A/N: More TMR-GAP action. Haha. Gap. Anyway. This is a HILARIOUS chapter. Or at least I thought so. But I laugh at my brother going 'boom-cha-boom-cha', which isn't very funny, so I suppose I'm not one to pay attention to humour. Anyway. Continue to the fic, now. DO IT.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Though I wish it was.
The Letter P
Chapter Seven: P is for Potions Notes
"Just a few little sketched-out thoughts ," said Ginny, leaning forwards. She began to describe in detail her plans for the disco – the orange-and-black paper chains, the enchanted plastic-skeletons dancing around the room, the fabulous music playing, the dance routines taught to the students, and the food, at which Robert's eyes lit up.
It's my birthday, so I want it to be the best party ever. And also, she contemplated, her eyes resting on the lean dark-haired boy across the room, the day that, forty-two years from now, you will fall – the final fall before the climb that will destroy life as we know it.
Unless I get to you first. And believe me, I will.
…
The weather was already cooling, and Ginny took to wearing her green-and-silver Slytherin scarf everywhere, against the cold of the dungeons, where she now resided, as opposed to the high Gryffindor tower, which was close to the sun and therefore always warm.
Scratching down quickly the final notes of her Potions homework, someone tugged on the end of said green-and-silver scarf. Ginny whirled her head around – but no-one was there. A piece of crumpled paper, she now realized, was inside her loosely-curled fist.
What on earth…?
Glancing around to check that Professor Slughorn's attention was not upon her, Ginny uncurled her fingers and opened the parchment.
Don't return to the Slytherin common room immediately. Bastet, Swithin, and Ramira are planning to ambush you. Go somewhere else. –Scott Reeve.
Ginny looked around the dank classroom. Surrounding her were the greens and blues of Slytherin and Ravenclaw. She scanned the blues, and found that, a few rows behind her, the Italian-English boy was looking at her. She held his gaze, and then nodded, to say that he understood.
Scott flashed her a dazzling smile, and then returned his dark eyes to his work. Ginny followed suit, and as the bell rang, she was confused as to where to go. Grace was not in her Potions class – they had agreed to meet in the common room, but she couldn't go there – and Alden was in her class, but he was sick.
She could go and see Alden in the Hospital Wing, but she didn't feel like it. Plus, he'd probably be asleep. She tossed her things into her new schoolbag (her old one had been pretty much destroyed after she had lobbed it at the mirror. Dippet had made an announcement about the broken mirror at dinner that day. She did not own up) and slung it onto her shoulder.
"Thanks," she said gratefully to Scott as she passed him, smiling.
The Ravenclaw winked, and headed off with a cluster of his friends. He was obviously quite popular. I thought that he was a bit of an arrogant idiot, Ginny thought to herself. He's nice. Not many Ravenclaws would help the fierce Slytherin transfer. He's smart, as well. And the fact that he was extremely handsome, with his softly curling dark hair and warm brown eyes, had not escaped her either.
Feeling her face heat up, Ginny shook her head and hurried away, up the steps, away from the dungeons. Where to now? Feeling the weight of her homework, she decided on the library, and headed there, glancing over her shoulder nervously to check that Claude and Jack were not following her.
Stop being so paranoid, she scolded herself, and pushed open the wooden oak doors. She automatically moved towards the tables, and stopped dead when she saw that they were all full.
Except for one.
And that table was mostly occupied by Tom Riddle.
For one ridiculous moment, Ginny was paralyzed by fear. Then she reprimanded herself that he was just a teenage boy, like any other.
Aside from the fact that most teenage boys aren't evil masterminds by the age of fifteen.
Stop that!
Ginny cleared her throat loudly.
Riddle did not look up.
"Um. Can I sit here?" she asked, after a pause to ensure that he knew she was there.
Only then did his eyes flick up to her – and they did, so swiftly that had they been solidly landing upon her, she might have staggered. Unlike most people, Riddle did not look at one's face; he looked directly into her eyes. Something he had not done when he first met her.
It was like being under a spotlight. Ginny did not waver; she raised her eyebrows, as if to say: 'Well?', along with to prove to herself that she was scared of this tall, frightening seventeen-year-old.
"I'm not stopping you," Riddle said, silver glinting in his mouth, though he didn't sound remotely inviting. There, however, the contact broke, and he looked down again at his book – an extremely thick one, and one that, Ginny smirked to remember, Hermione would have finished in an hour.
She didn't say anything though, and pulled back the chair opposite him. On a spur of the moment, she childishly made as much noise as possible when dropping her bag onto the ground and slamming her books onto the table.
As Ginny picked up her quill, her parchment, and the book assigned to write about, she looked up at Riddle. He was watching her, irritation evident in every muscle in his face, shining especially in his dark eyes.
"Yes?" she asked sweetly, smiling as innocently as possible, biting back laughter.
Riddle's lips thinned. "I didn't say anything," he replied curtly, and lowered his gaze to his book.
Inwardly cheering, Ginny opened her Astronomy book and began to write her opinions on the text, and, using her wand and the window nearby, which showed the dimming sky, she made a prediction of the stars' movements in the next few days.
As time passed, hunger dawned on Ginny's stomach, and she fished in her robes for her half-eaten chocolate bar.
Fifties' chocolate is so good, she mused as she munched absent-mindedly through it.
The words "What are you eating?" broke through Ginny's train of thought. She looked up and saw Riddle, frowning at her.
"Oh." She reddened, remembering that food and/or drink was banned from the library. She quickly hid it back in her robes pockets, rewrapping it in her pocket. "Nothing," she lied.
One of Riddle's slim dark brows raised slightly (the height of sophistication, Ginny thought dryly, to possess the ability of raising one eyebrow. It must come with Parseltongue), and then he told her sardonically, "If that's the case, then you have quite a lot of nothing smeared on your cheek."
Ginny flushed red, and, tugging her robe sleeve over her fingers, wiped each of her cheeks in turn. "Anything else?" she said heatedly, trying to hide her embarrassment.
"Yes," said Riddle.
Yes? Who says 'yes'? It's so formal. What happened to 'yeah, whatever'?
And will he stop making his mouth flash? It's so distracting! What, does he have a tongue piercing? Unlikely.
"Why are you in here?" he continued, resting his elbows on the arm-rests of his chair.
"Erm, because I'm doing my homework?" Ginny pointed out, gesturing towards her books and parchment.
"Don't you have a common room to do homework in?" Riddle said.
"Don't you have a Head common room to read in?" demanded the redhead in return, getting cross with the future Dark Lord's attitude.
"Yes, I do, but it's currently being used by the Head Girl to hold one of her ridiculous girl-talk, toenail-painting, hair-curling parties," responded Riddle, his disgust obvious. "Excuse me if I don't wish to take part in such activities."
"What, no pretty pink toenails?" simpered Ginny, smirking.
"No," said Riddle flatly.
Perfect irritation opportunity. And I'm taking it. If it comes to this, I think I'll annoy you to death. Hah!
"My toenails are pink," Ginny informed him, though this was not true. "Want to see?" she fluttered her eyelashes at him.
"No, I do not," replied Riddle, his lip curled in repulsion.
"Aw, I bet you do," grinned Ginny. "Here it cooooomes!" she sang. She removed her shoe and pretended that she was preparing to take off her sock as well.
"Move that sock one inch further down your foot and I will jinx your head off."
Ginny looked around in shock at Riddle. His voice was a low growl, and his wand was out, pointing across the table at her face. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and he looked deadly serious.
"Okay, okay," she said, eyes widening, and, trying to hide her fear, she put her shoe back on. "Jesus Christ, Riddle. Couldn't you just threaten to take off House points?"
Now he lowered his wand, and returned it to his pocket. "I'm in your House; I'd be removing my own points," he replied shortly. "Besides," his eyes flickered back up to hers, scrutinizing her face, before darting away, "jinxing off someone's head is immensely satisfying."
The redhead smirked. "My thoughts exactly."
There was a silence.
"You still haven't told me why you're here," said Riddle. Ginny saw his gaze flash to her face again, briefly, from under his thick fringe. "I had a feminine party to avoid. What's your excuse?"
She sighed. For one crazy moment she actually considered telling him.
Don't be stupid! If he hears that people are trying to ambush you, then he will presume that you are weak and an easy target.
"Nothing," she replied.
"Or have you come merely to irritate me and distract me from my work?"
"Now why would I do a childish thing like that?"
"Childish basically sums up everything you've done so far at this table, Peregrine. Don't sound so shocked."
"I'm not shocked."
"Why are you here?"
"To annoy you. Isn't it obvious?"
"Why!?"
"Because you're infuriating!"
"I'm infuriating. I'm infuriating? Says she, 'Want to see my toenails'?"
"Part of the master plan, Riddle."
"I agonize to think how you became a Prefect."
"And I, of you Head Boy!"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Riddle growled, his eyes flashing dangerously again.
"CHILDREN!" Madam Crofton moved into view between the rows of bookshelves. She was a tiny, but very intimidating specimen of librarian. She bore beady eyes that could cut you down at ten paces, and a voice that never whispered.
The sight that met her was of two furious teenagers, both standing, either side of one of the library tables, looking as though they would be quite happy to leap, throttle, and kill the other. They each had their own way of showing anger – one towering threateningly, eyes narrowed lethally under a fringe of what looked night-black but probably wasn't; the other, face coloured and screwed up, eyes glowing like coals, chin tilted up so that flaming hair spilled back further down her back than normal. The comic thing was that the female barely came up to Head Boy's shoulders.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THE LIBRARY CLOSED AN HOUR AGO," Madam Crofton bellowed at them. "YOU'LL MISS CURFEW IF YOU'RE NOT CAREFUL. HONESTLY. TEENAGERS THESE DAYS."
Ginny turned away from Riddle, and said apologetically to Madam Crofton, "I'm terribly sorry, miss. I must have not noticed the time fly by, what with all our," her eyes flew sideways in a hazel glare that would have terrorized even Professor Snape, yet the boy at whom it was directed seemed unfazed, cold as ever, "sweet-talking."
With that, she swept her things into her bag, tossed it onto her shoulder, and left the library.
Arrogant toe-rag.
So thought the redhead as she stormed down the dungeon stairs. It was growing dark, and the only breaking of the gloom was the flickering torch-light that cast dancing shadows on the cold stone walls.
If I had my way, Ginny thought crossly, then the Hallowe'en disco would just be for my birthday. And Tom up-himself Riddle would not be invited.
She folded her arms across her chest as she trotted the last few steps, and then turned the corner to the Slytherin dormitory. "Ophiuchus," she told the bust of Salazar Slytherin, speaking the name of the famous star constellation that depicted the serpent-bearer.
The stone Salazar tilted his head. The stone snake around his neck uncoiled and lifted its head until it was level with Ginny's face. Then, in spoke, in Parseltongue, "You are being watched."
Ginny was not particularly surprised. "I know," she replied, in the same tongue – she had woken up in the Chamber of Secrets, aged eleven, covered in blood, and talking to Harry, not in English, it seemed. "I am not worried by it."
The snake nodded. "Very well, my Lady." It returned to its place on Salazar's shoulders, and then the bust creaked downwards, into the floor. An iron grate whooshed over where it now hid, so that Ginny could pass easily; and she did so, a doorway pushed its way out of the stone. She stepped through, and knew that Riddle would be astonished, hiding in the shadows, by her language skills.
"Ginny!" shouted Grace, jumping to her feet. She scrambled from the circle of armchairs by the fire, running –
No, no, slow down –
Foot caught on carpet. Foot staying still – body continuing forwards.
"Wah!" rang through the common room, attracting everyone's attention just in time to see Grace land spectacularly on her face. There was a silence. Then: "I'm okay."
"Grace, stop doing that!" Ginny said, hurrying over to her. "For heaven's sake, slow down."
The sprawled-out brunette picked herself up off the ground, demanded, "Yes?" to a group of staring second-years who scurried away, and then turned back to Ginny. "You promised you'd meet me here!" she said crossly.
Glancing around, Ginny grabbed Grace's elbow and tugged her away from everyone else's view. Then, in whispers, she said, "Be careful. I got a message saying that Claude was trying to ambush me, so she might try you as well."
Blue eyes widening, Grace exclaimed, "That nosebleed paper-shaker!"
"Sorry, what?" said Ginny incredulously.
"Like…" Grace searched for a word to explain. "Nosebleed… like stupid. Paper-shaker… sort of… a stupid girl. An annoying girl." She rolled her eyes. "It's so hard having you not understand anything."
Well, sorry
"Who gave you the note?" Grace suddenly asked. "It might have been a set-up."
"Scott Reeve."
The other Slytherin's eyes glittered mischievously and a smirk spread across her lips. "Is he a Prefect?"
"… Yeah."
"Ravenclaw."
"Yeah."
"Totally hot?"
Ginny went red. "I don't know," she muttered, swallowing hard.
Again Grace's eyes turned into wide orbs of astonishment. "You – you – OhmigodyoufancyScottReeve!" she babbled delightedly, clapping her hands together.
Heat flooded Ginny's features. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said stubbornly, and marched away to her room.
…
A/N: TEEHEE. Was that a funny chapter or WHAT? Well, I thought it was funny. Scott? And Ginny? Who saw that coming? I did. REVIEW! Thank you to my beta SilvANXan (See? I can say it right if I want to), and enjoy the rest of the fic!