A/N: YAY! More squeeing-ness!
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Fifty-Four: P is for Peculiar Ways
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 hair, so close that she could feel his vacillating heartbeat as well as her own, looking up, hazel eyes into dark eyes, her breathing shallow and her knees wobbly.
"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
Ginny opened her eyes to the faint green glow of the Slytherin dungeons. She remembered what had happened last night, and remembered the dizzying happiness. And then actually considered what she'd done. She loudly groaned a swearword vulgar, and then got out of bed reluctantly.
"Why the miserable swearing?" Grace asked, stifling a yawn, sitting up in bed. "And where did you go last night?"
"I'm not miserable," Ginny said, and it was true. She was far from miserable. She only prayed that Eleanor hadn't set up spy-cameras in the Head common room and hadn't seen the fervent kiss she'd given Tom. Then she realised that she was being totally ridiculous, shook her head, and began to get dressed.
As she put on her shoes, something awful hit her.
"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."
"Why?" Grace frowned. "What in the name of Merlin is wrong now?"
"Mmmff…" Ginny mumbled. "I kissed Tom. I went up to his common room and kissed him."
"…Ah." Grace made a face. "Come on, you're braver than me, you'll be fine." The brunette dragged her friend to her feet and then hauled her out of the door up towards the Great Hall.
Fortunately, no-one knew about what had happened in the Head common room at approximately ten-fifteen pm.
Unfortunately, everyone still had not given up on what had happened in the library.
Ginny pretended that she couldn't give a damn, and piled bacon onto her silver-rimmed plate. Then she promptly began to shovel it into her mouth, thinking that perhaps if she ate as quickly as possible, she'd finish earlier, putting as much distance as possible between having to see Tom and finishing breakfast.
Regardless of these tactics, the hour for breakfast drew to a close, and Ginny had to go to Transfiguration. However desperately Ginny pleaded silently with the clock, time flew by, and then it was Charms, and then up to the third floor and attend an extremely awkward Prefect meeting.
"Good luck," said Grace with a wry smile as Ginny picked up her schoolbag and left the classroom
Does she know something I don't?
She was made very suspicious when Grace started whispering frantically to Alden, but she ignored it and continued on her way down the sweeping stairs.
"Back again, are you?" asked Robin the Rich wearily when Ginny turned up in front of him.
"Yeah. Condolesam." Ginny couldn't be bothered with chatting to him. At least she knew that was sort of late, so she wouldn't be stuck alone with Tom.
The painting swung open to admit her, creating a faint gust that ruffled the carpet behind the portrait-hole. Stepping through, Ginny scanned the sofas, and saw that almost everyone was present. She saw the pile of black curls that was Scott; the black cornrows, Antonia; the short blonde hair, Eleanor; the brown pigtails, Mia; the pale blonde hair, Gareth; the slightly darker blonde hair of Jack; and the dark bob of Olive Hornby. And then, finally, the meticulous near-black waves that Ginny had come to be able to recognize from miles away.
"Hey," said Ginny brightly, looking around the people sitting as she weaved her way through the maze of sofas and sitting beside Antonia.
"Hi, Ginny," said Eleanor. "We're just waiting on Robert." She twirled a strand of strawberry-blonde fringe around her slim finger boredly.
"Coolsville," Ginny replied, who had found that now the fifties' slang was like second-nature to her. "How are you?" she asked Antonia.
"Oh, I'm good. Except I broke my favourite eyeliner. You know, that really bright blue liquid one?" Antonia pouted.
"That sucks," Ginny agreed sympathetically.
Then the podgy Robert Harris came through the portrait-hole, panting for breath. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized, slipping into a seat beside Gareth.
"Right. I convene this Prefect meeting, the third of February, 1959," Eleanor said, pulling a piece of parchment towards her and dipping her quill in ink. "Now, we need to discuss what fund-raising event we're planning for Valentine's Day."
"Another Ball?" said Mia Brown hopefully.
"No," said Eleanor. "Sorry. But having a Ball is really expensive, and we've already had two. It almost costs more to make the Ball than the money we get for the tickets, and we need to buy new broomsticks for the first-years' flying classes."
"If they break the brooms, they should pay for them," grumbled Jack.
Ignoring this unhelpful input, Eleanor looked around the members of the meeting. "Any ideas?"
"We could do a bake-sale," Antonia suggested. "That was fun last Easter."
"Yeah!" Mia gasped. "With heart-shaped cookies and things. So cute."
The boys looked less than enthusiastic.
"It'll be fun," Antonia told them. "Trust me. For us, the food is free." Robert and Scott's faces lit up; even Jack looked mildly pleased with this prospect.
"A bake-sale, then," said Tom tonelessly, speaking up for the first time. "Would we be cooking the items ourselves?"
Ginny looked up at him upon hearing his voice; his eyes flashed to hers, almost as though he'd felt her watching him. She held his gaze for a few seconds before biting her lip and looking away. She could feel her face getting hot.
"That'd be fun," said Gareth, who liked to bake. "I could whip up a big cake. In a heart shape, I guess, for the occasion."
"Good idea," said Eleanor warmly. "Any another donations to the cause?"
"Don't look at me," said Mia, shaking her head so that her light brown pigtails flew out. "I'll poison everyone."
"Okay, it looks as though we're relying on you, Gareth," Eleanor said cheerfully.
"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."
Mia stuck her hands into her mouth and let out a piercing wolf-whistle. Everyone laughed.
"Very funny," Ginny said sarcastically, though her heart was threatening to spontaneously combust from the over-exertion it was getting inside her ribcage.
Eleanor swept her things into her schoolbag, and, humming tunelessly, made her way towards the bookcase. Ginny and Tom's eyes were upon her as she selected a thin purple book, sank into the nearest armchair, and open it. "Yes?" she asked innocently, looking up at them.
Tom glared at her.
"It's my common room, too," the blonde Head Girl said defensively, before turning a page of her book absent-mindedly and continuing to read, as though having the most evil of death stares fixed on her creamy face didn't bother her in the slightest. "Just because you want to flirt with her doesn't mean I have to leave."
Ginny puffed out her breath, extremely uncomfortable with the conversation passing before her as though she wasn't there.
With a heavy breath, Tom stretched out one hand, rested it against the wall, and looked briefly heavenwards as though asking for help with this stubborn blonde girl, before fixing his eyes back onto said stubborn blonde girl. "Fionn, I mean this in the nicest possible way when I say get lost."
Eleanor huffed. "Fine." She stood up, smoothed her pleated skirt, and then flounced away with her purple book, disappearing through the portrait-hole.
Silence ensued.
Ginny shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. "So," she said cheerily, "Hi. You wanted…?"
Tom pushed his weight off of the wall. "Er."
He actually said 'er'. Mr. Correct-Language said 'er'. It was almost ridiculous enough to make Ginny burst out laughing. Except that she didn't.
"Do you mind if I cast a Silencing Charm on the door?" Tom abruptly asked, looking at the portrait-hole.
Ginny frowned. "Yeah, go ahead… can I ask why?"
"I've lived with Fionn for seven years, and there is no way that she has gone without a fight when she knows full well that something that I find awkward and uncomfortable is happening," Tom said smoothly, and, non-verbally, turned to the door, and flicked his wand.
"You find this awkward and uncomfortable?" Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Not this, right now, but…" Tom cleared his throat, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. Staring fixedly at a spot on the ceiling, he began to speak very quickly and very precisely. "I had intended to say something awkward and uncomfortable, which, now that I think about it more closely, would probably fit well into what I'm saying now, so I think that I'll just go ahead and say it, it being that, as you probably know – well, I think that I made it rather embarrassingly clear-"
Hell. He rambled when he was nervous. When he had given her a flower, he had ranted on for about two minutes. And now he was talking at the speed of a runaway steam-train, all the while not looking at her and steadily finding his face filling with more colour.
"- is that, er, so to speak, I have recently acknowledged that my – my, shall we say, affections, for you, that is – er – have progressed beyond the level at which affections would be maintained for the friendship owed previously," Tom finished lamely.
Ginny's frown deepened. "So…" she translated, her heart pounding, "is that your peculiar way of telling me… you fancy me?"
A smudge of pink, as if he'd put on light blusher, appeared on Tom's cheeks rapidly. "In short, I suppose that is how it could be put, in a simpler approach," he amended. Then, the steam-train attitude starting up again: "And, er, I am assuming from your seemingly spontaneous actions last evening that, er, in a manner of speaking, your affections have progressed similarly – at least, that's what I am as of now fervently hoping, because if I'm wrong then this will turn extremely embarrassing, extremely fast, so I was perhaps wondering if this particular slice of, shall we say, interesting information, could be digested by your own person and corrected if need be."
This took another pause for Ginny to understand. "Is that your peculiar way of asking if I fancy you as well?" she asked dumbly.
Tom swallowed again. "Of sorts."
Ginny was finding it hard to breathe. She stared at the floor, and then up at his strong features. "Er." She, like him, had begun to stammer. "Well. Actually..."
From what she could see of his face, she knew that Tom had prepared himself for a rejection. His jaw was set and his eyes were fixed on the ceiling where she couldn't see them, probably because he'd realised that his eyes were where she could read his feelings best. He'd show no disappointment, and Ginny's heart went out to him.
Her brain whirled.
To lie or not to lie. To lie or not to lie. To lie or not to lie.
"Yes-" she blurted out, red blood cells swimming like fish up to her face as fast as they could.
Tom's eyes flashed down to her, failing to disguise sheer disbelief. "W-what?"
Another deep breath. "Yes," she repeated. And then, as a lame joke, "of sorts."
The Head Boy inclined his head in a slight I-see gesture. Then, a nervous sort of half-smile on his lips, he said, "I had a speech preparing for the event of this answer as well but I'm not sure I actually expected it."
With the beginnings of a grin tracing her lips, Ginny said, "So where do we go from here?"
"I suppose I could attempt my speech…"
"It being…?" Ginny asked.
Again, Tom's eyes returned to the ceiling. "Now having confirmed that such, er, affections, are shared, I had wandered some thought as to what would come afterwards in the event of you miraculously – and, in my own opinion, very stupidly – agreeing to that, then, er-"
His speaking pace stepped up from a steam-train to that of a jet-plane.
"-I had thought that perhaps we could progress from here by way of, er, bywayofcourting."
Ginny couldn't translate that one. "Come again?" she echoed. "By way of what, exactly?"
There was no doubting it – Tom Marvolo Riddle, Head Boy, Heir of Slytherin, future Lord Voldemort, went red. "Courting," he said shortly.
Brain… processing… brain… processing…
"Is that…" Ginny stuttered. "Is that you asking me out?"
Tom attempted sarcastic humour. "In my peculiar way," he said weakly, quoting her previous words.
Ginny needed to sit down. It was too much to contemplate. Opening up to someone she really cared for again – probably getting hurt. It was what she sometimes called the Heartbreak of Harry, all over again. But that wasn't even what she was worried about:
She was being offered the opportunity to date Lord Voldemort.
Looking up into his dark eyes, which were trained nervously on her face, she said softly, "Yes."
And didn't regret it at all.
Tom Riddle. My boyfriend. I could get used to that.
Tom took a moment to understand what she said. Then he smiled, the simple, easy twist of his lips lighting up his pale face to a level that Ginny never thought possible, and his eyes danced with wild happiness. He raked a hand roughly backwards through his hair, spinning away, still grinning like an idiot.
"Are you okay?" Ginny giggled. "You look like you're on drugs."
"It's a change from being a beaver," Tom said simply. Then he looked at her. "What now?"
"Hm." Ginny tilted her head. "We could try lunch. Big, dramatic entrance. Lots of whispering and staring. Should be fun."
"Fun?" Tom mock-frowned disapprovingly.
"Fun," Ginny repeated, and then, feeling daring, stepped closer and curled her fingers through his.
xxx
It was definitely going to be the most dramatic entrance that Hogwarts had ever had – they didn't even make it down into the Entrance Hall before the jeering started up.
"Oh, look, the lovebirds have decided to show their faces together, then?" Claude sneered from the bottom of the stairs.
"Yep!" said Ginny cheerfully, who, suddenly and inexplicably, found that nothing could bother or hurt her.
"Riddle and Peregrine, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," sang Avani quietly, smirking to high heaven.
Ginny, turning her head slightly to Tom, raised her eyebrows in question. The young Heir of Slytherin was reluctant (that being an understatement), but he nodded, and so, in front of Claude Felina Bastet, Avani Mohana, Ramira Xau, Jack Swithin, Abraxas Malfoy, Ilivan Yaxley and Orion Black, Ginny stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
Gasps rang out, followed by furious giggling and whispering.
Then she twisted away, stared down at them all, and said, "What? You started it."
Still being stared at, Ginny continued down the stairs with Tom – her boyfriend – the words had a nice ring to it – she grinned – and through to lunch.
"One thing," hissed Tom to her before they made their grand entrance. "Never make me do that again."
"Which," Ginny teased. "The kissing in public or just the kissing?"
Tom gave her a withering, which-do-you-think look. At this, Ginny merely smiled, held his hand tighter, and laid her cheek against the top of his arm; truly the happiest that she'd been in a long time.
xxx
A/N: Awwww. I told you. Squee! Did you like it? Please review.
XXX
Next Time:
The walls were lined, surprisingly, with books. Most were books on extreme levels of Charms, Ginny found, scanning the spines on a few select volumes that her gaze landed upon, but then her hazel eyes found a title she had not expected: Svengali.
XXX
