently panicked about someone else's well-being as him."

Well, he does have a reason.

"Have you done anything?" Eleanor probed. "I'm not being nosy or anything, but if you've been, I don't know, seeing someone else or something-"

"No!" she gasped, horrified. "For God's sake!"

"I'm just saying!" the blonde shrugged. "I mean, it's not as though I revere him or anything in my list of close friends – being honest, he's a pain ninety-nine percent of time – but I'm probably the closest thing he has to a close friend, excluding you, of course, and... well, he loves you. With everything he has. And even if it's not much, he can't give you any more. I don't like seeing him like this."

"I know," said Ginny, her voice a sad whisper. "I don't like it either."

"You know," said Eleanor, "when we'd both left school, and you were still there, we visited each other quite a lot. Just purely because it felt weird without the people I was used to being around twenty-four-seven. For me, at least. And it was always... you. Maybe it was being with me that reminded him of how things were back at school; maybe he wasn't always like that – but whenever we met up, he was completely focused on you."

Ginny tilted her head, her expression caught between a smile and a frown. "Really?"

"I don't mean he was always talking about you. He liked hearing about you, but he didn't like talking about you. Sort of like you were his. But little things. Walk past a woman with red hair and he'd be distracted. Anything the colour green. Chocolate. High-heeled shoes. Butterbeer. Yellow flowers. Red wine." Eleanor laughed. "It was adorable, actually, in a strange way. And then, I remember one day, we were in a cafe, and I was struggling more than usual to make conversation. He was completely in a different world. Just staring into space. Thinking. He was barely even listening – I had to yell 'Ginny' at one point to get his attention so I could say goodbye to him. He didn't seem to care. He walked away... and then, for some reason, he turned around and came back. And he paused. And then, completely out of the blue, he said, 'I'm going to ask her to marry me'. It was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen."

Ginny grinned. She had an urge to hug herself, but doing so would squash Marianne. She settled for squeezing her daughter tightly instead, smiling to herself.

"Just don't hurt him," Eleanor concluded. "I don't know if his feelings have anything to do with how ill he is, but..." She shook her head, running a hand through her hair again.

There was an awkward silence. Ginny wondered what Tom was doing, how long it was taking, and what Eleanor was thinking.

Probably thinking about Grandpa Potter, she mused. That was too bizarre to contemplate, though, and she wished that she didn't need to get so confused with strange details.

"Anyway," Eleanor chirped cheerfully. "Onto lighter topics – it's October the twenty-fifth, Ginny! Six days until your big Halloween birthday party, and I'm still not invited! I gave you your time to invite me since you walked through the door, and still nothing. I'm offended. Some friend you are."

"I'm actually not having a party this year," the younger woman said slowly, apologetically.

"What?" Eleanor threw her hands in the air. "Your parties are always amazing, though! They're so much fun. You are the soul of the party – you have to have one! Marianne's first Halloween, as well!"

"Well, she won't be with me, will she?" said Ginny, smiling ruefully. "She'll be with you."

"True..." Eleanor pouted. "Still. You're such a party-pooper."

"No, I just don't think it would appropriate to have a party right now. What with Tom being so ill and all these problems and things..." she heaved a heavy-hearted sigh. "Maybe next year. Maybe I'll throw a really good Christmas party, instead, or a New Year's party."

"You better," Eleanor threatened.

Ginny opened her mouth, planning to joke what Eleanor would do if she didn't, but then Tom reappeared. He was rocking from side to side, one arm wrapped tightly around his stomach. His hollow eyes found hers.

She stood immediately and hurried to her husband – and as she drew near him, she noticed the strangest thing. With every step she took towards him, his shaking increased, his face became paler, and he looked closer to fainter.

Marianne.

Her mouth fell slightly open. She stopped dead in the middle of the living room.

She hadn't thought that Marianne was having such a direct effect on him. Maybe it was being in close contact with her all the time that made him so ill... Maybe this was another advantage to having Eleanor baby-sit her daughter for a while. Tom could recover, and then they would live happily ever after, like they were supposed to.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, maintaining her distance, as she was still holding Marianne.

Tom struggled to even answer for a moment. There was a moment's tense silence, and then jerkily he shook his head.

Ginny chewed her lip. "Come on," she said reluctantly, "let's just go. Eleanor can look after Marianne; she'll be fine. Let's just get you home before you hurt yourself." She turned back to the blonde woman, resisting the motherly urge to cling tightly to her daughter and not let her go. This was for Marianne's safety. It was the best thing. She kissed Marianne's chubby little cheek. "It's okay," she whispered. "I'll come back for you, I promise. It's going to be alright." Then, feeling tears spike her hazel eyes, she held her out to Eleanor.

"No," Tom abruptly rasped out.

Both females looked over at him in surprise.

Tom stared at Marianne. The little baby girl kicked her legs, still hanging in the air between Eleanor and Ginny, and held her fat arms out for her father.

He moved with a shaky determination towards them, his breathing laboured with every metre he traversed. Ignoring the looks of confusion coming from his closest friend and his wife, he took Marianne into his arms, and held her carefully against his chest. His breath hitched audibly, his brow furrowing with effort. And he pressed his lips lightly to her forehead.

"Don't forget me," he murmured, quietly enough that Ginny had to strain to hear him. Her heart plunged to her stomach. He was acknowledging the fact that they might not come back... alive, if anything. He held onto Marianne for what looked like as long as he could bear – then he gave a small gasp, his hands trembling so much that Ginny was frightened he was going to drop Marianne, and returned her to Eleanor.

And then they turned their backs on her.

Marianne, too young to understand, giggled and knew no different.

xxx

So, yeah, instead of one ridiculously loooong chapter, which would be literally – forty-something pages, I'm giving you three rather short chapters. Plus it's fun for suspense. And it drags the plot out longer. Muahaha. No, I'm joking. Next update should be quick, considering I've typed out most of it. Love youuuu. Please review.