A/N: Hello everyone

A/N: GAH! Still no review-replies. I'm sorry. And by the way, for people who were confused, "platonic" means… like, not in a relationship. Like, a platonic friendship is two people who are friends but don't feel anything for each other. Which of course is a total lie when used in Ginny's context. And no, not two chapters until the end. HELL NO! Whoa. One chapter now until…. HEHEHE!

Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.

The Letter P

Chapter Fifty-One: P is for Pummelling Hufflepuffs

"Eh, it's freezing," said Ginny, chattering her teeth. She wished she'd brought a coat other than the fluffy purple jumper that Eleanor had given her for her birthday. Without the slightest pause in hesitation or uncertainty, Tom shrugged off his shabby black cloak and handed it to her, laying it gracefully over the back of his hand.

Tom turned his head to her and nodded. Then a half-smile flickered on his lips, lifting Ginny's heart and thawing her better than any cloak could. And suddenly the redhead felt like words had completely and utterly failed her, felt like her stomach had disappeared… felt like she was invincible.

xxx

She replayed it happily in her mind.

"Okay," said Ginny, looking up through her fringe. "I'll see you later."

A glimmer of smile wavered on his lips again. "Goodbye, then… Ginevra."

She beamed as she skipped the last few steps down to her dormitory. Then she pushed open the door for the sixth-years and twirled through the entrance.

As she entered, five faces turned up to glance at her. Ramira gave a quick smile before looking away; Avani and Claude sneered and continued what they were doing. Grace and Flora were sitting on the latter's bed, flipping through glossy magazines and doing each other's hair.

"Hey," said Grace, looking up from plaiting Flora's thick blonde hair. Her blue eyes immediately narrowed. "Oh great. You're grinning. What now?"

"Nothing," Ginny chirped, flopping onto her bed.

Grace raised an eyebrow slightly. She secured Flora's plait with a hairband and then released it. "Be right back," she said to the blonde girl, and scrambled towards Ginny. "So." She propped her head on the edge of the redhead's mattress.

"So what?" Ginny looked over at her friend.

"Why the grin? Why the slightly dizzy look? Why the skipping and twirling?" Grace inquired, a knowing glint in her sapphire eyes. "Am I right in thinking that Bomb Fiddle did something to make your day all sunshiney and glowy?"

Ginny gave the other girl an apprehensive look. "Are you nuts?"

"He did, didn't he?"

"Ooh! Who? Who did what? Who does Ginny like?" Flora squealed, leaping over to kneel beside Grace.

Grace opened her mouth-

-and Ginny kicked her in the stomach. "No-one," she said firmly. "Grace has a totally insane theory that I fancy someone who I don't."

"Who does she think that you fancy?" Flora frowned.

"Ri-"

"Richard!" Ginny cut in sharply.

"Richard?" Grace and Flora echoed, staring at her.

"Yeah. Grace thinks that I like Richard," Ginny lied blatantly. She racked her brain, hoping that there was a Richard in their age-group.

Richard… Richard…

"You do," said Grace, catching on quickly though she wasn't supposed to tell Flora. "You totally fancy Richard Poole", answering Ginny's line of thought.

Richard Poole?

Seeing Ginny's confused face, Grace elaborated, "d'you know him, Flora? He's that cute fourth-year."

Ginny stared.

"Isn't he a Gryffindor?" Flora gasped.

Ginny gagged.

"Yeah, he is," Ginny said. "And he's also three years younger than me. So I don't like him."

"Whatever." Grace flapped a hand dismissively and observed her nails.

Nothing happened for a very long time. Then, getting bored, Flora stood with a huff of indignation, as though silence should be banned, and went back to her own bed.

"Is she gone?" Grace whispered, still looking carefully at her fingernails.

"Yeah."

Grace looked up from her fingers. "So what did… ahem, Richard… do?" she said.

"Richard did nothing," Ginny said firmly. "And by the way, thanks for helping me think of a Richard. I didn't think there were any in the school."

"Hey, could have been worse. You could have chosen the name Ripman. He's a first-year," Grace said severely. "And, not to mention, a Hufflepuff."

"What's wrong with Hufflepuffs?"

"They annoy me."

"Why?"

"Because all they ever do is talk about happiness. It makes me want to pummel them. Then they won't feel so happy."

(input frightened silence here)

"Anyway," said Grace, drawing the word out like chewing gum. "Back to Richard. Tell me what he did."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Grace, will you give up on the idea that I fancy him?"

"Not until you tell me what he did."

"He called me Ginevra."

The brunette stared at the redhead for a long, long time. "And?"

"And that's it."

"…And?"

"That's it!"

"…you are sad. So, so sad." Grace shook her head, and jumped onto her own bed, grabbing a bar of chocolate and her book.

Ginny glared. However, her stern expression was to hide what was going on inside her head – and, more importantly, her heart. Tom had called her Ginevra. And she had been filled with a feeling better than Butterbeer. Tom had smiled at her. And she had felt like she ruled the world.

What in the name of Merlin was happening to her?

In reality, the fact was that she knew perfectly what was happening to her. Exactly what had happened seven years ago. Except that this time, it wasn't for the quiet dark-haired hero. It was for the quiet dark-haired anti-hero.

It was for the hero's murderer. It was for the killer of souls.

And so, fancying him simply wasn't an option. She was even going to entertain such thoughts. She pushed them away, to her mental rubbish-bin, where they'd be destroyed and never mentioned again.

xxx

"Now, focus… and speak the wordsorior ortus. Clearly, now, no mumbling," Dippet reprimanded.

The Headmaster, having been a former Charms Professor, had taken over the role as Charms teacher and would probably remain in that position until someone else was signed.

"Orior ortus!" Ginny said resolutely, swiping her wand forwards with a fierceness that probably wasn't required for the Conjuring Charm. The sixth-year class of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were starting to learn how to Conjure items out of thin air, beginning small, with matches.

Looking sideways, Ginny saw that Alden had the red flint of a match lying on his desk, and he was trying to make the rest of it appear. To her other side, Grace was having no success either.

"Orior ortus!" Grace snapped at her wand, slicing at the air and concentrating so hard on the tip of her wand that her eyelid was twitching.

"Not so much of a slash, more of a flourish," corrected a nearby Hufflepuff in a motherly way. "Careful, now."

Grace's other eyelid began to twitch. "Get lost," she bit out. "I can do it myself." She hacked at the air in front of her. "Orior ortus!"

"Flourish!" the Hufflepuff chastised.

"If you don't shut up, I'm seriously going to EAT you!" Grace roared at the Hufflepuff, glaring.

Ginny bit back giggles and focused on her own spell-work. She pictured a match in her minds' eye, looking at every inch of it, every splinter of wood glued together to form it. "Orior ortus!" she commanded her wand. With a shimmer of grey light, a splinter wavered into sight on the desk.

"Aha!" she crowed. "Aha! I have a splinter!"

"Well done," said Alden, glancing over at her. "I have three matches."

Ginny fell silent, and looked sadly at her splinter.

By the end of the lesson, the seventeen-year-old Prefect had produced half a match, and Alden, who was close to perfecting his Conjuring of matches skill, had moved on to trying to Conjure a whole box. Grace, unfortunately, spent most of her time trying to beat up the Hufflepuff next to her – she lost the Slytherin House five points for attacking another student, and was set extra homework, because she was so behind the rest of the class on her Conjuring.

"That was so unfair," said Grace, incensed. "How was I supposed to pay attention when there's this retard next to shrieking, flourish, flourish!" she squealed out a crude but accurate imitation of the Hufflepuff she sat beside.

"How indeed," said Alden solemnly, but he caught Ginny's eye and grinned at her. Then, as if remembering something, frowned. He looked up again afterwards and mouthed, "have you told Grace about what Devin said?"

"No," Ginny mouthed in reply. "She follows the same theories as him, so I don't see the point."

"You should," Alden chided. "Despite the obvious factor of her using it as blackmail against you whenever possible-" (Ginny gaped) "- she'll actually be a really good person to help you."

Ginny grumbled. "Fine."

The barefaced truth was that Ginny couldn't face telling Grace about Tom, because for months the brunette had been predicting this jump in the Head Boy-Prefect relationship, and she couldn't stand the never-ending reel of 'I told you so's that would fly. And also because if she admitted to having someone tell her that she fancied Tom, then the eventual truth would come out that she thought she might be starting to actually fancy him-

NO! She didn't. She simply didn't. Because that was stupid.

Tom was Tom. The Head Boy. The idiot. The arsehole. The future murderer of thousands.

And she was not going to fancy him. Not on her watch.

"You're quiet," said Grace to her two companions, lingering a few steps behind her, and, seemingly, being silent. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Alden said brightly.

Ginny didn't reply. To her, at least, there was a hell of a lot wrong.

Things that could, perhaps, in time be solved – Svengali. Her public embarrassment about the beaver and the Imperius-prompted kiss.

Then, things that could probably never be solved – the murderer of Hogwarts. Why Vander of all people was targeted.

And then, things too complicated to even consider how they would turn out. And that, in all certainty, burned down to one word, one syllable, three letters: Tom.

xxx

A/N: OMG! THE NEXT CHAPTER! ARGHHH! Please review… or I won't post the next chapter… hehe.

XXX

Next Time:

"No, wait, there's more." Had Tom been a normal person, Ginny was certain he would have been giggling hysterically. "The secondmost symptom to be seen is the death of hair cells. With no air reaching the strands, the hair is deprived and perishes. In this state of oxygen-starvation, it turns a dark and vivid shade of scarlet, for the blood trying to revive it."

"Okay, now you're just making it up!" Ginny said crossly.

She had no idea what happened next, except that the circumstances changed, and suddenly…

XXX