A/N: Hm. Some TMR-GAP action. And some SR-GAP action (that's Scott Reeve, by the way). Grace is very random in this chapter. Teehee. It's SO fun to write random things.

ATTENTION: I received loads of reviews asking if, in the last chapter, Ginny was flirting with Riddle. The answer is EW NO! Sorry. I mustn't have been clear enough. I was setting their relationship up – Ginny thinks Riddle is an arrogant arsehole, Riddle thinks Ginny is immature and annoying, and they basically hate each other and argue all the time. That is all.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Though I wish it was.

The Letter P

Chapter Eight: P is for Plans

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."

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.

…

Alden soon returned from the Hospital Wing, paler than usual, but healthy nonetheless. Still colder the weather grew, much to Ginny's chagrin, but she was used to it after six years in Hogwarts (or one month, depending on what you knew).

Grace, Ginny and Alden had decided to go for a walk, to celebrate the coming of autumn; kick through the crisp brown leaves; generally enjoy the outdoors.

"Brrr," said Ginny, hugging herself. "I wish it was warmer."

"I don't!" chirped Grace, flinging her arms out and twirling in a circle. "I hope it gets colder and colder and colder until it snows, and then we'll have snowball fights and make snow angels, and then it'll be Christmas, and they'll be mistletoe, so Gin can get snogged by Scott Reeve and-"

"Oi!" shouted Ginny, and aimed a swift kick at the brunette's shin.

"-and – ow! – that was unfair, Ginny, you know you want to – OW – seriously, that hurts – what was that one for?" screeched Grace. She pouted. "That time, I didn't even say anything!"

"I know," Ginny grinned.

Rolling his eyes, Alden said, "you two are so childish."

"That's what Riddle said," Ginny made a face. "I quote: 'well, childish basically sums up everything you've done so far, nya nya nya, I'm a retard and I'm gay and I-'"

"Ginny!" a voice called across the grounds.

The trio looked around and saw a familiar handsome Italian Ravenclaw heading towards them. Ginny shot Grace a warning look; the brunette's hands were already clapped over her mouth and stifling hysterical giggles.

"If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all," Ginny hissed.

Grace opened her mouth… paused… opened again… "I…" paused… she shook her head, messy curls flying. "I got nothing," she said with a shrug.

With an exasperated sigh, Ginny turned away from Grace and towards Scott. "Hey Scott," she said with a smile.

The other Prefect grinned in return. "Hey, cat," he said –

"Ooh, cat, is it now?" hissed Grace gleefully; Ginny whacked her in the ribs with her elbow.

… and Scott, seemingly unaware of this exchange, continued, "I don't know if you were told, but the date of the next Prefect meeting changed."

"Oh!" Ginny was surprised. "Really? To when?"

Scott grimaced. "Now."

The redhead's mouth fell open. "Damnit!" she gasped. "I'm really, really late, aren't I?"

"Just a little," Scott said. "Don't worry. Eleanor loves you; she won't tell you off."

"Any bets on Riddle?" said Ginny dryly. Knowing the answer before Scott could answer, she turned back to Alden and Grace. "I'm sorry, I'll catch up with you later, 'kay?"

"Sure," Alden nodded. "Bye, then."

"See ya later, alligator," Grace said.

Ginny gave her an appraising look. See you later, alligator? I used that when I was about fiveShe shook her head slightly. Some things I will never get used to. "Alright, bye."

"Oh, and Ginny?"

She turned back to Grace. "Yes?"

A wink and a thumbs-up were cast in her direction. Glaring, and feeling her cheeks grow hot enough to fry eggs on, Ginny followed Scott into the Hogwarts building.

"So, when were you told about the change of date?" asked Ginny.

"I was told by Professor Selene this morning. I've been trying to find you since breakfast to tell you – I know that Slughorn doesn't really remember messages like he did a few centuries back," joked Scott.

He thought of me! Aaaahhhh…

He's so cute when he's talking. And when he's walking. He's cute all the time. But especially now. With his curly hair and his bright eyes and his shiny teeth and his –

"Hello?" Scott waved his hand in front of Ginny's face. "Anyone home?"

Ginny started. "Oh – yeah. Sorry. Different planet," she laughed feebly, humiliation seeping through every bone in her body.

Scott laughed. "I know how it is," he tossed her a dazzling grin, before turning to Robin the Rich, before them, and said clearly, "Condolesam."

Before Robin the Rich could even dismount his horse, the painting clicked open, and the wealthy, portly painted-man was clearly affronted by this rudeness. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him cheekily, and at that precise moment the painting opened.

Her tongue quickly retreated back into her mouth as she stared up at Riddle. "Um. Hello," she said, trying to keep her breathing steady. It was not helping by Scott having a wheezy – and adorable – laughing fit beside her.

Riddle stared down coldly at her, not speaking.

"I wasn't poking my tongue out at you, it was Robin the Rich, and then the painting opened, and you were there, so it was really bad timing, and now this is sort of awkward…" Ginny said lamely.

The seventeen-year-old ignored this comment, and instead said frostily, "Is being late for everything a habit of yours?" His eyes glinted, and Ginny could tell that he was dying to add more, but was – wisely – keeping it to himself.

"Oh yes," said Ginny cattily. "We all have our little habits. Mine is being late, and yours is being an obnoxious up-yourself arsehole ninety-nine percent of the time."

Then she froze.

Oh God. I didn't mean to say that out loud. I just called the Dark Lord up-himself. Oh. God. Kill me now. He's going to eat me alive. Oh hell. Oh hell. Oh hell oh hell oh hell –

Apparently, everyone else in the Head common room was thinking along the same train of thoughts – Scott looked panicked, and Eleanor was rapidly miming slashing her throat. That helps.

Strangely, however, Riddle did not 'eat her alive'. His eyes momentarily flashed with anger, but was replaced by something unreadable, and then, mouth glittering metal, he said coolly, "Touché."

Wow. He didn't kill me. I should slap myself to check I'm awake. Except that if I am, it'll hurt, and I'll also look very stupid. Bad idea.

Riddle turned sharply on his heel and returned to the sofas. He sat in the same spot that he sat in every week, sitting as though he was in a hard-backed chair as opposed to a squashy settee.

Ginny sat between Scott and Antonia Durrell. She opened her mouth to try and spark some conversation between her and Scott, but Riddle interrupted and said, "Today, as those intelligent of us would know, is the fifteenth of October. The time to prepare for our delightful ball-and-disco is growing short."

He didn't speak the word 'intelligent' any differently from the others, nor did he look at Ginny, but the redhead knew where the emphasis lay. Her lips pursed, and she glared down at her feet.

Arrogant git.

"I think that we should each nominate the leaders of the teams, as a sort of president of the decisions," said Eleanor.

"Very well," said Riddle, and wrote down President next to his name. "If the ball could come this way, and we could be quite separated so that each party will be unique." He cast a glance at Eleanor.

Basically translating as: 'everyone over here, we don't want them to copy and spoil our ideas'. Ginny rolled her eyes. I'm childish?

Ignoring Riddle, Eleanor cast a thoughtful glance about the members of her group, and then said, "I nominate Ginny."

The female Slytherin Prefect blinked. "But-" she stammered. "What? You're Head Girl! It should be you."

Eleanor laughed. "Ginny, I'm not Riddle. Just because I'm Head Girl doesn't make me Ruler of Universe. Plus," she shrugged delicately, "you came up with the idea in the first place."

Agreeing, the group leaned in and started to animatedly discuss their ideas. A few minutes later, Riddle called them all together to outline what would be happening on Hallowe'en.

"Who is the leader of your group?" asked Riddle, leaning back in his seat.

"Me," replied Ginny smoothly. She cocked her eyebrows, a smirk playing across her lips, and was pleased to see a look of irritation flash through the dark eyes fixed on her. "Happy?"

"Very," Riddle responded, his voice flat, and it seemed as though he was gritting his teeth, though he wasn't.

"So what's your plan?" Eleanor prompted.

"A masquerade ball," said Scott, holding up a sheet of parchment with detailed and very artistic sketches. He winked at Ginny, before returning his gaze to the Head Girl, and continuing, "it will be for the fifth-, sixth-, and seventh-years, and because there will only be three years of students attending, as opposed to the four years of students going to the disco, we will be holding the ball in the Room of Requirements, which leaves the Great Hall free for the disco."

"Works well with us," said Eleanor, looking around her team. "Now. Ginny?"

The redhead scanned Scott's drawings, before saying, "I'm working here from your ideas. The dinner feast should be cancelled. This gives us time to clear the Great Hall. Food can be given at the ball and the disco. We'll need to arrange that with the house-elves. At seven o'clock, the first-, second-, third-, and fourth-years can go in there. At nine o'clock, the seniors will go the Room of Requirement. The disco should end at ten, I think." She glanced at Eleanor for approval, and received a nod.

"What about the ball?" inquired Antonia, looking towards Riddle.

"Midnight."

Ginny chuckled. "Like Cinderella," she explained with a grin to the blank faces around her.

No-one replied.

… No-one understands. Is this such a pureblood school that no-one has heard of Cinderella? I don't believe it – none of them get it.

However, that was not entirely true. Ginny looked over and was surprised to see that Riddle's lips were quirked slightly upwards in a small smirk of dry amusement.

But… why did he understand? He was a pureblood above all others – what did he know of Muggle fairytales?

Pushing the unimportant matters to the back of her mind, Ginny said, "Never mind," to the still-staring Prefects and Head Girl, and the meeting continued, leaving only a vague notion that Ginny was not as sure about Riddle as she thought.

…

A/N: Shalala. Review review review. –does review dance- Thanks to my beta SilvanXan. Enjoy the rest of the fic!

By the way, Ginny DOES NOT know that Riddle is a half-blood. Just thought I'd add.