A/N: So sorry for the wait. I went on half-term holiday and there was zilch internet connection. Or even electricity, for that matter. Anyway. It's going to get rather fluffy, rather fast. Please enjoy.
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Fifty-Three: P is for the Painful Truth
She had no idea what happened next, except that the circumstances changed, and suddenly Tom had stooped his head and kissed her.
"You asked…" Ginny had to choke out the words. "You asked if I had any feelings for Riddle, and I said, 'pigs will fly before I fancy that tosser'. Well, guess what?" Ginny's voice was getting high-pitched and hysterical. "Pigs have flown."
xxx
"Okay, let's go over this one more time," Grace said calmly. "He did what?"
Ginny groaned and hid her face in her pillow.
"So… you were yelling at him… and then he just suddenly snogged you…" Grace said slowly. "Is that right?"
"No!" Ginny snapped. "Well. Yes. But no!"
Grace puffed her breath out of the side of her mouth. "This should be complicated," she muttered.
"Why?" Ginny moaned. "Isn't it complicated enough?"
"How was it complicated before?" Grace frowned. "You both fancied each other since you met."
"Er, no, Grace. Check the fact-sheet."
"The what?"
"Never mind. I just mean that Ikind of hated him since we met. So I'm not really sure when you got this whole 'fancying for all of eternity' idea from," Ginny said, staring up at the ceiling.
"You argued all the time. Helloo? Everyone knows that opposites attract," Grace said coolly.
"Yeah. Opposites. The midget and the BFG," Ginny said sarcastically.
"The what?" Grace echoed for the second time.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "The Big Friendly Giant. It's a Muggle story."
"Oh. Yeah. Except that Riddle isn't that friendly, no offence." Grace made a face. "Until, of course, he starts to kiss you."
"Ehhhh." The redhead rolled over and buried her face in her quilt. "This is even worse than being Imperiused and doing it on accident." She couldn't believe her bad luck. First of all, her beaver was found. Secondly, she was Imperiused into kissing Tom. And thirdly, Tom kissed her. In front of about thirty people. Hell, no wonder he ran away.
"Imagine how he feels," Grace pointed out. "This has basically destroyed him. For seven years, he's been the cold-hearted arsehole who doesn't give a damn about anyone. And then, a transfer student turns up and he snogs her."
"He didn't mean to."
Grace raised her eyebrows. "Sure he didn't. Now come on, it's time for dinner."
xxx
The Great Hall doors banged open, and all eyes snatched onto Ginny, Grace and Alden.
Oh God.
One lone wolf-whistle burst out from the Gryffindor table, and then the dining room exploded into hurried whispers as gossip moved down the room. Ginny was sure that her face had just caught fire, her cheeks were so hot. Holding her head high as if she really couldn't give a damn, she made her way towards the Slytherin table, and slipped into a seat beside some second-years.
"That went well," Alden said jokily.
Ginny smiled weakly at him, and started to pile lasagne onto her plate, avoiding the incredulous looks that everyone was sending her.
"I knew it. Ever since she kissed him in Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"They're so weird."
"Do you think she noticed that he's a head taller than her?" (insert giggle here)
Ginny stared determinedly at her pasta and began to shovel it violently into her mouth. Then, feeling brave, embarrassed, and also curious, she lifted her gaze and swept the Slytherin table, looking for the pale, dark-haired young man that, until recent months, she had despised with a loathing all her life. She couldn't find him, but wasn't really surprised. There was no way in hell that he would have surrendered himself to the brutal mercy of the other Hogwarts students.
Another forkful of lasagne. And another. And another.
Just eat. Don't look up; just let them think there's no place else you'd rather be.
"Muddy… muddy… muddy bloody…" sang the shrill, tuneful voice of Claude Felina Bastet, making her way towards Ginny, Grace and Alden. "So Peregrine. I had to admit that with Reeve, you'd landed yourself pretty well. Philips…" she sent Alden a look of disdain, "not so much." Now she laughed. "But Riddle?"
Ginny felt herself going red. "What's wrong with him?" she asked defensively.
"Aw. Protecting him? How cute." Claude pinched Ginny's freckled cheek.
All embarrassment was washed out and overwhelmed by a wave of hatred. "If you ever do that to me again, I'll bite your hand off," she snapped.
"Ooh. Touchy," Claude pouted. Then she said, "so is he a good kisser?"
"GET LOST!" Ginny yelled, standing.
"What's all the commotion?" demanded Professor Selene, the Divination teacher.
"Nothing, miss," said Claude sweetly.
Her jaw set and her lips curled in distaste, Ginny stepped over the bench that she had been sitting on, and, leaving her food abandoned and unfinished, she stalked out of the Great Hall. She was grateful when Alden and Grace immediately got up and followed her from the dining hall. "Thanks," she told them with a smile as they moved out into the Entrance Hall. "Shall we go outside?"
"Okay."
The three turned right and headed towards the grand Entrance Hall doors, which were already open and allowing the sweet scents of approaching spring to waft in. Then, there, in the doorway, he was.
Ginny stopped. Grace and Alden followed her gaze, and they stopped as well. The brunette cleared her throat and quietly sang, "Awwkwaaard."
She was inwardly firing mental pikes at Grace, but still with her gaze fixed on Tom, who had frozen absolutely still by the door. There was no way to move on - Ginny couldn't keep going as though she wasn't bothered, because he was in the way, and he didn't seem to plan on moving anytime soon. She couldn't turn and walk away, because that would be cowardly and would also destroy what friendship they had built. The safest bet would be to say something (like what, the sensible part of Ginny's brain asked. Like telling him that you think he's really hot? Haha – no), but she didn't dare to. Not in front of Grace and Alden. Not only would that be uncomfortable for her, but he'd be mortified beyond human recognition.
Ginny was totally clueless as to what to do.
However, it turned out that she didn't need to worry, as Tom tore his gaze from hers and quickly stepped out of the way. Grace and Alden took a step forwards, expecting that the three of them would continue on their merry way, but Ginny didn't move.
"Er. Ginny?" Grace called.
She was still watching Tom. Seeing that she wasn't going to step through the doors by herself, the seventeen-year-old Heir of Slytherin pushed past her, his head bowed so that she could barely glimpse the angry, discomfited red, stark on his pale cheeks.
A silence followed.
"It could have been worse," Alden pointed out. "Come on, let's just go back down to the common room."
xxx
Ginny stared gloomily into the fireplace, cradling her Butterbeer in her hands and ignoring the jeers behind her. She needed a hug. And she needed some chocolate.
"Leave her alone," Ginny heard whispered from Alden to Grace. "Just give her some space."
"Why?" Grace asked.
"She's just been embarrassed, and then ignored by the person who embarrassed her, Grace!"
"…Fine." The two Slytherins' footsteps retreated away into the quiet of the Slytherin common room, and Ginny found herself wishing that Alden hadn't interfered, that Grace had come to see her, because she was feeling very bored and lonely.
Ginny wringed her hands. She wished – wished so hard – into the dancing, flickering flames that she hadn't met him in the library. That she had sat with Abraxas Malfoy or those Hufflepuffs. That she hadn't been offended by Tom's light teasing about having spattergroit. That she hadn't marched away, turned back around, ranted on him and then –
But then she took it all back. Because the painful truth was that she'd liked it, and the feel of his lips on hers would never fade away.
Slowly the chatter of the common room faded to silence as everyone made their way to their beds. Ginny was one of the last. She continued to stare into the fire – now glowing embers, flames tamed by the sinking cold of the night. She sighed. Her eyes were tired, and she stumbled to bed.
Darkness quickly fell thick and near-impossible to see through, but the snores of the Slytherin female sixth-years' dormitory did not include Ginny's. She lay awake, gazing up at the ceiling, and wondering what in the name of Merlin she was supposed to do about this big mess.
Actually, an answer came to mind, but Ginny didn't think she had the heart – or even the stomach – for it.
For a very long time, the redhead lay beneath her quilt trying to think of another option. Then she realised that there simply wasn't an another option.
Ginny rolled over and looked at the clock on her bedside table. Its Mickey Mouse hands spoke ten o'clock. It wasn't curfew yet – half an hour until – but on school days, most people went to bed early, so that they could get better marks. Therefore, if she got up and left the common room, she wouldn't actually get in trouble.
She crawled out of her bed and, tiptoeing to her trunk, pulled on her purple swing-skirt and cream-coloured jumper over the top of her pyjamas. These garments were shortly followed by her Quidditch boots, as she was unable to find anything else, and her Slytherin scarf.
The redhead felt as though she was going to be sick. She could do this. She could do this. She could-
Oh God, she couldn't.
With a muffled cry of dismay, Ginny ran into the bathroom to scrub at her teeth. The minty flavour always made her feel better (once, shortly after Scott broke up with her, she sat in her bed and ate toothpaste for two hours).
Drawing in a deep breath tinted with courage, Ginny set off again. Her hands were shaking, but she could do it, damnit, and she was going to.
Coming up the stairs, past the library doors, she saw the portrait of Robin the Rich open; Eleanor and two other seventh-years girls came out.
"Oh, hello!" said Eleanor. She glanced over at her friends: "I'll catch up with you later."
"Hi," said Ginny, anxiety clinging to her features. She hoped it wasn't too obvious.
"Is there something you wanted?" Eleanor enquired.
"Er. No." Ginny crossed her fingers behind her back and prayed to whatever angels existed that the pretty Head Girl would go away.
"Ohhh," said Eleanor, with a knowing nod. "You're here to see Riddle, eh?" she winked.
Ginny frowned at the openly suggestive behaviour. "Yeah."
Eleanor grinned, and looked as though she was going to head after her friends, when she suddenly became sombre, and said, "Ginny, can I ask you a serious question?"
"I s'pose."
"D'you fancy Riddle?" Eleanor asked blatantly. "And I want a brutally honest answer here."
Ginny's cheeks heated up. "Um." She made a flippant gesture with her hand. "Well. Er. Sort of. Yeah."
A broad beam spread across Eleanor's delicate face. She winked again, and then hurried after her friends, high heels click-clacking on the stone floor.
What the hell was that about?
"Interesting… very interesting…" said a bored drawl from behind Ginny. "I may be a painting but I hear a lot of things, you know. Things including you, surprisingly."
"Like what?" the redhead demanded, turning to face the portly Robin.
Robin the Rich examined his reflection in his sword. "Oh, nothing. I suppose that you want to come in and declare your love for dear Monsieur Riddle?" he asked unenthusiastically.
"Of course," Ginny said sardonically. "And since when have you been French – Monsieur Robin?"
The man in the painting looked very offended. "My father was a Frenchman, and so was his father, and his father, and his father before that! I am also one-quarter Greek, and my great-great-grandmother is Italian, I will have you know-"
"I'm really sorry… but I care because why, remind me?" Ginny asked, being mean to cover the butterflies in her stomach and the painful throbbing of her heart. "Just let me in."
With a huff, Robin the Rich swung forwards, revealing the hexagonal portrait-hole into the Head common room.
Ginny's little finger twitched.
She stepped inside.
"I thought you were leaving, Fio-" said a weary, irritated voice from the main sofa, but then Tom stood and turned and saw the figure by the portrait-hole. He swallowed hard, and Ginny could tell in the slightly-widened eyes that he was quickly conjuring a lie to tell, followed by a speedy escape route.
Her hands trembling and her heart spluttering, she marched forwards to him. Then, her words coming out very fast and rather garbled, she told him sharply, "Don't you dare run away because I got just as embarrassed as you in the library but I didn't feel the need to hide from the rest of the world and anyway this is going to be a hell of a lot more embarrassing and probably not going to work so shut up and-"
By this time she had reached him and, cutting off the rest of her planned sentence, she grabbed his robes; pulled his shoulders down, bringing his head with them; stood on tiptoe; closed her eyes; covered his mouth with hers; curling her fingers into his dark, not-quite-curly hair; sinking into the sheer, untainted bliss of having him kiss back-
Then it was over and they were left standing together in the center of the common room, their foreheads almost touching (Tom bent noticeably so as to reach her), Ginny's hands still twisted into his wavy tresses, so close that she could feel his throbbing heartbeat as well as her own, looking up, hazel eyes into dark eyes, her breathing shallow and her knees wobbly.
With a short exhalation, Ginny bobbed back down from her tiptoes, pulled back, stepped away, and then averted her eyes from the gaze that seemed to be killing her. She'd done it.
"Er. Goodnight, Tom," she said quietly, and then she backed away a few feet, cheeks painted scarlet and a faint smile on her lips, before turning and vanishing through the portrait-hole.
"For a declaration of love, that was rather quiet. I did not hear much speaking," commented Robin the Rich as she exited.
"You're too nosy," Ginny told him, and then she hurried back towards the Slytherin common room, as time had progressed significantly, and it was now five minutes until curfew.
Slipping through the entrance to the Slytherin House, Ginny's face split into a grin that she could no longer contain. She twirled happily across the stone floor and the plush green carpets to get to the stairs for the girls' dormitories, and the skipped down the worn steps. As she arrived in her dorm, she found a groggy Grace awake.
"Where've you been?" Grace mumbled.
Ginny didn't answer. She undressed back down to the pyjamas that she wore underneath her clothes, leapt onto her bed; reached underneath her head, snatched up her pillow, and covered her face with it. There she squealed happily into her pillow, hugging it tightly, and fell asleep with a grin on her freckled face.
xxx
A/N: TEEHEE! More snogging! And, just to answer several people's questions – no, that first time, in the library, Ginny didn't kiss back. She just sort of froze solid. And this time… EH! And, I'd like to add that this was two chapters merged together. The chapters were far too short, so I squished them together. There was supposed to be more build-up but… -shrug- I guess we've had fifty-two chapters of build-up.
XXX
Next Time:
"Oh God, there's a Prefect meeting before lunch!" she cried. She slapped herself in the forehead. "Oh, screw this," she complained. "I'm running away and becoming a hermit."
"Any other notes to be added to the meeting?" Tom enquired, glancing coolly over the rest of students sitting present. "None?" (a shake of heads) "This meeting is adjourned." He stood, and, as if he was the popular one whose decisions ruled all actions, everyone stood after he did. Ginny got her feet and pulled her schoolbag onto her shoulder. "Hang on-" An uncertain pause. A swallow around a lump in the throat. A shaky intake of breath. "-Peregrine, if you could stay behind."
XXX
